Vampirates 3: Blood Captain (12 page)

21

THE RIBBON CEREMONY

Grace knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Mosh Zu called from inside.

Grace squeezed Lorcan’s hand before pushing open the door. The room was small and sparsely furnished.

Two other people — a man and a woman — were already sitting in the center of the room. Beside them was an empty chair, presumably for Lorcan. As Grace led him toward the chair, she quickly glanced at the others.

The man was dressed in white from head to toe. His face was as pale as his clothes. The woman, in contrast, wore an elaborate ball gown. On closer inspection, Grace saw that it was in tatters. Her eyes traveled up to the woman’s neck. Around it hung a diamond necklace, glittering in the soft lamplight. The woman caught her looking and smiled softly, her fingers touching the necklace. The man had already turned away, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

As Lorcan sat down, Grace noticed there were no other chairs.

“Should I go?” she asked Mosh Zu.

“No,” he said. “I’d like you to stay.” He glanced up at the others. “If that’s all right with you.”

The woman shrugged.
“Pourquoi pas?”

The man said nothing, his eyes still glued to the floor.

“Take a seat on the floor, wherever you wish,” Mosh Zu said to Grace. She nodded and sat down, cross-legged.

“We are all here, so we shall begin,” Mosh Zu said. “I want to welcome you to Sanctuary. I’m so pleased that you have found your way here. You may stay as long as you need. You have, doubtless, wandered this world for a long time.”

Grace’s eyes traveled across the faces of the three vampires. She noticed that the woman was no longer smiling and the man dressed in white had at last lifted his eyes and was staring at Mosh Zu.

“I know how tired you must be,” Mosh Zu said. “Sanctuary will help to take away that tiredness.” He smiled at them. “We will work hard to remove the burdens you have been carrying for so long.”

There was something incredibly soothing about Mosh Zu’s voice, thought Grace. And, though he was not talking to her, she sensed that her own burdens might become lighter through her time here.

“I will not ask much of you today,” Mosh Zu said. “For today marks only the beginning of a new journey for you. A journey that, I hope, will bring you peace and a new beginning. Think of Sanctuary as a place to shed all that pains you.”

He let the words settle upon the three of them. Grace saw the relief in their faces.

“Tell me your names,” Mosh Zu said. “When and where you were born, and when and where you died. That is all I need at this point.”

He nodded to the woman. She was, Grace noticed, still running her fingers over her diamond necklace.

“My name,” she said, “is Marie-Louise, Princesse de Lamballe.” She paused, as if expecting some congratulation or recognition. Mosh Zu said nothing, simply nodding and waiting for more. “I was born in Turin in 1749. I died in Paris in 1792. I was a companion and confidante of . . .”

“That’s all we need, thank you,” Mosh Zu said, cutting her off — but softly. Grace could tell from the woman’s expression that she had been keen to tell more of her story. But now Mosh Zu nodded to the man dressed all in white.

“I’m Thom Feather,” he said. “Born Huddersfield, 1881. Died Wakefield, 1916.”

Unlike the princess, Thom Feather did not offer any further information.

“Thank you,” said Mosh Zu, turning now to Lorcan. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Lorcan’s shoulder. “And now you,” he said.

“My name,” he said, “is Lorcan Furey.” Grace watched him intently as he continued. “Born 1803 in Connemara, died 1820 in Dublin.”

“Thank you,” Mosh Zu said. “Thank you all for choosing to come here.”

Grace wondered then how the others had heard about Sanctuary. And how had they found their way here? Had they, like the expedition party from
The Nocturne,
had to clamber up the mountainside? What other option was there? If so, how had Thom Feather’s clothes remained so stark white? And how had the princess made it in such an impractical dress? This was something she must ask Mosh Zu about when the time was right.

“I have something for each of you,” Mosh Zu said now. He took up a wooden box and passed it first to the princess. “Please take a ribbon,” he said.

“Must I?” Strangely, the princess trembled.

Mosh nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I know it has unfortunate associations for you, but you must.”

What did he mean by that? Grace saw how surprised the princess was at his words. She watched as the woman lifted a green ribbon from the box and held it, trembling, in her fingers.

Next, the box was passed to Thom Feather. He looked inside it and gave a hollow laugh. “I suppose the white one is for me,” he said, taking it out of the box.

Finally, Mosh Zu passed the box to Lorcan. Grace watched as Lorcan extended his arm and searched the air before him for the box. Mosh Zu waited patiently. When Lorcan frowned, he placed his hand on his shoulder again. “There’s no rush, Lorcan Furey. Take your time.”

Lorcan’s fingers finally found the box and took hold of the ribbon inside. “Well done,” Mosh Zu said, closing the box and stepping back again.

“Now,” he said. “I want each of you to make a fist and hold the ribbon tightly within it.” His eyes passed over the three of them. “Good,” he said. “Now, you must be brave. Next, I’m going to ask you to let go of your pain; wherever that pain has come from — whether it is from your life, your death, or the Afterdeath. Don’t force it. You probably won’t be able to shed too much of it, at first. But we’ll repeat this night after night. And in time, you will be free from these terrible burdens.”

He smiled. “Now, as you focus on releasing your pain, maintain your hold on one end of the ribbon but let the other end drop.”

He waited and watched as each of the three followed his instructions. Behind him, Grace watched just as intently. Could it be true? Could their pain really be traveling into the ribbons themselves? She could see the intensity of the expressions on their faces. Even though Lorcan’s eyes weren’t visible, she could see his determination in the set of his jaw.

She watched as Mosh Zu lifted his right hand. As he did so, something amazing happened. The three ribbons stopped hanging limply in the air and began seeking his hand, as surely as if a magnet were attracting them. The others noticed it too, raising their eyes in wonder.

“Don’t focus on me,” Mosh Zu told them. “Keep the focus on yourself. Shed the pain from your body and let it travel into the ribbon.”

Grace watched as the ribbons grew tauter, as if Mosh Zu were reeling them in. She could see a pool of light gather around the edges of the ribbons. If she needed any convincing about the power of the treatment, she found it when she turned back to the vampires.

Grace saw that the princess was crying. Her eyes were still shut but tears were flowing down her cheeks. Grace turned to Mosh Zu. He did not meet her gaze. She realized that he too must be channeling all his focus into the ribbons.

Then there was a terrible moan. Grace realized it was coming from Thom Feather. His eyes were also closed. The moan continued, low and long. She remembered his death date as 1916. But it was as if the pain of six hundred years were slowly leaving his body. At first the sound distressed her, but as it continued, she imagined a boil bursting deep within him and waves of distress at last beginning to break free.

As Thom Feather’s moan at last began to subside, Grace turned her eyes to Lorcan. There were no tears on his face, nor did he make any sound. Grace frowned. She sensed that this was not a good sign.

She watched as, at last, Mosh Zu lowered his hand and his connection with the three colored ribbons was broken.

Gradually, the princess opened her eyes. She was still clutching the ribbon. With her free hand she rummaged in her dress and removed a lace handkerchief with which she dried her tears.

Now, Thom Feather opened his eyes. He looked shaken, as if he had just woken and was surprised by his surroundings. After a moment or two, he came back to himself, but Grace thought that already there was a new vitality to him.

Lorcan did not make any movement, but Mosh Zu seemed to sense that he too had done as much as he could.

“You have all made the first step,” he said. “Whatever pain you have brought to Sanctuary, you will leave it behind here. Whether you are struggling with your hunger, or battling wounds old or new, or are simply tired — so very tired — of wandering, here you
will
find a new beginning.”

Grace thought how tranquil his words were, like soft water lapping on a shore.

“Go now,” Mosh Zu said. “Return to your rooms or, if you wish for air, take to the gardens. Spend time in solitude or, if you prefer, get better acquainted with each other, or those who came here before you. We will meet again tomorrow night. Keep your ribbons with you at all times and bring them along here tomorrow.”

He smiled and turned. It was clear that the session was over.

“I have a question,” the princess said. Her eyes swiveled toward Grace. For some reason, Grace found herself shivering.

Mosh Zu turned back to her. “Yes?”

“Blood,” she said. “My need for blood is very strong. They said that you would advise us of the arrangements.”

Mosh Zu smiled at her. “You will take no blood,” he said.

“
No blood?
But that’s preposterous!”

He shook his head. “You do not need it. I can tell. You must learn to distinguish between real need and habit,” he said.

“But —” she began to protest once more. Mosh Zu cut her off.

“When you truly need blood, we will address the question,” he said. “Live with the anxiety. Allow your hunger to possess you. And then deny it. And watch it recede.”

“I can’t . . .” the princess began. “I am weak.”

“No,” Mosh Zu said. “You are very strong. You all are. Stronger than you realize. But soon you will know yourselves better.”

He smiled. Then, to Grace’s surprise, he simply walked out of the room and disappeared along the labyrinthine corridors.

22

BLOOD TAVERN

“What are we going to do?” Bart asked as he and Connor gazed nervously at the fire burning in Jez’s eye sockets.

The hunger was clearly growing stronger but Jez seemed to be doing his best to fight it. “Don’t fear me,” he rasped. “I won’t harm you.”

“Mate, you need blood, and we’re all alone at sea with nothing but a drop of rum in my flask,” Bart said. “You said it yourself. When the hunger takes you over, you can’t control yourself. I think we have every reason to be afraid.”

“Take me . . .” It seemed a great effort for Jez to force out the words. “Take me to the Blood Tavern.”

Bart looked at him, confused. “
Blood Tavern
. What are you on about, mate?”

In answer, Jez held out his arm and lifted his sleeve. Connor was shocked afresh by the whiteness of his skin. It was almost translucent, pale blue veins swimming beneath its sheer surface. There, on the inside of his forearm, was the mysterious tattoo of three cutlasses they had all woken up with after their lost weekend in Calle del Marinero. But Jez was pointing above the tattoo to fresher ink. Not a tattoo, but what appeared to be a hastily scribbled note.

Blood Tavern

Limbo Creek

Black door

Lilith

“Take me,” Jez said once more, his eyes aflame and his mouth seeming now to contort.

Connor shivered. He turned to Bart. “Do you know Limbo Creek?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bart said. “It’s not far from here.” Already he was adjusting the direction of the boat.

Connor turned to Jez, who seemed to be trying desperately to contain his appetites. But his body seemed no longer his to control.

“How much time have we got?” Connor asked him.

Jez kept his face turned away but rasped once more, “Need blood now.”

The night winds were in their favor and Bart made swift work of steering the safety boat toward Limbo Creek.

“Okay,” he said. “We’re here.”

Jez was rocking to and fro, causing their small boat to do the same.

“We’re here,” Connor repeated, tentatively reaching out an arm to Jez. When Jez looked up, Connor had to tear his eyes away. With every passing moment, Jez seemed to be shedding another layer of his human visage.

“Have you been here before?” Connor asked.

Jez opened his mouth, but instead of answering the question, he simply repeated, “Need blood now.”

Bart let out a deep sigh. “There’s no point. You won’t get any more sense out of him,” he said. “We’ll just have to find this Blood Tavern ourselves.”

Connor agreed. “So we’re looking for a black door,” he said.

“Right now, any door would be a good starting point,” Bart said, his voice heavy with frustration and anxiety.

They were now up close to the rock at the perimeter of the creek, but so far, there was no sign of any buildings or habitation at all.

“I don’t ever remember seeing a building in this creek,” Bart said disconsolately.

Connor’s heart was sinking fast. If they didn’t get to the Blood Tavern soon, there was going to be a bad end to this. An end which would result in at least one less person returning in the safety boat, possibly two.

“Wait a minute,” Bart suddenly cried, pointing up the rock face. “Could that be a door, there?”

“Where?” Connor couldn’t see anything but the shadowy rock.

“Quick,” Bart said. “Pass me your lantern!”

Connor did so and Bart held it up toward the rock.

There was a ledge and, above it, somewhat obscured by rough vegetation, the outline of a door.

“That
must
be it!” Connor said.

“It’s black and it’s a door!” Bart said, grinning. “It’s good enough for me!”

Jez lifted his head and opened his mouth. It looked swollen. Connor hadn’t noticed before how pronounced his incisor teeth were. They seemed to be growing. His gums were engorged and bleeding. Connor was greatly relieved when Jez closed his mouth again.

“There’s nowhere to moor the boat,” Bart said. “Connor, I’ll have to wait here, while you go in with him.”

“Me?” Connor said.

Bart nodded, squeezing his arm. “Go on, buddy. However bad it is, it can’t be worse than the alternative.”

Connor wasn’t so sure. A blood tavern sounded like a pretty bad place to be. He shivered as Bart steadied the boat so he could step out onto the rocky ledge. “Here,” he said, holding out his hand to Jez. “Follow me.” He helped Jez climb up onto the ledge. It was like leading a wild dog.

Once they were on the ledge, the overgrown plants formed a kind of arbor leading toward the black door. There was a bellpull at its side. Trying to calm his tide of nerves, Connor reached out and gave it a tug.

After a slight delay, there was the sound of sliding metal and a small opening appeared in the door. A pair of milky eyes glanced out. They fixed on Connor. He stared back, his heart beating fast.

“Well?” came a voice from inside.

“Is this the Blood Tavern?” Connor asked.

There was no response. The milky eyes stared out, devoid of all expression. Connor couldn’t help wondering if they were the eyes of a blind person.

“This is Limbo Creek and this is the only black door. This must be the Blood Tavern. Please let us in. My . . . my friend needs blood . . . very badly.”

The eyes showed not even a flicker of understanding. Then Connor remembered the final note on Jez’s arm.

“Lilith,” he said. “We’re looking for someone called Lilith.”

At that, the door creaked ajar, and an opening appeared in the rock. Connor ducked down and stepped inside, pulling Jez along with him.

The milky eyes of the doorkeeper seemed to hover in the darkness. He was dressed in dark robes. Saying nothing, he lifted a hand and pointed along a curving corridor. Connor could see a glow of light and hear voices up ahead.

“Blood?”
Jez said, questioningly.

“Yes,” Connor reassured him. “Blood. Very soon now.”

He pushed on through the dimly lit corridor until they came to a small square vestibule. There was a glass booth at its center — rather like the one at the Crescent Moon Bay Picture House — and Connor could see a woman inside it. Her hair was arranged in an unruly black beehive. Her eyelids were thickly caked with emerald green glitter. It seemed somewhat incongruous to her surroundings and to her face, which was not in the first flush of youth.

There was someone ahead of them in line. He turned and Connor saw, to his horror, the same fire burning in this man’s eyes. Another vampire. If it had felt dangerous out on the boat when he and Bart had outnumbered Jez, it felt a lot worse here. In this strange place deep inside the rock, doubtless vampires outnumbered mortals. He watched as the vampire reached into his pocket and produced a stash of coins. Then Connor felt his own blood run cold. They were going to have to pay for the blood. Of course they were! Why hadn’t he anticipated this?

“Room three,” the woman in the booth announced, dropping the vampire’s money into her till and pointing to a doorway covered in red velvet. The vampire nodded and pushed through the doorway into the darkness beyond.

“Next!” called the woman from inside her gilded glass cage.

Connor stepped forward in trepidation.

“We need some blood,” he said.

“You’ve come to the right place,” the woman said. “A pint, a half-pint, or a special measure?”

Connor looked at Jez, then turned back to the woman. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s for him, not me.”

The woman looked Jez up and down and turned to Connor. “I’d say a pint.”

“Okay,” Connor said, then asked the question he’d been dreading. “How much is that?”

It wasn’t really a large amount. But it was more than Connor had on him.

“Do you have any money, Jez?” he asked.

Jez shook his head and then moaned,
“Blooooood.”

“No money, no blood,” the woman said. “Sorry, dearie, but we’re not running a charity here. Now step aside, there’s others behind you in the queue.”

Connor couldn’t believe they’d come this far, only to be defeated. Sadly, he turned away. As he did so, the woman spoke.

“Wait! That locket you’re wearing. I’d say that’s worth something.”

Connor turned back. “My locket?” His fingers fell on it. It was the locket he’d given Grace and that she’d left for him when she went away. It was a talisman for him, a way of keeping her close. “I can’t give you this,” he said. “I can’t.”

“Oh well,” the woman said. “It was just a thought. Next!”