Blood Captain

by Justin Somper

  “You know what?” Bart asked. “He looks like the kind of kid who’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of The Diablo . . . not to mention that nasty spread of acne. Bit of a mama’s boy, too! Did you see the way he hung around Trofie’s skirts?”

  Connor nodded. “She’s a little scary,” he said.

  “More than a little,” Gonzalez agreed. “Barbarro seems like a good man, though. I know he and Molucco are at odds but you can tell there’s a basic decency about him. I liked him.”

  “Me, too,” agreed Connor. “I hope he and Captain Wrathe — our Captain Wrathe — can work out their differences.”

  Bart nodded. “You know what? Just sit those two down alone with a big bottle of rum and some dates for their pet snakes, and I reckon they’d be back on track by sunrise. But with Trofie and the squirt in tow, I don’t know . . . I’m not sure they’re really back to settle an argument so much as to start one.”

  “What do you mean?” Connor said.

  “I’m not sure,” Bart said. “I’ve just got a funny feeling. We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open and see what goes down.”

  By now they had reached the ship and began making their way up the gangplank.

  “Man, I’m going to sleep well tonight,” Gonzalez said as he jumped onto the deck. He yawned and stretched out his arms. “Are you boys coming to crash or hanging out on deck awhile?”

  Bart looked at him with a grin. “I think someone’s forgotten we’re all on the night watch. You’d better get some espresso down or you’re going to be as much use as a custard cutlass!”

  “No, no,” Gonzalez said, shaking his head. “I forgot, is all. Hold the espresso, I’ll be fine!”

  “What’s that noise?” Connor asked, five minutes later.

  “Check out Sleeping Beauty!” Bart pointed up to the crow’s nest.

  Above them, Gonzalez was slumped against the edge of the barrel in an unpromising contortion, one arm dangling limply over the side. Now Connor realized the strange whinnying noises were his mate’s snores.

  “How can he possibly sleep up there? Standing up?”

  Bart shook his head. “I wouldn’t exactly call that standing. Thing about Gonzalez is he can sleep pretty much anywhere, anyhow,” he said. “Fat lot of use he is. Let’s just hope the waves are kind to us tonight. Wouldn’t want to wake our little baby!”

  Connor was tired himself, but pleasantly energized by the events of the day. Days that began with conquering his fear and ended with dancing in the arms of Sugar Pie had much to recommend them. And then there was the arrival of Barbarro and his strange family. Whatever they were here for, it was intriguing to get to see the rest of Molucco’s family firsthand.

  He walked back up the deck toward the prow, looking beyond the ship’s edge out in the direction of the horizon. It was a starry night, and as was his habit, he began searching for the constellations. There was Ophiuchus, the Serpent Bearer. Connor smiled to himself at the name, thinking of the two captains Wrathe with the snakes in their hair. Perhaps in millennia to come, they’d name constellations after Molucco and Barbarro. But for now, there was Ophiuchus. He remembered how he’d struggled to see it as a kid, and how his dad had reassured him. “Don’t worry, Con. Most of the stars in this one are quite dim — just look for the shape of a teapot.” Ever since, he’d always thought of this constellation as the Giant Celestial Teapot.

  Looking out at the night sky, he thought, of course, of Grace. Where was she now? Was she gazing at the same stars? Maybe she was thinking about him? He missed her. He knew she had her own journey to make but he hated her not being around. He hoped she’d be back again soon. He was tired of saying goodbye to the people who mattered most to him — his dad, Jez, Grace . . .

  “Penny for ’em.”

  Connor looked up and found Bart at his side.

  “I was just checking in with Ophiuchus,” Connor said with a smile.

  “Oh you was, was ya?” Bart said, nodding. “Okay, I have to confess I have zero idea what you’re talking about.”

  Connor grinned and pointed into the sky. “Otherwise known as the Great Celestial Teapot!”

  Bart looked out into the sky, then back toward Connor. “You know what, Tempest? Sometimes I forget what a strange fruit you are!”

  “Strange!” Connor exclaimed. “Who are you calling strange?” He squared up to Bart, tensing his body.

  “Oh you want some, do you?” Bart said, amused.

  Suddenly Connor shook his head. His eyes were wide and he was shaking uncontrollably.

  “What is it, buddy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

  Connor took advantage of Bart’s momentary distraction to hurl himself at him.

  “Oh, you dirty . . .” Bart regained his composure immediately, standing up to his full height, with Connor clinging to him.

  Suddenly Bart grabbed Connor and lifted him up across his shoulders, spinning him around his head.

  “Stop!” Connor cried.

  “Know what they call this?” Bart said. “The windmill! Can’t think why, can you?”

  “Stop!” Connor wailed. “I’m getting dizzy! And I feel . . . sick!”

  “Say please!” Bart said, mercilessly spinning him even faster.

  Connor was weak with laughter and dizziness. Finally he managed to push out the word. “Please!” he moaned. “Please . . . put me down!”

  “Well, since you asked nicely!” Bart dropped Connor into one of the safety boats. He landed with a thud and lay there, sprawled on the tarpaulin and rope, dazed for a moment. He still felt like he was spinning.

  Bart towered over him, waggling his finger. “Now, there’s a lesson see, young Tempest. You may be growing faster than a macaranga tree but you’re not ready to take on Bartholomew Pearce just yet.”

  Connor regained his breath, finally sitting up again in the safety boat. He was trying to come up with a witty retort but no inspiration was forthcoming. Suddenly, he saw something that took away not only his words, but also his breath.

  “What’s the matter?” Bart looked concerned. “You’re shaking again. Oh . . .” He grinned. “I get it. You can’t play that trick twice in one night!”

  All Connor could do was shake his head, his eyes wide with fear and incomprehension.

  Behind Bart, a pale face loomed closer. A face he had never expected to see again.

  Trembling, Connor pointed.

  Bart turned.

  There, standing on the deck before them, was Jez.

  “How do, lads,” he said. “How’s about a smile for an old friend?”

  8

  THE HEALER’S ART

  “Follow me,” Mosh Zu said. “Lorcan, your room is on the next level.”

  As they followed the path down still further, Grace realized that this was not so different from being on a ship and going down to the cabins. Perhaps, she thought, the underground nature of Sanctuary was not merely designed to prevent the vampires from exposure to the light, but also to prepare them for life aboard The Nocturne.

  “Very good, Grace,” said Mosh Zu. She had the feeling he was watching her intently, yet when she glanced his way, his face was not looking at her at all, only forward. She still couldn’t get over how young he was . . . or, at least, how young he seemed. He carried himself with strength and vigor. The skin on his face was as smooth as a mask. You could, if you chose, describe it as handsome. He was not at all what she had expected.

  “Thank you,” Mosh Zu said, smiling. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

  Grace blushed. She had grown used to the captain reading her thoughts, but now Mosh Zu, too? He was a stranger to her. It made her feel exposed. Even now, he could be reading these thoughts. Where was she supposed to hide her secrets?

  “Don’t try to hide from me,” Mosh Zu said. “It’s good you are so open. Others’ minds are like overgrown forests, full of writhing branches. You are uncluttered, like the fresh mountain air. Trust me, Grace, this is good. This is very
good indeed.”

  She blushed once more, in spite of herself. If only he would direct his attentions elsewhere. Whether in response to this, or of his own volition, he did.

  “Lorcan Furey,” Mosh Zu announced, coming to a stop. “This is your room.”

  He opened up a small chamber. It was, like the other rooms they had walked through, dimly lit. There was a single bed in the center of the room and a chair in the corner. Above the bed and on one of the side walls were hangings, similar to those in the hall above. They were, Grace supposed, where windows might have been.

  “All the rooms are more or less the same,” Mosh Zu said. “Plain and simple. I hope you will be comfortable here.”

  Lorcan found his way to the bed and sat down. He let out a long sigh and reached down to untie his boots.

  “Some rest will do you good,” Mosh Zu said. “Soon, the sun will rise and you must sleep through the hours of light.”

  Grace watched as Lorcan’s fingers struggled to find his laces. She was about to help him but a sudden instinct held her back. Somehow she knew that this was something he had to do for himself. She turned to Mosh Zu and saw that he was nodding at her. Had he read her thought or sent her his own?

  “Are you going to examine his wound?” she asked out loud.

  Mosh Zu smiled. “You are a step ahead of me, Grace.” He turned toward Lorcan. They both watched as he eased off the second of his boots. “Let us get you settled on the bed, Lorcan. And then, if you’ll permit me, I shall indeed examine your wound.”

  Lorcan nodded. “Of course, sir.”

  Mosh Zu shook his head. “There’s no need to call me sir. I would much prefer you to call me Mosh Zu.”

  “All right,” Lorcan said, with a nod.

  “Come on.” Olivier began bustling the others out of the room. “I’ll take you to your rooms and we’ll leave Mosh Zu in peace to make his diagnosis.”

  Grace was disappointed. She was so eager to know Mosh Zu’s verdict on Lorcan’s wound.

  “I think Grace would like to stay while I examine her friend,” Mosh Zu said. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “If that’s all right . . . I mean, with you too, Lorcan. I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “It’s fine by me,” Lorcan said, reaching toward her and squeezing her hand.

  “Well, if she stays, I stay,” Shanti said, reaching out for Lorcan’s other hand.

  “No,” Mosh Zu said softly but firmly. “No, I think not.”

  Shanti continued to grip Lorcan’s hand. “I’m staying,” she said. “Grace is nothing to him . . .”

  Lorcan was about to protest but Shanti was on a roll. “I’m his donor. He’s got my blood running through his veins. Or he would have if he stopped messing around and started feeding again.”

  “I’m not messing around,” Lorcan said wearily. “I have no hunger.”

  “No hunger!” Shanti snapped. “Well, find some! What kind of a vampire suddenly loses his taste for blood? It’s unheard of!”

  “No.” Lorcan shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

  “Come on,” Olivier said, putting a hand on Shanti’s shoulder. “You’re upsetting him.”

  “Get your hand off me!” Shanti said, tears of rage in her eyes. “I’ve every right to upset him. Lord knows, he’s caused me enough upset!”

  The captain had been silent until now, but now he spoke, his soft whisper like balm on the tension of the room. “Perhaps, Shanti, it would be better if you and I waited outside. We can hear Mosh Zu’s diagnosis as soon as he has made it.”

  Shanti said nothing. Her hand slipped free of Lorcan’s, though as Grace watched, she wasn’t entirely sure that this was of Shanti’s own volition. There was a strange, beatific expression on the girl’s face as she walked toward the door. They watched as she exited into the hallway. Olivier stepped out after her.

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Mosh Zu. “You, of course, are most welcome to stay while I make my examination.”

  “It’s all right,” the captain said, with a shake of his head. “I’m sure Grace will prove an able assistant. I shall leave you to your work and wait with the others outside for your diagnosis.”

  Mosh Zu looked at him, then nodded as the captain walked out of the room. The door swung shut behind him. Grace felt a slight chill. Suddenly, she was incredibly nervous. The moment she had waited for — the moment they had all waited for, toiled up the mountainside for — was fast approaching. But what if Mosh Zu’s examination only confirmed her worst fears? Maybe it was better to live in ignorance and hope.

  “Let’s take this one step at a time,” Mosh Zu said, smiling reassuringly at her. “Now, Lorcan, are you comfortable there on the bed?”

  Lorcan nodded.

  “I’m going to put you into a light sleep,” Mosh Zu explained. “It will help us to make a deeper connection. Is that all right with you?”

  “Whatever you need to do,” Lorcan said. Then he smiled. “Why, I nearly called you ‘doc’ then!”

  Mid-chuckle, Lorcan’s head suddenly hung limp. Grace saw that Mosh Zu’s hand was resting on the back of Lorcan’s neck. He had been so fast, she hadn’t even seen him reach out and touch him. She was amazed and intrigued at how quickly he had put Lorcan “under.”

  “Would you help me, Grace?” he asked now.

  “Yes,” she said, wondering what she could do.

  “Would you remove the bandages for me?”

  This she could certainly do! She’d been changing Lorcan’s bandages ever since returning to The Nocturne. Now, Mosh Zu gently raised Lorcan’s head, allowing Grace to untie the knot she herself had fastened earlier. She carefully lifted the cloth from his face. As the bandage came off, they both looked down at the wound.

  “You’ve seen this before?” Mosh Zu asked her.

  She nodded. “Several times.”

  “Does it show any sign of improvement to you?” Mosh Zu asked.

  She looked down. She could almost persuade herself that the livid colors of Lorcan’s scar were lightening, but she realized that this had more to do with the soft light in this room than any change on his face. As much as she wanted to see signs of improvement, the wound looked exactly the same as always.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head glumly. “No, I wish I could say differently, but it’s just the same.”

  “And, out of interest, what have you been dressing this with?”

  “Just a touch of yogurt,” she said. “I wasn’t sure what else to do. My dad always used to use yogurt when Connor and I got sunburned. I remember it being very soothing on tender skin. They had some in the kitchen on The Nocturne, so I thought I’d try it.”

  Mosh Zu smiled.

  “Did I do something stupid?” Grace asked, suddenly embarrassed.

  He shook his head. “I’m not laughing at you, Grace. I was just thinking that you do, as I have been told, have something of the healer’s art about you.”

  “The healer’s art? Really?”

  He nodded. Now she was pleased.

  “Do not be dismayed that the wound has not yet shown signs of healing. It will be a slow process for Lorcan. Vampire skin takes much longer to mend than mortal skin. Lorcan does not have the same quantity or complexity of cells running through his body as you do. The blood he takes is needed for more basic functions — the life force, if you care to characterize it as such. He needs the blood to help him heal, but it cannot easily be diverted to cure a wound like this. We have to direct it there.”

  Grace nodded, but then a dark thought came into her head. “But Lorcan hasn’t been taking blood,” she said.

  “Quite so,” Mosh Zu said. “Quite so. And that is a further challenge to the healing process. We must encourage him to start feeding again.”

  Grace nodded determinedly. She was prepared to do whatever it would take to bring Lorcan back to full health. If he had to drain every last drop of blood from Shanti’s small body, he would have to do so. Grace
shivered at the thought.

  “The yogurt you applied has helped to ease his pain,” Mosh Zu said. “But I’m going to prescribe a slightly more intensive treatment. I shall have Olivier make up an elder salve. You might find it interesting to watch him do this.”

  She nodded. “Yes, please! So, you think he can be cured, then?”

  Mosh Zu nodded. “There’s no problem with this wound. No problem at all. It’s just a matter of time. As long as we get some blood back into his system and apply the salve on a regular basis, you’ll watch these angry burns fade away. He’ll look as good as new.”

  “And he’ll see again. He’ll be able to see again!”

  Grace felt elated. Mosh Zu was definitely living up to his reputation. They’d only just arrived at Sanctuary and already he knew how to set Lorcan on the road to recovery. Now Mosh Zu indicated for Grace to replace the bandages. Once more, he lifted Lorcan’s head to make things easier for her. She tied the knot and then stepped back from the bed.

  As she did so, Mosh Zu spoke once more. “I don’t want to upset you, Grace. But while the surface wound is fairly easily dealt with, I suspect there are complications here.”

  “Complications? What kind of complications?”

  “I’m going to perform a deeper examination,” Mosh Zu said. “You may find this distressing. It’s up to you whether you wish to stay or step outside to join the others.”

  “No,” Grace said, standing firm. “I’ll stay.” Whatever was going to happen, she wanted to be there for Lorcan.

  “Very well,” Mosh Zu said. “But I want you to prepare yourself.”

  Now he was frightening her. What was he about to do? All kinds of dark thoughts rushed through her fevered imagination.

  “I’m going to put my hand on his thorax,” Mosh Zu said, his calm voice helping to slow the rush of terrors in her head. “You know the thorax? It’s the part of the body between his neck and diaphragm. It is a very important part of the body for a vampire.” He turned to Grace. “Have you ever watched him share?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she said. Then she remembered. “Except, one time, I saw him and Shanti afterward. They were sleeping.”