“But your father is — forgive me — dead.” Still her face was masked with incomprehension.
“Yes, but sometimes I hear his voice.”
“You hear the voice of a dead man?”
“Yes. You probably think it’s crazy.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, my mind is quite open to such things. And what exactly has he told you?”
“Not much,” Connor acknowledged. “To make myself ready and to trust the tide.”
“Trust the tide. That’s interesting.”
“I thought I might be imagining it, but I really don’t think so. It’s so clearly his voice. And I feel it in my heart. Grace is okay. I know she is.” As he mentioned her name, he thought he felt the locket under his shirt vibrate slightly.
“So, Connor Tempest, your bravery is not your lone talent. Once more, I am impressed. I wonder — does your sister share some of these prodigious talents?”
“Oh, yes,” Connor said. “She’s much smarter than me. She reads books and she has this knack for reading people, too. And she’s strong — not so much physically, but mentally. Grace never gives up.”
Cheng Li nodded. They had reached the end of the boardwalk and stood at the edge of the water. “She sounds like an extraordinary young woman. I greatly look forward to meeting her.”
Cheng Li turned toward Connor. “I told you before, Connor. The world of piracy is changing. There are fantastic opportunities for people like you and Grace. Opportunities that would blow your mind to even think about.”
Connor was immediately intrigued and ready to hear more.
“We will talk again. For now, we must go back and join the others,” Cheng Li said, her eyes twinkling. “I shall buy you a cup of hot rice wine and we will toast to our brilliant future.”
They started the walk back.
“One more thing,” Cheng Li said.
“Yes.”
“I think we’ll keep this conversation to ourselves, Connor. I know that you have many friends on The Diablo, and that’s good — of course it is. But there are some things people like you and I cannot share with others. It is the burden of our greatness. I see a brilliant future for you. You will easily surpass those you see as comrades now — even people you see as superiors. It won’t be an easy journey — do not expect it to be. But the easy journeys are not worth the leather on the soles of our shoes, boy. It’s the journeys that test us to our very core — the journeys that strip the clothes from our back, mess with our minds, and shake our spirits — these are the journeys worth taking in life. They show us who we are.”
Her words were typically brutal, but as they continued on their way in companionable silence, Connor thought he already knew something of what she meant.
33
THE END OF MY STORY
Grace did not struggle. What was the point? Sidorio was too strong. He shut her cabin door behind them and turned the key in the lock, slipping it into his pocket for safekeeping.
He filled the room, not just physically, but with an aura of threat and violence. Suddenly, it was no longer her sanctuary but a place of danger. This, she realized, might be where her story came to a sudden and brutal end.
She was all too conscious of the silence outside. There had been no sign of the others when she left the captain’s cabin. The night had ended early, on account of the sharing. The captain was asleep. Lorcan was feeding. Even if she screamed now, no one would hear her. No one could get to her quickly enough. The only person who could hope to save her now was herself. But how?
“What is it that you want from me?” she asked, deciding to begin with the worst.
Sidorio smirked at her. “I want your blood, of course,” he said.
His directness could, she supposed, be looked upon as refreshing. He was perhaps the only person she’d encountered on the ship who was not given to speaking in riddles.
“But why mine?”
He shrugged. “Because it’s there. And I’m hungry.”
She could see it in his face. It was as if it was made of candle wax, melting and shifting. She had seen this look before — first on Lorcan and then just a moment ago, outside. This must be the face they all had behind the closed doors, as the hunger rose within them, breaking through them like a wave.
“But you could get much better blood than mine,” Grace said, having a sudden brainwave. “I’m new to the ship. I’ve only eaten one proper meal since I arrived. My blood must be the least nutritious of anybody’s! You could do much better.”
Her words seemed to have struck home with him. He looked at her curiously for a moment. Then he shook his head.
“Blood is blood.”
“That’s not what the captain told me,” she said.
The mere mention of the captain made Sidorio grimace. Perhaps it had been unwise to mention him but she was running out of ideas.
“The captain likes to make up little rules,” Sidorio said. “He likes his weekly dinner parties. Likes us to suppress our natural appetite, to pretend we’re civilized. But you know what? We’re not civilized. We’re vampires, demons . . . call us what you will. And vampires need blood. Pure and simple.”
“Ah, but do you really need it?” Grace said. “It looks to me like you have already feasted tonight. Maybe you don’t need any more.” She remembered the captain’s words. “I know you are hungering for it, but you don’t really need it. You just want it.”
“Need. Want. What’s the difference?” He yawned. “You’re boring me.”
Grace had retreated as far away from Sidorio as she could. Her back was pinned against the desk. As she leaned back still farther, the stack of notebooks and pencils tumbled onto the floor. As they fell, she had a sudden idea.
“Tell me your story,” she said.
“What?” He looked at her strangely.
“Tell me how you crossed. Who you were before. What your life was like.”
He stared at her blankly. Was his mortal life so long ago that he had forgotten? The others had seemed eager to rekindle their life story. But he was not like the others. He seemed to have lost all traces of his humanity. Or had he?
“I was a pirate,” he said, eyes suddenly sparking. “In a place called Cilicia in the first century bc.” He smiled. “Now that was the place and time to be a pirate. We controlled the whole of the Mediterranean and brought the Roman Empire to its knees.”
As he warmed to his story, Grace took the risk of indicating the chair. She was a little surprised to find he followed her lead and sat down in it.
“We had a very healthy slave trade going on,” Sidorio continued. “Slaves — that was my specialty. We let the wealthy ones buy their freedom and then we took the others to market. Made a fortune.”
He nodded, as if one memory was opening up another. Then, just as suddenly, he snapped out of his reverie.
“Why do you want to know this?”
“I’m collecting crossing stories,” Grace said, thinking on her feet. “I thought I might write them down. Miss Flotsam told me hers earlier, and Lorcan.”
“Mine’s better,” Sidorio said. “Mine’s the best.”
Grace couldn’t help but smile. She had tapped into a rich vein of arrogance.
“Tell me,” she said, “tell it all to me.” She picked up a notebook and pencil. At first, her hand quivered, but somehow she overcame that and began taking notes.
“You’ve heard of Julius Caesar?”
She nodded.
“Arrogant Roman scum,” Sidorio snarled. “We kidnapped him, me and my buddies.”
Grace’s eyes widened. This really was interesting. She hadn’t paid much attention in school, but she was sure she’d have remembered this.
“Arrogant piece of dirt, he was. Fancied himself a scholar, was off to study rhetoric, whatever that is, on Rhodes. We took his ship off Pharmacusa Island. Held him hostage. Even then, he was full of himself, telling us he was the big man. Even when we ransomed him, said he’d pay us more than doubl
e out of his own pocket to set him free.”
Sidorio sighed. “Some of the men were weak, won over by his boasts. They forgot he was our prisoner. I never did. He hated me.” Sidorio smiled. “Called me every name under the sun. Threatened me with all sorts. He loved to talk big.”
Sidorio went quiet again. Grace turned the page and looked up at him. He had to keep talking. That was the trick. As long as he kept talking, she could buy herself more time. She’d keep him talking until daybreak if she had to, and then expose him to the sunlight.
“What happened then?” she asked.
“His ransom was paid,” Sidorio said. “Turns out he was the big man after all. Should have known that really. We set him ashore at Miletus, did a deal with the governor to postpone our trial.”
He stopped again.
“And then?”
“And then” — Sidorio fixed her with his dark eyes — “and then Caesar took the law into his own hands. He came back for us and took his revenge. He killed me.”
“You were killed by Caesar?”
Sidorio nodded, smiling. “I told you my story was the best.”
He glanced over at the notebook, apparently pleased to see how her writing had covered the pages. He took the book from her hands and gazed at it. She wasn’t sure if he was actually reading it. Then he threw it onto the floor.
“I’m bored again,” he said. “And I’m hungry. Come over here.”
She shook her head.
If he was going to take her blood, let him come to her. She felt numb. Was this to be it then? Because she knew that when Sidorio drank, that would be the end of her. He was like an animal who’d been caged for too long, suddenly free, with time to make up. If he took her blood now, he would inflict on her all the savagery he had been denied for so long, she was sure.
He stood and came toward her. In spite of herself, she found herself cowering. No, please no, not here, not like this.
Sidorio reached out and his hand pushed the hair back from her neck. His touch was gentle but her terror was like a bolt of lightning slicing through her. All the fears she had somehow pushed down during her time on the ship were suddenly unleashed. Adrenaline ripped through her body like fireworks. And then, just as suddenly, everything was calm again and she felt as if she was utterly numb, floating.
At that moment, a strange noise entered the room. A humming. It filled the room, growing louder until Sidorio too paused to listen to it. Where was it coming from? Outside or inside? It was not quite clear. Whichever, it was growing louder and louder. And now, as the humming grew loud enough to burst their eardrums, the wall behind Sidorio seemed to buckle and shake.
A swarm of insects broke through the wall. As they filled the room, the walls grew still again but the noise was unbearable. Grace put her hands to her ears and Sidorio did the same. Grace watched with amazement as the black horde of tiny creatures encircled Sidorio, who raised his hands tightly around his head. The insects burrowed into his eyes and ears, wrapping him in a dark cloak. And then, right before Grace’s eyes, she realized that Sidorio was no longer encircled by the creatures but by a dark cloak of a leathery material, with glowing veins that pulsated as if they were breathing.
“Sidorio,” said the captain, releasing him from his clutches. “You will leave the ship now.”
Sidorio offered neither fight nor protest. He seemed, despite his hatred for the captain, to finally accept that his rival’s powers were superior to his own. Just as, in the end, he had known that Caesar was a mightier, cleverer man.
Sidorio stood at the guardrail opposite Grace and the captain. The deck was deserted but for them. The captain’s gloved hand rested comfortingly on Grace’s shoulder.
Sidorio shook his head, smiling. “Don’t you have a little leaving ceremony for me, Captain?”
“This gives me no satisfaction,” the captain said, “but you have left me no alternative. Your ways are not the ways of this ship.”
“No,” Siodorio said. “No, they’re not.”
“As of this moment,” the captain said, “you are no longer a Vampirate. I can no longer have you aboard this ship.” He looked out into the distance. “Though I shudder to think what havoc you will wreak out there.”
“Well, prepare to be dazzled!” Sidorio said, climbing up onto the guardrail.
He glanced from the captain to Grace.
“This isn’t the last of me,” he said. “This isn’t the end of my story.”
With that, he turned and dived off the ship, deep into the ocean. Grace looked down as the dark waters received him.
“Come, Grace,” the captain said, drawing her away, “let’s go back inside.”
Before she’d had the chance to take in these incredible events, Grace heard the sound of feet running along the deck and there, suddenly, was Lorcan. He looked panic-stricken and out of breath.
“Grace, thank goodness. I went past your cabin and I saw the door was open. I saw blood on deck. And Sidorio is nowhere to be found . . . I thought . . . I couldn’t help but think . . .”
“As you can see, Midshipman Furey, Grace is safe and well. It appears that I owe you an apology, however. I thought you were being overprotective of Grace, but it appears I do not know my own crew as well as I thought. Sidorio ended the life of his donor tonight.”
“But,” said Lorcan, his mind racing to catch up, “what happened? Where is his donor? Where is Sidorio now? Did he hurt you, Grace?”
“The book is closed, Midshipman Furey,” said the captain. As ever, though his words were only whispers, his authority was without question. He stood up.
Grace shuddered, thinking again of Sidorio throwing the donor’s blood-sapped corpse over the side of the ship. Now the captain, too, was drawing a veil over it. Was life really so disposable?
“I do not want Grace put in any more danger during her stay on the ship. I’m making you her official protector. Do not let her out of your sight. Do everything you can to see that she comes to no harm. Do you understand?”
Lorcan nodded soberly. “You have my word, Captain. With the last of my breath, I shall fight to protect her.”
34
THE STRANGER
It was late in the night when the swimmer heaved himself up onto the dockside. His limbs were a little tired but mostly he felt renewed energy and a definite satisfaction at his exertion. He was pumped in a way he could not remember. His mind was racing as much as the energy bubbling through every cell in his body.
He drew himself up to his full height and glanced back at the dark ocean, through which he had journeyed. He’d seen altogether too much of that ocean. It felt good to be back on dry land. He turned away and looked up along the boardwalk.
There were lights flickering ahead and the clamor of voices. Then came a single voice, singing. He began walking toward it, trying to catch the words that drifted through the night air.
I’ll tell you a tale of Vampirates,
A tale as old as true.
Yea, I’ll sing you a song of an ancient ship,
And its mighty fearsome crew.
Yea, I’ll sing you a song of an ancient ship
That sails the oceans blue . . .
That haunts the oceans blue.
It was a boy’s voice, the swimmer registered. A voice that was just starting to break. Up ahead lay the inn. His sense of direction had been as flawless as ever. This was the place. This was where all the pirates gathered. And, though it was late in the night, here they were, clustered around a young boy with a breaking voice who sang a song to an old melody.
The Vampirate ship has tattered sails
That flap like wings in flight.
They say that the captain, he wears a veil
So as to curtail your fright
At his death-pale skin
And his lifeless eyes
And his teeth as sharp as night.
Oh, they say that the captain, he wears a veil
And his eyes never see the light.
/> You’d better be good, child — good as gold,
As good as good can be.
Else I’ll turn you in to the Vampirates
And wave you out to sea.
There was something about the boy, something familiar. He couldn’t work out exactly what it was. His head was throbbing. The exertion of the long swim was starting to catch up with him. So too was his hunger. A hunger such as he had not felt for a long, long time.
Yes, you’d better be good, child — good as gold,
Because — look! Can you see?
There’s a dark ship in the harbor tonight
And there’s room in the hold for thee!
(Plenty of room for thee!)
The boy had seen him now and though he continued the song, he let a note or two slide, distracted by the swimmer’s heavy footprints. And who wouldn’t have been distracted by a stranger such as this? A stranger whose very height and muscled build was enough to block out even the moonlight.
Well, if pirates are bad,
And vampires are worse,
Then I pray that as long as I be,
Demons of the Ocean Page 19
