“Oh, yes.” Nathalie nodded. “The world is their oyster. These little guys will be running us ragged, you can bet on it. I wonder if they’ll even remember that Auntie Nat changed a thousand of their diapers when they’re running the empire.” She smiled and shook her head, rolling her eyes.
Stukeley’s smile froze upon his face. These two little kids might look innocent enough now, but Nathalie was right. They stood to take their place at Sidorio and Lola’s sides. He and Johnny would no longer be Sidorio’s deputies. It was bad enough being edged aside by Lola, let alone by two rug rats who couldn’t even control their own bowel movements. He made another face at Hunter, provoking a fresh burst of giggles.
“You’re really good with them,” Nathalie said. “You must visit us more often!”
Stukeley turned away from the babies for a moment and focused instead on his adult companion. “Are you their nanny?” he asked. “I get the impression you spend an awful lot of time with them.”
Nathalie shrugged. “I do what I can. I promised Lola that they wouldn’t be left alone at any point. Not after what she read in the cards last night!”
Greatly interested and keen to learn more, Stukeley leaned in closer. “Lola certainly does love the cards, doesn’t she?”
Nathalie nodded, pursing her lips. “But she was in quite a state after what we found out about little Hunter here.”
“What exactly did you find out?” Stukeley asked her casually, glancing back down and winking at the helpless brat.
Nathalie was tickling the baby’s tummy. “Lola turned the Death card and then three others—the Healer, the Lost Buccaneer, and Orion, also known as the Hunter.”
Stukeley quickly processed this latest information as Nathalie continued. “Lola’s got it into her head that death is coming for Hunter. It absolutely terrifies her.” Nathalie’s eyes were wide as she turned to Stukeley. “You know the babies have really changed Captain Lockwood. As strong as she is, if anything happened to Hunter or Evil, it would completely and utterly destroy her.”
There! There was the solace that Stukeley had been waiting for. He truly hadn’t expected to find it here, but wasn’t there some kind of saying about wisdom springing from the mouths of babes and fools? Well, Nathalie certainly wasn’t a fool, and the babes hadn’t exactly spoken to him, but… close enough. He heard Nathalie’s voice inside his head—and it had never sounded so sweet. If anything happened to Hunter or Evil, it would completely destroy her. Completely destroy her. Destroy her. Her. The thought of Lola Lockwood-Sidorio’s destruction was the most pleasing thing in the world to Stukeley. Already his brain was working overtime.
“We must take very good care of these little guys,” Nathalie said, in her soft, warm voice.
Stukeley nodded, reaching his own hand down into the crib.
“Yes indeed,” he said. “We mustn’t let the precious little devils out of our sights.”
“You were rather magnificent up there, Sid,” Lola said as they made their way along the corridor to the blood cellar. “Though I really do think you need to pull Stukeley into line.”
“I know,” Sidorio said. “And I will. Let’s just get through the next battle and then we’ll review our key personnel. Reshuffle the cards.” He glanced down at her. “Does that sound like a good plan?”
Lola nodded. “A very good plan indeed,” she said, dipping her hand into her pocket for the key to the cellar door.
“My only sadness,” Sidorio continued, “is that Grace and Connor won’t come back to our side. Then our family—our empire—would be complete.”
Lola nodded carefully, thinking of the last few cards she had turned. “I wouldn’t worry about it overmuch, darling.” Why worry when Jack Tar was stalking the Healer and the Lost Buccaneer? Soon Grace and Connor would be written out of the story for good. And about time, too! Death might also have Hunter in his sights, but the cards had given Lola notice of this, and she had heeded their warning. Nothing bad was going to befall little Hunter. Lola smiled. “I have a feeling everything is falling into place.”
“Do you really think so?” Sidorio asked her.
“I know so,” Lola said, key outstretched as they reached the door. Her tone faltered. “What’s this?”
The door was ajar and her boots appeared to be stepping not onto dry floorboards but into centimeters of liquid. With a sense of awful foreboding, Lola pushed open the door and strode into her beloved cellars. Sidorio heard her piercing scream and rushed inside to join her.
It was a terrible sight to behold. The cellars had been completely vandalized. Bottles lay emptied and smashed. Blood of many distinct vintages gushed over the floor and seeped down into the deck boards, unsavored. On the far wall, painted in blood, were the words:
YOU’VE LOST THE WAR!
Sidorio watched as Lola fell to her knees, her ruffled skirt now fully immersed in the sea of blood. “No!” she cried out, lifting her hands out from under the pool and running them dementedly through her hair. She was covered, head to foot, in blood. She looked uncharacteristically helpless as she turned to him, eyes showing the deep pain of this brutal assault on everything she had worked so hard to create. But there was something undeniably beautiful in the sight of his wonderful wife doused head to toe in the blood of those she had assiduously slaughtered, before filtering and decanting it into bottles. Bottles that now lay smashed all around her, like so many broken dreams.
“How could they do this?” she rasped, shaking her head. “What kind of animals are we dealing with?”
Sidorio waded determinedly toward her, his boots sloshing through the blood, and reached out his hand to hers.
She was trembling. He had never seen her like this. Few people would ever think of Lola as being vulnerable, but Sidorio was privileged to know better. Lola was deeply vulnerable when it came to the things that truly mattered to her: her comrades; her precious wine; her sons; and, doubtless, her husband.
He held her by the wrist and drew her up to her feet once more. “They’ll pay for this,” he said.
“What if we did underestimate them?” Lola asked. “How could they have gotten on board to do this? And away again, too?”
“Those aren’t the questions you should be asking,” Sidorio said.
“No?” Lola looked at him, anxious for answers.
“I’m over being the underdog in this war. I’ve had it up to my ears with pompous pirates and blood-fearing vampires. I’m done with hearing Obsidian Darke’s sanctimonious sermons and then bearing witness to random acts of violence like this.” Sidorio locked eyes with his wife and comrade. “They are the ones who have underestimated us. Not the other way around.”
“What are you saying?” Lola asked, reaching out and resting her elegant, bloodied hands on Sidorio’s shoulders.
Sidorio smiled. “This war ends tonight. Whatever it takes. No one is going to stand in my way. I’ve been more than patient, but no more Mr. Nice Vampirate. This time, the gloves are off.”
Lola at last managed to raise a half smile. “I love you, Sid. I hope you know that.”
He nodded, smiling happily at her. “I know,” he said. “I had you at hello. Now come on, Lola, let’s bring the troops down here to feast and then we’ll go blow the Alliance into smithereens. What do you say?”
For once, Lola Lockwood-Sidorio was silent. Any more words seemed utterly redundant after all the beautiful things he had said.
40
PROTOCOL NINE
Down in the vaults below the Rotunda at Pirate Academy, a meeting was under way in Room 13. It was a special meeting of the key personnel of the pirate and Nocturnal Alliance, convened in the immediate aftermath of The Nocturne’s successful dismissal of Sidorio and his rebel forces.
“Well,” Ahab Black said, “let me be the first to congratulate you, Commanders Darke and Furey. You certainly saw off that punk Sidorio in no uncertain terms.”
“Thank you, Commodore Black,” Lorcan said, nodding graciously, as—at h
is side—Cheng Li squeezed his wrist. On Lorcan’s other side, Obsidian remained silent.
“Though, I must say,” Black continued, “I’d feel happier about breaking out the Federation champagne if you had actually and conclusively destroyed both Sidorio and his harpy of a wife.”
“Hear, hear!” agreed Trofie Wrathe enthusiastically. “But surely, comrades, the termination of Sidorio, Lola, and the other Vampirate leaders is the next phase of our strategy?”
“Is it?” asked René Grammont. “That sounds like an expensive proposition. As I recall, when we last met, the war chest was running perilously low.”
Ahab Black cracked a thin smile. “Worry no more on that score, René. We have lately received a sizable donation from our newest captain, Connor Tempest.”
There was hubbub around the table at both aspects of this news. Jacoby and Jasmine exchanged a surprised glance, then turned to Cheng Li, who nodded but said nothing.
“Let me be sure I understand you,” Trofie Wrathe addressed Commodore Black. “You made Connor Tempest a Federation captain? I don’t remember us being consulted about this. And, according to Federation protocol, at least six members of the executive council must endorse all nominations for captaincy.”
Black was unfazed. “Difficult times call for decisive action. As commander in chief of the Federation, I invoked article 224b. Connor’s a fine young pirate, and his investiture sounds just the right PR note to the rest of the fleet.” He smiled. “Moreover, as Connor has signed over a sizable chunk of his inheritance from Molucco, we’re now firmly back in the black… no pun intended!”
Trofie remained incredulous. “I didn’t realize we were in the business of selling captaincies these days.”
Barbarro reached out and placed his own hand over her golden one in an attempt to pacify her. She angrily snatched it away.
Now Pavel Platonov spoke up. “This addition to our finances is undoubtedly fortuitous. Yet I share the concern of Captain Grammont. This war has already proved costly—in every sense. I see no need in prolonging our engagement or committing further expenditure if the threat from the Vampirates has, as I understand it, been neutralized.”
Now Lisabeth Quivers entered the fray. “Is it true, Commodore Black, that the full Alliance fleet is making its way into this very harbor tonight?”
Ahab Black was only momentarily derailed by this question.
“My word, Captain Quivers, your sources are impeccable. Yes, I gave the order for all ships to gather here.”
“Are you deciding everything unilaterally these days?” queried Trofie. “Because, if that’s the case, why are we here at this godforsaken hour and not sleeping in our beds?”
“Why did you summon the fleet?” Captain Quivers asked Black.
“For a rallying call,” Black said. “I want to punch home the message that we’ve won the war. Tomorrow we’ll parade Connor Tempest in front of them, announce his investiture, and outline the next phase in our strategy.”
“Which is what?” inquired Barbarro. “To send out every last Alliance captain with a price on Sidorio and Lola’s scalps?”
Black grinned once more. “Well now, that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, would it?”
“I agree,” said Moonshine Wrathe. “We should go after the Vampirates, and not just the demon duo. We shouldn’t rest until every last one of the ships they hijacked from us has been taken back—just like The Diablo.”
“With respect,” René Grammont interjected, “that’s fine rhetoric, Captain Wrathe, but there is a price tag attached to every Alliance vessel pursuing the Vampirates.”
“Not only that,” Cheng Li spoke now. “But if we further antagonize Sidorio and Lola, we could start up the war all over again.”
“It’s not like you to advocate mercy, Commodore Li,” said Black.
“I’m advocating caution,” Cheng Li said. “I’m as concerned about this situation as the rest of you, but I don’t think there are any easy answers.”
“I completely disagree,” interjected Kirstin Larsen. “Surely this is blindingly simple? We must have a decisive end to the war.”
Cheng Li remained calm. “Why don’t we ask Commanders Darke and Furey how they feel it is best to proceed? After all, they both know Sidorio far better than any of us.”
“Hear, hear!” Captain Quivers agreed.
Along the length of the conference table, all eyes turned to the two Nocturnal leaders.
At last, Obsidian Darke spoke. “I regret to say that I do not believe the threat from Sidorio is over.”
“We have our answer!” Ahab Black punched the table. “I don’t know what further prompting the rest of you need. We cannot rest easy until this threat is completely neutralized. We have the ships and the money. It’s time to crank up our war machine to the max.”
“We have a worrying skills shortage,” Barbarro interjected. “Need I remind you all that this war has seen unprecedented levels of pirate fatalities?”
“On the Nocturnal side, too,” Cheng Li said.
Ahab Black nodded, facing Obsidian Darke once more. “All in all, my friend, it’s a pity you didn’t call on these mysterious allies of yours somewhat sooner.”
Darke did not rise to the bait. There was, momentarily, silence within Room 13. It seemed that there would be no easy answers. Cheng Li glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already well into the early hours. At this rate, they’d be lucky to have reached an accord by sunrise.
“Shouldn’t you be down below in the Alliance bunker?” Grace asked Connor, pointing to the floor of the Rotunda. “After all, you are a Federation captain now.”
Connor shrugged. “Aren’t you the Alliance’s leading healer these days? You’ve earned your place at that table just as much as I have.”
Grace considered his words. “Perhaps. Still, I’d much rather be here with you. We’ve spent far too much time apart, don’t you think? We didn’t even get to spend our birthday together. That was a first.”
He nodded thoughtfully and glanced upward. They had left the lamps of the Rotunda unlit, but still Grace and Connor were bathed in a watery blue light—the result of the moonlight filtering down through the colored glass in the building’s domed roof. Grace saw that Connor was staring up at the cases of swords belonging to some of the greatest pirates the world had ever seen. She knew they had fascinated him since the very first time they had visited Pirate Academy. He gazed up intently for a time, then his eyes slowly returned to her.
“Hey,” he asked. “What’s in that satchel of yours?”
Grace unzipped the bag and removed from it the book she now carried with her at all times. She’d been wanting to tell him about it since the moment she discovered it. Now seemed as good a time as any.
They stepped toward each other, directly beneath the cluster of swords. Grace held out the small book and Connor took it, holding it up to the light so he could read the words on the cover. “The Way of the Dhampir.” He glanced up at Grace questioningly.
“It’s a guide,” Grace said. “It was blank when I found it, but it talks to me.”
Connor looked askance at Grace, then back at the closed book. “It talks to you?” he said. “What about?”
“It answers questions no one else can answer,” Grace said. “Have a look. I’m interested to know if it works for you, too.” She stepped closer. “Open it and ask it a question. You don’t even need to say the words aloud.”
Not so long ago, Connor would have dismissed this as one of Grace’s fantasies, but experience had taught him to take her at her word. He opened up the book and, with a soft sigh, focused on the blank pages before him.
Grace had walked over to stand beside him and watched over his shoulder as text began appearing on the page.
Your time as a dhampir is coming to an end.
They both stared at the page, then Connor’s hands began to tremble and he dropped the book to the floor.
“Oh, Connor,” Grace said sadly. “I’m
so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, turning to face her. He was smiling. “I’m trembling, but it’s with relief, I think. I’m not like you, Grace. I can’t accept this thing I am. There’s nothing I want more than to stop being a dhampir.” He smiled broadly at her. “Your magic book has given me the best news I’ve had in ages.”
It dawned on her that he didn’t understand that the book was telling him that he would be the one to die. Because surely that was what the words meant—the time of the prophecy was drawing near and now it was revealed which one of the twins was going to be sacrificed. Grace felt bereft. As much as she had feared her own death, now she realized that the idea of Connor’s dying was far worse. She felt as if she had betrayed him somehow, by failing to tell him sooner about the prophecy. But, truly, was it something they had any power to change?
Grace couldn’t even face looking at her brother. Seeing the book lying there on the floor of the Rotunda, she knelt down to retrieve it. As she did, more words began to appear before her.
The time of the prophecy is now.
“No,” she said. “No. I’m not ready.”
“What does it mean, Grace?” Connor asked, at her side. “What prophecy?”
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t be the one to tell him he was going to have to die to bring peace to the oceans.
“What prophecy?” Connor persisted. “Grace, you have to tell me.”
Down in the bunker, Cheng Li glanced at the clock once more. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Would this meeting never end?
“We’re not getting anywhere,” Kirstin Larsen said, speaking, it seemed, for the majority of the assembly.
“Can I make a suggestion?” Moonshine asked. “We’re a democratic organization, aren’t we? Why don’t we just put this to the vote?”
There were murmurings around the table, largely, it seemed, in favor of the suggestion. Then two things happened in quick succession. Ahab Black raised his hand to restore order. Then there was a hammering on the door to Room 13 and a breathless Bo Yin pushed it open.
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