Blood Captain

by Justin Somper

  There was a long pause.

  “All right,” the captain said at last. “Get off your knees. Stand up.”

  Jez drew himself upright.

  “I will allow you to travel with us, for a time. And, if you prove your worth, I shall take you to one who can help you with your onward journey. But do not expect any of this to be easy. There is much work to do and it can only come from you.”

  “Yes, Captain — my captain. Thank you.”

  “The best way of thanking me is by proving that there is truth in what you have told me. Disappoint me and you will leave this ship, never to return. Is that understood?”

  Jez nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll have Darcy sort out a room for you. And a donor. I think I have someone who can fill that role.”

  Connor suddenly blanched.

  The captain shook his head. “Not you, Connor. We are carrying an extra donor at the moment. Her name is Shanti. I think she will be a perfect match.”

  The captain’s mood suddenly seemed to lighten. “Connor, Bart, would you like me to prepare a cabin for you?”

  “No,” Connor said abruptly. “That is, I mean —”

  Bart interjected. “I think what Connor is trying to say, sir, is that we should be getting back to The Diablo before we are missed.”

  “As you wish,” said the captain. When he spoke again, it was not to them. “Darcy, please come and collect Jez, will you? I’d like you to take him to one of our spare cabins. He’s going to be traveling with us a while.”

  In a few moments, Darcy had appeared inside the cabin, the door opening to admit her. She was beaming.

  “Come along,” she said to Jez, “and we’ll get you settled.”

  “Thank you, Darcy,” the captain said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Jez said to the captain. His relief was evident.

  “Remember what I said, Jez. There are no more chances beyond this.”

  “Yes, sir!” With that, he hugged Bart and Connor in turn. “Thanks for helping me out, guys.”

  As Connor released Jez, he wondered what lay ahead for him. Would they ever see him again? He felt suddenly drained — by their reunion and by their journey back to the Vampirate ship. He had a certain curiosity to find out more about the place but he knew that it was not his world. Grace clearly thrived on its mysteries, but he preferred the more solid world of pirates.

  “So it’s goodbye once more,” the captain said to him.

  “Yes,” Connor replied. “For now. I have a feeling we’ll meet again.”

  The captain seemed to smile at him through the mesh of his mask. “Oh yes, Connor, we will meet again. And in the meantime, I’ll be watching you.”

  Though the words might have been forbidding to others, to Connor there was some strange comfort within them. He reached out and shook the captain’s gloved hand. As he did so, he had a sudden vision. He was in the water and the hand was lifting him out of it and up to safety. Was that what had happened at Calle del Marinero? He tried to sustain the vision but it evaporated all too quickly.

  As he and Bart walked back across the deck, his head was full of thoughts and questions about the Vampirate captain.

  They reached the ladder back down to their small boat, then turned. Jez and Darcy were talking together on the deck. Connor heard them laughing.

  “I think Jez is going to be okay here,” he said.

  “Reckon so,” said Bart. “Always did have a way with the girls, that Stukeley! The captain seems tough but fair. And speaking of captains, we’d better get some speed on before ours finds out we’re missing.”

  Nodding, Connor climbed over the side and began descending the ladder. As he did so, he heard a familiar voice.

  “But who are they? Who are they? I’m hungry. I’m so hungry.”

  Funny, he thought. They’re as curious about us as we are about them.

  Jumping back into the boat, he thought about the vastness of the dark ocean — so vast that it could shelter so many different kinds of people. Then, as Bart joined him, he pulled up anchor and they sailed off once more, guided by the silvery sliver of a crescent moon.

  29

  LORCAN’S RIBBON

  The ribbon was clearly having an effect on Grace. Ever since Johnny had slipped it around her neck, she had begun to feel drowsy. It was as if the ribbon were getting ready to talk to her — or rather, preparing her to listen. Slipping down from the wall, she decided she had better find a more comfortable spot. Ideally, she’d have gone back to her room but she sensed that there wasn’t enough time. She could take the ribbon off again, but now that the process had begun, she was eager to get on with it. She’d heard Olivier talk of a kitchen garden and a fountain on the other side of the courtyard. That sounded like a tranquil place to sit for a while.

  The garden was just as Olivier had described it. In its center was a circular fountain. The sound of running water was instantly soothing. Better yet, there were three benches around its circumference. Grace sat down on one, then decided she would be more comfortable lying down. She removed her sweater and bundled it up as a pillow. As she stretched out, her eyes closed tightly and she found herself quickly transported into another place.

  It was dark. It took her a moment to realize that she was underwater. Then she saw the body. The girl’s body, floating in the water. Grace shivered. It was her own body. She was watching herself on the verge of drowning. It was riveting but horrific at the same time. Her first instinct was to open her eyes but she knew she had to stay within this vision world, however unsettling.

  She swam powerfully toward herself and reached out, taking the frail body and carrying it up to the surface. She could sense the weakness in her own limp body as she delivered it up into the night air.

  Then she was looking down upon herself, sprawled out on a deck. Of course! She realized she was seeing her first meeting with Lorcan but from his point of view.

  He looks down in wonder at the girl lying on the deck. The girl’s eyes are closed. Is she dead already? No, she cannot be. He waits. At last, her eyelids flicker and she looks up at him. She looks up but she does not see him — she is too busy finding her way back into the world. But he sees her. And the sight gives him a jolt. Her eyes are as green as emeralds. He has seen eyes like this before. On three faces. Can it be? Can it really be true?

  “You’re going to get me into trouble,” he says.

  She looks confused, as if she can’t quite understand him. The strands of her auburn hair have settled over her eyes. He reaches forward and brushes them away. The sight of her hair in his pale hands triggers another memory. Hair just this shade. He shivers to think of the implications. But then the girl starts making sounds and he is drawn back into the moment.

  She is shivering, and at first, the sounds she makes are incoherent. He realizes she is desperately dehydrated. He reaches for his flask and offers her a drink. As she takes the water, he uses his free hand to tear off his jacket and bundle it under her head. Once more, he sees the auburn hair and feels the shock of recognition.

  “Who are you?”

  At last her words make sense to him. They provoke such a rush of thoughts and memories. Now, he is starting to panic. But at the same time, he is intrigued, excited. This moment is a gift he had never thought to receive.

  “The name’s Lorcan,” he says. “Lorcan Furey.”

  She wants to know where she is, how she got there. He answers her questions as best he can, choosing his words carefully. Then she mentions her brother. She speaks his name.

  “Connor! We’re twins. We’re everything to one another . . .”

  Twins. She has said the word now. And now there can be no remaining doubt. He looks at her and hopes she does not see the fear in his eyes. He is grateful, so very grateful, to hear the captain’s whisper calling his name.

  “Wake up! Wake up, I say!”

  The vision became shaky. The girl faded from view. Then the deck disappeared altogether, gone to mist.r />
  “Wake up!”

  She felt a finger prod her chest. “Oww!” Grace opened her eyes and found herself looking up at a woman’s face. It took her a moment to come back to her senses, to realize she was in the gardens at Sanctuary and that she had seen the woman’s face before, though not as angry as it appeared to be now.

  “You’re the princess!” she said, sliding up into a sitting position.

  “That’s right,” said the woman, who Grace had watched during the ribbon ceremony. “I am Marie-Louise, Princesse de Lamballe.”

  Grace swung her feet down to the ground. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry,” the princess snapped. “I wasn’t aware these were your private gardens.” She pointed to Grace’s neck. “What is the meaning of this?”

  It took her a moment to realize what the princess was talking about. Then she realized she was pointing to the ribbon. Instantly, she felt guilty. “It belongs to my friend —” she began.

  The princess cut her off. “It matters not to whom it belongs,” she sniffed. “I take great exception to you wearing it in that fashion.”

  Grace frowned. What was she talking about?

  “Please,” the princess said, reaching out to undo the bow. “Please, take it off. Take it off at once!”

  “All right,” Grace said, blocking the princess’s hands and gently unfastening the ribbon herself. “All right, if it upsets you.” She folded the ribbon carefully and closed it in the palm of her hand.

  “That’s better!” the princess said, more calmly. She sat down beside Grace and arranged her tattered skirts. She appeared to be making herself comfortable. Grace sat beside her impatiently. She felt deeply frustrated that the princess had interrupted her vision. It had been fascinating seeing herself through Lorcan’s eyes, and she felt she had been on the verge of discovering something important.

  “I’m sorry I was angry before,” the princess said, more amiably. “Of course, you didn’t intend to upset me. You didn’t know. How could you?” She snorted. “Why, you don’t even know who I am, do you? My poor, ignorant child.” She leaned toward Grace and pushed a stray strand of Grace’s hair behind her ear. Her touch was surprisingly gentle.

  “I was a very powerful person once,” she continued. “Companion and confidante to Marie Antoinette. The queen of France.” She twisted her head, the glare from her necklace dazzling Grace for a moment. “I suppose you do know about Marie Antoinette?”

  “Yes.” Grace nodded. “Last term at school, they taught us about the French Revolution . . .”

  “Ah,” the princess said, smiling. “So you do know about me?”

  Grace shook her head. “I know a bit about your friend, the queen.”

  The princess frowned. “Perhaps you should have read around the subject more widely. I happen to know I make most of the better history books. I was her closest friend, superintendent of the royal household. Why, she gave me this necklace.” The princess lifted her hand to her throat, where the cluster of finely cut diamonds glinted in the moonlight. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? But I don’t wear it for its beauty alone.” Her eyes locked on Grace, she reached to the back of her neck and unclasped the necklace. The jewels rained down into her hand. As they did, Grace gasped. There was a livid, jagged scar running all the way around the princess’s neck.

  “This is my eternal necklace,” she said, her fingers gently touching her flesh. “The misguided mob cut off my head, stuck it on a pike and paraded it around the cafés, where people drank to my death. But worse, worse than that, they paraded it past the queen’s balcony. Can you imagine? Can you imagine my indignity? Her horror?”

  Grace shook her head. The way the princess spoke so objectively about the terrible violence inflicted upon her was amazing. It made her view the woman in a whole new light.

  “Their cruelty, their barbarism knew no limits,” the princess said. “One man ripped out my heart and ate it.” Grace gasped, but the princess shook her head and gave a bitter laugh. “He had a shock when I paid him a visit a night or two later. He suffered more than indigestion that night. I think he was a little surprised to see that I had managed to collect up the pieces of my body . . . well, most of them anyway. The royal seamstress sewed me back together. There was no one to rival her craft. There were tears in her eyes, of course, but the needle in her hand was steady.”

  Grace shook her head. Once more, she found herself stunned by a vampire’s crossing story. “But why did my ribbon upset you?” she asked.

  “At the time I was killed, there was a ritual,” the princess said. “Each night, the aristocrats, those who were spared, staged a grand ball. They were lavish affairs — imagine the drink, the food, the dresses. They were determined to dance until dawn because they knew the party was coming to an end. You could only attend such a ball if you lost someone to the mob. And everyone who attended, they wore a ribbon around their necks, just like you wore yours.”

  “But wasn’t that to honor their friends and families?” Grace said. “Wasn’t it a sign of respect?”

  “Honor? Respect? Pah!” said the princess, her face angry again. “They should have been fighting, not dancing. If there had been fewer balls, perhaps things would have worked out differently for me, for many of us.” She slipped the diamond necklace back around her neck. “Please, help me to fasten this.” Grace did so. “That’s better,” the princess said, rising to her feet. “Well, I am tired now. This lack of blood is so draining.” She stared at Grace and the hunger was all too visible in her eyes. Grace wondered if she should be on the alert for an attack. But the princess only reached out and took Grace’s hand — the one in which she clasped the ribbon.

  “I know whose ribbon that is,” said the princess.

  “You do?” Grace said.

  “Of course. It is that boy. The one who has lost his eyesight. You came with him. You are a little in love with him, I think.”

  Grace flushed.

  “Be careful,” said the princess.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re looking for some kind of answer in that ribbon.”

  “Yes, I suppose —” Grace began but the princess cut her off again.

  “Be careful. I have lived a lot longer than you and there’s one lesson I have learned well.”

  “What is that?” Grace asked, hoping that the princess would loosen her grip.

  “Do not ask questions that are you are not yet ready to hear the answers to,” said the princess. “Comprenez?”

  Grace nodded.

  The princess finally released her hold. “Listen to me, child. I know about these things. I’m a good confidante. The very best, so the queen said.”

  “Thank you,” Grace said. “Thank you very much for the advice.”

  “Mon plaisir,” the princess said. “Goodnight for now, child. I shall make one final tour of the gardens and then, to bed.” With that, she wandered off beyond the fountain. As she disappeared into the shadows, her livid scars receded and the tatters in her skirts looked like fine lace. She moved like the most elegant of ladies.

  Alone once more, Grace felt a growing warmth in the palm of her hand. She looked down and saw the ribbon curled there. Was it asking to begin again? But perhaps the princess was right. Was it dangerous to return to the vision? Was she on the verge of a discovery she was not yet prepared for? She hesitated, thinking that perhaps she should just call it a night and return the ribbon to Lorcan’s bedside.

  But it was just too tempting. The first vision had already told her that there was a deeper connection between her and Lorcan than even she had realized. Perhaps this was also the clue to his sickness and therefore his healing, too. She had to find out more. Even if it was diving into dangerous waters, she had to do it. For his sake. And her own.

  Lying back again on the bench, she gripped the ribbon in her palm and closed her eyes. Instantly, the vision journey began anew. It was dark again, misty. Grac
e wondered if she was being given the same part of the story. But no, she was not underwater this time. Instead, she was on the deck of a ship . . . The Nocturne. She turned and saw herself running out into the night. She realized she had become Lorcan once more. And instantly, she knew the moment they had reached. Now, she was going to learn something!

  “Connor!” she hears the other Grace cry. Then she sees Connor, but not as a sister views the brother she has seen almost every day of her life. She is viewing him as Lorcan does. And now, as he sees Connor, he looks at him with the same wonder as when he watched Grace open her eyes on the deck. The boy is taller, broader, his hair a shade darker. But they share the same emerald eyes. He watches as they embrace each other. Their reunion is joyful but his joy is cut through with pain and fear.

  He glances away. He is aware of the light beginning to puncture the darkness. Like grains of sand in an hourglass, his time is running out. He begins to panic. And not only on account of the time. He realizes that the boy has come, not from thin air, but from a ship. A ship that now becomes visible through the mist. Along its edge are hordes of men and women, armed with swords. What kind of trick is this? What kind of danger? He must protect Grace! He must protect them both. He made a promise long ago.

  The Dawning Bell tolls. He hears Darcy’s cries to go inside. He knows he must, but he feels paralyzed. He cannot go. Not without her. Not without both of them.

  The light disorients him and only just in time does he see a pirate running toward him. He draws his cutlass. The pirate counters with a broadsword. The girls cry out. Darcy begs him to go inside. Grace shouts that he has done no harm but now Lorcan realizes that they are all in danger. He cannot run from the fight. He draws upon his energy and lands a direct hit on the pirate’s arm. There are more cries but now Lorcan knows his fate.

  “I said I’d protect Grace and that’s what I mean to do,” he cries. He’ll protect her, protect them both. Just as he did once before. Until his last breath, he’ll protect the twins. Else, what are promises worth? And now there are new emotions mixed in with ancient promises. Feelings he doesn’t want to admit to, not even to himself. Too dangerous.