Blood Captain

by Justin Somper

  Connor shook his head, removing another two stacks of papers to create a space for the tray on the low coffee table.

  “So,” said Cheng Li, sitting down on a floor cushion and neatly folding her legs into the lotus position. “Do any of the names leap out at you?”

  Connor glanced at the book again. “Hmm.” He began to read. “The Avenger. The Tormentor. The Renegade. The Despair of the Seas, The Wastrel, The Holy Terror, The Miscreant, The Viper, The Larrikin, The Assassin, The Hellcat.” He glanced up, smiling. “There’s a bit of a common thread here, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Whatever do you mean, Connor?” Cheng Li began pouring the tea.

  “Well, they’re all a bit aggressive, aren’t they?”

  Cheng Li giggled. “That’s rather the point, isn’t it?” she said. “So that when one draws up alongside another vessel, they know from the get-go that it’s my way or the highway. Here’s your tea. Be careful, it’s hot.”

  “I suppose so,” said Connor, taking the bowl. “All the same, these all sound a bit macho and thuggy for you.”

  Cheng Li nodded. “I hear what you’re saying. Turn the page. You’ll see I’ve tried some other tacks.”

  Connor turned over the page. “What’s this? The Aetolian League?”

  “Ah yes,” said Cheng Li. “It’s a historical reference to a Greek military and pirate confederation in the fourth century BC.”

  Connor shook his head. “Too historical,” he said, “and not scary enough.”

  “I agree,” she said, nodding. “Cookie? They’re macadamia nut and goji berry.”

  “Thanks,” Connor said, taking one of the cookies and dipping it in his tea.

  “What do you think,” Cheng Li paused, “about The Blood and Compass?”

  Connor shook his head. “Sounds more like a pub than a ship!” he said, laughing.

  Cheng Li laughed with him. It was the most natural laugh he had ever heard from her.

  “This one’s not bad,” he said. “The Teuta. I don’t know what it means but it sounds tough without being macho.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Cheng Li, snapping her cookie in two. “Give that an extra star, would you?” She passed him her pen. “Teuta was a Greek pirate queen in the third century BC. Caused a lot of problems for the Romans. I’ve always found her to be quite an inspiration.”

  Connor set the notebook down and lifted the tea bowl to his lips. A spiral of fragrant steam warmed his face. He took a sip. It tasted good.

  “Fresh mint,” said Cheng Li. “There’s a bush of it growing rampant right outside my window.” She had set down her own tea bowl and was watching him intently, her eyes as bright and clear as a mountain stream.

  “So,” she said, “I have an idea.”

  “An idea?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I think you should come with me to Lantao tomorrow. It’s a two-day voyage out. You can keep me company.”

  Four days of sailing in the Academy sloop — it wasn’t an unpleasant thought.

  Cheng Li nodded again. “And on the way, we’ll have plenty of time to talk — or not talk — about whatever’s on your mind.”

  “I . . .” Connor began. He wanted to tell her, but all his well-rehearsed words were jumbled in his head now.

  “It’s okay, Connor,” Cheng Li said with a smile. “Drink your tea. Then I’ll clear the sofa and you can have a rest. Your eyes look very tired and you know what they say — the eyes are the mirrors of the soul. We’ll set off early in the morning. That way no one will see us depart together. And we’ll make excellent sailing time to Lantao.”

  46

  EYES WIDE OPEN

  “How is he?” Grace asked. It had been twenty-four hours since the captain’s arrival at Sanctuary.

  “I think you should come and look,” Mosh Zu said. “You may find it a difficult, possibly painful, sight. But his condition is stable. And, if you are to be a healer, you must open your eyes to sights such as this.”

  Nervously, Grace followed Mosh Zu into the octagonal-shaped healing chamber.

  The Vampirate captain lay on a slab-like table, low to the floor. The drifts of his cape spilled over the table and brushed the floorboards. It was shocking to see him like this. Grace knew he was only sleeping — sent by Mosh Zu into a healing trance — but he might just as well be dead. She was immediately transported back to her childhood. She had never felt comfortable watching her dad sleep. Indeed, she would do everything she could to avoid witnessing it. But every once in a while, she’d walk into the lighthouse living room and find him sprawled on the ratty old sofa, quite motionless. The sight was enough to bring on a cold sweat. Catching her own breath, she would have to walk up to her dad and check for the sound of his breathing or else look carefully for signs of the gentle rise and fall of his abdomen beneath his shirt. Only then could her own breathing return to normal.

  Seeing the captain lying motionless like this was similarly uncomfortable. During the time Grace had spent with him, the captain had emanated such power. Now, he seemed stripped of all vitality and authority. Strange because his face was still masked and his hands were still gloved. There was no outward difference in his appearance, and yet there was no question he had undergone a profound change.

  “Come on,” Mosh Zu said, leading her back out into his meditation room. “I think that’s enough for now.”

  When they were out of the healing chamber, Grace couldn’t disguise her shock. “I hadn’t . . . I hadn’t expected to see him like that.”

  “I understand,” Mosh Zu said. “And you do well to acknowledge those feelings, Grace.”

  “How is his treatment proceeding?”

  Mosh Zu gestured for her to sit down. “I must be honest with you, Grace. He’s not doing as well as I would wish. I’ve stabilized his condition for now but it’s becoming clear to me that this kind of gentle healing will only help him so far. Something more radical is called for, and soon.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Grace asked.

  “It’s simple, in a way,” Mosh Zu said. “It comes back to our earlier discussions about healing. To be an effective healer, you must develop the ability to draw out pain from others without absorbing it into yourself. This is not nearly as straightforward as it sounds, especially when we are working with those who mean a lot to us personally. We’re so determined to help those we love that we lose all perspective. We misread signals and, in doing so, our treatment becomes less effective for them and dangerous to ourselves.”

  As he spoke, Grace reflected on how hard it had been to confront Connor’s pain and to help him to heal.

  “The captain is utterly dedicated to helping people,” Mosh Zu continued. “He is, without doubt, the most selfless being I have ever met. But there’s the problem. He has been too ready to carry the burdens of others. In doing so, his own self is growing weaker and weaker. If I do not act to remedy this, we are in danger of losing him altogether.”

  Grace was chilled at the thought.

  “I’m sharing these opinions with you, Grace, because I believe in your own healing powers. But you must listen carefully to what I’m saying and not fall into the same trap that the captain has done. As much as you want to help others — and you can help them in very powerful ways — you must learn not to absorb their pain and carry it around for them. Do not allow their darkness to take you over.”

  She nodded.

  “I can see the worry in your eyes,” he said. “And I know that in part I’m responsible. You are worried about the captain. Of course, you are. But I will heal him, Grace. It will not be easy or straightforward, but I can do it.”

  His words were somewhat reassuring.

  “Let’s talk about other things,” he said. “Have you seen Lorcan today?”

  “Not yet,” she said, “but perhaps I could go and see him now?”

  Mosh Zu nodded. “I think that is a very good idea,” he said. “But Grace, there is something I must ask you. Although Lorcan’s sight is restored,
given the psychological aspect of his blindness, he is still not quite out of the woods. He remains in a delicate balance. If he becomes overly stressed or fearful, there is every chance that he will retreat back into blindness. If that happens, it will be harder for me to lead him back a second time. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I’ll take good care of him. I won’t do anything to upset him.”

  “Off you go, then!” Mosh Zu said. He smiled again. “Don’t look so anxious, Grace. I know he is very keen to see you.”

  “Grace!” said Lorcan. He was lying on the bed but now he swung his feet down onto the floor and stood up to greet her. He opened his arms to hug her, but she hesitated, wanting their eyes to meet.

  As they did, she found tears welling up in her own eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to blink them away. “I’m sorry! I just had to check again. I’m still getting used to the idea that you can see again, that I didn’t dream this!”

  “It’s no dream,” Lorcan said, wrapping his arms around her. “I can see you, Grace! And I’ve never been happier to see someone in all my days.”

  Lorcan released Grace and sat back on the bed. She sat down opposite him. For a moment they sat there, smiling at one another.

  “How does it feel?” she asked.

  “It feels amazing,” he said. “It’s not just that I can see again. Things seems brighter and crisper than before.” He squeezed her hand and gazed deep into her eyes. “Things seem even more beautiful than I had remembered.”

  The depth of Lorcan’s gaze was disconcerting. It had been quite a time since Grace had felt his eyes upon her. So much so, that though she was already growing used to it, in some ways it was like the very first time their eyes had met. She was cast back to the moment that she’d opened her eyes on the deck of The Nocturne. At first, she had thought she was looking into the sky — so blue were his irises. But then she had realized. And nothing had quite been the same since. For him, too, she pondered, remembering her vision of him looking down into her green eyes. Looking down and recognizing her. But how?

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked. “You seemed very far away for a moment.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m right here. I was just remembering the first time we met.”

  He smiled. “When I fished you out of the water?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, too,” he said.

  “Have you?” She was excited to hear it.

  He nodded.

  “I’ve been doing a whole lot of thinking while I’ve been lying here. Well, there hasn’t been much else I can do.”

  “No,” she acknowledged, squeezing his hand. “No, but that’s all over now. You have your eyesight back and you’ll soon get your strength back.” She paused, remembering Mosh Zu’s instructions. “And soon, we’ll be back on The Nocturne,” she said, hoping that she sounded bright and breezy. “And everything will be back to normal.”

  Lorcan frowned. Grace felt a flicker of alarm — had she let slip some shadow of a doubt about their return?

  “Grace, there’s some things I need to say to you,” Lorcan began. “You may not like them or find them easy to understand at first. But please hear me out and know that I’m saying them because I care about you very much.”

  Now it was her turn to frown. His words were ominous indeed.

  He took a breath then continued. “When I go back to The Nocturne, I don’t think you should come with me. That ship, well, it’s not a fit home for you.”

  “I like it there,” she said. “I know it’s crazy, but it’s true.”

  He shook his head. “I know you do,” he said. “And, speaking for myself, I like having you there. I more than like it. But it just isn’t good for you. You could go to join Connor . . .”

  “No.” Grace shook her head. “No, that wouldn’t work out.”

  “I know you don’t feel a connection to the pirate world,” Lorcan said. “But I’m sure in time . . .”

  “No.” She shook her head again. Hot tears were pricking her eyes once more. “No, it doesn’t matter how long I stay on a pirate ship, it will never be my home. It’s different on The Nocturne. I feel a connection there.”

  “I know you do, Grace. And I feel responsible for that.”

  As well he might. A good deal of why she felt so at home on the ship was because of him.

  “But I was wrong to drag you into this world. It’s not right for a mortal. It’s not safe.”

  “Safe?” she said. “I think I’ve taken pretty good care of myself so far.”

  She thought back to how she’d repelled Sidorio’s attack. Others would have been driven to terror by being trapped in a cabin with only the most bloodthirsty of vampires for company. But she had kept her nerve and kept him talking, drawing him out on the subject of his life and death — a subject he was only too keen to revisit for a while. In this way, she had bided her time until the captain came to rescue her. If she could deal with Sidorio, she could deal with any of them.

  “Grace, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out. You’re not a vampire and you’re not a donor.”

  No, she thought. I’m an in-between. And at that moment, being an in-between was just about the worst thing she could imagine.

  “You look so sad,” he said. “And it’s my fault.”

  “Yes,” she said, her sadness turning into anger. “It is your fault. You told me that I should stay, remember? You said there were a million secrets for me to discover on the ship. Don’t you remember? You said that.”

  He nodded. “I remember. I think I remember every word we’ve ever said to one another. And since I’ve been laid up here, I’ve replayed each and every one of them.” He sighed. “When I said that to you, I was being hopelessly romantic. I thought that somehow we could find a way to cross the bridge between our worlds.”

  “And now?” she said. “Why have you changed your mind now?”

  He looked at her very intently. “I’ve opened my eyes,” he said.

  47

  TO LANTAO

  It would take the better part of two days’ sailing to journey from the Pirate Academy to Lantao Island. Plenty of time, thought Connor, as they set off in the early morning light. Plenty of time to talk to Cheng Li about the things on his mind.

  But as their journey got underway, Connor found himself busily engaged with Cheng Li on the sailing of the Academy sloop. There was no time for heart-to-heart discussions. Instead, their conversation was limited to an exchange of instructions and confirmations as they navigated the boat through the choppy waters.

  The strange thing was that Connor was starting to feel better without even saying a word. Perhaps it was simply losing himself in the physical challenge of sailing the boat with Cheng Li. Ever since he was a little kid, he had found comfort in physical activity. When dark thoughts started crowding in your head, there was nothing better than going and shooting some basketball hoops or pounding down the saltwater pool, length after length in perfect freestyle.

  Cheng Li was the ideal companion, too. She wasn’t someone who needed constant conversation. Rather like Connor himself, she kept to the mantra of only speaking when she had something to say. He could tell that she was lost in her own thoughts — her head, no doubt, filled with all the various lists and decisions she was making in the run-up to becoming a captain. Even without speaking, she radiated optimism, and this, too, was infectious. Combined with the sun, which had pushed back the clouds and added to the pleasure of their trip, it all made for the perfect day’s sailing.

  As the sun finally began to set, they dropped anchor and at last gave their weary bones some rest. Cheng Li disappeared down into the hold for a moment and returned with a hamper of food packed up by the chef at Pirate Academy.

  “Dive in!” she said. “I’m sure you’re as ravenous as I am.”

  They both opened up the various containers — filled with cold meats and fish, salads and
sauces — and piled their plates high with tempting goodies. After a day of physical effort, their appetites were large. Once more, conversation was limited, as they devoured each tasty treat Chef Hom had provided for them.

  “I’m going to sleep well tonight,” Connor said at last.

  “Me, too!” agreed Cheng Li. “Actually, Connor, you do look dog-tired.” Trust Cheng Li — always a ready compliment at hand.

  “I’m going to make some tea,” she said, heading below-stairs once more.

  Connor busied himself clearing up the debris of their supper, then ferried the empty cartons down to the galley where Cheng Li was brewing up a tempting blend of green tea with ginger and ginseng.

  “That smells great!” he said.

  “Take it up onto the deck,” Cheng Li said. “Give it time to brew. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  He carried the tray and set it on the table up there.

  Then he stretched out on the cushioned bench to relax while the tea brewed. He propped his head on a life jacket and settled back, gazing up at the star-filled sky. He searched the heavens for his favorite constellations. He always drew comfort from this game. It took him back to the lighthouse, to Grace and his dad. But tonight, by the time he’d found Aquila, his eyes were heavy and he had no strength to keep them open anymore.

  When Cheng Li came back up on deck, she found him fast asleep, his breathing long and deep. She unfolded a blanket and draped it over his body. She padded around the deck quietly, lighting the lanterns. Then she sat down again and began to sip her tea.

  Connor awoke with a start. Immediately, he was fully alert. He felt a chill through his bones. The sky was black and the night air was empty of the warmth of the sun. But it wasn’t just that. His dreams had given way to memories and the last thing he had seen, a second before waking, was his rapier slicing into Alessandro’s flesh.

  “What is it?” Cheng Li said. He looked up and found her sitting opposite him, making notes by lamplight in one of her books.