Suddenly Lorcan felt a searing heat coming from his shoulder. Glancing down, he saw that Stukeley’s sword had sliced through his uniform and penetrated his skin.
Stukeley drew back his sword with evident satisfaction. “She really is your Achilles’ heel, isn’t she, Furey?”
“No,” Lorcan said, preparing his own attack. “Not my Achilles’ heel. The love of my life. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”
Johnny pushed open the cabin door to find Grace staring at him in shock.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I came for you,” he said. “Don’t be alarmed, Grace. My brief is to escort you to The Blood Captain, unharmed. Sidorio has plans for you.”
“I’m not interested in his plans,” she said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“You have no choice,” Johnny said, not without a certain kindness. “This battle is all but won. The Vampirates outnumber the Nocturnals by at least three to one. Sidorio is certain to overpower Obsidian and claim The Nocturne for our fleet. The war is coming to an end. Well, this phase of it at least. The southern quadrant is locked down, and then we move on.”
“No!” Grace cried.
“Yes!” Johnny persisted, reaching out his hand. “Face facts, Grace. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
Grace took his hand in her own. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Johnny looked askance at her. “What do you have to be sorry about?”
“This,” she said, expertly pinpointing the pressure points in his hand and watching him instantly slump to the floor, unconscious.
She stared at him for a moment, his words ringing in her head. The war is coming to an end. There’s nothing you can do about it.
Wasn’t there? Well, she’d be the judge of that.
“Take a look around you!” Sidorio commanded Obsidian. His neck bore the wounds Obsidian had lately inflicted on him, but the cuts were already beginning to heal. “See your pitiable crew falling to the deck around you. You couldn’t ask for a more perfect symbol of your dwindling power. Your time is over, Captain.” The last word was spoken with the deepest irony.
“No.” Obsidian shook his head. He had sustained lacerations, but these too were closing up as the enemies circled each other once more.
Sidorio laughed mercilessly. “There’s no sense in denying it when it’s clear as night. I came here with a mission to decimate your crew and I’ve already exceeded that ambition. They’re falling like autumn leaves.” He smiled. “It won’t be long before I’ve sent you and every last member of your crew to oblivion and taken The Nocturne as part of my fleet. Though I think it’s time we changed its name to something more… gutsy.”
“Is that what this is about?” Obsidian asked. “Is that what’s behind this war? Your petty need for revenge because I exiled you from this ship?”
Sidorio smiled and shook his head. “No,” he said. “This war is about so much more than that.” He had a sudden vision of Lola and their twin boys as he lifted his sword again. “This war is about who controls the oceans.”
“I never set out to control anything but this ship,” Obsidian said as their swords met. “I tried to provide a refuge for vampires who—”
“Spare me the sermon!” Sidorio cried, his sword clashing against Obsidian’s. “I’ve heard it all before. How you wanted to create a refuge for the outsiders among the outsiders—yadda, yadda, yadda. It’s old news, grandpa—it’s all a gigantic con!”
“No!” Obsidian shook his head. “It’s true. Whether you believe it or not is of no importance.”
“You created a prison ship for lost Vampirates,” Sidorio cried, stalking Obsidian with his sword, pushing him backward. “You and Mosh Zu Kamal intended to keep us in your thrall, to build your own power base and make the rest of us bend to your ridiculous rules. Whoever heard of vampires who don’t drink blood? It’s perverse!”
Obsidian shook his head. “We never cared for power,” he said. “We wanted Vampirates to have a choice—to be able to rise above their base appetites and find ways to make meaningful use of their immortality.”
Sidorio’s mouth twisted into a snarl once more. “You think that hiding yourself away on a ghost ship and restricting yourself to one furtive drink of blood each week is meaningful?” His eyes widened. “You really do think that, don’t you?”
“Tell me,” Obsidian said, his face up close to that of his rival. “What’s your idea of a meaningful existence?”
“This!” Sidorio exclaimed. “Claiming new ships, establishing supremacy over the oceans, throwing over this tyranny of pirates we’ve all been living under for as long as we can remember and bringing the oceans under our control.” Once more, he thought of Lola, Hunter, and Evil. “It’s time to usher in a new sea power—now that’s my definition of meaningful.”
Obsidian’s eyes met those of his arch foe. They were filled not just with hatred but with a certain sadness, too. “How can you find meaning in so much destruction?” he asked.
Sidorio shrugged, his eyes flashing fire. “Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree, eh? I’ve never been given to lengthy conversations, like you and your kind. Why don’t we just settle this once and for all? And not like wannabe pirates, but like true Vampirates.” So saying, he threw his sword up into the air and leaped at Obsidian, fangs extended.
Lorcan watched in horror as Obsidian was thrown against the deck. He was already lying there himself, the tip of Stukeley’s sword pricking his own neck. Stukeley’s boot bore down on Lorcan’s arm. In his hand, he still gripped his own sword, but it was useless as he found himself unable to counter Stukeley’s greater strength.
His enemy’s sword felt cold against his neck. But there was a deeper coldness flooding Lorcan’s heart and bones. Around him, he could see the potent signs of defeat. And now he could feel the pitiful truth of it spreading within him. A ship of losers. Those had been Sidorio’s words. A weakened, dying force. Coming from Sidorio, such words had seemed like empty bravado. Now they appeared, heartbreakingly, to be true. The deck was littered with fallen members of The Nocturne’s crew.
Lorcan felt Stukeley’s boot pressing down again. The pressure was sufficient that, at last, he let go of his sword. Looking up, he saw Stukeley smiling with satisfaction. Lorcan couldn’t bear to look at him. He turned his head and saw Sidorio pinning Obsidian down upon the deck and bearing down, fangs directed at his rival’s neck. How had it come to this? Lorcan’s thoughts turned to Grace. He thought of the moment her blood had flowed into his. He thought, once more, of their fleeting kiss. He had feared that kiss might be their last; it seemed now that it was.
Doubtless, Johnny had found her. Lorcan could only hope that somehow Grace might awaken within herself the power that he and Obsidian had lacked, but he was suddenly filled with doubt. It appeared that they had completely underestimated the powers of their enemy. Maybe it was simply the wheel of fate turning, but, if so, it was a brutal new order that was poised to be ushered in.
He felt a fresh stab of pain in his shoulder and realized that Stukeley was reopening the wound. “Just in case you start repairing yourself,” Stukeley said coldly.
Lorcan stared up at Stukeley’s face. He caught a glimpse of his rival’s brutal sneer, then the Vampirate’s features began to grow distant. It was as if a mist now separated them. Feeling the deepening pain in his shoulder, Lorcan had no doubt as to what now lay ahead. Still he felt a terrible sadness flow through him as the fog thickened around him. He wanted to cry out, for everything he had lost—everything they had all lost—but it seemed that even this form of release would be denied him as the fog of oblivion drew him more completely into its stifling embrace.
38
THE FOUR CARDINALS
Lorcan’s eyes were closed and, for a time, everything was still and silent and peaceful. If this was his final journey, then perhaps it was not nearly as bad as he had feared. Summoning up the courage to open his eyes, he found that he w
as still encircled in mist, but it was not as thick as before. He could make out the red-stained deck boards around him. Could it be that he was still on the deck of The Nocturne, that he hadn’t been transported to some other place? As the mist thinned, he saw a little farther. He realized that his arm—which had been trapped under Stukeley’s merciless boot—was now free, his sword within his grasp once more. But how? And why was everything so still and quiet?
Glancing up, Lorcan saw something even more curious. Stukeley was still standing above him, but he was now surrounded by two men and a woman—none of them familiar to Lorcan. The Vampirate did not move. It looked as if he were still alive but frozen somehow. One of the men glanced down at Lorcan and smiled. Suddenly, Lorcan felt sensation again in his shoulder. His numbness gave way to a fresh wave of nausea. He saw the stranger lifting Stukeley’s sword away. Despite the intense rush of pain, he could feel the fibers deep beneath his skin fusing back together. Now he was in no doubt. This was not oblivion. He had, somehow, been saved. The second of the two men reached out his hand to help Lorcan to his feet while the woman crouched down and returned his sword.
Standing up, Lorcan saw drifts of fog moving across the deck. He realized that it must have encircled not only him but the entire deck of the ship. It was thinning now and he began to make sense of what was happening right across the deck. The Vampirates had been disarmed and their swords turned against them by a fresh influx of men and women. Though the newcomers’ faces were unfamiliar, nonetheless Lorcan recognized some kind of union with them, as if they were from the same tribe.
His eyes skimmed the deck, seeking out each of his comrades, Nocturnal and donor. Those who had fallen earlier in the battle still lay motionless, and Lorcan sensed that their stories were at an end. But, as the wisps of remaining mist streamed across the deck, like coils of muslin, Lorcan watched others rise up to their feet again. At last, his anxious eyes located Obsidian, who, to Lorcan’s great relief, was now standing tall at the center of the deck. Lorcan began making his way over to join his leader.
In front of them stood Sidorio. He, too, was surrounded. But now Lorcan saw that it was not merely the threat of force that had held the Vampirates in abeyance. His hands were raised before him, as if pushing against an invisible wall. It seemed as if there were a force field around them. It glowed indigo in the darkness of the night.
As Lorcan reached Obsidian’s side, he saw further movement across the deck. At first he thought it was more of his comrades, come to determine for themselves what miracle had happened here. But then he saw the most mysterious sight his eyes had ever borne witness to. Three imposing figures were making their way toward the center of the deck. One came from the starboard side; the next from the prow; the third from the port side. They were each clad identically in masks and capes. Their attire was exactly that which The Nocturne’s own captain had formerly worn, before he assumed the identity of Obsidian Darke.
The three figures came to the center of the deck and stood before Obsidian and Sidorio. If Lorcan looked on them in wonder, he saw that Sidorio registered their arrival with even greater surprise.
Though Sidorio was still held firm by whatever force field had been thrown about him, he was still able to speak.
“Who are you?” he asked of the new arrivals, his voice full of wonder.
There was silence for a moment. The capes of the three masked captains billowed in the breeze, the material sparking here and there with indigo light. Then they began to speak—with just one voice. It was a familiar whisper, reminiscent of lapping waters.
“We are Cardinals North, East, and West. Together with Cardinal South, we provide safe harbor for Nocturnals across the oceans.”
“Cardinals?” Sidorio grunted, his voice now devoid of its former respect. “Are you some kind of religious sect?”
“No.” Lorcan found himself answering the question. “They each represent a cardinal point on the compass.”
“That is correct.” The Cardinals nodded, then spoke again. “We are the four leaders of the Nocturnal fleet. Each of us takes responsibility for one cardinal point on the compass.”
“North, East, and West,” Sidorio said, finding he could move his hands, but only within a certain radius. “So where is Cardinal South?”
The three Cardinals did not answer his question but moved to stand beside Obsidian, who shook his head slowly at Sidorio. “You always were a little slow on the uptake,” he said, “but surely this isn’t beyond your understanding.”
“You,” Sidorio said. “You’re Cardinal South.”
“I am…” Obsidian suddenly faltered, his eyes turning from Sidorio to the three masked captains at his side. “Or, at least, I was.”
There was another pause, in which all that could be heard was the movement of the ship’s sails and the Cardinals’ capes, blending with the ocean breeze and the churning of the waters deep below. Then the three Cardinals spoke once more. “It is a very long time since the four of us have been in one place. We come together now in order to give you a clear message.” Though the masks covered their eyes, there could be no doubt the three were addressing Sidorio. “This conflict is over. Go back to your ships and start dismantling your war machine. You and your kind will never gain dominion over the oceans.”
Sidorio shook his head, then attempted to lunge forward at Obsidian. The force field around him was too strong and he found himself further humiliated.
“Admit your defeat,” the Cardinals continued. “Take your crews back to the ships you have plundered and never think to set foot here, from where you were exiled, ever again.”
As the Cardinals finished speaking, Lorcan glanced across the deck, looking for the reactions from both the crew of The Nocturne and Sidorio’s own force. It seemed that everyone was poised, waiting to see what Sidorio would do next. Lorcan’s eyes turned back to his erstwhile comrade, the first rebel Vampirate and now commander in chief of the empire of night.
Still imprisoned, Sidorio lifted his head to the skies and let out a roar. The sound was deafening. It seemed to echo not only across the deck but out over the oceans and back again. Lorcan realized this was no war cry; this was a cry of disappointment and abject defeat. Now Sidorio lowered his head and called across the deck. “We are defeated,” he cried. “Back to the ships!”
At these words, the force field around Sidorio disappeared. Lorcan saw that the same had happened to Stukeley and all of Sidorio’s followers, who had been held in paralysis across the deck until the renegade admitted defeat.
Now the surrendering army began its way, as if hypnotized, across the deck. Only then did Lorcan see that there were no longer three ships surrounding The Nocturne but six. And each of the three ships that had lately arrived bore the same strange winglike sails he had come to know and love. He smiled to himself at the confirmation that he was part of a greater force.
Sidorio watched his forces drifting away, then turned back to Obsidian once more. “I underestimated you,” he said. “I won’t make that mistake again. Though, just so we’re clear about this, I’d have won the night if you hadn’t summoned reinforcements.”
Lorcan smiled ruefully. No one would have expected Sidorio to be gracious in defeat, and he had not disappointed.
Obsidian glanced from the three Cardinals back to Sidorio. “I didn’t summon them,” he said, at length.
Sidorio’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s true, then who did?”
“I did,” came a voice from behind Lorcan. Grace walked up to join the group gathered at the center of the deck. Turning, thrilled beyond measure to see her, Lorcan smiled. His smile froze as he saw Johnny, following in her wake, looking as dazed as his comrades as he joined the lines flowing off the deck back onto the rebel ships.
As Grace took her place next to Obsidian, Sidorio smiled at her. “My all-powerful daughter,” he said, with obvious pride. “If only I could have persuaded you to join my side, this conflict might have had a very different outcome.”
Sidorio gazed at her thoughtfully, perhaps still thinking of what might have been. Behind him, the line of his disembarking crew had come to an end.
“It’s time to go now, Father,” Grace told him. There was a measure of mercy in her voice.
Sidorio nodded. He seemed about to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he turned and joined the exodus.
Lorcan reached out and squeezed Grace’s hand. He was gratified she did not resist. She might be some incredible—and growing—force of nature, but, when all was said and done, she was also his girl.
The surviving crew of The Nocturne seemed as dazed as Sidorio and his troops. They had now all risen to their feet, above their fallen comrades, to watch as the enemy ships set sail into the dying night. Lorcan knew that each and every Nocturnal and donor had hoped for victory in this fight, but none could have anticipated this outcome.
“Captain.” Lorcan addressed his comrade. “The night is beginning to fade. We must tend to our dead and injured swiftly and get the crew belowdecks once more.”
“Yes,” Obsidian agreed. “Please give your orders, Commander Furey.” Standing there, between Grace and the three Cardinals, Obsidian seemed trapped in a force field of his own, though there were no indigo sparks to bind him.
Lorcan sought out his deputies and the cleanup of the deck began. Already, his head was full of practical issues. The ship had been stormed at the outset of the Feast. The surviving Nocturnals were now in greater need of blood than ever. Once the cleanup was complete, they would need to resume the Feast or, at least, the sharing. But with many casualties sustained, the established pairings of Nocturnal and donor had been wrecked. It was an unholy mess, but, he reminded himself, at least this was an end to the conflict. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they couldn’t be worse than what they had lately endured.
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