Vampirates 5: Empire of Night (29 page)

Kane Eden Charles the Third nodded and smiled. "I'm sure he will, but I surmise it will be a while longer. We had a very successful raid today, and the captain is in his cabin, counting his booty."

"There you go!" Sugar Pie punched the air with relief.

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"Do you hear that, Ma? The pirate king is in his counting house, counting out his dirty treasure!"

Kane Eden Charles the Third suddenly smacked his hand to his forehead. "You're Ma Kettle... I mean
the
Ma Kettle! I've heard so much about you, from my pa and grandpa, and others, too. You're a pirate legend!"

"Thank you, dear," said Ma. "I was feeling old before you arrived. Now, I feel positively mummified."

"No offense intended!" said Kane Eden Charles, blushing furiously once more.

"None taken," said Sugar Pie, smiling softly and drawing Ma away. "Look, if Molucco's going to be a while in his cabin, why don't you take a bottle of fizz over and keep him company?"

Ma considered the proposition, then shook her head. "No," she said. "He won't want interrupting. I know him. I know him better than anyone. I shall wait for him here."

Sugar Pie gazed at Ma. "In that case, I think you should go and have a rest. I can manage things out here quite well. The minute he arrives I'll come and find you."

Ma seemed about to protest but instead nodded gratefully at Sugar Pie. "You're a good girl," she said, lifting a strand of Sugar Pie's silky blond hair and brushing it tenderly behind her ear. "The daughter I never had but always dreamed of." Her eyes budded with tears. "Oh dear, waterworks! What on earth's gotten into me tonight?"

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"You're just tired and emotional," said Sugar Pie. "Go and put your feet up in your cabin. Even if it's just for twenty minutes, you'll feel restored. I'll brew up some reviving sea-urchin tea and bring it in."

Ma smiled. "A little power nap. That's what we used to call it. Maybe that's all I need." She turned and looked imploringly at Sugar Pie. "You'll come and find me the minute Lucky arrives?"

"The very second he walks in," Sugar Pie said. "I promise."

In fact, Molucco Wrathe was
not
alone in his cabin on board
The Diablo
. Sitting on a pile of silk cushions on the chair opposite the captain was his trusty pet snake and constant companion, Scrimshaw. Together, they were surveying the haul of fine gemstones from that day's raid.

"Feast your eyes, Scrim," said Molucco. "Did you ever see such rare beauties?" In one eye Molucco wore a jeweler's optic, and he lifted a sapphire up in his hand and drew it closer to the lens. Suddenly he gasped. "After all these years!" he exclaimed. "I've found it. The perfect sapphire!"

Cradling the jewel in his palm, Molucco removed the optic and set it down on the table. Tears of joy streaked his lined face. "Oh, Scrimshaw, I'm a happy fellow today.

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The perfect sapphire. Whoever would have believed it? Why, I'd begun to think there was no such thing." He held out the gem to Scrimshaw to appraise. Scrimshaw slid off his cushion and set off across the table to investigate.

"That's a good boy," Molucco said, gently stroking the snake's skin. "You've been my most faithful companion these past few years," he said. "How old are you now?" He thought back. "Why, it's been nearly twenty years since my brother Barbarro and I found you and your brother Skirmish. Twenty years! That's more than many a pirate's lifespan. We shall have to plan a celebration!" Molucco smiled at the reptile, which was twisting and turning amidst the glittering jewels.

"I've had my fill of human company," Molucco said. "Too many have come and gone, taken advantage, or even betrayed me." He took a snifter of rum. "When push comes to shove, my friend, there are just two things I can count on: my sapphires and you!" The snake looked up at Molucco, and it seemed as if perhaps he understood his master's words. "Here's to you!" said Molucco, raising his glass once more.

"Well, now, this
is
a cozy scene, isn't it?"

Molucco gave a start, hearing another voice in the room. His eyes roved darkly about the place as he saw three people circle the table--a young man and two attractive young women. The man was dressed, ludicrously, in a cowboy hat. The two women wore cloaks fastened with glittering brooches. Molucco's eyes were

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immediately drawn by the gemstones. Glancing up, he saw that both women sported heart-shaped tattoos around their right eyes.

"So you've come to pay me a visit, have you?" Molucco said. "First, you kill my dear brother Porfirio. Then you make off with my sister-in-law's hand. And now it's my turn to be boarded."

"That's a fair assessment of the situation," answered the man. His companions smiled.

"They told me to expect a visit," Molucco said, perfectly calmly. "Oh yes, they had all kinds of ideas and instructions about how my crew and I should defend ourselves."

The man's smile froze. "You knew we were coming?"

Molucco smiled, addressing Scrimshaw once more. "They weren't expecting that, do you see? They think they have all the answers, but they're wrong."

The man removed his hat. "Forgive my incivility. My name is Johnny Desperado, and these ladies are Nathalie and Jacqueline. We are, to coin a phrase, Vampirates."

"Yes, yes, I know what you are." Molucco stared at Johnny and chuckled. "Vampirates, eh? You look more like a cowboy to me."

Johnny shrugged. "A man may be many things at once."

The two women were looking at Scrimshaw. "He's a beauty," said Jacqueline, reaching out a bare arm from under her cape. "Come and say hello, you handsome fellow."

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She held her arm steady, and Scrimshaw coiled himself about it. Jacqueline laughed softly. "Would you look at that?" she said. "He's like a piece of living jewelry."

"Unhand my snake, madam," said Molucco petulantly.

Jacqueline smiled prettily. "It's he who has
my
hand bound, sir. Not the other way around. He seems to like me."

Molucco frowned. "Well, you've popped by to say hello. Time you were leaving. I'm not in the mood for social niceties."

"That's quite all right," Johnny said. "We won't take up much more of your time, will we, ladies?"

He turned to his companions. They both smiled, their incisors nudging over their open lips.

Molucco turned to Johnny. "What are you doing here?
The Diablo
is a private ship. How did you get past my guards up on deck?"

Johnny shrugged. "We killed them," he said nonchalantly. "Oh, but you might like to know that they put up a pretty good fight."

"Yes," Nathalie licked up a stray glob of blood from beneath her lip.

"You killed them?" Molucco asked, shaking his head. "Why? I don't understand any of this."

"It's really very straightforward," Johnny said. "We've come for this ship."

"Well, you can't have it," Molucco raged. "Go away! It's my ship. Always has been, always will be."

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Johnny smiled and shook his head. "Haven't you heard? The times, they are a-changing, Grandpa, and we're expanding our fleet." He spread his feet wider apart on the cabin floor. "It's my job to bring this ship under our control tonight."

Molucco thrust back his chair angrily and stood face-to-face with Johnny. "If you want this ship, you'll have to kill me first."

The men locked eyes. Molucco's were full of fury, but Johnny's were full of fire. Nevertheless, Johnny shook his head. "I would gladly kill you," he said. "But, see, I'm a gentleman and I promised you to these two ladies." With that, he nodded, and Jacqueline and Nathalie closed in on Molucco in a pincer movement.

"Would you like me to take care of the snake?" Johnny asked Jacqueline.

"Oh, yes, good idea." Jacqueline passed Scrimshaw over to Johnny.

"No!" Molucco protested. "Do what you want to me, but don't harm one scale of Scrimshaw's!"

Molucco was in no position to negotiate. He was now completely frozen in the two demons' clutches.

Johnny cradled Scrimshaw in his arms. "You might want to turn away about now, little buddy," he said.

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31 THE MORNING AFTER

Ma Kettle opened her eyes and took a moment to adjust to her surroundings. She was lying on her bed, still dressed in her trademark crinolines. Through a tear in her ancient curtains, a sliver of grayish light nudged hesitantly into the room. Ma was disoriented. Could it really be morning already? She reached over to the old whiskey barrel she used as a nightstand and fumbled for the glasses that she rarely wore outside this room. The glasses were propped against a cold pot of tea that had sat there, untouched, since it had been brought in. Dimly, Ma remembered Sugar Pie's offer of a soothing brew.

Glasses on, she scrutinized the clock ticking away on the wall, its swaying pendulum shaped like a dropped anchor. A quarter past seven already! No! She had settled down for a nap the evening before and slept right through.

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She frowned. This was most uncharacteristic. Maybe she was coming down with something. Yes, she thought grimly.
Age.

It was far from an easy maneuver swinging her vast skirts and the legs contained therein off the bed and onto the floorboards below. As she stood up straight, Ma Kettle caught her breath. Memories of the night before were beginning to come back to her. The busy tavern. Her conversations with Sugar Pie and that young pirate, barely old enough to run a razor over his cheeks. What was his name? Did it even matter? Above all, she remembered waiting for Molucco to arrive. And waiting. And waiting.

He had never come, she thought now, shaking her head. Or maybe he had. Maybe, while she was out for the count in her quarters, he had sauntered into the tavern and helped himself to that bottle of oyster champagne they had put on ice for him. Yes, of course that's what must have happened.

Ma pushed back the curtain. The morning light was weak but still sufficient to make her squint. Outside, a fine rain was falling. She opened her window a touch to let in some air. Something was worrying her. If Lucky
had
come over, then surely he'd have popped by to say hello to her? He was no stranger to her quarters, and Sugar Pie would have known to let him through. A cold river of panic flowed through Matilda Kettle's veins.

She cast a cursory glance at her old looking glass, frowning at her reflection, then exited her bedchamber, without

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bothering to slip shoes onto her stockinged feet. The tavern was quiet as a graveyard at this time of the morning. It was always the case. Ma's young workers would have flopped down, exhausted, onto their mattresses not long ago, so by now would be in a deep sleep, grabbing the vital rest needed between one night's mayhem and the next.

Ma liked to walk alone through the tavern most mornings. As she strode between the empty tables and chairs, the place would pulsate with memories of happiness and laughter, remembered jokes and incidents from the evening before and the one before that. Her happy thoughts would stretch back night after night after night and through the many years since she had first erected that flashing neon sign on the clifftop and welcomed pirate crews from far and wide. It seemed only a giddy moment ago but, in truth, it was a long time.

This morning, as she walked through the deserted tavern, noticing the empty chairs and half-drunk tankards, Ma wasn't filled with her usual high spirits. This morning, the emptiness got to her old bones. She found herself thinking of all the pirates who had come and gone--who had drunk and danced and laughed here and then gotten themselves killed and dragged down to Davy Jones's locker. "I'm getting overemotional!" she scolded herself. "Better buck up my thoughts before the kids wake up!"

Ma managed to raise the flicker of a smile as she passed beneath the skull-and-bones glitter ball that hovered over the dance floor. She walked on to the door that led

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out onto the terrace and pushed it open. The fine rain fell on her painted face and seeped into her stockings, but somehow she didn't mind. There was an underlying warmth to the rain. Ma could feel it bringing her gently back to life.

She stepped out onto the wooden boards of the terrace, softly shutting the door behind her. As she did so, she noticed a ship sailing across the horizon: a pirate vessel on its way. It made her smile once more. A new day was beginning. In the end, that was all you could hope for and give thanks for: one more day in this hurly-burly world.

It was then that Ma noticed she was not alone on the terrace. Someone was sitting at the table at the far end, also watching the ocean. She would recognize that silhouette anywhere. Her heart lifted. Molucco Wrathe. She could spot him a mile off, even without her secret pair of glasses; such was the deep connection between the two of them. So, he
had
come to the tavern! But why was he sitting out here in the falling rain? Why hadn't he come to find her? She strode over to his table, determined to get some answers.

She hadn't yet reached the table when she realized that something was wrong. There was no doubt it was Molucco. You couldn't mistake those rainbow-colored dreadlocks or the blue velvet tricorne hat he wore jauntily over them. But he was perfectly still. Too still even to be sleeping. Besides, no one slept sitting up like that.

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Her heart in her mouth, Ma hastened her step. Her stocking snagged on a jagged piece of decking, and she felt a splinter pierce her foot. Still, she kept on walking toward Molucco.

She could scarcely bear to look, but she knew she had to. As she stood in front of the table, she beheld the most terrible sight of her life. However long she lived, nothing would ever appall her more. There, facing her, was her own dear Lucky, Captain Molucco Wrathe. He was dressed in his usual finery, but every last drop of blood had been drained from him. His circular blue glasses still rested on his mummified nose.