In Storybrooke, Mr. Gold strives to be the man Bae used to love--until Belle is kidnapped to Neverland. If he resumes his Dark One powers to save her, can he control them? In the Enchanted Forest, Emma battles ogres, zombies and her ex to get back h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Reul Gorm: Because there is good magic and dark magic, and I'm on the right side. (The Return)
Smee believed there were two kinds of boys. Take that whippersnapper who'd first dug up the rusty tin. When he was Captain Hook's bosun, he'd dragooned many such lads into service aboard the Jolly Roger. If frayed rigging didn't snap while they scouted for lone ships, if a wave didn't sweep them overboard as they delivered the captain's grog, if gunpowder didn't explode in their faces when they cleaned the cannons—then sharp little buckaroos like him smartened up into right fine pirates that did the skull-and-crossbones proud.
As for the squeaker sitting behind him—breathlessly gushing out warnings in the name of his savior mother, his hero grandparents, and all that was decent and true—well, he was the second sort. The sort Smee detested. A Lost Boy.
Unable to bear the carping one second longer, he muttered. "You're lucky there's a metal grille between you and me."
For one blessed moment, young master Henry shut up. Apparently, he'd heard the implied Or I'd slug you. In the hope he'd finally struck fear into the boy, Smee glanced in his rearview. No such luck. The swab was glaring at him.
"You know who my other mother is, don't you? The one who adopted me? Regina." Leaning back, Henry raised his chin. "I made her promise to give up magic, and she did. But if you don't let me go, I think she'll make an exception."
Smee gripped the steering wheel. Visions of the day the curse broke crackled in his brain—the Evil Queen slamming brawny men against walls, whizzing fireballs over the crowd, and turning weapons back on their owners, all with a wave of her hand.
That damn box better have my escape plan ready.
* * * * *
Holding her torch high to illuminate as much ground as she could, Snow methodically searched the section assigned to her—the same small clearing where she and her companions had bathed just the day before. Happily, the rocky bumps and marshy dips in the meadow showed no signs of lightning sand and the scattered fire spouts were as weak as Fourth-of-July sparklers, but unhappily the area showed no sign of the lost Lost Boy either.
When Snow had exhausted all other possibilities, she turned to the most perilous: the pond itself. After a careful examination, she released her tightly held breath. Under torchlight, the water was clear to its shallow bottom. No Alfie.
"Hey."
Turning, Snow watched Mulan and Aurora walking toward her from their section. "No luck either?"
Mulan shook her head.
"More and more, it's looking like..." Aurora didn't finish the dire thought.
Rustling noises made Snow whip around. Peter emerged from the brush on the far side, a pack of mangy rodents-of-unusual-size at his heels. "ROUS are great trackers. If our mate passed through, they'll pick up his scent."
