Vampirates 6: Immortal War (41 page)

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Authors: Justin Somper

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BOOK: Vampirates 6: Immortal War
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“Wait just a minute!” Cheng Li said. “You’re going to perform Connor’s investiture here and now? Doesn’t all his money at least buy him a proper ceremony?”

“Like yours?” Black asked. “I remember that day, before John Kuo’s untimely death. The sun was shining and the academy chefs surpassed themselves with their canapés. No, Commodore Li, I’m afraid this is a time of austerity. There won’t be any more grand events like that until—
unless
—we achieve peace on our terms.”

“It’s okay,” Connor said, falling to his knees. “I’m not so good on big occasions.” He smiled reassuringly at Cheng Li. “You know that.”

He’d rarely seen Cheng Li seem so sad or worried. His attention was distracted as Commodore Black unsheathed his sword and began to speak more formally.

“By the powers invested in me by the Pirate Federation, I, Commodore Ahab Black, grant Connor Tempest the title of Captain in perpetuity.”

Black lifted his sword and brought its cold metal face flush against the side of Connor’s neck.

“Plenty and satiety,” Black said, then moved the sword to the other side of Connor’s neck. “Pleasure and ease,” he continued. Then he moved the tip of the sword to Connor’s chest, right above his fast-beating heart, where it abutted the silver braid on Connor’s uniform. “Liberty
and power,” said Black. Then, in a more avuncular voice, “You can get up now, Captain Tempest!”

“Wait!” Cheng Li cried. “What about the
rest
of the investiture?
In your head and in your heart
through to
travel home in peace and harmony
?”

“You’re a Federation officer,” Black said. “I think I can leave you to fill in any blanks. I’ve got a check to deposit and a war to win. Congratulations, Captain Tempest! And thank you on behalf of the Federation and the Alliance as a whole. Your role in this victory will not be overlooked.” He reached out to shake Connor’s hand, then strode toward the door. At the threshold, he gave a quick Federation salute, then continued on his way into the night.

Connor rose to his feet, dazed. His first thought was:
I’m a captain now
. His second:
I’ve just signed my own death warrant
.

Cheng Li shook her head with irritation. “He didn’t even stop to tell us what plans he has to find you a ship.”

Connor shrugged. Cheng Li was right, as usual, but he had other, darker thoughts to contend with. Thoughts that were too dark even to share with her.

 

“You see?” Lola said, settling little Hunter on her lap. “He’s fine now that he’s sitting up with us, aren’t you,
darling?” She blew a little raspberry in his ear and the infant smiled in delight.

“I think he was just missing his mum,” Holly said.

“Shall we continue?” Nathalie gestured toward the cards.

“Yes,” agreed Lola. “We mustn’t leave Jack Tar hanging.” Steadying Hunter on her knee, she reached forward and turned the next card.

The three women stared at the image of a young man, or perhaps woman, attending to a weak soul in his sickbed. “The Healer,” Nathalie announced.

“So,” Lola said. “Death comes for the Healer. I wonder, who could it be?”

“Mosh Zu Kamal!” Holly exclaimed, getting into the spirit. “He’s the most prominent healer we know, isn’t he?”

Nathalie nodded. “He’s a strong contender.” She turned to Lola. “And I don’t mean to put a damper on proceedings, but wasn’t Olivier his protégé?”

Lola nodded. “You make a good point,” she said. “But I think you’ve both overlooked the most obvious candidate.” She smiled before adding, “Grace Tempest.”

“Of course!” Nathalie exclaimed, her face suddenly sober. “I’m sorry, Captain. For a moment there, I forgot she’s still your stepdaughter.”

Lola shook her head. “In name only. Grace had her chance with me but she blew it. If the Mariner is coming to claim her, I’m not going to stand in his way.”

“Shall we see if Jack has anyone else in his sights?” Nathalie suggested.

Lola nodded, reaching out her hand once more. The card she turned revealed a sailor standing at the prow of a ship, looking out rather disconsolately across a vast ocean.

“The Lost Corsair,” Nathalie said. “Also known as the Lost Buccaneer.”

“Buccaneer?” Holly said. “That rings a bell!”

Lola brought her hands together. “It’s perfect! Connor Tempest and his two friends called themselves the Three Buccaneers. Do you remember, girls?”

“That’s right!” Nathalie said. “There’s Connor and his friend Bart. But he’s dead now, so it can’t be him.”

“No,” Lola agreed, thinking briefly of the moment she’d claimed Bart’s life. “The other candidate is Stukeley.”

Holly looked distraught. “Not just Stukeley! Stukeley made that speech when Bart was here. Do you remember… at Tiffin? And Lord Sidorio called Johnny the fourth buccaneer.”

“Did he?” Lola said. “I’m afraid I
don’t
remember.” She shrugged. “But even so, you’d have to figure that Stukeley and Connor are the more likely candidates.”

“Agreed,” Nathalie said with a nod.

“What if it’s Stukeley?” Holly said. “Poor, poor Mimma!”

“The auguries are even better than I expected,” Lola said, her voice drowning out Holly’s as she turned to
Nathalie. “Victory is within our grasp and death is stalking both Grace and Connor. My dear, I simply couldn’t have wished for a better reading!”

“You have only turned six cards,” Nathalie reminded her. “You have one left to turn.”

“Of course,” Lola said, her fingers hovering above the cards once more. Her decision made, her fingers came down and flipped over the card. It was a picture of a constellation of stars, bright in the night sky. The stars had been rendered with silver leaf.

Lola gasped. “No!” she said.

“What is it?” asked Holly. “Is it a theme card?”

Nathalie shook her head gravely. “No, dear, it’s another people card. This represents Orion…”

“More commonly known,” Lola continued, her voice low, “as the Hunter.”

“So does it mean death for…” Holly’s question was left unfinished. All eyes turned to the happy infant smiling and gurgling obliviously on Lola’s knee.

“It can’t be true,” Lola said, tears welling in her eyes.

“It needn’t be,” Nathalie said. “Remember, the Hunter is also a symbolic card. It could refer to the death of any of the pirates who have been stalking us. In particular, the one who captained the first ship of Vampirate assassins.”

“Cheng Li,” Lola said. “Yes, I suppose…”

Nathalie spoke again, more forcefully. “Captain, even if the card does suggest Hunter may be in danger, we let
the cards reveal their story to us as a warning. We can take steps to protect him.”

“Yes.” Lola wiped her eyes dry. “Yes, dear, of course you are quite right.” She hugged Hunter more closely to her. “Nothing must happen to him. I will keep him with me at all times.”

“Even in battle?” Holly asked. “Isn’t that putting him straight into the line of danger?”

“We can take turns looking after him,” Nathalie suggested. “A twenty-four-hour rotation.”

“What about baby Evil?” asked Holly. “Shouldn’t we protect him, too?”

“The card was the Hunter,” Lola said. “He’s the one in danger.”

“Should you turn another card?” Holly inquired. “Just to check?”

Lola shook her head emphatically. “No more cards.”

“We agreed at the outset,” Nathalie said. “We were playing sevens. The cards made a pact with us to reveal their story in seven scenes. And so they did.”

Holly nodded, her eyes turning once more to Lola’s sweet little boy. It was unthinkable that he might be in any danger. This game had been fun at the start, but it had taken a rather nasty direction. The captain and Nathalie seemed utterly confident that the cards spelled victory for the Vampirates and death for Grace and Connor. But hadn’t they also placed Olivier and Stukeley in
the danger zone? Maybe even Johnny, too. Although the others had seemed to believe the reading, Holly was less convinced. It seemed to her that there were many possible ways to interpret the macabre cards. The whole game had left her with an increasing sense of unease about what lay ahead. But, she reflected—as Nathalie cleared away the cards—she was only a beginner. And, based on this experience, this was not a game she would want to play again anytime soon.

35
 
THE LAST FEAST NIGHT
 

Not for the first time, Grace experienced frustration that there was no mirror in Lorcan’s cabin. Perhaps there was still time to return to her own room and change her dress. She had made as much effort as she could muster out of respect for the traditions of Feast Night. Nonetheless, she wasn’t convinced that, had Darcy been here, she’d have been allowed to step out of the cabin looking like this. She had liberated her hair from its utility ponytail but it still looked rather wild. She had run out of time trying to tame it into submission. Her dress was plain navy blue—a good cut and color but, she had no doubt, too simple for her friend’s tastes. She imagined Darcy shaking her head and giving her a few stern words about how standards must not slip, even in the midst of war. The only jewelry Grace was wearing was Lorcan’s ring. In this respect, at
least, she was confident that she had done the right thing. Nothing could, nor should, compete with the beautiful diamond.

Grace’s thoughts of Darcy turned to wondering about how things were going at Sanctuary. Seeing the sleeve of Lorcan’s uniform poking out from his open wardrobe door, Grace stepped forward. She felt another flash of guilt at her hasty departure from Sanctuary. She had yet to make an astral journey to Mosh Zu to explain her actions. Her excuse was that she didn’t want to disturb him at this crucial time. Well, that was part of it, she thought, as she pushed Lorcan’s uniform back inside the wardrobe and turned the key. She reflected on the extent of her journey; when she had first arrived on
The Nocturne
, it was Lorcan who had been the one to lock her in her cabin. Now she was the one with the key, putting away her boyfriend’s clothes.

Now Lorcan stepped out of his washroom, smelling of his light woodsy cologne, and walked over to her. He brought his arms about her waist and kissed her neck.

“You look gorgeous,” he said. “In case you were wondering.”

She twisted around in his embrace and caught full sight of him. It was something of a shock to see him out of his serge uniform and back in the more formal attire of Feast Night.

“So do you,” she said as his lips met hers. As they
kissed, her eyes closed. When she opened them again, she was overwhelmed—as she invariably was—by his beauty.

“I guess we should get going,” Lorcan said. She could hear the reluctance in his voice and sensed that, like her, he’d be far happier remaining here with her in his cabin.

“Yes,” Grace said. “If you still think it’s the right thing to do.”

There was a flash of weariness in Lorcan’s eyes. “I’m afraid I do,” he said. “We must at least try to talk to him.”

Grace reached out for his hand and squeezed it tightly in her own. They set off along the corridor, walking in the direction counter to the other Nocturnals, who were making their way down through the ship to the large dining room on the lowest deck. Some of the Nocturnals glanced curiously at Grace and Lorcan as the couple moved against the flow. Others were too preoccupied by their own concerns. Grace gazed at the stream of familiar faces. Despite the various cosmetics employed in an attempt to disguise their true state, the Nocturnals looked as frail as they always did at the outset of the Feast. It was, after all, when they were most depleted in blood and therefore at their weakest.

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