Vampirates: Tide of Terror (22 page)

Connor cleared his throat. “My initial thoughts are that . . .” he took a deep breath, feeling he was about to dive from a very great height, “. . . yes, I want to join the Federation . . .”

“That’s wonderful news.”

“. . . but I don’t see how I can do it without upsetting Captain Wrathe. And he’s been so good to me.”

“I understand your concern,” said the headmaster, standing up and walking toward a portrait of himself in younger days, “and it’s entirely to your credit.” He moved the picture to one side. Behind it was the dial of a safe, which Kuo began turning back and forth. Eventually, the safe door opened and Commodore Kuo dipped in his hand and retrieved a small velvet bag. He returned to his chair and began untying the clasp of the bag.

“All we need to do is talk to Molucco in his favorite language,” said the headmaster, smiling. He undid the bag and shook it open. A slew of perfect sapphires poured out across the table.

Connor gasped. The headmaster smiled, reaching out toward the jewels.

“Now, how much do you suppose it will take to sweeten Molucco?” he asked. “One lump or two?”

Grace was standing on the balcony, watching the storm. She didn’t hear the knock on the door.

She turned to find Cheng Li entering her room, bearing a tray of food.

“I brought your supper,” said Cheng Li, setting it down on the table. “I figured you’d prefer to eat alone.”

Grace nodded, reluctant to be distracted from the storm. She turned back to her view of the gardens. Cheng Li walked out and joined her on the balcony.

“It’s becoming quite a storm,” Cheng Li said.

“Yes,” said Grace. “It brings back memories.”

Cheng Li was about to speak but hesitated.

Grace nodded. “I think it’s time.”

“Are you sure?” Cheng Li said. “I mean, we could be wrong. We could be crazy!”

Grace shrugged. “A storm like this only comes once in a while. It would be a shame to waste it.”

“If that’s the case, then come inside and have something to eat,” said Cheng Li. “You’re going to put yourself through quite an ordeal tonight. You had best get your strength up.”

30

NOW WE ARE FIVE

Since “the Others” arrived, Sidorio has lost all interest in surfing. Now, only Stukeley surfs while the captain spends his time deep in conversation with the crew. Each night, they build a fire and the four of them sit around it, like old crones — talking in soft voices, plotting. Stukeley surfs alone. I am too young to spend all my time sitting and plotting, he thinks. In truth, he no longer knows if he is young or old. Age has lost all meaning for him.

Ever since the rest of the crew arrived, Sidorio has barely said two words to Stukeley — to
his lieutenant
! It is disorientating. Curious creature though he is, Sidorio has become the center of Stukeley’s world. He is the one who brought him back. That Stukeley will never forget. Sidorio is his captain and his father. It is an unbreakable bond. But now Sidorio ignores him.

For a time, he loses himself in the surf. A storm is brewing and the waves are strong — he enjoys their strength. Rain falls upon him and lightning crashes around him. It only adds to his fun. He is an amazing surfer now. He is happy as a child, while the “grown-ups” talk their talk on the sand. He is glad to be separate from them. The one called Lumar prattles incessantly, as if
he
is the captain. Stukeley can’t understand why Sidorio doesn’t put him in his place. The one called Olin says little, but the way he watches you is unnerving. His eyes fix on you and do not let go. If you meet them, your own eyes begin to burn from the intensity of his stare.

The only one Stukeley likes is the girl — Mistral. She always smiles at him and makes room for him at the fire-side. He wishes that she had turned up without the other two.
She
is a welcome addition to the crew. If only the others would go on their way — but yet, they stick limpet-like to the captain.

At last, Stukeley has had his fill of the surf and rides the last wave in. His feet hit the sand and, as usual, his clothes and skin are dry — even in the driving rain. He runs through the storm toward the fire. At first, he wonders how they keep it alight in the midst of the storm and how they hear themselves talk above the roar of the thunder and the slap of the sea against the cliffs. But, as he reaches the fire, he finds the noise of the storm recedes. The sand is perfectly dry here, too. It is as if they are protected from the storm by an invisible globe.

Mistral turns and smiles at him. The light of her gaze is brighter than the fire itself.

He throws down the surfboard and joins the circle. “So,” he says, deciding to try and be friendly, “what ya talking about?”

“Ah, Lieutenant Stukeley,” says Lumar, glancing up and smiling with no trace of warmth. “We talk of many things.”

“Many things, Lieutenant Stukeley,” echoes Sidorio.

Stukeley can feel Olin’s hungry eyes upon him. He refuses to return his glance, turning his gaze instead to the flames. As he does so, he feels a soft hand on his shoulder.

“We’re making plans for the next stage,” Mistral says.

He turns toward her. She reaches out her fingers to his forehead and brushes back a stray lock of his hair. He trembles at her touch. She smiles once more.

“The boat we came in is too small for us all,” says Lumar. Sometimes his voice is so soft, Stukeley can barely hear his words. But Lumar always sits beside Sidorio and the captain always hears his words, as if they are pouring melting honey into his ears.

“The ferryboat is also too small,” announces Sidorio.

Five pairs of eyes turn to the two small barks, tethered close by. They leap on the rough water — the ocean is like a horse trying to throw its riders but the little boats hold their own. Stukeley looks fondly at the ferryboat. It served their purposes well enough when it was just the captain and Stukeley and their surfboards. How long ago was that? It feels an eternity.

“We need a ship,” Lumar says softly.

“We need a ship,” Sidorio booms.

“Yes,” says Lumar, nodding, as if the idea is new. “Yes, we need a ship.”

“A ship.” These are the first words Olin has spoken in Stukeley’s presence all night.

“That is our plan,” says Mistral, smiling at Stukeley. He is prepared to go along with
any
plan she might suggest.

Sidorio stands up, towering above them. Saying nothing, he walks away from the circle, toward the boats.

“Come,” says Lumar to the others. “We shall journey along the coast tonight. We shall see which ships are in these waters and think further upon this.”

“Is that a good idea?” Stukeley asks, forgetting, for a moment, his hatred of Lumar. “Won’t we get into trouble out in the storm?”

Lumar smiles — a full, proper smile this time. It is the most evil smile Stukely has ever seen. “The weather need trouble you no more, Lieutenant. There are no more storms for the likes of us.”

Lumar’s words are proved true. As rough as the weather grows about them, somehow the small ferryboat moves firmly through the waters, as if they are quite calm. Nor does the rain soak the five passengers. Once more, Stukeley imagines they are protected by a small globe.

Nevertheless, he thinks, the ferryboat, though bigger than the bark the others arrived in, is too small. A ship
would
be better. On a ship he could get away from Lumar and Olin whenever he wanted. A lieutenant would have his own quarters. And on a ship, he could be alone with Mistral. The more he thinks about it, the more he sees the possibilities. He wants a ship. He wants it now. This is how his appetite works, these days.

But as the small ferry hugs the coast, they pass no other ships. The sea is empty — for which ships would wish to contend with such weather?

“Patience!” Lumar says, smiling once more. “We must have patience. All our desires will come to pass. If not tonight, then soon.”

Stukeley detests the way Lumar speaks. Grand words. Saying nothing. He seems to feel the need the fill the air. Better to be silent. Silent like the captain. The captain, who brought him back from the other place.

They sail on, around the corner of the coast. Stukeley watches the rain lash the dark cliffs — the droplets of water illuminated by soft moonlight. Stray bushes appear to stretch from the cliff edge. Some are torn clean off by the wind and tumble down into the black waters. The ferry sails on, untroubled. They turn the corner of the cliff and, as they do, they see lights in the distance. Lights on a hill.

“What’s this?” asks Lumar.

They all look up as a broad arch comes into view.

The lights and the arch strike a vague chord of recognition in Stukeley.

“Is that a harbor?” asks Mistral.

“Beyond the arch?” says Lumar. “Yes, I believe it is!”

“Shall we take a closer look?” she asks.

Lumar turns. “What do you say, Captain?”

They all look to Sidorio.

He is standing, looking toward the tall arch, and through it. There is a strange look upon his face.

“You seem perturbed, Captain,” says Lumar. “What is troubling you?”

Sidorio gives no immediate answer. His eyes are racing through the arch and over the water, on to the dock, then climbing the hill. “The girl,” he says at last.

“The girl?” Lumar echoes.

“What girl?” asks Mistral.

Sidorio shakes his head slowly. “The girl with the book.” He is talking to himself as much as to the others.

“I’m afraid I’m not following, Captain,” says Lumar. This time, the frustration in his voice is evident.

Their ferry has reached the arch. Now the arch is protected, like the boat, from the falling rain and crashing lightning. Still, Sidorio stands, staring into the distance. Stukeley gets to his feet to join him.

“Careful, idiot!” Lumar says. “You’ll unbalance the boat.”

“Surely nothing can unbalance
this
boat?” says Stukeley with a smile.

Lumar glowers at him.

“Look,” says Mistral, pointing to the carvings. “It’s an Academy.”

Academy.
The word triggers an echo somewhere in Stukeley’s mind. As does the arch and the lights on the hill. He knows enough to know that he has been here before.

“Shall we go through the arch?” he asks Sidorio.

“The girl and the book,” Sidorio repeats. “She knows my story.”

Stukeley nods, encouragingly. “Would you like us to go on, through the arch, Captain?”

But there is no reply. Sidorio’s eyes are empty now. They all see it. In place of his eyes are pools of fire. The hunger is upon him. And it is catching. Each one begins to feel the same gnawing hunger, rising from within. Until five pairs of eyes are aflame, like beacons in the dark night.

31

INTO THE FIRE

Grace pushed back the bedroom shutters and stepped out onto the balcony. Although wet, the dark night was warm and sultry and the falling rain did nothing to slake the heat. If flood and fire could come together, then this is what it would feel like.

The storm had long since taken possession of the Academy and was now rampaging through the gardens like a pack of savage beasts. The trees were being tugged back and forth by invisible hands, bending them like giant wish-bones, ready to snap. The ordinarily placid glass channels of water were churning like rapids, racing from the terrace down toward the dock. And down, down in the harbor, the Academy boats were shaken violently by the dark, troubled waters, denied, tonight, their peaceful slumber.

Grace watched it all, as the warm rain soaked her skin and hair and clothes. She watched it all and thought of that night some three months before, when she had last witnessed such a storm — not from the relative sanctuary of a balcony but from far out in the dark waters them-selves. She watched it all and she thought of the Vampirates. It was the perfect weather for their reunion.

She felt a shoulder brush against her own and turned to see that Cheng Li had joined her on the balcony. Grace smiled, full of purpose.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Cheng Li asked her.

Grace nodded. “I’m sure.”

Cheng Li rested her hand on Grace’s shoulder for an instant. Together, they watched the havoc of the storm.

“You know the risk you’re taking?”

Her words were almost lost in a sudden roar of thunder. Grace waited for it to pass before she answered.

“It’s worth the risk.” She thought of Lorcan and felt the adrenaline sweep through her. “Come on, let’s do it now, before I lose my nerve.”

She stepped back inside the cabin. Cheng Li followed, drawing the shutters closed behind her. “You should leave Connor a note,” she said.

“I thought you could tell him.”

Cheng Li considered for a moment. “A note would be better.”

“Okay,” Grace said, not wanting to waste any more time. Not wanting to waste this storm. But the harsh weather was here for the night. A few more minutes would not prove decisive.

Grace carefully unlocked the vanity case that Darcy had given her and took out a pen and one of the note-books. Reluctant to spoil the books, which had taken on a special meaning for her, she carefully removed a double page from the center. She managed to extract the page without a trace. She smoothed out the sheet and consid-ered what to write. Inspiration came quickly. She scribbled the words, then blew on the ink to speed its drying. As she did so, a few droplets of rainwater splashed down from her rain-wet hair to the sheet. The water met the not-quite-dry ink and blurred her handwriting. It was messy, but it was still legible and she was loathe to waste any more time by starting again.

Waiting a moment, she folded up the paper and then — careful to keep her wet hair back — added a “C” to the outside, propping it on the bedside table.

She slipped the pen and the notebook back into the case and locked it shut once more. It bothered her to leave it behind, but she could at least take the key with her, ensuring that no one else could open it. Silly, really, she thought — all this fuss over a few secret notebooks. But then, she had precious little left these days besides those secrets.

“Ready?” Cheng Li asked. She had been standing with her back to Grace, watching the storm.

Grace nodded. “Let’s go.”

Cheng Li held open the door for her and they stepped out into the darkened corridor, moving swiftly and silently along the row of closed doors, down the stairs and out into the Academy gardens.

“Be careful,” Cheng Li said, shouting over the howling wind, as they reached the rain-lashed grass. “You don’t want to slip at this point.”

Grace nodded. There was no way she was going to slip now. Nothing was going to prevent her from fulfilling her mission. She was more convinced than ever. This was the only way.

The two of them were soaked by the warm rain as they made their way down the hillside. Not another soul had ventured out into the grounds and, glancing back, Grace saw that all the Academy’s shutters were tightly fastened. No one bore witness to their movements.

At last, they made it to the dockside. Grace paused to catch her breath. The harbor waters looked like a soup that has boiled too long, the thick liquid jumping and sputtering over the edges of the stone. Thank goodness for the moon — and the intermittent flashes of lightning — bringing light into the hot darkness.

Cheng Li said something, but her words were drowned out by thunder. Grace noticed that the jacaranda tree had been so shaken that its seat and the harbor path were both strewn with blue flowers. In the aftermath of the storm, the once beautiful tree would be almost bare. It was a sad sight, but Grace could not afford to dwell upon it.

Cheng Li leaned in closer. “Let’s go out to the very end of the harbor wall.”

Grace looked up. Ahead of her, the wall snaked out toward the water. On either side, the water reared up against it, leaving a trail of foam on the sleek stones. Getting from one end to the other would be a challenge. But Cheng Li was right. The farther out she entered the water, the greater the chance that the Vampirate ship would come for her quickly, before the dark waters dragged her down beyond even a vampire’s grasp.

Her wet clothes already pulling at her like an undertow, Grace clambered up the steps to the top of the wall. Cheng Li followed. They held on to each other for support as they made their way forward. On either side, the waters were agitated and unpredictable. They were forced to stop for a moment as a rogue wave jumped clean over the sides of the wall. Once the water cleared, they struggled on. Grace was chilled to the bone now, in spite of the warmth of the rain.

Now the end of the wall dropped away and down into the dark, agitated waters. They stood side by side at the water’s edge — allies against the storm. Then Grace stepped forward and Cheng Li stepped back. They had come as far as they might together. Now it was up to Grace alone. She looked out across the water to the Academy arch, which marked the divide between the Academy walls and the ocean beyond. Through it, a smoky mist obscured the horizon. Could the ship already be there — hovering on the other side of the arch, cloaked in mist — waiting for her? Her heart almost broke with longing. Let it be there. Let it be so.

Grace turned to find Cheng Li shivering. “Go inside,” she told her, “I’ll be all right.”

“But what if they don’t come?” Cheng Li said. They were both shouting above the noise of the storm.

“They will come,” Grace cried.

“All the same ...,” Cheng Li said, rooted to the spot.

Grace shook her head. “This isn’t a game, Cheng Li. They need to think I’m in real danger. I need to
be
in real danger. That’s why they came to me last time. If they know you are here, they might not come. I have to do this alone.” It was all so clear to her now.

Cheng Li gazed at Grace with an intensity that drilled through her. The older girl stepped forward as if to em-brace her, but then held back.

“I always knew you were extraordinary,” she said. “Good luck, Grace!”

With that, she turned and staggered back across the wall. Grace watched her go, thinking how small and frail Mistress Li suddenly appeared, framed by the might of the storm. Even the twin katanas on her back seemed useless now — little more than knitting needles in the face of the elements. She thought suddenly of the kids’ game —
rock, scissors, paper.
Strange how each was rendered useless, depending on what you were up against.

As Cheng Li faded back into the night, Grace turned once more toward the water. Beyond the arch, the dark mist was growing thicker but, above her, the moon slipped out from the cover of clouds and a beam of light shone down upon her face. She had a sudden sense of calm. This was her moment. She stepped right up to the edge, as if this was the diving board at Crescent Moon Bay’s municipal pool. As if this was just another Friday afternoon swimming class.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” she cried. Then she jumped off the edge of the wall and down into the water.

It was shockingly cold. She shot down below the surface. Suddenly, she was insulated from the noise of the storm raging above. It was pitch-black and calm here. She held her breath, extending her limbs and floating beneath the furor for a moment. As her breath began to run out, she pushed down her arms and swam back toward the surface. Pushing her head up and out of the water, she was shocked by the chill night air and the noise of the storm. It seemed louder now — but whether this was because of the contrast with the calm beneath or because the weather had taken a turn for the worse, she was not clear.

She glanced around, hoping for a sign of the ship. There was none. It was too soon. She looked back toward the harbor. Cheng Li had disappeared, just as she’d told her to. Grace was seized by a momentary panic. What on earth had she been thinking of — throwing herself into the roiling waters in the heart of the rainstorm? This was madness! At that moment, she had a sudden vision of her dad, standing on the wall, staring down at her with a smile.

“Sometimes madness is wisdom, Gracie.”

She smiled back at him. Then a wave lashed at the wall and he disappeared. The waters rose around her and she knew that she was alone — utterly, definitively alone.

She trod the waters bravely, feeling herself carried farther and farther away from the edge of the wall, out toward the arch. The sea was colder here and her energy was draining away. Surely it was time for the ship to come through the arch? Surely they wouldn’t wait for her to struggle any longer?

She lost all sense of time. It could have been an hour or only a few seconds. Pictures flashed through her head like a movie replaying the scenes of her life. She was back in Crescent Moon Bay at her father’s funeral; setting off with Connor on their boat; waking up on the Vampirate ship; stealing her way toward the captain’s cabin; facing Sidorio; attending the Feast ...the scenes played slower and slower, as if the spool of movie film had grown tangled and broken. And then the pictures stopped altogether. And there was only inky darkness, soaking into her through her head and hands and feet. She was coming to the end of something. If they didn’t come for her now, this was it.

She dipped down beneath the surface again and felt the waves swallow her whole. She was starting to sink, like a stone, through the layers of water. Still, she felt strangely calm. She had risked all. She had been wrong. Now, what lay in wait for her?

There was a moment of nothingness. Perhaps the first of many such moments.

And then, she felt the shock of a pair of hands closing about her shoulders and pulling her. Pulling her back up through the dark water. Lorcan. It had to be Lorcan! He had taken his time. But he had come for her, just like she knew he would. She couldn’t help but smile as her body went limp.