Vampirates 6: Immortal War (6 page)

Connor noticed there were four empty seats next to Barbarro Wrathe. They were not for Trofie and Moonshine, as they both now sat down at the end of Connor’s
own row. Moonshine grinned at Connor. Connor nodded, then turned toward the stage. Commodore Ahab Black, chief officer of the Pirate Federation, had just taken to the platform and a hush had descended upon all those in attendance. Yet still, four empty chairs remained on the dais.

“Where’s Captain Fallico?” Jasmine whispered in Connor’s ear. “It’s unlike him to be late. Especially for such an important event.”

Connor shook his head, distracted from Jasmine’s words by her perfume. Shaking her head softly, she leaned away again as Commodore Black began to speak.

“You have been called here for a Council of War, but before we begin, we have an important ceremony to conduct. Some of you may feel that a war such as we are currently engaged in allows us no time for this. But, ladies and gentleman, pirates
and
Nocturnals, it is my belief that, in the current climate, a ceremony such as this is more important than ever.” His expression somber, he stepped forward to the table and stretched out his hands to indicate the two glass cases.

“Here lie two swords belonging to pirates who have given their lives in the current conflict. This sword was wielded by John Kuo, one of the most famous names of his generation, the former headmaster of this academy and a pirate who shaped the Pirate Federation into what it is today.” Black lifted his eyes to address the congregation directly. “Commodore Kuo’s famous Toledo blade has hung
in a case here in the Rotunda for many years, brought down for the commodore himself to use on special days. He last used it when Cheng Li became a captain, in the Captains’ Race that formed part of the celebrations. John was the firm favorite to win that race.” Black shook his head sadly. “But events proved otherwise. That day, Commodore Kuo lost not only the race but also his life. His sword was stolen by his killers, and it is only thanks to a young pirate who has already made quite a name for himself—Connor Tempest—that the Toledo Blade was recovered and will tonight be returned to its rightful place, in the firmament of weapons above our heads.”

Commodore Black paused to glance up above, then brought his eyes down once more. “It will not surprise you that we come together to honor the achievements of a pirate like John Kuo, whose deeds are legendary in our world. But, perhaps you are surprised that we would even add this other sword to the cases above.
This
sword did not belong to a famous captain or, in fact, any kind of captain. This sword belonged to a foot soldier in our navy—one Bartholomew Pearce, a loyal member of Captain Molucco Wrathe’s crew aboard
The Diablo
.” Black turned to face Barbarro. “At this point, I should like to acknowledge Captain Barbarro Wrathe and his brothers, Porfirio and Molucco, both of whom were victims of the Vampirates. Tonight, we have set chairs for these two former comrades, just as we have for John Kuo, in order to help us more strongly feel their presence and their power.”

Connor leaned over to Jasmine. “So maybe the fourth empty chair is for Bart,” he whispered.

“No,” Jasmine said. “They only put out chairs for the captains. Jack Fallico should be sitting right there. Which begs the question, where is he?”

Black’s monotone voice boomed out once more. “We have lost some of the leading lights of our generation in this conflict,” he said, “but we have also lost great pirates of the future. Pirates like Bart Pearce, whose best days doubtless lay ahead of him.”

Connor glanced to his side and saw that Cate’s face was pale and contorted. She was struggling not to cry. Instinctively, he reached out for her hand and took it, then turned his eyes to the front as Black warmed to his theme. “War is the great leveler,” he said. “It is indiscriminate, taking away our leaders and our foot soldiers. Tonight, we honor just two of those we have lost but, as their swords are raised aloft to join those above, I want you to think of the many others who have given their lives to this war. A war we are endeavoring to bring to an end. These swords, which once belonged to John Kuo and Bartholomew Pearce, serve as constant reminders to us all of the battles we have endured and, more important, of the battles that lie ahead.”

Black gave a nod to indicate he had come to the end of his speech, and from each side of the platform stepped forward a somber-looking academy student. They joined Commodore Black at the table and waited as he clipped
the sword cases to the steel wires that would support them up above. Then each of the students took the steel wire in his hand and pulled at it, working in perfect unison, so that the swords began to rise together.

As the swords made their slow journey upward, the academy orchestra played the Federation anthem. The crowd rose to its feet and began to sing. Connor, like most of the others, was transfixed by the two swords floating up through the watery blue light. Turning to look at Cate, he saw tears rolling down her face. Suddenly she stood up and slipped past him, then stumbled away down the row.

Connor moved to follow her, but Jasmine held him back. “Let her go,” she said.

The music died away. Connor turned back and saw that the swords had reached their final resting place.

Out on the hillside, overlooking the harbor, Cate sat on a bench, sobbing for Bart. Why now? She had been stoic from the time she had been brought the news of his death to the moment earlier that evening when Connor had revealed the name of Bart’s killer. Somehow, seeing Bart’s sword in that case had made her realize the finality of his death. She knew that Connor had buried their comrade-in-arms at sea. But the glass case that held Bart’s sword might as well have been his coffin.

She was momentarily interrupted from these thoughts by a figure arriving at her side and hovering, gawkily, above her. It was Moonshine Wrathe.

Cate looked up at him through her tears.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“They say misery loves company,” answered Moonshine. “And, right now, you look decidedly miserable.”

“I just miss him,” Cate said to Moonshine. “It’s as simple and complicated and painful and irreversible as that.” She slumped back on the secluded bench. The night air was scented with oleander, and sweet pomegranates hung ripe and low just above their heads. Moonshine stretched out on the seat. “You know, my Uncle Luck had a maxim. A pirate’s life—”

“Should be short but merry.” Cate cut him off. “Yes, Bart was wont to say that, too. It’s a downright stupid maxim, if you ask me.”

Moonshine smiled. “I’d have to agree with you. The merry part is fine, but let’s marry that with a long life, please… Though of course I wouldn’t want to be an immortal like
them
.” Shuddering, he pointed at a couple of figures making their way up from the dockside toward the hall. “What’s with their long faces? Sheesh—they don’t look like
they’d
be any fun at a party.”

Cate gave a hollow laugh. “I’m not really in the party spirit myself right now,” she said.

“You know what? Maybe that’s
exactly
what we should do!” Moonshine said, his eyes bright. “Put a hefty chunk of your inheritance behind the bar at Ma Kettle’s, send out invitations far and wide and have ourselves a party—nothing better than getting filthy drunk with your buccaneer mates!”

Cate shook her head. “Do you really think that would make me feel better?”

Moonshine grinned. “How would I know? We’re little more than strangers. Besides, I’m not old enough to consume hard liquor. Prescription drugs, on the other hand…”

Cate rolled her eyes. “In any case, I don’t get the inheritance unless I agree to be your deputy.” Her eyes met his. “And there’s no chance of
that
happening anytime soon.”

Moonshine shrugged. “Hey-ho. No party for you then, CC. Just the
almost
-widow’s armband for another few months and, I fear, more of those lines across your forehead. Of course, Uncle Luck’s bequest could also buy you some timely Botox. I’m sure my mother could recommend someone.”

Cate shook her head. “You’re really not a very nice person, Moonshine, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” A sliver of starlight broke through the branches overhead and bisected his face. “But let’s face facts: There are more than enough nice people in this world,” he said. “You’ve got nice Connor Tempest and nice Jasmine Peacock and oh, that lovely Lorcan Furey, and… well, the list goes on. Nice, nice, nice. What the world needs right now is characters, more like Uncle Luck. He wasn’t always nice but he’ll be remembered as a legend.”

Cate nodded. “And you’re planning to step into his shoes, are you?”

Moonshine shrugged. In his hand was a pomegranate, which he’d just grabbed from the branches above them.
He sliced it in two with his pocketknife and began intently removing the seeds—every last one of them. Cate watched him with renewed interest.

“Do you have OCD?” she asked.

“I have pretty much everything.” Moonshine continued worrying away at the fruit. “You name it. Lots and lots of baggage, all personally monogrammed of course!”

“Poor little rich boy,” Cate said. “Where did it all go so wrong for you?”

“Oh, Cate,” Moonshine said. “Dear, sweet Cate! I know that it’s easy to romanticize being born into fabulous wealth, but I’m here to tell you, it doesn’t stop you from having this big gaping hole of empty inside.”

Cate snorted. “Try being born into abject poverty. When I was a kid, the big gaping hole was the one inside my stomach.”

Moonshine offered her the deseeded half of pomegranate and got to work on the other half. “Well, now you need never go hungry again,” he said. “Not with the money Uncle Luck has left you.” He flicked away another seed with evident disgust.

“You really expect me to come and be your deputy?” Cate said, shaking her head. “For three years?”

Fireflies seemed to dance in Moonshine’s eyes. “Can you imagine
anything
worse?” he asked.

Cate laughed at that. “I really don’t get you,” she said.

“Of course you don’t
get
me,” Moonshine said. “I’m far too much of a riddle for the likes of you to unpick. I’ve
confounded some of the finest psychiatric minds on each of the seven oceans. Their voyages to the bottom of my psyche have cost my parents a pretty penny, but let’s face it, Trofie and Pops have got plenty to spare.” He looked at her strangely. “You’re smiling at me,” he said. “Please don’t do that. It’s unnerving.”

Cate shrugged. “I know one thing, Mr. Nasty,” she said. “You followed me out here, for reasons I can’t quite fathom, to make sure I was okay.”

“Oh nooo,” Moonshine said, seemingly horrified at the thought. “You couldn’t be more wrong. I came out here to bug the hell out of you. I saw you were vulnerable, Cate, and I closed in for the kill.
That’s
the kind of guy I am.”

Cate couldn’t help but notice that, however harsh his words, Moonshine was now smiling broadly back at her.

“Come on,” said Moonshine. “Better get back inside. I’ve got a plan I want to put to the Council and I think you should hear it.”

Cate raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, but he just tapped his lips and beckoned her to follow him. Shrugging, she did as he requested. It sounded as if things were about to get interesting.

Even before they set foot inside the hall, Cate and Moonshine could hear raised voices. The two Nocturnals they had seen earlier were exiting as they came to the doors.