Grace nodded. "He did come to visit Connor. He was on the ship last night, but he got upset and left to come back here."
"Look around you, Grace. Do you see him?" Cate's face was ashen now. "He never came back."
Now Grace drew down her sword. "I don't understand. Where is he?"
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42 THE THIRD GIFT
"There," Sidorio said. "My final gift. Like I say, not quite ready for you."
Connor couldn't speak. As he looked into the heart of the cabin, every fiber of his being froze. There, laid out on a low bed, was Bart. Or rather, Bart's body. Was this some trick, some hallucination brought on by his first proper taste of blood? No. It was what it was. He could see it and sense it. Sidorio's third gift. This, this horror was truly Sidorio's idea of the best gift of all.
"What have you done?" Connor rasped. " Why have you done this?" He shook his head, then opened his mouth and let out a deep, keening wail.
Sidorio placed his arm around Connor's shoulder. "Hush," he said. "Calm yourself and let me explain."
"How can you possibly explain this?" Connor was
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incredulous, hot tears streaming down his face. "You've killed my best friend. And now you present his body to me and expect me to thank you?"
Sidorio frowned at Connor's anguish. "Actually, Lola killed him. This was something we both wanted to do for you--together. You're missing the point, son. His body isn't the gift. I told you before--he's not yet ready for you. I'm going to sire him. I'm going to breathe eternal life into Bart. That is my gift to you."
Connor shook his head. "You've lost your mind!" he said. "You and Lola both. How could you do that to him?! To me?"
As Stukeley traded blows with Jacoby on the deck of The Diablo , he couldn't help being impressed by the young pirate's flair.
"You're good at this," Stukeley observed as their swords clashed.
"I know!" Jacoby threw his strength into forcing Stukeley backward.
Stukeley laughed, dusting himself down and preparing for the next bout. "Arrogant, too. I used to be just like you, you know."
"Alive, you mean?"
Stukeley laughed, raising his sword to repel Jacoby's attack once more. "Alive or undead, it makes no
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difference," he said, as they parried along the deserted deck. "What matters is the skill with which you wield your weapon." Their swords clanged together once more. "And you," Stukeley said, catching his breath, "you wield the steel well, my friend."
Jacoby grinned. "My sword is made of silver. All the better to destroy you with, Vampirate!" His eyes met Stukeley's. "What's with all the compliments? Next thing you know, you'll be trying to recruit me to the dark side."
"That's not such a bad idea," Stukeley said. "We can always use skills like yours on the team. You should think about it, pirate."
"Over my dead body!" Jacoby cried, lifting his sword aloft once more.
Stukeley laughed. This time, he had gained the upper hand in the skirmish. After a volley of sword strokes, his rapier made contact with the flesh of Jacoby's forearm. As he drew blood, he laughed. "Death is usually part of our recruitment process," he said.
In contrast to the empty Diablo , the deck of The Tiger was still crowded with combatants. Johnny didn't have much room to maneuver, but it hadn't stopped him from notching up a good few victories. He was having fun--so much so that he had temporarily lost track of Grace. He had
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promised to look out for her in the fight and, to the best of his ability, he had. But this last bout had left him closed in at the center of the deck, not far from the mast. Now, he tried to break through the crowd to go and find her. As he did so, he felt a hand grab him by the back of his collar and jerk him backward.
Johnny spun around to face his adversary and found himself looking into a familiar pair of sky-blue eyes. "Well, well," he said. "Lorcan Furey. How are you, old pal? It's been a while."
"I'm not your pal," Lorcan said, his gaze severe. "The last time I saw you was at Sanctuary, where you behaved like a demented rodeo rider. I had to step in to rescue Grace from you."
"Well, yes," Johnny said. "I'm sure that's how you saw it. I'm sure you go to bed each day and dream about rescuing damsels in distress. Happy to have been of service." The movements of the fighters on either side of them pushed Johnny and Lorcan closer toward each other. Lorcan stretched out his arms to shove Johnny away again. Johnny grinned. "Looks like someone's been working out."
"Do you ever shut that overactive mouth of yours?" Lorcan snarled.
"Sometimes," Johnny said, smiling. "Like, maybe when I'm kissing a beautiful dhampir."
Lorcan's eyes blazed fire at Johnny. "If you've laid one finger on Grace," he said fiercely, "you'll have me to
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answer to." He shoved Johnny roughly, but nothing could wipe the grin from the cowboy's face.
"Seems to me Grace has grown up some since you last saw her," Johnny said. "She can make her own decisions now, and I didn't hear her complaining any when we were out riding all those nights, snuggled up nice and close."
"Stay away from her, you hear?" Lorcan said. "You're no good for her."
Now Johnny frowned. "You're not interested in what's good for Grace. You just want her for yourself. You may have been the first Vampirate she happened upon, but now she has someone to compare you to. Now she can make a more... informed choice."
Lorcan shook his head. "You may have worked some superficial charm on Grace," he said. "But there's nothing you could do to rival the deep bond she and I share."
"I know, I know," Johnny said. "It was you that plucked her from the oceans. It's a tired story, amigo ."
Lorcan's eyes were bright. "We go back much further than that. I held her in my arms when she was only a baby."
Johnny rolled his eyes. "And you don't think there's anything freaky about wanting to be her boyfriend?!"
"I don't want to be her boyfriend," Lorcan said darkly. "I am her boyfriend."
Johnny shook his head. "Don't be so sure, amigo . The way Grace has been acting lately, it's highly unlikely that you're still in the picture. No, I'd say the jury is very much
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still out on that. But, hey, we don't need to argue this out between ourselves. Grace is up on this very deck. Let's go find her and have her explain the state of play."
Lorcan was visibly alarmed to hear that Grace was on the ship, in the midst of this fierce battle. It was the very last place he believed she should be. But he reined in his fear and kept his eyes trained on Johnny. "We can talk to Grace in a moment," he said. "But first, I'm going to rough you up a little."
"Really?" Johnny said, clearly amused.
Lorcan nodded, at last finding the space to draw his sword. "I don't usually enjoy inflicting pain, but in your case, Desperado, it's going to be a pleasure."
Sidorio frowned. "Connor, I just don't understand you. I'm racking my brains, doing everything I can to try to make you happy, but you don't seem at all grateful."
" Happy? " Connor was virtually speechless. " Grateful? "
Sidorio nodded. "I know how close a friendship you have with Bart. I could see how happy his visit made you. But it could never work--him being a mortal and you a dhampir." He smiled and stretched out his hands. "This was the obvious solution. Once I breathe life back into Bart--once I sire him, as I did Stukeley--the Three Buccaneers will be properly reunited for all eternity! No father could offer his son a greater gift than that."
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Connor looked from Bart's lifeless corpse to Sidorio's smiling face. He shook his head. "I didn't ask for any of this. Being your son. Being a blood-hungry freak. You say you want to make me happy. Don't you see? I was happy before--when I had a career as a pirate and good friends in my life." His eyes flashed fire at Sidorio. "Now I'll never be happy again--thanks to you and your insane wife. I only have one regret--that I failed to kill Lola when I had the chance. If I'd been successfu
l, Bart would still be alive tonight."
"Connor, I can see you're hurt, but please don't say such things. Your stepmother only wants the best for you. As do I. And Bart will live again." He stepped toward Bart's body.
"No!" Connor shouted. "Stay away from him!"
Sidorio turned, evidently perplexed. He opened his arms in a paternal gesture, but Connor retreated from him. When he reached the wall, he slumped against it and dropped down, curling into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably.
Sidorio walked over and leaned against the wall beside his son. "I know what it is to be lonely, Connor. Perhaps you're forgetting that I too have been on this journey, so I know exactly what you are going through. I was killed--by Caesar, of course-- and then granted the gift of immortality. And, be in no doubt, this is the greatest gift a mortal can receive." His tone grew softer. "Nonetheless, it is lonely to begin with. We all know that. You are
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immediately cut off from your friends and family. You know that you will remain ageless as they grow old and diseased and die. You have a choice--do you stay and endure that constant torture, or do you take yourself away? I made my choice. I turned my back on my old life and went out into the world. I had some amazing adventures but, I will confess, I often felt lonely. For the longest time, I kept myself to myself, refusing to let anyone get close."
Connor felt the tears drying on his skin. He listened, intrigued in spite of himself to hear Sidorio talk this way. "The first hundred years are the worst. I don't want that for you. Things are better for you, in any case. You will never be alone. You have your sister. You have me and Lola and Stukeley. You are surrounded by people who love and truly understand you, Connor. Don't you realize how fortunate you are?"
Connor emitted a hollow laugh. "You really think you understand me?" he said, shaking his head. "You understand nothing ."
Sidorio looked bereft. Connor turned his face away and drew himself to his feet. He walked over to Bart's prone body and reached out to take his friend's hand. It was cold and limp, utterly drained of life. Fresh tears flowed down his face. "I'm so sorry, Bart," he said. "You only ever showed kindness and generosity toward me. You didn't deserve this. It's all my fault and I'm so sorry."
"Connor." Sidorio had risen to his feet and was, once
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more, at his son's side. "You have nothing to apologize for." His gold fangs were prominent now. "Would you like to stay and watch me perform the siring?"
Connor looked incredulously at Sidorio. Hadn't the madman--the monster--understood one word that he'd said to him? Was he that stupid? That deranged? Clearly, the answer--on both counts--was yes. The only thing that spoke to Sidorio was action and, specifically, violent action.
Connor did the only thing left in his power. He drew his sword and aimed it squarely at Sidorio's chest. The tip of the blade cut through Sidorio's designer shirt and pressed against his flesh.
"Listen carefully," Connor said. "If you so much as touch my friend, I will run you through with my blade. Again and again and again. You may be immortal, but I'll find a way to destroy you. I promise you, I'll find a way."
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43 TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES
Connor's sword pressed into Sidorio's flesh. Father and son locked eyes, Connor's blazing with anger, Sidorio's filled with dismay. Sidorio was carrying a sword himself, in a holster attached to his belt, but he didn't even reach for it.
Footsteps drummed along the corridor, growing louder as they came close. The door to the cabin was slightly ajar, and now it was pushed open.
Lola stepped inside and swiftly closed the door behind her. "What's going on here?" she demanded.
Sidorio's head swiveled toward her. "Connor's third gift wasn't to his taste," he said.
Lola addressed Connor directly. "Put down your sword." Her tone was civil but firm.
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Connor's eyes lingered on Sidorio but, slowly, he drew down his sword.
"That's better," Lola said. "Now, let's talk about this. Like civilized people."
Connor let out a hollow laugh, but allowed her to continue.
"What exactly is the problem, Connor?"
He turned and looked at her in repelled wonder. "What do you think is the problem, stepmother dearest? You killed my best friend."
"Well, yes," Lola said, confused and a little impatient. "And now your father is going to sire him for you so that he'll have eternal life."
Connor's voice was firm. "No one's going to be siring Bart. Not tonight. Not ever."
Lola arched an eyebrow and glanced over at Sidorio. She could see the concern etched across his face. Her eyes turned back to meet Connor's.
"No doubt this was your idea," he said. "An act of revenge because I tried to kill you."
Lola shook her head, smiling indulgently. "Revenge? No, Connor. Don't you remember what I told you when I first welcomed you on board The Vagabond ? That all past transgressions were forgotten and that our relationship would begin anew from that moment. I meant every word. Since I discovered you were my husband's son, I have welcomed you onto my ship, into our home, with
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open arms. I have acted only out of kindness and generosity to you. I take my stepparenting responsibilities very seriously. And this is how you repay me--by raising your sword to your own father? Connor, I'm disappointed in you."
Connor shook his head. "You still don't get it, do you? Neither of you do. You fiends killed Bart. I'll never forgive you for that as long as we all live."
"You seem to forget that we're all immortals here," Lola said. "That's a long time to bear a grudge, dear. Besides, you shouldn't be forgiving us--you should be thanking us. Few parents could bestow such gifts on a child."
"I'm not interested in your gifts," Connor said.
"Don't be so dismissive," Lola said. "Your father and I are constructing an empire, the likes of which the world hasn't seen in a very long time. Naturally, we want you and Grace at our side." Lola sighed. "Connor, if you could just get rid of this unappealing adolescent angst and open your eyes to the very real opportunities here, I think you'd see that we are offering you the most dazzling of futures."
Lola exchanged a glance with Sidorio. He nodded, buoyed up by her stirring words.
Connor remained unmoved. "I don't want anything from either of you."
Lola frowned. "This is getting a little trying," she said. "I'm sorry if there have been crossed wires here, but we truly thought that by breathing immortality into Bart's
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impressive but nonetheless mortal body, we would make you a happy young dhampir." Her dark eyes bore into Connor's.
Connor held her gaze. "You thought wrong," he said.
"Here's what I suggest," Lola said, refusing to accept defeat. "Take some time to rest and cool down--I'm afraid the Sidorio clan do have a tendency to burn quick to anger. You can't fight your gene pool! If you go and think about this quietly, I'm confident you'll see that you've got the wrong end of the stick. Then Sidorio can proceed with siring Bart and we can all move on. As a united family."
Connor was silent for a moment. Lola smiled reassuringly at Sidorio, content that she had regained control.
Then Connor opened his lungs and let out a fearsome cry of anger. "No!" he shouted. "I'm not going to cool down or think this over. And, once and for all, no one is going to sire Bart. As for being part of a family with you... forget it! I'm leaving the ship tonight and I'm taking Bart with me. The least I can do is give him a proper burial."
Shaking, Connor pushed past Sidorio and lifted Bart from the bunk. His friend's body was heavy but, even without his newfound strength, Connor would have broken his own bones if necessary to remove Bart from that cabin. Hoisting Bart's body over his shoulder, he turned to leave the room. His sword was poised in case either Sidorio or Lola tried anything.
Sidorio followed him out into the corridor. "Connor,"
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he said. "Please, don't run out on us lik
e this. Don't let it end this way."
Connor turned to him, his eyes raging with fire. " I didn't end this. You did. You and that she-devil wife of yours."
Connor turned purposefully and walked off down the corridor. At the end of the passage, he turned into the main stairwell of the ship--and found to his horror that he was walking toward the family portrait. Sidorio must have hung it up there earlier.
Connor could hear Lola and Sidorio's footsteps close behind him. Making sure that Bart was secure on his shoulder, he stepped up close to the portrait. Then he lifted his sword and slashed a diagonal through the canvas. It was especially gratifying slicing Lola's face in two. He lifted his sword and cut the remains of the picture into ribbons. His heart hammering, he drew down his sword and set off up the stairs.
Lola grabbed Sidorio's arm as they took in the vandalized portrait.
"Oh, no," she cried, aghast. "After all Signor Caravaggio's fine work!"
"Do you think he could paint another?" Sidorio said.
Lola shook her head. "It would be too embarrassing to even ask." She shuddered. "'How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!'"
Sidorio looked blankly at her.
"I was quoting Shakespeare," Lola said impatiently.
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Seeing the hurt in her husband's eyes, her tone grew softer. "Mister William Shakespeare wrote plays, darling. In fact, there's one I think you'd rather like. I have it in my library. I'll read some of it to you later, Sid. Perhaps that will soothe your frazzled nerves."
Back on the deck of The Diablo , Johnny's and Lorcan's swords met once more.
"Of course," Johnny said nonchalantly, as he swiped at Lorcan. "The really big scoop on Grace is that she's developed a great liking for blood since you last saw her."
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