Camille took a sip, savoring the fine vintage a good while before allowing it to slip down her throat.
“Is it to your taste, dear?” Lady Lockwood asked. “Or would you like something with more body?”
Camille shook her head. “It’s delicious, Captain.”
Jessamy nodded her own appreciation. “A worthy addition to the Black Heart Winery,” she said.
“I’m so pleased,” said Lady Lockwood. “There are a few more bottles where that came from. Share them between you, if you like. Consider it a little thank-you for a well-executed mission.”
The captain smiled, then lifted her own glass to her lips once more and drank. The first round against Sidorio’s bows had been fired.
6
DIFFERENT REALITIES
“A donor!” Grace couldn’t restrain herself.
Sally nodded, reaching out and squeezing Grace’s hand. But once more, though the touch was intended as reassuring, it caused a ricochet in Grace’s head. In rapid succession, the three images she had seen before flashed by again—first Dexter, then Sidorio, then Lorcan. And this time, there was a fresh image—of the Vampirate captain, sitting at the table in his cabin.
As Sally removed her hand, the vision instantly died. Once more, apparently oblivious to the effect of her touch, Sally continued to speak. “I take it by your reactions that you both know what a donor is?”
Connor was silent. Grace, still shocked by the visions, nodded. She tried to focus on what Sally was saying. The fact that she had been a donor explained the strange anomaly in Sally’s appearance. The pact between Vampirate and donor prevented the donor from aging. But surely Sally would have had to stop being a donor to give birth to the twins. Unless…
Grace’s unconscious mind was whirring away. She felt she was close to a discovery, but she wasn’t quite there yet. Perhaps there was a clue in the strange sequence of images that had flashed through her head when Sally had touched her—Dexter, Sidorio, Lorcan, and the Vampirate captain.
“Grace, are you all right?” Sally’s voice cut through her feverish thoughts. Grace realized that her eyes were closed. She opened them again. “Sorry,” she said. “I keep getting this jumble of images in my head.” She gazed at Sally. “It happens every time you touch me.” At this, Connor turned and looked at her curiously. Grace asked her mother, “Are you doing it on purpose?”
Sally shook her head. “No, Grace, I’m not. But tell me, what images are coming into your head?”
“They’re people I know. Dad and Sidorio, then Lorcan and the Vampirate captain. But they’re just flashes. I’m not sure what they mean, but I don’t think they’re my own memories. Dad’s much younger than I ever saw him.”
Sally smiled. “How amazing!” she said. “Do you want to try it again?”
Grace nodded. Sally reached out her hand and Grace took it. As soon as their flesh made contact, it happened again. Only this time there was less initial pain, and the vision was clearer. It was of her dad. The same vision as before. Nighttime, outdoors. He was laughing. This vision stayed with her. She saw that he was on the deck of a ship, then realized with a start that she recognized the ship. She gasped. Sally released her hand, and the vision subsided as quickly as before.
“What did you see this time?” Sally asked curiously.
Grace opened her eyes, but she was still focused on the vision. She was reeling from the possibility it had led her to, and uncertain whether to voice her thoughts.
“What did you see?” Connor asked, a note of irritation in his voice.
“It’s okay, Grace,” Sally said softly. “Whatever it is, you must share it with us. I told you this is a difficult story, but we’ll make it through together—the three of us—I promise you.” She turned to Connor. “I promise you both.”
Grace took a breath. “It was Dad,” she said. “He was so young and happy.” She paused. “He was on the deck of a ship. It was the Nocturne. I saw the sails sparking with light behind him.”
“That’s impossible!” Connor said. “Dad was never on the Nocturne.”
Grace shook her head. “No, I’m certain it was him.” She turned to Sally. “I think I’ve figured it out,” she said. “Our story, I mean. You were a donor. And our dad, Dexter, he was your vampire partner.” Grace glanced at Connor, saw him frown, then faced Sally as she summoned up the words that she knew had the potential to change both twins’ lives forever. “Our father was a vampire.”
Sally held Grace’s gaze, but before she could respond, Connor jumped up from his seat and cried out. “No! I don’t want to hear this!” he snapped. “I don’t want or need to hear this. Our dad was a good man. No, Grace—not a ‘good man’ like Lorcan or your Vampirate captain. A truly good man. He raised us on his own. He sacrificed everything for us for fourteen years and died way too young.”
Connor stopped and glared at Sally. “How dare you say these things about him!”
“I didn’t say…” Sally began, but her voice had grown weak again, and besides, Connor was already striding toward the door.
Sally coughed and reached for more water. “Go after him,” she rasped at Grace.
Grace was torn. “What about you?”
“Go,” Sally said, gathering all the force she could muster. “Bring him back. He needs to hear this as much as you do.”
Her voice might be weak, but her words were strong as steel. Grace ran to the door and chased along the corridor after Connor. He hadn’t gotten very far. He was leaning against the wall, his head in his hands.
“Connor, you have to come back in there with me.”
He twisted his head and glared at her. “I don’t have to go anywhere, Grace.”
Grace was insistent. “You need to hear what our mother has to say. We both do.”
Connor shook his head. “It’s lies, Grace. A fairy tale.” He shook his head. “No, not a fairy tale, more like a horror story.”
“You might not like it, Con, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” She reached out to him, but he shook her off angrily.
“You’re actually asking me to believe that our dad was a vampire?” He shook his head, incredulous.
“Perhaps,” Grace said. “And if that is the case, then we ought to know.” She paused, deep in her own spiral of thoughts. “I wonder… would that make us vampires, too?”
Connor stared at her openmouthed. “Listen to yourself!” he said. “Grace, you’ve completely lost your sense of reality. Okay, so the Vampirates rescued you from drowning. They did a good thing there, no question. But that isn’t enough for you, is it? No, you have to go and make friends with them! And now you want to be family, too? It’s not normal, Grace. It’s weird. Deeply, horribly weird.”
“I’ll make friends with whomever I choose,” Grace said, equally full of fire.
“Fine,” Connor said. “That’s your choice.” Then he spoke very deliberately. “Our father was not a Vampirate. Dexter Tempest was a kind, normal man with two kids and a job as a lighthouse keeper. Overworked and underpaid.”
“You can keep telling yourself that,” said Grace, surprised by her own calm, “but saying it doesn’t make it true.” She paused. “I haven’t lost my sense of reality, Connor. I’m just open to differentrealities. While you’ve been away, living the pirate life, I’ve had my eyes opened to the most amazing possibilities—things I would never have dreamed could be true.” Her eyes flashed with fire as she continued. “You’ve even seen some of these things for yourself! You were there when Mosh Zu healed the captain.”
Connor bristled. “I don’t see what that has to do with Dad.”
“Connor, you saw Mother and the other shades rise from the captain’s body! Didn’t that change your sense of what is normal and what is possible?”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “Maybe I’m even ready to accept that she is our mother, or the ghost of our mother, though I’m really struggling with how she traveled around in the captain’s stomach all these years.” He sighed. “The
se things, they’re too hard for me to get my head around, and frankly, I don’t even want to. But I knew Dad. I lived with him for fourteen years, day and night. He was a regular guy. Dexter Tempest was not a Vampirate.”
The more he tried to shut her down, the more impassioned Grace became. “You need to redefine your sense of what a vampire is,” she said. “Vampirates can be regular guys, too. Look at Lorcan.”
Connor nodded. “I thought it might come back to him. Look, Grace, I know how much you like Lorcan. He’s the first boy you’ve ever been really interested in, but even so, you have to face facts. He is not a regular guy.”
“He’s kind,” said Grace. “And thoughtful. And funny.”
“Oh, yeah,” Connor said. “A regular barrel of laughs ol’ Lorcan is, I’m sure. But you’re forgetting some of the more salient information about him, Grace.” He paused. “Like, for instance, how he likes to suck blood.”
“It isn’t that he likes it,” Grace said vehemently. “Lorcan needs blood to revivify himself. He has an appetite for it, but he has learned to control it.”
“Well,” Connor said, nodding. “You’re right. That’s very regular.”
Grace reached out her hand to her brother, determined to give this one more try. “Connor, please, let’s go back in there and finish this conversation with our mother while we have the chance. She’s so frail. We don’t know how long we have left.”
He stared at her intently, his thoughts closed to her, then shook his head.
Grace sighed and turned away from him. Folding her arms tightly across her chest, she strode back toward the meditation room.
“Grace, wait!” Connor cried. “We need to talk! Just the two of us.”
But there was no stopping her. She marched along the corridor and back into the meditation room. She went over to her mother’s chair, then let out a gasp. Sally was slumped on the floor, her eyes closed and her body limp.
“No!” Grace cried. It couldn’t end—not here, not now. There was too much left unsaid, unknown, between mother and daughter. She had to bring her back to consciousness.
Grace reached out to cradle her mother in her arms. As she did so, her head once more flashed with images. Dexter. Sidorio. Lorcan. The Vampirate captain. And now Mosh Zu and Shanti, too. The vision flashed from one face to the next. It was like watching a pack of cards being shuffled really fast.
Not now! Grace pleaded. She had to save Sally… but there was no letup from the vision. Faces flashed before her, finally settling on the image of Dexter, as though his card had been selected from the pack. He was on the deck of the ship, just like before. And in spite of Connor’s nay-saying, there behind him was the main mast and the Nocturne’s vast winglike sails, pulsing with light.
Dexter was laughing and reaching out his hand toward her. Grace realized that she was seeing things from her mother’s point of view. In the vision, she was standing up, too, taking Dexter’s hand in hers and walking across the deck. Her mother glanced behind her. There on the deck were Lorcan and Shanti, his donor. They were smiling and waving as Sally and Dexter took their leave. Then Sally and Dexter were walking inside. Grace could see the familiar corridor, with cabins on either side. Her mother’s hand pushed open the door. Was she about to see her mother share blood with her father? This would be the confirmation that she had indeed been his donor, the irrefutable truth that Dexter Tempest was a Vampirate.
“Grace!” Connor’s cry tore through her consciousness, but she clung to the vision, desperate for it not to fade at this point. Then she felt her brother’s arms on her. He was pulling her away from Sally. “Let go of her!” he said. “You’re holding her too tightly. Grace, you’re hurting her.”
Grace came to on the floor, a distance away from Connor, who now cradled his mother protectively. “What have you done to her, Grace?” he asked.
“Me? I haven’t done anything! How could you even think—”
“You were clinging to her for dear life.”
“She was like this when I came back into the room. I reached out for her, like you have, but as soon as I touched her, a vision began again.”
Connor frowned. “I don’t want to hear about it,” he said darkly. “And Grace, you have to stop touching her. I don’t understand what’s going on, but evidently it’s not good for her.”
He felt for a pulse, then stared up at Grace, panic etched across his face. “We need help, Grace. Go and fetch Mosh Zu or someone… anyone. Now!”
7
FRIENDS AND SECRETS
Later that evening, several hours after her mother’s collapse, Grace sat on the bench before the little fountain in the kitchen garden, trying to be patient as Mosh Zu and his assistants attended to Sally.
The fountain had become one of her favorite spots in the Sanctuary complex, the place she came to whenever she needed to calm her frazzled nerves. Something in the combination of the cool air, the fragrant scent of the wild herbs growing nearby, and the sound of water tumbling back upon itself usually worked its magic upon her.
Right now, Grace’s head was feverish with thoughts; her stomach coiled in knots. She thought about what Sally had told her, and what Sally had been on the verge of telling her. That she was a donor. That perhaps she was Dexter Tempest’s donor. That the twins’ father was a Vampirate, and that, therefore, they too were vamp—But no, she mustn’t let her mind race ahead of her. All Sally had said definitively so far was that she had been a donor on board the Nocturne. The rest, though it all made sense, awaited her confirmation.
Grace thought of the visions that had arisen through her contact with Sally. It had been amazing to see life on the Nocturne through her mother’s eyes—to see her dad looking so young and handsome and carefree, and Lorcan, too—though of course he was physically unchanged. Grace remembered the way Lorcan and Sally had looked at each other back in the healing chamber, when she had first reappeared. It was clear they had been good friends once, and this just confirmed it. Grace was pleased about that—it felt like another connection to two people she cared for deeply.
Seeing Shanti had been interesting, too. Though Grace had mixed feelings about Lorcan’s former donor, she still felt a deep sadness at her brutal murder at the hands of a renegade vampire.
Grace trembled. Her thoughts turned again to her mother. Were Connor’s accusations fair? Was Grace actually hurting her by tapping into her distant memories? It was clear that Sally was in a deeply fragile state. The last thing Grace wanted was to make her weaker still. And yet, the way the visions rushed into her head the moment she and her mother made contact led Grace to feel that Sally must want her to know them, even subconsciously. She seemed to be trying to tell Grace the full story.
Grace stared at the tumbling waters of the fountain. She wished that she was not alone, that she had someone close to talk things through with. But who?
Connor, though he had calmed down considerably, had said that he needed time to himself and had gone off to his room to get some rest.
The captain would have been a calm sounding board for her, but there had been no sign of him since his healing.
She had sought out Lorcan but, according to one of the others, he had gone over the the donors’ blocks and wasn’t expected back anytime soon.
Grace remembered other nights at Sanctuary when, in the lonely hours, she had sought out the company of Johnny Desperado. He was gone now, lured away by the dark temptation of Sidorio. Though Johnny had turned out to be of questionable character, he’d been good company and a great listener. Now, sitting in front of the little fountain, Grace felt the absence of all the people she had grown accustomed to calling upon for support. She felt suddenly, achingly, alone.
“Grace!”
At first she thought she had somehow conjured the voice herself—it wouldn’t have been the first time.
“Grace!”
She glanced up to find Darcy Flotsam walking around the side of the fountain toward her. Darcy’s warm smile was like the answe
r to a prayer.
Grace rose to her feet and hugged her friend. “Darcy! How wonderful to see you!”
Darcy hugged her back and laughed. “It’s good to see you, too, Grace.”
“What are you doing out here?” Grace asked, her joy overriding her slight guilt at having neglected to think of Darcy, dear Darcy, in the same breath as the others.
“Much the same as you, I’d imagine,” Darcy said. “Taking a breath of air. After nights on the deck of the Nocturne, it gets awful stuffy inside the compound, don’t you find?”
“Oh, Darcy!” Grace said, beaming, “it really is a treat to see you. I’ve been sitting out here worrying about my mother. And then I started thinking about stuff Connor said to me and about my dad and the captain, and I just got to feeling so alone.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Shh,” Darcy said, her voice as soothing as the waters of the fountain. “I’m here, Grace. You’re not alone.” She rested her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s take a walk together.”
Grace rose to her feet and looped her own arm through Darcy’s. As they walked along in silence, Grace thought how grown-up Darcy suddenly seemed.
The two girls walked out of the garden and across the courtyard. Ahead of them was the wall where Grace had sat with Johnny Desperado on other nights such as this. She thought once more of Johnny—handsome, charming, wayward Johnny. His farewell words rang in her head. “It ain’t that I can’t be good. It’s just that I’m so much better at being bad.”
She shivered to remember what he’d said. Was he still with Sidorio? If so, then he’d have no shortage of opportunities to cultivate his bad side. Johnny had been something of a lost soul from the very beginning, an overripe fruit hanging from the vine, ready for Sidorio’s rough hand to snatch.
“What are you thinking about?” Darcy asked as they reached the wall that enclosed the courtyard.
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