“It wasn’t stupid. It was awesome,” I mutter as we turn and walk on toward the village. Barracuda Bay was part of the pirate game I was always trying to get Rose to play in Grandad’s attic. I don’t remember the village ever appearing in Roar. I guess Rose sent it packing to the End the moment she saw it.

“At least we’ve got somewhere to sleep,” I say. The path is leading us closer to the small houses with their shuttered windows. “And I can’t see any lights or smoke coming from chimneys. You don’t need to worry about monkey sword fights, Rose. This place is deserted.”

“I can see a light,” says Win, pointing at a tall building. A creaking sign swings above a battered door. It’s the inn we saw through his telescope.

I shiver. “I wonder who lit the lamp?”

“Let’s find out,” says Win, and doing his very best stealth walk, he leads us through the silent village until we’re standing outside the Bucket of Blood.

The inn is built over the sea on thick wooden posts. The whole building leans to one side and it looks like each floor has been added on as an afterthought. Planks are hammered on top of each other, the windows are wonky and the shutters look like they’ve been made out of old crates.

“You go first,” says Rose, nudging me forward. “After all, this is your creation.”

She’s right, and even though I’ve never actually been here, little details—the red dripping letters on the sign, the rum barrels stacked against the door—feel familiar. If I had to imagine a sinister inn in a frozen pirate village, this is definitely the kind of thing I would come up with.

I reach for the door, then hesitate. Should I bang on the brass knocker or walk right in? Walk right in, I decide, lifting the heavy latch, because that’s what a pirate would do.

The door opens with a creak and we shuffle into a dimly lit room. It smells of fish and old beer. A couple of candles flicker on the bar, and the planks below our feet are spaced so wide I can see slivers of dark sea swirling below us. But the important thing is, it’s warm. A fire burns in the corner of the room. I run to it and stretch my hands toward the glowing coals.

“It’s going to be OK,” I say, to reassure myself. “We’re going to be OK!”

“Erm, Arthur?” Win’s voice is surprisingly high.

“What?” I shove my fingers close to the fire.

“There’s a bear watching you and she’s got a whopping big cutlass!”

Chapter 42

I spin around. Of course someone’s in the Bucket of Blood. Who else lit the fire?