Vampirates 3: Blood Captain

by Justin Somper

  Where are you? She couldn’t help but ask. What made you leave The Diablo? What is it that you feel so terribly guilty about?

  But this time, there were no answers forthcoming. Whatever connection they had formed was broken for now.

  “Travel safe!” she said without opening her mouth. Then she scrambled to her feet and went to help Mosh Zu reposition the candles.

  42

  MAGIC NIGHT

  “Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  At his voice, Darcy turned and smiled to see Jez — her Jez — walking toward her across the deck. She sighed. Every night, he seemed to grow more handsome. She had fallen for him the very moment he had stepped aboard The Nocturne, but on reflection, he had been only a shadow of his current self then. He had bloomed under the spell of her love — and she, no doubt, under his.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, flashing her his irresistibly cheeky smile.

  She grinned back. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “I want to know every one of your secrets, Darcy. I’m a man on a mission!”

  “Stop it!” she said, though she never grew tired of hearing his sweet nothings. No, it wasn’t fair to describe them that way. This was the real thing. She knew it. He was the one she had waited for — her Mr. Jetsam. He’d taken his time making his way to her, but it had been worth the long wait.

  “You’re positively glowing tonight,” he said now.

  She shrugged prettily and turned around, leaning forward against the guardrail and letting the delicious ocean breeze rise up and cool her flushed skin. Her sheer chiffon scarf floated out in the breeze. It began unfurling itself loose from her neck.

  “Oh!” she said, as it came undone and began floating away.

  Not missing a beat, Jez jumped up and caught it in his hands. He wrapped it back around her porcelain-white neck. They both stood looking at each other for a long moment.

  “You make me so happy,” she said.

  “And you me,” he said, grinning at her. “I never thought I’d be happy again. You’ve given me the kiss of life, Darcy Flotsam, and no mistake!”

  “Have I?” She leaned forward and planted the daintiest of kisses on the tip of his nose. Then he held her close as she turned and looked out to sea. Glancing out at the dark, star-filled sky, she couldn’t quell the excitement she felt. Tonight was a magic night. There was just something in the air. It was on nights such as this that questions were asked and answers were given and lives changed inexorably.

  “You’ve gone all quiet again,” he said, his soft voice interrupting her thoughts.

  “Just thinking some more,” she said.

  “Well, how about I give you something new to think about?” he asked.

  She felt a shiver at these words. “Go on,” she said.

  “I have a question for you, Miss Flotsam.”

  “Do you, Mr. Jetsam?”

  He grinned at this — he always did when she used her pet name for him. “I was just wondering,” he said, “whether you would ever consider leaving The Nocturne and coming away with me?”

  Here it was, then. Here was the turning point she had dreamed of for so long. Don’t rush this, Darcy, she thought. Savor every moment, every sensation.

  “I suppose that tells me your answer is no,” he said. His jutting mouth and disappointed eyes made him look like a helpless puppy. In that moment he was more appealing to her than ever before. She couldn’t prolong his agony.

  She shook her head. “Darling Mr. Jetsam, I’ll go wherever you want to go. Just the two of us. I never thought I could leave The Nocturne, but since you arrived here, everything’s changed.” She gazed at him in wonder. “Why, I think I’d follow you to the very ends of the earth.”

  “Well,” he said. “It wouldn’t quite be just the two of us. Not at first, anyway.”

  “No?”

  “Oh, don’t look so troubled, my sweet Darcy. Look, there’s some business I must attend to now, but could you, that is, would you be willing to leave tonight?”

  “Tonight?” It was so soon. Was she to have no time to plan, no delicious anticipation? Well, if this was how it was to be, c’est la vie! He was so romantic, so impetuous. She had waited so long for him. Why wait a moment longer? “Yes,” she said. “I’ll pack up my things and we shall leave tonight!”

  “Good girl!” he said, reaching in his pocket. “This is for you.”

  “Not another gift. You really shouldn’t!” But then she watched — barely believing it — as he dropped to his knee and held the small satin box out toward her. As he opened it, she could scarcely focus on the ring through the blur of her tears. But she knew it would be beautiful. His gifts always were.

  “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to come to my cabin. You know the rules.”

  At her voice, Jez grinned. “That’s not much of a welcome for your blood partner, now is it?”

  “It’s the only welcome you’re going to get,” Shanti said. “Seeing you once a week is more than enough for me these days.” Studiously ignoring him, she continued rifling through her wardrobe.

  He shook his head. “Touché, darling. But whatever’s changed? A few days ago, you couldn’t get enough of Jezzie boy.”

  Shanti frowned and tossed away one blouse, then picked up another. “You really are delusional,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m not under any delusions, darling,” he said, coming to stand behind her. “I know exactly what the deal is between us. You brought me back from the brink and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

  She scowled at him as she held the blouse up against herself and appraised her reflection in the mirror. She did look truly beautiful — if she said so herself. Her old color was back. Her skin was smooth once again, like silk.

  “Yes, I’ll always be grateful to you, Shanti. But it wasn’t a one-sided arrangement, now was it? When the captain brought you back from Sanctuary, you were a dried-up old donor, on a fast train to oblivion. It was Jezzie boy who restored you. You were a desiccated old thing then, remember? Not like now! Now, you’ve certainly got your glow back.” She was still appraising her own reflection in the mirror. “And you’d think you might be a little more grateful for that.”

  “If it’s grateful you want,” Shanti said without turning, “then go and seek out that simpering figurehead. She’s pathetically grateful for every glance you send her way. But then, if I was a rotten old lump of painted wood, I suppose I might feel that way too — oww!”

  She cried out as he grabbed her arm and twisted it savagely back behind her. “Don’t!” he hissed in her ear. “Don’t talk about my beautiful Darcy that way. A splinter of her is worth ten of you.”

  In spite of the pain she felt, Shanti laughed. “Oh, don’t tell me it was all for real! All that time I had you down for playing her like a fool! So, was it authentic vampire lurve?” She laughed once more — a cold, cruel laugh. “Well, good luck to you both. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

  “Yes, we will,” he said. “It’s just a shame you won’t be around to see it.”

  “What?” At his words she tensed up. Suddenly, she was frightened. Instinctively she tried to hide it, but he could sense it.

  “Things are about to change around here,” he hissed into her ear. “Tonight, everything changes. Big time. I’m going away. And Darcy’s coming with me. Others, too. We’ve been making plans.”

  “I’m very happy for you,” she said, seeming to gain some new strength from within. “Well, off you run then, dearest. Off you scamper to your new ship. But if it’s all the same with you, I think I’ll stay put right here.”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, his hand closing tight around her neck, the other spinning her around toward him. “Yes,” he repeated. “That was always the plan.”

  Darcy was standing on the deck, a small case at her feet, her favorite evening coat draped over it. Most of her elegant clothes were left hanging in
her wardrobe. In the end, it had seemed pointless to pack more than a few things. They were too much a part of her life here — her old life. She was about to begin again. She’d have new things. Beautiful new things. Mr. Jetsam would see to that.

  “Darcy!”

  She glanced up and saw the captain walking toward her. As he passed the ship’s sails, they flickered briefly with light but soon fell to darkness again. He seemed tired. Lately, he seemed more tired each time she saw him.

  “Captain,” she said, shivering. She had been dreading this moment.

  “I see your bag is packed,” he said. “Are you embarking on a journey?”

  She nodded, feeling the tears already sliding down the slope of her nose. “Captain,” she sniffed. “Yes, you’ve been so good to me. But something’s happened, something wonderful. And it’s time for me to sail away.”

  He seemed to smile at her. “Why are you crying, child? It sounds as if this new journey is a cause for great happiness.”

  “Oh yes!” she said, nodding. How could she ever have doubted that the captain would have been pleased for her? He had always taken such good care of her.

  “Of course, we’ll miss you,” he began. “You know you’re so much more than the ship’s figurehead.”

  But his whisper was drowned out by the first scream. Then the second. And the third. They overlapped with each other, a torturous symphony. A fourth, fifth, and sixth scream followed. Then footsteps pummeling the deckboards.

  The captain and Darcy turned to find the deck suddenly swarming with a crowd. The donors!

  “Captain!” one rasped, his clothes torn, his chest exposed and dripping blood. “Why did you let this happen?” Having released the words, the donor fell to the deck, bringing his hand to the gash.

  In their panic, his companions surged over him toward the captain.

  “We’re being attacked!” another cried, his face a picture of terror. His shirt was torn, too, and spattered with blood. His skin was pale as milk.

  There were fresh screams and more of the donors rushed out onto the deck. They all looked like they had staggered off a battlefield. Their clothes were torn, the puncture wounds evident on each and every chest. There were further signs of struggle in the streaks of blood on their faces and arms.

  “Not attacked,” one of them cried, “massacred. They’re trying to kill us. They’re taking too much blood, with no care.”

  “I don’t understand,” the captain said.

  As he spoke, the panicked cries of the donors grew louder, rising into a horrible cacophony. This was accompanied by fresh screams. The donors drew on the last of their dwindling energy to race to the edge of the deck, flinging themselves upon the guardrails and hovering in the darkness.

  “Let’s jump for it!” one cried. “It’s our only hope!”

  “Don’t be stupid!” another cried. “You’ll drown! The captain will help us.” His eyes turned plaintively toward the captain.

  “Yes,” shouted another, at his side. “The captain always helps us.” Her eyes, too, turned toward the captain.

  Darcy herself now looked at the captain. He would lead them out of this crisis, just as he had led them out of every crisis before.

  But the captain was frozen and his words gave little reassurance. “Stop speaking! Stop speaking all at once. Please!”

  Darcy watched all this in terror. And the thing that terrified her the most was the sudden sense that the captain was not in control. She had never seen him this way before. He was always so composed, always in charge. Now he seemed . . . he seemed vulnerable. She couldn’t bear to watch him.

  Turning away, she saw that a fresh crowd of people had arrived on the deck. The renegade Vampirates! Their eyes were aflame and their lips and teeth smeared with the blood they’d taken before the donors had broken free. There was no question that their hunger was still strong. They were on the hunt for more blood.

  Now the donors’ screams grew louder and more urgent. More climbed up onto the guardrails. One did jump into the ocean. Another fell after him, though it was hard to tell if this was an accident or intentional.

  The captain, who appeared to have gathered his strength now, held up a gloved hand and addressed the renegades. “Stop!” he said. “What have you done? What on earth have you done?”

  “We were hungry,” came a voice from the heart of the crowd. “We were peckish so we helped ourselves to a bit of what we fancied.”

  “Who speaks to me so wickedly?” said the captain, his whisper sailing about the deck like an icy wind. “Who rebels against my rules? Show yourself!”

  But Darcy had already recognized the voice. It came as no surprise to her when Jez Stukeley stepped out from the crowd. By then, her heart had already been smashed into a million little pieces.

  “You!” the captain said, evidently surprised. “You, whom I brought back from the depths?”

  “Erm yeah, that’s right,” Jez said, “only you missed out the part where you told Connor and his pirate chums to set fire to me!”

  “You survived. What does it matter now?” the captain said.

  “Well, anyway — no hard feelings,” Jez said. “I bounced back. I’m a resilient little fella, I am.”

  The captain shook his head. “You . . . you’ve brought terror to this ship, to this community. You’ve made a mockery of our world. You’ve brought fear and panic where there was calm. You’ve broken the bonds of trust. You’re no better than . . .” He broke off, seemingly unable to even speak the name.

  “Maybe I have shaken things up a bit,” Jez said. “But I wasn’t the first. And as you can see, I’m certainly not the last. Isn’t that right, guys?”

  The other vampires nodded and turned their angry gaze upon the captain. Darcy wondered if they might actually attack him. She felt fear slice through her.

  “We have a message for you, oh Captain, my captain,” Jez said. “Here, give us a leg up, would ya?” With that, two of the others hoisted him onto their shoulders. “That’s better,” he said. Then, from this lofty position, he looked down upon the captain and began chanting, “Need more blood! Need more blood!”

  The others joined in. “Need more blood! Need more blood! Need more . . .”

  The chant was the most horrible thing Darcy had ever heard. It was a hiss like fire. The tight crowd of vampires were like a horrible fire-breathing creature, with Jez — no, she must think of him only as Stukeley now — with Stukeley the creature’s eyes and tongue.

  By no means was the entire crew involved in the rebellion but there must have been thirty or more who were. Before, the biggest revolt aboard the ship had come from just three vampires. This was something else altogether. Darcy watched Stukeley as he led the chant. She remembered, hours earlier, thinking that this was going to be the night everything changed. She had been right, but not in the way she had hoped. Her silly little dreams were ripped to shreds now. This was not a night of magic, it was a night of evil. As she pondered this sudden, cataclysmic change, Stukeley caught her eye and grinned. She turned away, feeling sick to the core.

  “Need more blood! Need more blood! Need more . . .” The hissing continued.

  “Stop!” the captain said. “Stop! There will be no more blood-taking aboard this ship. Not until the next Feast.”

  “All right then,” Jez said, with disarming acquiescence. “Then I guess we’re going to leave you now. I think we’re all a bit bored here, to tell you the truth. No offense and all that.”

  “You know the rules,” the captain said, his whisper as cold as steel. “Either obey them or —”

  “Or what?” came a fresh cry. The voice roared out across the waters. The captain turned. Darcy turned. The weakened, terrified donors clinging to the guardrail turned. The mob of blood-hungry rebel vampires turned.

  They all saw the same thing. A ship, sailing up alongside The Nocturne. Another galleon. And on the deck, standing prouder and taller than ever, a face from their past. A face from all their pasts �
�� and now, perhaps, from their future, too.

  Sidorio.

  He waved at the captain.

  The captain stared back, shaking his head. “I thought you were gone for good.”

  Sidorio bared his teeth in a grin. “Let’s save ourselves some time here, shall we? You’re never going to destroy me, so you might as well stop trying and get used to having me around.”

  “Never,” said the captain. “While there is breath in my body, I will stop at nothing to eliminate you.”

  Darcy smiled. There was strength once more in the captain’s whisper.

  Sidorio shrugged. “Sounds like someone’s a sore loser,” he called.

  Stukeley laughed at that. And his laughter proved infectious. Darcy clamped her hands over her ears. Hearing them making a laughingstock out of the captain, after everything he had done for them, was just too much to bear.

  “Nice work, Stukeley!” Sidorio called. “I knew you were the man for the job! You have the charm of the devil! Now, let’s not waste any more time. You’ve all been waiting far too long as it is. Come, friends. Come to me! Your new ship awaits. It’s only temporary, mind you. We’ll be getting something bigger soon!”

  As he spoke, he beckoned them to him. Stukeley led the way. He stood on the guardrail and launched himself high in the night air, somersaulting and landing on the deck beside the renegade captain.

  “You see that?” Sidorio cried to the rest. “You can do that too! Each and every one of you. Come on, give it a go. You don’t know the true extent of your powers!” He pointed at the captain. “He’s deprived you of blood, kept you weak like pet dogs, when you should run wild like wolves. Now you will learn what I have learned. That the more blood we take, the stronger we become. The things we were told to reject are the very things we should embrace!”

  “No,” the captain said, shaking his head. “No, this is all lies. You’ll see!” His cape momentarily flickered with light.

  “Who do you believe?” Sidorio asked. “The one who hides behind the mask; the one who cowers in his cabin; the one who whispers like a frightened child? Or me?”