Vampirates 3: Blood Captain (22 page)

36

COMPLICATIONS

All eyes remained on Alessandro and Moonshine. Cate stepped forward. Connor could sense her thought-processes. It was vital that the crew could see and take the lead from her at this point. Things seemed to have moved into the danger zone, but depending on what happened next, a combat situation could still be avoided.

Alessandro kept hold of Moonshine but turned to address Cate. “Your boy here asked to use one of the conveniences. Of course, I was happy to direct him to one. But on the way back he took a detour through the Emperor’s own quarters and pocketed a souvenir or two.”

Now, the security aide reached into Moonshine’s pocket and withdrew a handful of items. Connor, like the others, was transfixed. It appeared that a fascination for sapphires ran in the Wrathe family.

Moonshine didn’t even try to deny it. He just looked peeved to have been caught. Connor wondered if he realized the extent of what he’d done. He hadn’t just placed himself in danger but Cate and the entire attack squad as well.

“I am terribly sorry,” Cate said now. “Of course, I will want some time alone with my staff member to look further into this. But I can assure you this is an isolated incident.”

Alessandro was not easily mollified. “Frankly, we expected better from the ORC.”

“Of course,” Cate said. “And at this stage I can only offer you my sincere apologies. But I can assure you, there will also be a significant discount off the fee.”

Alessandro shook his head. “It’s not as simple as that,” he said. “Security has been breached and I no longer feel comfortable using your company. This contract is terminated. We’ll expect a full refund of the deposit. And I’d like all the Emperor’s items removed from your ships.”

“Removed?” Cate’s expression said it all, but she spoke calmly. “Can’t we talk about this? I’m not for one moment understating the seriousness of the offence, but the rest of my crew have been completely professional.”

Alessandro shrugged. “We only have your word for that,” he said. “And, as I say, that word is now called into question.”

Connor held his breath. What would happen now? He couldn’t bear the thought of having to carry everything back out of the ships and into the fort. Surely Cate wouldn’t agree to it.

“Of course,” she said. “If you’re at all unhappy, then we must do whatever we can to make you happy again.”

“Alex.” Salvatore stepped forward. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hasty? One bad apple, and all that!”

“No, Salvatore, I don’t think so. Our trust has been misplaced. Who knows what other misdemeanors this lot might have planned?”

There was a hubbub from the ranks. Connor was impressed by the acting abilities of the crew to get into character as disgruntled removal guys.

“Please,” said Cate. “I appreciate that you are disappointed, terribly disappointed, with the actions of this one . . .” she surveyed Moonshine intently, looking for the right word. “This one member of my staff. But I will not stand here and have the rest of my team — who have worked tirelessly and in good faith — I will not have them slandered.”

“Try to understand,” Alessandro said. “Your feelings have very little importance in all this. What matters is that the Emperor’s considerable personal fortune has been placed in grave danger. Now, tell your crew to put down their glasses of lemonade and start bringing the loads back out and into the fort.”

Cate looked close to tears — whether genuine or not, Connor couldn’t ascertain. “All right,” she said. “All right, everyone, listen up! We’ll do exactly as we are asked. Go back into the ships and begin unloading the cargo. And do it carefully. Excuse me for one moment,” she said to Alessandro and Salvatore. “I just need to brief my second in command.” She strode after Bart. Connor overheard her as she passed on instructions quickly and precisely.

“Get everyone back on the ships,” she said. “And get ready to sail off. Understand?”

Bart nodded. “Yes, boss!”

“I’ll deal with Moonshine and follow. But no one else is to come back, you understand?”

“Yes, boss!” he repeated. Then he began moving the teams back toward the ship, calmly passing on the orders.

In a matter of moments, only Alessandro and Salvatore, Moonshine, and Cate were left on the green. Well, only the four of them, plus one other person.

“Connor?” Cate said, noticing him for the first time. “What are you waiting for? Go back to the ship and join your team. It’s all hands on deck if we’re going to get that cargo unloaded.”

“But boss,” he said without missing a beat, “he’s my work partner.” He nodded toward Moonshine. “I can’t lift stuff on my own, can I?”

Cate smiled at Connor. Her smile conveyed a number of thoughts and emotions that they didn’t have time to work through then and there.

Now she turned to Salvatore. “You have apprehended the thief,” she said. “Be assured he will be disciplined most severely. But in the meantime, the most important thing is to get your cargo out of the ships. It’ll take us just that much longer with a pair down. Would you consider releasing this boy so that he and his partner can proceed while we three agree to suitable reparations for this mess?”

Salvatore nodded. “Yes, I think that would be accept —”

“No.” Alessandro stepped in between them. “No, I don’t think so.”

At that moment, Moonshine made a decision. Connor could see what he was about to do as if in slow motion. And if he’d dared to open his mouth, he’d have cried out, “
Noooooooooooo
!” Instead, he could only watch as Moonshine shoved Alessandro to one side and began to run. Alessandro fell heavily against Cate and Salvatore and the three of them tumbled to the ground.

Moonshine ripped open the flap in his boiler suit and produced his weapons of choice — starfish
shuriken
. He began throwing these at the security aides. It was a typical Moonshine attack — instinctive, unplanned, vicious.

The two guards were swiftly on their feet. “I told you!” Alessandro shouted, running toward Moonshine. “I told you, Salvatore. We’ve been conned!” He pointed to the water, where both ships were lifting anchor.

For a moment, Salvatore looked crushed. Then he grabbed a jewelled dagger from inside his pocket and threw himself at Cate. His small talk now all used up, he swung the dagger in the direction of her heart. As he did so, she unsheathed her épée and expertly parried the throw. Then as he prepared to strike, she delivered a precise épée blow to his rib cage. As he fell to the ground, stunned, Cate looked down at him. “Your lemonade wasn’t all
that
!” she said.

Meanwhile, Connor watched as Alessandro caught up with Moonshine and tackled him to the ground. Like his fallen colleague, he was carrying a small jeweled dagger. This he positioned across Moonshine’s neck. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he said.

“No!” Connor leaped forward as Alessandro lowered the dagger. He threw himself upon Alessandro, driving the blade of his rapier in between the guard’s shoulder blades. Immediately a pool of blood erupted from the wound, soaking the guard’s shirt in an ever-increasing circle, like a setting sun. Alessandro’s body slumped on top of Moonshine, pinning the lad to the ground. The dagger blade, which moments ago had spelled certain death, was now plunged only into the Emperor’s manicured lawn.

“Get him off me!” Moonshine cried. “Get him off me!”

Connor had fallen onto Alessandro, his hand still clasped about his rapier. Now, he raised himself up from the lifeless body of his victim. On one level, he knew exactly what he had done. Cate had ordered him to protect Moonshine at all costs, and as he had seen the guard attack with the jeweled dagger, instinct and training had joined hands and taken over.

Connor realized that he had killed Alessandro and saved Moonshine. But he had made no conscious decision to kill. There hadn’t been time for that. Nor had he had time to weigh whether he could safely wound Alessandro or just kill him outright. In fact, as he’d seen his rapier plunge through Alessandro’s shirt and into the flesh between his shoulder blades, it was as if he were watching someone else make the attack. As if someone else had seized the sword from his clutches and done his dirty work. His head raced with these thoughts.
This isn’t happening to me. I didn’t do it. I’m not a . . . I’m not a . . .
But there, in his hands, was the indisputable truth. The blood-stained rapier.

“Get him off me!” Moonshine cried once more.

It was as if everything until now had happened in slow motion, but what happened next occurred in double-quick time. Cate was suddenly at Connor’s side, reaching out her own hands and helping him haul the deadweight off Moonshine. Later, Connor would remember that weight and think of a haunch of meat or a sack of potatoes. Then, all he thought of was the effort it took and how much blood there was. It seemed to soak from every pore of the dead man’s body. All three of the survivors now had Alessandro’s lifeblood on them. Moonshine lay stock-still, bathed in it.

“Run!” Cate cried to him, pulling him up. “Quick as you can! Onto the ship!”

Now, she turned and pushed Connor forward. “You, too,” she shouted. “Run!”

But Connor was unable to move. “I killed him,” he said, looking down at the pool of blood which had turned Alessandro’s shirt from white to crimson. Reality was sinking in. Fast. “I killed him.”

“Yes,” Cate said. “I killed one and you killed the other. What do you want, a medal? Get back on the ship. NOW!”

She pushed him forward and they both ran toward the pontoon. Connor’s heart was racing wildly, a terrible cocktail of adrenaline and fear. He made it across the wish as
The Diablo
began to make its hasty exit from the harbor.

Stumbling onto the deck, he was growing more and more confused about what had happened. He wanted to rewind time, not so much to change what he’d done but just to see it as it had happened, slower than it had happened, in order to understand it. But there was no way to turn back time. Not for him. Nor for the two fallen security aides, who lay on the green sward in front of the fort, fast disappearing from view as
The Diablo
continued on its way.

Connor glanced down to his side. His rapier was still clasped tightly in his hand. Its blade was coated with the fast-drying blood that, until moments previously, had pumped through Alessandro’s body. How long was it since Alessandro had been alive? Five minutes? Ten? Exactly the same amount of time since Connor had become a killer.

He had known that one day he might kill. But he had expected that day to be far ahead in the distance. When he had had time to prepare for it. But that wasn’t what life had in store for Connor Tempest. With no real preparation, he had made a journey he could never return from. In a matter of seconds, he had traveled from pirate to assassin. Now, he had a whole lifetime to come to terms with what instinct had made him do.

As the ship raced away across the ocean, Connor stole one final glance at the guards splayed out on the lawn, then back to his blood-stained sword. His hand began to tremble and he felt the rapier slip from his grasp and tumble onto the deck. As he reached down for it, he had a sudden image, not of the sword, but of Alessandro lying there, looking up at him, blood pooling around his prone body.

“You killed me!” exclaimed the security aide, half in surprise and half in anger. “You killed me! But why?”

“I had my orders,” Connor said.

Alessandro looked up at him in disgust. “You can’t explain away what you did in terms of orders.”

“Yes I can,” Connor said. “I was protecting my comrade.”

“Him?”
Alessandro said, disparagingly, glancing across the deck. Connor twisted his head and saw Moonshine stripping off his blood-covered shirt and reaching for a towel. Alessandro’s words rang in his ears. “But you don’t even like him. In fact, you loathe him.” This wasn’t far from the truth, Connor realized, turning from Moonshine. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I only did what I had to do.”

Alessandro shook his head. “I’m going now,” he said. “But you’ll never forget me. You never forget your first kill.”

Suddenly, the guard’s image was gone and Connor was crouching on the deck, looking down only upon his sword. He picked it up and wiped away the blood on his trousers. For a moment, the sword was clean. Then he saw that the blood had returned once more. How could this be? The sword was coated in blood. He wiped it clean again. And for a moment, it remained clean. Connor sighed with relief. Then fresh blood coated the surface of the blade. It was as if the wound was in the blade itself.

“No!” he said. First, dead men were talking to him. Now, his own sword was playing tricks on him.

37

STUKELEY’S FEAST

Stukeley is grinning from ear to ear. How he is enjoying his fourth Feast aboard
The Nocturne
. The captain — ahem, that is to say, Sidorio, for now he has (or at least pays lip service to) a new captain — Sidorio did not tell him about these delights. He wouldn’t, of course, have appreciated such things. He’d have been bored by the ritual — by the dressing up in your best finery, as if you were setting off to a summer dance; bored by the formal dinner during which no food touched your lips, because what need had you for food? And perhaps, most of all, Sidorio would have been bored by the need to make small talk with his donor. But everything that would have bored his master is a source of rare delight to Stukeley. From the tuxedo and dress shirt he is wearing — with its starched white collar — to the glow of candles, which stretch the length of the vast table; from the way Shanti curtsied before him and he bowed to her as they took their places at the long table; yes, for all these reasons and more, Stukeley could not be happier.

Shanti, it seems, is happy, too. She chatters away, under the impression he is hovering like a fly upon her every word. He nods and makes small noises from time to time, smiling when she smiles. In this way, she seems convinced he is paying her his complete attention when, in fact, his mind is elsewhere altogether. He has much to think of. He dares a quick glance along the table. The rows of vampires and donors stretch out almost to infinity on both sides. He remembers his mission.

“Excuse me, my dear,” he says to Shanti, reaching forward and taking her glass in one hand.

She watches him curiously as he grabs her unused knife in another. (Shanti eats everything with her fork and fingers. It’s not entirely ladylike but he can forgive her.) Now, rising to his feet, Stukeley strikes the glass with the knife — once, twice, three times.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I might crave your indulgence for the briefest of moments.”

“Sit down, Stukeley!” He hears the whisper inside his head. He smiles indulgently at the captain but continues.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I do not intend to keep you from this delicious Feast. I simply wanted to say —”

“Sit down and be quiet!”

“I simply wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to our generous host, the captain. Tonight is my fourth Feast aboard
The Nocturne
and a very fine time I am having, too.”

“Sit down
now,
Stukeley!”

“Forgive me if I appear a little gauche — I am still new to all these things. I know it is not traditional to make speeches on this occasion. And this, indeed, is hardly a speech. More a toast. If you have a glass before you, then please raise it now. And, for those of us who do not have glasses, well, we — in our own way — will drink this toast later.”

Some laughter at this.

“But please, whether you have glass in hand or no, please join me in a toast of thanks to the captain. In gratitude to the one who grants us all safe harbor. To the captain!”

He raises his glass. The donors follow suit. Some of the vampires, amused by this deviation from the norm, raise their hands as if clasping imaginary glasses. Together, donors and vampires exclaim, “The captain!”

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I wonder if you’d care to join me in a dance?” At his words, the soft percussive music of the Feast grows louder and faster. Stukeley nods at the musicians in the corner. They smile back. At last, some new music to play.

“Sit down, Stukeley!” the captain says once more, but already Stukeley has swept Shanti into the centre of the room. He begins twirling her around the floor. The music grows louder.

“Come on!” Stukeley calls to the others, ignoring the captain’s protests. The so-called leader of the ship stands still as a statue as Stukeley and Shanti dance around him. “Join us! This night is cause for celebration.”

“No,” the captain says once more. And now not only Stukeley hears him. Now, not only Stukeley defies him. Others among the Vampirates lead their donors into the center of the room and begin to dance. Their faces reveal a mixture of fear, delight, and rebellion.

Shaking his head, the captain pushes through them and strides out of the room. Many of the vampires rise and follow with their donors. They will not play any part in this.

But others join the dance, intrigued that the ritual of Feast Night can change like this. They watch Stukeley with true admiration. He is so new to the ship — a much-needed breath of fresh air. Hands reach across the table. Feet scurry to the center of the room. Has there ever been music so sweet and tempting as this? Why, it is impossible to stand still!

The style of dance varies from couple to couple. Dances of different eras play out alongside each other. Not all of the vampire–donor pairs are composed of a man and a woman, so there are men dancing with men and women with women. No one thinks anything of it. From above, they resemble the petals of a giant flower. At its very heart is Stukeley and Shanti.

“Well,” she says as they turn once more. “This is irregular, to say the least.”

“I thought I’d shake things up a bit,” he says.

“Did you now?” As she speaks, she becomes aware that someone is watching. She turns quickly, meeting Darcy Flotsam’s eyes. Darcy has her donor by the hand. They are about to leave the room,
of course,
but there is something in Darcy’s eyes. A longing to stay, perhaps? A longing for something else besides. Darcy’s eyes meet Shanti’s. Embarrassed, Darcy turns and walks out of the room. Stukeley watches her go.

“That figurehead is a pest!” Shanti says, drawing Jez closer toward her.

Stukeley laughs. “Now, now, my dear. What harm has she ever done to you?”

“What’s her game anyway?”

“Game?”

“She’s got her sights on you,” Shanti says as he spins her around again.

“Darcy and I are friends, that’s all.”

“Friends?”

“She can’t give me what I need.” He looks her in the eyes. “Only you can do that.”

“Yes,” Shanti says. “You’d do well to remember that.”

Later, they are alone in his cabin. Now at last he can drink his toast to the captain. And he does, lingering over the taste of her blood.

“Stop!” she says. “Stop!”

He looks up at her face. She is frowning. He draws back for a moment and stares up at her, the picture of innocence, his lips wet with her blood.

“Is something wrong?”

“You’re taking too much! You’ve had enough!”

“Nonsense.” He smiles. “Your blood tastes great, by the way!”

“You’ve had enough,” she repeats, pulling away from him.

“How can you tell?”

“I’ve done this many times before. Or have you forgotten? I was Lieutenant Furey’s donor for a long time before I was switched to you.” He can hear the hurt in her voice — the demotion from a lieutenant to a non-ranking officer.

“I don’t expect the good lieutenant had much of a thirst. He was only a young lad, so they say. I’m a full-grown man.”

“He had a very healthy thirst, until his current . . . difficulties.”

“Yes,” Stukeley says, his words edged with a sneer. “And now he has no taste for your blood at all.”

“It has nothing to do with me.”

“I’d have thought you’d be grateful,” he says. “There you were, shriveling up like an old prune, and here I come along, bang on cue, to drink your blood.”

“Oh, lucky me! Lucky, lucky me! Remember, Stukeley, you need me.”

“Yes, Shanti, and remember that
you
need
me
. Without each other, we’re nothing.”

The deck is almost empty. Stukeley has come to get some air. He is elated with the intake of fresh blood in his veins. Shanti’s blood is as spirited as she is. They are a perfect match. He enjoys the element of cat and mouse in their relationship. And if he sometimes feels like the mouse and lets her feel like the cat, well, where’s the harm in that?

He sees a familiar figure, leaning against the deck rail.

“Hello, beautiful!” he says.

The woman turns. Darcy Flotsam directs her large eyes toward him. “Hello,” she says, holding something back in her voice.

“You’re disappointed in me,” he says, joining her at the guardrail.

“Disappointed?”

“Because of the dance,” he continues. “I know I was impulsive, but I felt such joy. Before, I was so full of despair. But now, since I came here, things are so different. Can you understand that?”

Darcy nods. “I do understand, as it goes. But you must be careful. Try to contain that joy of yours sometimes. Out of respect for the captain.”

He laughs. “But surely, the captain wants us to be happy.”

“The captain wants what’s best for us,” Darcy says. “We must respect his wishes.”

“Wishes?” says Jez. “Or rules?” He sees he has pushed this as far as he should. He doesn’t want to upset her. Not her. “It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” he says, his voice much softer. “Rather balmy. And would you look at those stars?”

Together, they turn their eyes up to the heavens. True enough, the stars are out in force tonight.

“But you know what?” Stukeley says, looking at Darcy sadly. “You know what, Miss Flotsam? There’s one star missing from the skies tonight.”

She sighs. “Please don’t use that cheesy old line on me.”

“What line?” he says, innocent as ever.

“You know the one — about how I fell from the skies.”

“No,” he says, lifting his clenched fist toward her. “Not you, this.”

He opens his fist and there, sitting in his palm, is a glittering diamond brooch in the shape of a shooting star.

“For you,” he says.

She gasps, then reluctantly says, “No, really, it’s lovely, but you mustn’t.”

“Mustn’t what?”

“You mustn’t give me things.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, it will make Shanti jealous.”

“Shanti? Why ever would it? I’m grateful, of course I am —
deeply
grateful for what she does for me. But she can only fill one of my needs. Whereas you, Miss Flotsam . . . Well, I’m embarrassed to speak further. May I? May I pin this brooch onto your dress?”

Darcy bows her head. “All right. If you insist.”

He comes closer, reaches out and carefully pins the brooch onto her bodice, mindful not to snag the fine material. “There,” he says, stepping back. “Quite beautiful!”

“Yes it is! Thank you, Mr. Stukeley.”

“Please,” he says, “you must call me Jez. And I wasn’t talking about the brooch.”

Darcy shakes her head from side to side. First the dance, then this. He is like a force of nature. Unstoppable. She shakes her head again. “What
are
we going to do with you, Mr. — I mean, Jez? What
are
we going to do with you?”