Empire of Night

by Justin Somper

  Grace looked from one black heart to another. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in him," she found herself confessing.

  "One final touch," said Mimma, nodding happily, then reaching inside her bag. "Perfume!"

  She dabbed the glass stopper behind Grace's earlobes and on her wrists. "Isn't it delicious? I reckon it smells like a summer's afternoon--not that I've seen one of those in a long time!"

  The perfume did indeed smell delicious--a fragrant blend of nectarines and honey. Mimma reinserted the stopper in the bottle and stepped back to survey her work. "Pretty as a picture," she declared, holding out a hand to Grace. "Come and take a look at yourself in the mirror, missy."

  Grace had been sitting for such a long time that she felt rather giddy as she crossed the room to the dressing table mirror.

  At first, her appearance was a shock, but then Grace smiled. The girls had done a wonderful job. Jacqueline had left most of the length of her hair but had cut into it and given it a much sleeker and more sophisticated shape. It made her look like a young woman--like the other three, in fact. She brushed her hand through it, noticing with pleasure her painted fingernails. Then, she looked

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  straight forward to assess her face. Her eyes looked bigger, her lips a little fuller, her cheekbones sharper.

  "Thank you," she said, overcome with emotion. "Thank you all. I feel wonderful."

  "Wait 'til Johnny catches sight of you," said Jacqueline.

  "He'll swoon," agreed Nathalie.

  Grace blushed but found herself laughing with the rest of them. "Actually, I have an idea." She leaned forward to whisper in Mimma's ear.

  "Not fair!" said Jacqueline. "No secrets!"

  Mimma laughed. "Be quiet, you! Grace, that's a wonderful idea. Of course, I can do that." She reached for her brushes and set to work.

  "What did she ask for?" Jacqueline persisted.

  It didn't take Mimma long to complete the job. "Perfect!" she proclaimed.

  The other girls turned at her words and gasped.

  "What is it?" Grace asked.

  "You're... you're one of us now!" Jacqueline stammered.

  "Let me see!" Grace said excitedly.

  Just as she had requested, there, around her right eye, was the black heart tattoo. Not a real tattoo, of course. Not yet. But it looked just the same. There was no doubt it suited her. It made her eye look even more like a glittering emerald.

  Grace sighed, turning from the mirror to her friends. "Thank you all so much. What shall we do next? Are there any more of those delicious macaroons?"

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  "Actually, honey, we've got to run," Mimma said, dropping the last of her supplies into her bag and zipping it shut.

  "Look at the time!" Jacqueline said, grabbing her own case. "Lola will be waiting for us."

  "She certainly will," said Nathalie, slipping the empty cake stand back into her bag, leaving one solitary macaroon on the coffee table.

  "I'll come with you," Grace said.

  "Oh, no," Mimma said. "No, sweetie, you may have a black heart, but I don't think you're ready for where we're going." Kissing the air on either side of Grace's cheeks, she slipped out through the door as swiftly as she had arrived.

  Jacqueline kissed Grace in a similar fashion, then followed in Mimma's wake.

  Grace reached out a hand to Nathalie's wrist. "Tell me," she said, "where are you going?"

  Nathalie considered the question for a moment. "On a kind of hunt," she said, smiling softly. Then she too kissed Grace good-bye and departed, closing the door tight shut behind her.

  Grace felt the emptiness and silence of the cabin which, only seconds before, had been filled with the girls' voices and laughter. She crossed the room to look at her reflection once more. She found herself pouting into the mirror. Why had they left her like this? She had the black heart now. She was ready to go hunting with them, whatever that entailed.

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  She folded her arms crossly and turned away from the mirror, taking stock. Seeing her robe sprawled across the chair, she remembered that she'd been trying to reach Lorcan when the girls had surprised her with their impromptu slumber party. She could try him again now, she thought. But, as she settled back down into her chair, she realized that it was no longer Lorcan she wanted to talk to. There was only one Vampirate on her mind. She smiled. Johnny.

  Lola laughed with delight as Mimma updated her on the slumber party. "This is proving easier than I thought," she said. "Don't you see, my dear? Grace longs to be one of us. She aches for it."

  Mimma shrugged, gratefully accepting the glass of vintage blood, which the captain now held out to her. "That's not the only thing Grace longs for. A certain former rodeo star has got your stepdaughter a little hot in the saddle."

  Lola beamed with pleasure. "Is that so? Well, it seems as if the cowboy is holding up his end of the bargain." She sipped her own drink. "Tell me, how did Nathalie's special patisserie go down?"

  Mimma smiled. "Grace couldn't get enough of them. She has an appetite, that one."

  "Yes." Lola nodded decisively. "I believe we have Grace

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  exactly where we want her," she said. "No more blood for the next few nights. Do you understand?"

  Mimma nodded. "Yes, Captain."

  "No more blood," Lola repeated, smiling. "That should send little Grace's burgeoning appetite through the roof!"

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  30 UNDER ATTACK

  "I don't like this," said Trofie Wrathe, pacing up and down the captain's cabin in what appeared to be a silver catsuit but was, in reality, her new made-to-measure lightweight battle armor.

  "I know, my dear," answered Barbarro. "But we have clear instructions. We have to operate at a constant state of red alert. We're in direct danger. Either our ship or my brother's is the Vampirates' next target. We won't know which until it happens."

  Trofie sighed. "We've faced off that ghastly Lady Lockwood before. Why must we hide down here? If she or her consorts dare to board The Typhon again, I want to be the one to throw the first weapon." As she spoke, she ran the fingers of her golden hand over her new silver sword, with which the Federation had lately equipped her.

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  "Captain Li is the leading authority on all matters vampiratical," Barbarro reminded his wife. "She and her team have devised the template for fighting these creatures. What Li and her crew don't know about Vampirates isn't worth knowing." He shook his head. "Frankly, my dear, I'm as uneasy as you about all this. It's not in my nature to hide away belowdecks and wait to be attacked. But we are dealing with a new kind of enemy, and I'm ready to listen to those who have more experience with them than us."

  Trofie stretched out her golden hand, its ruby fingernails shimmering in the candlelight. "Need I remind you, husband, that I myself have direct and personal experience with those vile creatures."

  Barbarro shook his head soberly. "No, min elskling , you do not need to remind me. It cuts to the very core when I think what that harpy did to you." He drew his wife into his broad chest, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her porcelain-smooth forehead.

  Trofie's frown became a smile. "You never call me min elskling ," she said. "I like it."

  Just then, there was an almighty thud on the ceiling above them. The captain and his deputy froze. A cacophony of shouts, several crashes, and cannon fire followed.

  Trofie leapt out of her husband's embrace and reached once more for her new silver sword, drawing it from its sheath. "So," she said. "It appears that the Vampirates have made their choice."

  "Yes," said Barbarro, his voice strong as steel. "And now

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  we act to defend not only our ship but our entire way of life. And to avenge my brother's death."

  "Yes," agreed Trofie. "Let's destroy Porfirio's murderers and waste no time about it!"

  Hand in hand, they pushed open the cabin door and, with a speed belying their years, raced to join the fight.

 
The Friday night crowd thronged into Ma Kettle's Tavern, having been frisked by the tough but exceedingly charming Pieces 08. "Enjoy your night!" he called after the latest arrivals, tossing their confiscated swords into a numbered chest for safekeeping.

  Ma Kettle herself stood stock-still in the middle of the main barroom, surveying the scene around her. She felt as if she was the fixed point at the center of a carousel. Around her, everything was moving, loud, and blazing with colors. Ma's team of serving girls and boys were athletic, almost balletic, in their movements as they ferried drinks to the insatiably thirsty customers and collected up the empties. Ma watched it all as she had done night after night, year in, year out for as long as she could remember. They said that times were changing in the pirate world, but Ma knew one thing for certain--whatever new dangers there might be, pirates would always have need and want of a tavern like this where they were assured of a warm welcome and a well-priced drink.

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  Ma's reverie was broken by the arrival at her side of her trusty second-in-command, Sugar Pie, who held an improbable amount of empty glasses in her fingers.

  "A busy old night, tonight!" Ma declared. "How's my crew bearing up?"

  "We're fine," said Sugar Pie, who, like Ma, had the capacity to remain calm and collected whatever mayhem was going on around her. "After all the dark murmurings of late, I think everyone's pleased as punch to see so many customers in."

  Ma Kettle nodded. "Just like old times," she said, a flicker of sadness in her eyes.

  Sugar Pie caught the change in her boss's expression. "Are you all right, Ma?" she inquired.

  "Oh yes!" Matilda Kettle said, coming back strongly, as was her wont. "Yes, my dear, I'm fine. Just can't help getting a little nostalgic on nights like this. You wait until you get to my age..."

  "You're not old, Ma!" insisted Sugar Pie.

  Ma gave a shrill laugh. "If I'm not old, I must be dead because I've been hanging around this blessed barroom for the better part of a century!" She smiled tenderly at Sugar Pie. "You're young, dear. We look at life from different ends of the spectrum. You see what's up ahead; the future is exciting to you. But I can't help looking backward." She paused, looking out once more at the giddy carousel of the tavern. "Sometimes, on nights like this, I look around and everyone seems so young. Everyone but

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  me. Maybe I'm getting too old for this game. Maybe it's time to cash in my chips and buy a little place in the sun."

  Sugar Pie shook her head and, setting her empty glasses onto the bar, drew Ma into her arms. "Maybe you just need a night off. Can you remember the last time you put your feet up? No, I didn't think so."

  "I'll be all right," Ma said. "Look, isn't that the crew of The Diablo coming in now?" She raised a smile. "Lucky will be here soon. He'll cheer me up."

  "Yes!" Sugar Pie said. "Molucco always cheers you up. I have an idea. You go and freshen up your makeup. And I'll pop a bottle of his favorite oyster champagne on ice in his VIP booth. What do you say?"

  "All right," Ma said, her eyes brightening. Sugar Pie watched as she hurried away to make herself look nice for Molucco. Ma had told no lie: she was no spring chicken. Yet, beneath the lines and the layers of makeup, her face still lit up like a young girl's when she talked of Molucco. It was, Sugar Pie, reflected, a shame that the pirate captain had never made an honest woman of the tavern owner. She smiled. Maybe there was still time.

  "Moonshine!" exclaimed Barbarro and Trofie in unison.

  They had reached the upper deck on The Typhon , expecting to encounter the first vanguard of Vampirates making their attack. Instead, they found members of

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  their own guard surrounding their teenage son, who looked decidedly peeved about it.

  "What's going on?" Barbarro demanded of his son. "Where have you been? You were supposed to stay in your cabin tonight. Do you have any concept of the danger we're all facing?"

  Moonshine ran a hand nonchalantly through his hair. It didn't get very far--his dark locks were thick with grooming product. "Not that it's really any of your business, pops, but I was out on a date."

  "A date! " Barbarro was incredulous, his face the color of overripe plums. "We're in danger of attack from the Vampirates and you slip out on a date?!"

  Trofie couldn't help but smile. "Who's the lucky girl? Anyone we know?"

  "Classified information, I'm afraid, Ma." Moonshine folded his arms across his chest. "And just because we may--or may not--get attacked by demon goths, is that any good reason for me not to pursue a healthy and active social life?" He glared at his father. "Pops, do you think you could order these goons off me?"

  "Um, yes," Barbarro said gruffly. "Stand down, crew!"

  "I'm sorry, Captain." The leader of the brigade turned and strode over. "But we were under strict instructions to fire the cannon and initiate the defense strategy the moment we were boarded." He shook his head. "Please believe me, Captain, we had no idea that it was Master Moonshine."

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  Barbarro nodded and squeezed his lieutenant's shoulder. "I do believe you. You have nothing to reprimand yourself for, Lieutenant. You acted exactly as instructed. It seems that, once again , it is I who must apologize for my son's incomprehensible behavior." He gazed with fury at Moonshine. "Rest assured, he will be severely punished for this."

  "Oh, Daddy, please don't take the T-bird away!" Moonshine rolled his eyes. "Like my life could get any worse!"

  "Go to your cabin!" bellowed Barbarro with such force that, for once, his son made no protest but simply slunk away across the deck. His mother turned and watched him go, her mind running through an inventory of talented young daughters of pirates who would make a suitable match for her son and heir.

  Barbarro stepped forward, clapping his hands and calling the crew to attention. "Good work!" he cried. "Let's treat this unfortunate incident as a successful rehearsal. You did exactly as instructed in an attack scenario. We're not out of danger yet, so reload the cannon and resume your positions. The night is still young."

  The united cry of "Aye, Captain" was thunderous. The pirates of The Typhon moved swiftly to fulfill their captain's command and resume their positions.

  "Come, Trofie," said Barbarro. "We must return below."

  "Yes," said Trofie, marching briskly along at his side. For a moment she was distracted, thinking about the dress she would commission to wear to Moonshine's pirate

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  wedding. Time for some silkworms to get to work. Then she brought herself back to the matter at hand. As ever, Trofie Wrathe possessed a keen sense of priorities. First, slay every last bloated bloodsucker. Then put in a call to her personal stylist.

  Sugar Pie noticed that Molucco's VIP booth was still empty. She decided to refresh the ice in his champagne bucket--when he arrived, late and thirsty, he would not take kindly to drinking lukewarm champagne. As she slipped under the velvet rope to retrieve the ice bucket, she heard a voice behind her.

  "Has he still not arrived?"

  Sugar Pie turned to see Ma Kettle. Anxiety was etched across her painted features.

  "He'll be here soon," Sugar Pie said, slipping back from under the velvet rope. "I'm sure of it. I was just going to fetch some fresh ice."

  In spite of Sugar Pie's light tone, Ma's expression remained grave. "You'll think I'm a foolish old woman," she said, "but I have a feeling things aren't right with him. That he needs me."

  "Molucco?" Sugar Pie said. "Why would you say that?"

  Ma shrugged. "He's always been a wild one, my dear. That's one of the things I love about him. But wild ones like Lucky need steady people around to fence them in

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  and protect them from their wilder instincts. He had good people--Cate Morgan, Bartholomew Pearce, Jez Stukeley--God rest his soul--and young Connor Tempest. Why, even Cheng Li was a good influence, though Lucky wouldn't thank me for saying so. But, one way or another, they've all gone now, and I'm worried that Molucco's lost the vital balanc
e he needs."

  As she said the name, a young pirate came over to join them. "I couldn't help overhearing," he said. "Are you talking about Captain Wrathe?"

  "It was a private conversation," Ma snapped at the newcomer. Seeing first his youthfulness and then the deep red of his blush, she softened. "Yes, as it happens, we were talking about Molucco. What's it to you?"

  "I'm on Molucco's crew," the young man said, bowing before her. "Kane Eden Charles... the Third."

  Ma shook her head. "I thought you looked familiar. I remember your father and grandfather." She was lost in thought for a moment.

  Sugar Pie took the opportunity to address the young pirate. "We were just wondering whether Captain Wrathe might be coming in tonight?"

  Kane Eden Charles the Third nodded and smiled. "I'm sure he will, but I surmise it will be a while longer. We had a very successful raid today, and the captain is in his cabin, counting his booty."

  "There you go!" Sugar Pie punched the air with relief.

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  "Do you hear that, Ma? The pirate king is in his counting house, counting out his dirty treasure!"

  Kane Eden Charles the Third suddenly smacked his hand to his forehead. "You're Ma Kettle... I mean the Ma Kettle! I've heard so much about you, from my pa and grandpa, and others, too. You're a pirate legend!"

  "Thank you, dear," said Ma. "I was feeling old before you arrived. Now, I feel positively mummified."

  "No offense intended!" said Kane Eden Charles, blushing furiously once more.

  "None taken," said Sugar Pie, smiling softly and drawing Ma away. "Look, if Molucco's going to be a while in his cabin, why don't you take a bottle of fizz over and keep him company?"

  Ma considered the proposition, then shook her head. "No," she said. "He won't want interrupting. I know him. I know him better than anyone. I shall wait for him here."