The light gets the better of him. He has to close his eyes. Still, he lashes out with his sword, but it is pointless. They tell him that there is no attack. But he can’t believe them. Not at first. Only when the boy, when Connor, speaks, does he believe it. He hears such strength in the young man’s voice. It’s not a surprise that he should have inherited such strength. This, this is enough to convince him he can go inside.
From the crack in the door, he watches them. It is painful. Painful in so many ways. He feels a searing sense of loss. As he closes his eyes, he has a sudden image of two babies, swaddled in soft blankets. They are being given to him, one placed in each arm. He looks down at them, glancing from one to the other and back again. They really are two peas in a pod.
Now he sees them again, hugging. She will go with her brother. She must go with him. Away from here. They are safe away from here, away from this ship and its crew. And yet . . . and yet, he doesn’t want her to go. Is it so wrong to admit this? Is it so wrong to want something for himself? Someone. Her.
Suddenly, the image fractures and he is looking down upon the girl on the deck once more. She opens her eyes. Green light is emanating from them. It is dazzling.
Then, as his vision becomes clear once more, the twins are hugging one another still.
Then, babies in swaddling clothes again. In his arms, as he steps into a small boat and prepares to sail.
“They must never know,” he tells himself. “They must never know.”
The vision dies there, turning to blackness. Silence.
Grace opens her eyes. They are wet with tears. What has she learned? Too much, and yet not enough.
30
THE GUILTY PARTY
Molucco Wrathe paced up and down his cabin furiously. Connor had never seen him so angry. “So,” he began, eyes blazing. “Would someone care to tell me what’s going on?” He glared at Connor and Bart. “And let’s have the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the blinkin’ truth.” At last, he came to a standstill by Cate. Her face was hard to read, a direct contrast to the fury visibly emanating from Molucco.
Connor looked uncomfortably at Bart. Bart glanced nervously back. Before either dared to speak, Molucco exploded again. “Why don’t I speed this up for you, gentlemen? I know that you took one of my safety boats and sailed off into the night. And I know that you visited some strange place where they sell BLOOD and then went off to find that ship of . . . of . . . VAMPIRES!”
Connor was stunned. How could the captain know all this? No one had seen them. They’d been so careful about that. He could tell Bart was thinking the same thing. But they couldn’t exactly ask Molucco how he knew. It would only send his fury soaring up to a new level.
“Well?” Molucco persisted, stepping toward them again. Cate frowned. Even Scrimshaw seemed to cower as the captain continued. “Speak to me! What on earth were you up to?”
Finally Bart spoke. “We were helping out Jez, sir,” he said quietly.
“Louder!” Molucco boomed at an ear-piercing volume.
“We were helping out Jez, sir — Jez Stukeley,” Bart repeated, a little more loudly.
“Jez Stukeley?” Molucco looked deeply confused. Evidently his mysterious informant hadn’t mentioned Jez. “But Jez is dead.”
“Yes, sir,” said Bart. “He’s dead, but not gone.”
“I don’t understand,” said Molucco, his forehead creased in a deep frown.
Connor took up the story. “We all know that Jez died in the duel on The Albatross. We buried him at sea. But afterward, he was found by one of the Vampirates, Sidorio, and he was transformed into a vampire himself.”
“Yes, yes, I know all this,” Molucco said, darkly. “Jez was one of the vampires who murdered my brother and his crew —”
“No!” cried Connor, more passionately than he had intended. “Yes, he was with them. He had no choice about that. But he didn’t know about the attack — the terrible attack — until it was underway. He didn’t even go aboard your brother’s ship. He wasn’t a proper part of it —”
“You’ve certainly changed your tune, Tempest!” Molucco snapped. “That night we hunted the vampires down, you said that he was one of the guilty. What’s more, you led the attack on him. You threw flaming torches through the air and killed him a second time.”
“Yes.” Connor nodded. “Well, no, actually.”
“Which is it?” Molucco thundered.
“I thought we’d destroyed him, but we hadn’t. He survived.” He paused. “He’s the only one who survived.”
“And he’s in pain,” Bart said. “He feels terrible guilt for what he was a part of . . .”
“I should hope so,” Molucco said.
“And he hates this thing . . . this vampire, he’s become. He wants to become mortal again. He begged us to help him out, sir. We couldn’t say no.”
Molucco was silent, his arms folded as he awaited the rest of their story. Cate nodded at Connor to continue.
“We took him to the Vampirate ship, sir,” said Connor. “The ship that rescued my sister before. The captain is a merciful ma — a merciful being. He’s not bloodthirsty like Sidorio. We think he can help Jez.”
“Well, isn’t that nice?” Molucco said in a more amenable tone. “What was it you used to call yourselves — the Three Buccaneers?”
Connor nodded. Bart smiled.
“And you were just reuniting one last time for the good of your old buddy?”
“Yes!” Connor nodded, relieved that he understood at last.
“Exactly!” Bart said.
There was a pause, then Molucco let out a cry. “You have no idea what damage you’ve done! I had just about persuaded my brother to drop the idea of avenging Porfirio’s murder. That we’d dealt with his murderers, taken our revenge. Now, you go and do this and he knows that one of Porfirio’s killers is alive and well . . .” He broke off, his face so red that Connor wondered if he was going to pass out.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Connor, “but how does Barbarro know about this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Molucco snapped, “You were followed.”
“I’m sorry,” Connor said glumly. “I’m sorry to have caused you all this bother.”
“We were just trying to help out an old friend,” Bart said.
“Don’t interrupt me!” roared Molucco. “You two need to wake up and smell the seaweed! Jez Stukeley died on the deck of The Albatross. End of. I don’t care to concern myself with this zombie-after-death nonsense. We lost Jez in that duel on Drakoulis’s ship.” He paused. “It was terrible sad, but these things happen.”
Connor and Bart both winced at this casual summation of their friend’s death.
“I’m not interested in what happened to Jez after we conveyed his coffin into the ocean. I don’t want to know about these Vampirates. I certainly don’t want to encounter them again. And as long as you are members of my crew — and correct me if I’m wrong, but you have both signed up to articles binding you to my service for the rest of your days — as long as you are both members of my crew, you will not so much as speak the word vampire — or Vampirate — aboard this ship. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Captain.” Their voices were weak.
“I’m sorry. Did someone say something?”
“Yes, Captain Wrathe,” Connor and Bart declared, more loudly this time.
“Then that’s an end to this matter,” said Molucco. “And now, we will put all our energies into trying to salvage this situation and persuading my brother to focus on the raid in India.” He turned to his side and adopted a more measured tone. “Cate, I’m going to see Barbarro now. I’ll leave you to sort out a suitable punishment for these two.”
He turned back to Connor and Bart. “You’ve disappointed me greatly, both of you,” he said. Connor could barely look at the captain as he continued. “You were like sons to me. But now, I don’t know. I just don’t know. I trust in future you’ll remember where your loyalties lie.” Then he
raised his voice once more to shout a final word. “Dismissed!”
Cate stepped forward and ushered Connor and Bart out of the captain’s cabin. They all looked battle-weary as they walked out onto the deck. The sun was a bright, unwelcome guest, dazzling their eyes.
They walked the length of the deck in silence, each brooding on the captain’s fierce and uncompromising words.
“What’s up?” said a voice from behind the mast. Moonshine Wrathe jumped out in front of them. “You three look like you’ve been to a funeral.”
“Not now, Moonshine,” said Cate.
“Shouldn’t you call me Lieutenant Wrathe?” Moonshine said.
“I’m deputy captain of The Diablo,” Cate said severely. “You’re on my turf now.”
Moonshine raised an eyebrow. “You’re quite aggressive, aren’t you, Catie? I wonder why that is? Do you sometimes feel you can’t measure up?”
“Okay, Moonboy,” said Bart. “That’s enough. Don’t you have a fly to de-wing or some other nasty habit to keep you busy?”
“That’s very amusing, Bartholomew.” Moonshine laughed. “We had you down as brainless muscle but I can see we’re going to have to revise our opinions.”
Bart sighed and shook his head, exasperated.
“What about you, Connor?” Moonshine continued. “What’s eating you? Are you missing your vampire friends? You’re looking a little pale. Perhaps you need another trip to the Blood Tavern?” Mooshine’s eyes bulged. Connor and Bart were dumbstruck.
“It was you!” Connor said. “You followed us! And then you came back and told Captain Wrathe.”
Moonshine shrugged. “It’s about time Uncle Luck got wise to the weird predilections of his crew.”
Bart glared at him stonily.
“What’s the matter?” sneered Moonshine. “Don’t you understand what ‘predilections’ means?”
Bart shook his head and swung out with his fist. “Understand this!” he cried.
But Cate raised her arm and took the weight of Bart’s blow. “No,” she said. “He’s not worth it, Bart. You’re in enough trouble with Captain Wrathe as it is. Don’t make it worse.”
Moonshine smiled. “Quite right, Catie,” he said. “At least one of you three amigos has an ounce of brainpower.”
“All right,” Cate said, the steel back in her voice. “I think we’ve heard quite enough from you. Off you go. And be thankful I saved you from a pummeling.”
Moonshine opened his mouth once more but seemed to think better of it. He sauntered past them along the deck. He walked a few strides, then twisted his head before waving.
When he was gone, Bart turned to Cate. “Thanks,” he said. “I sure would have liked to introduce his face to my fist but I’m glad you stopped me.”
Cate managed a weak smile. “No trouble,” she said. Then she sighed. “Oh, what a mess all this is!”
“So,” Connor said gloomily, “are you going to give us our punishments?”
Cate put her hand on his shoulder. “Punishments? Now why would I want to do that? Oh, I’ll come up with some story for Captain Wrathe, but I think you’ve suffered enough already. We all have. Let’s just put this behind us, eh, and move on as best we can?”
“You’d have helped Jez, wouldn’t you, Cate?” Bart said. “You’d have helped out an old buddy?”
Cate sighed deeply. “I’d have done anything to help Jez. Anything in my power, whatever he’s become. It was my fault he died. I messed up on our attack strategy. I should have realized there was something wrong with our intelligence. I should have known that we were being lured to that ship intentionally . . .”
“No,” said Bart. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Cate shook her head. “I know you’re being supportive, Bart, and I appreciate that. I really do. But I’m deputy captain of this ship. It was my job to prepare us fully for the attack. I messed up. If Jez’s death wasn’t my fault, then I don’t know whose it was.”
“Well, I’ll tell ya,” said Bart, his eyes dark. “We wouldn’t have been lured onto The Albatross in the first place if it wasn’t down to an old grievance between Molucco Wrathe and Captain Drakoulis. And once the situation became clear, Captain Wrathe didn’t exactly pour oil on troubled waters, did he? No, as usual, he made things a whole heap worse.”
“He couldn’t have stopped the duel,” Cate said. “There was no talking Drakoulis out of it.”
“And,” added Connor, “there was no stopping Jez from volunteering.”
“Ah,” said Bart, “that’s all understood. But someone should have stopped him. It was a feud between the two captains, and it was the captains who should have fought that duel. Only Captain Wrathe isn’t known for doing his own dirty work, is he?”
“Bart,” Cate said, a strong note of warning in her voice. “You have to leave this behind. It won’t serve you well to even think these thoughts, let alone —”
“No, Cate,” said Bart stubbornly. “I’m not going to beat around the bush any more. There’s only one person on this ship who’s responsible for my buddy Jez’s death. It isn’t me and it certainly isn’t you. It’s Molucco Wrathe!”
31
THE BLOCK
“Where’s Mosh Zu?” Grace asked.
“And good evening to you, too,” Olivier said, looking over from the stove, where he was brewing a fresh quantity of berry tea.
“I’m sorry,” said Grace. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just wanted to speak to him, but I can’t find him.”
“He’s meditating,” Olivier said. “He cannot be disturbed.” He stirred the pot. “But I’ll certainly tell him you were looking for him when I next see him.”
Grace’s head was racing with thoughts. The visions she had channeled from Lorcan’s ribbon were playing over and over in her brain. She badly wanted to talk to Mosh Zu about it.
“Grace, are you all right?” Olivier looked into her eyes. “You look a bit shaken up. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, realizing he knew she was lying. “Nothing — really. I just wanted to talk to Mosh Zu.”
“You know,” he said, turning down the heat on the stove and walking over. “You can talk to me, if you like. About anything. Trainee healer to trainee healer.”
She considered the possibility for a moment. But her experience with the ribbon had been too personal. She didn’t yet feel comfortable enough with Olivier to confide such things to him.
“It’s kind of you,” she said. “But I’ll wait and talk to Mosh Zu when he’s free.”
Olivier kept staring at her. She could tell from his expression he was displeased. But he simply nodded and said, “As you wish.”
“Thanks.” Grace slipped out into the corridor.
She was torn as to where to go. She felt tired, but she was certain that sleep would not come with all these thoughts swimming in her head. She could go back outside and try to walk off her anxiety. She could go and find Johnny and talk to him about this. She weighed all these options but she knew, deep inside, that there was only one way she was going to feel better.
She pushed open the door. “Lorcan?” she said softly. “Lorcan, are you awake?”
“What?” he mumbled.
“It’s me, Grace,” she said. “Are you awake?”
“Well, I am now,” he said. He didn’t sound too displeased.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You sound a little off-kilter, Grace. Is something wrong?”
“Yes,” she said, sighing deeply.
“What is it?” Suddenly, he was the old Lorcan again, the one who had looked after her during her first days on The Nocturne. “Come and sit up here and talk to me.”
She pulled the chair up to his end of the bed and sat down. He reached out for her hand. “You’re trembling,” he said. “Whatever’s wrong?”
The touch of his hand was reassuring. “Oh, Lorcan,” she said. “I’ve done something bad.”
�
��You?” He smiled. “Grace Tempest, do something bad? I find that somewhat hard to believe.”
“Lorcan, I read your ribbon.”
“What?” He jolted with surprise and his hand fell out of hers.
“I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I took it with me by accident. It was in my book and Johnny thought it was a good idea.”
“Johnny?” Lorcan said. “The guy we met in the rec room? What does he have to do with this?”
“I’m sorry,” Grace said. “I was telling him how worried I was about you, how I wanted to help you but didn’t know how . . .”
“You were helping me just fine,” he said. “You shouldn’t have done this, Grace.”
“I know,” she said. “I know that now. I just thought I’d find some answers in the ribbon.”
“And did you?”
Grace nodded. Then remembered that he couldn’t see her. “Yes, I did.”
“I think you’d better tell me about it,” he said. “Tell me what you saw.”
“I had two visions,” Grace said. “They were of you and me. The first was of when we met, when you rescued me from drowning that night . . .”
She relayed the scene to him, as she’d experienced it in his vision. He remained as still as a statue as she spoke. When she had finished, he paused, then asked simply, “What was the second part of the vision?”
“It was the night you were blinded,” she said. “When Connor came to The Nocturne and you thought we were in danger . . .”
Once more, she relayed to him what she had seen. When she finished, he had one final question for her. “And this is all you saw? Just these two moments?”
“Yes,” she said. “I couldn’t go on after that. I put the ribbon back. It’s on your nightstand.” She glanced over to it.
Lorcan reached out his hand and felt for the ribbon. His arched fingers resembled a white spider, seeking out its thread. Finding it, he took the ribbon and placed it under his pillow. “It stays there now,” he said.
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