Empire of Night

by Justin Somper

  "I've told you everything," he said. "There's nothing more to say. Wish them luck." He paused. "And tell Jasmine that I'm sorry."

  "Just meet me," Kally said, biting down her emotions. "As a favor to an old friend."

  "I'll think about it," he said.

  From high up in the crow's nest, Bart had an exceptional view of the deck of The Tiger . He watched as, down below, Cate and Cheng Li put the rest of the crew through their paces during the latest punishing session of combat training. The "gruesome twosome," as he affectionately referred to them, had increased combat training to two ninety-minute sessions each day and, in the past few days, they had thrown some challenging new moves into the mix. Looking down now, he saw that both Jasmine and Bo Yin had gotten these new moves down pat. No surprise there--sometimes he thought that little Bo Yin had elastic running alongside her muscles. Others of the crew needed more time to master the new attack sequences.

  But Cate and Cheng Li had a secret, and Bart was in on it. The new moves had been devised thanks to the infor

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  mation Lorcan Furey had provided on his recent visits. Cate had threatened to personally throttle Bart if he revealed to Cheng Li that he knew the score--and he didn't doubt she meant it. He wasn't about to blab. Too much depended on this. Pirate captains were being assassinated right across the oceans: Bojan Petrovic, captain of The Redeemer ; Narcisos Drakoulis, captain of The Albatross ; and now Molucco Wrathe, captain of The Diablo . Bart shook his head at this latest and most shocking murder. Molucco had often talked about the pirate's life being a short but merry one, but Bart knew that the pirate captain would never have expected to end his days at the hands of a Vampirate.

  Looking out across the ocean, Bart found it utterly inconceivable to think that Molucco Wrathe would never set sail again. It seemed as ridiculous as imagining that the sun wouldn't rise. Everyone had had an opinion about Molucco. Bart himself had laid the blame for Jez Stukeley's death at his door, but he was over that now. In truth, he had been for a good while. The crazy old seadog hadn't deserved to die like that. No one did.

  Looking down from his position at the top of the ship, Bart felt a strange sense of peace and calm, despite being in the midst of such troubling times. He wasn't sure where this feeling came from, but suddenly, the movements of the crew below seemed as graceful as a ballet--not that Bart Pearce had ever been to the ballet--and there at the heart of it all was Cate. He'd known her so long, yet he

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  never ceased to be surprised by her talent, commitment, and beauty. Not everybody saw it, but to him Cate Morgan was special. Watching her, Bart came to a decision. He checked his watch to record the time--2:49. He wanted to remember this exact moment. Maybe it took times of crisis to make you realize what was truly important. He noticed, with absolutely no sense of embarrassment, that he had the biggest grin known to man plastered across his mouth.

  Bart watched Jacoby's light boat skimming across the waves toward The Tiger . Back from his daily report from the fishtail, Kally. According to young Jacoby, Kally had said she'd met Bart in the past and had sent him her best wishes but, for the life of him, he couldn't remember meeting a fishtail. And of all the wacko things he'd gotten up to in his twenty-three years, he was pretty sure that this was something he would remember.

  As Jacoby moored the light boat and began climbing up the side of The Tiger , Bart made his descent back down onto deck. Time for the hourly changeover. The lads arrived on deck at approximately the same moment. Seeing Jacoby, Cheng Li called a time-out. The crew gratefully laid down their weapons and drew breath.

  Jacoby strode across the deck toward Cheng Li, who was drinking thirstily from a flask of water. He had a dark expression on his face. Bart saw it and moved toward him. In the crowd, others caught it, too. Jasmine. Cate. Bo Yin. Every face looked at him expectantly.

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  Cheng Li threw down the flask. "So, what news, Jacoby?" she inquired.

  For once, the deputy captain didn't dress up the information he had to convey. "We're the next target," he said.

  There was utter silence on deck. Every member of the crew froze at Jacoby's words.

  Cheng Li did not miss a beat. "You all hear that? Good!" She reached for her sword and lifted it so that it glinted in the afternoon sunlight. "We knew this moment was coming. And we're ready. The Vampirates have made their first mistake. This is the point where everything changes. You are all poised to write your names in pirate history!"

  Bart turned at the knock on his cabin door.

  "Come in!" he called, swiftly covering the old sea chest he'd been rummaging through with a shirt. "It's open."

  Jacoby appeared in the door frame, looking agitated. A door-to-door visit from the deputy captain was a first.

  "What's up, buddy?" Bart asked. "You look like a man on the edge."

  "Actually, that's not far from the truth," Jacoby said. "I'm really sorry to disturb you, Bart, but I didn't know who else to talk to. It's about Connor."

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  Cate shook her head. "Connor's not coming back?"

  Bart nodded. "That's what he told Kally."

  "But why?" Cate asked.

  "I don't know." Bart shook his head. "Catie, none of us know. But it must be pretty serious for Connor to make such a decision."

  Cate frowned, turning her eyes away and watching the dying light across the ocean. The nightly drama of light and shadow, sky and water, never grew dull for her.

  "I made two big decisions today," Bart said.

  They were close together at the deck rail now. Cate turned away from the sunset and looked curiously at her longtime comrade, now her boyfriend. The word still felt strange to her--it gave her the same sense of awkwardness as the few times she'd worn a dress--but she was in absolutely no doubt about the depth of her feelings for Bart Pearce. He had become her fixed point in an increasingly turbulent world. As steady as the mast, as strong as the sail. That was how she thought of him.

  "Tell me about these decisions," she said.

  "I'm going after Connor," Bart said. "And please don't try to talk me out of it, Catie. I've arranged it with Jacoby. I'm going along with him to his morning rendezvous with Kally. I'm going to get her to take me to Connor so I can talk some sense into him." He stopped speaking. Cate said nothing.

  Bart looked deep into her eyes. "I thought for sure

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  you'd tell me this was madness, that Connor can take care of himself, that there are bigger issues at stake here..."

  Cate smiled. "Exactly what issues are bigger than the safety and happiness of a dear friend?" she asked. "Besides, when it comes to the battle, my prize fighters are Jasmine and Bo Yin. If they told me they were dropping out, I'd give them a serious talking to. But you--you're another matter entirely, you old lummox."

  Bart stroked Cate's cheek tenderly. "And there I was suffering from the delusion I was becoming indispensable to you," he said. "Now look, seriously, Catie, I'm not deserting you in your hour of need. I fully intend to be back by nightfall, with Connor at my side. We'll give it to the Vampirates right beside you."

  "That sounds good," Cate said. "But things may be more complicated with Connor than you anticipate. If he needs time, give it to him. Just bring him home safe--and yourself while you're at it. And that's an order from your superior officer!"

  Bart smiled and saluted her.

  Cate flushed with embarrassment, though she figured she ought to be used to Bart's ways by now. But that perhaps was what made the two of them work. He was so loud and gregarious, so given to bold gestures. She was much quieter, more self-contained. He brought her out of her shell, and she calmed him down. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You said you'd made two

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  big decisions today. The first was about Connor. What was the second?"

  "Tell you what," Bart said, speaking softly and looking deep into her eyes. "The other piece of news can wait until I get back and all this crazin
ess is over."

  He smiled at her once more and, as she looked into his eyes, she had a fleeting glimpse of eternity. As steady as the mast, as strong as the sail.

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  35 FORBIDDEN FRUIT

  "I came as soon as I could," Johnny said, slipping into Grace's cabin.

  "It's really good to see you," she said, closing the door tightly behind him. It felt strange having Johnny right here in her cabin. Strange, but exciting--as if he was somehow forbidden fruit. She could tell he had made an effort for her, as if they were going on a date. He was dressed in a fitted black shirt, jeans, and his riding boots. As she stepped closer, she could smell his delicious woody cologne, familiar to her now from the nights pressed up close against him on horseback.

  Grace realized that Johnny was looking at her just as intently as she was at him. His handsome face cracked a smile, revealing his extremely white teeth. Among them were his two pronounced incisors. Now they didn't bother

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  her one bit or make him seem any less handsome. If anything, the reverse.

  "Did you manage to hold out until I got here?" he asked her.

  She nodded, smiling.

  "Good girl!"

  She shrugged. "Well, I kind of made you a promise."

  He nodded, smiling once more. "Okay, so what's the plan? How do we slip into the cellars without anyone noticing?"

  "Lola and the key members of her winery team are out harvesting again tonight," Grace explained. "They've gone farther inland this time, so we should have a clear run for the next couple of hours."

  Johnny nodded. "I saw their carriages hurtling off along the coast road as I was making my way over. That's cool that they're out of the picture. What about the cellars themselves, though? I imagine they're locked, aren't they?"

  "I don't foresee any problems with us getting inside," Grace said, reaching into the pocket of her skirt and producing a ring of keys. "I took these from my stepmother's cabin earlier."

  Johnny nodded, impressed. "Did you astral-project yourself in there, or do you have yet more magic tricks in your repertoire?"

  Grace shook her head. "Actually, this was just a case of good old-fashioned theft." She smiled. "Sometimes, I like to stick to the classics."

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  Johnny whistled lightly. "You know, Grace Tempest, when I first met you, I had no idea what a bundle of fun you would turn out to be. Seems you're quite the rebel, eh?"

  Grace flushed at his compliment. "Come on," she said, handing him a lantern and lifting a second for herself. "We have a cellar to break into."

  The Vagabond was quiet as the grave belowdecks. As Grace and Johnny made their way down to the lowest level of the ship, they didn't pass a single soul.

  "We made it!" Grace said, passing her lantern to Johnny and trying the first of the keys on Lola's chain in the cellar door. It was too much to hope that she'd pick the right key the first time, but it took her only a handful of tries before the lock clicked open.

  "We're in," she whispered to Johnny, feeling a thrill of excitement and reaching out for his hand. As he took hers, he gave it a squeeze. Together they stepped through the door into the dank cellar.

  They found themselves in a vast cabin. It seemed to Grace to be as big as the one at the base of The Nocturne , the one they used for Feast Night. But instead of a dining table and chairs, this room, true to expectations, was given over to row upon row of bottles.

  Johnny let out a whistle as they walked hand in hand

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  down an avenue of bottles. "I never knew Lola had so much stock. I mean, I knew she was stepping up production, but we have enough to keep us going for years here!"

  Grace stopped and, withdrawing her hand from Johnny's, pulled out a bottle. It was labeled with the Black Heart Winery crest, and on the reverse were some tasting notes. "Young, fruity, with a hint of spice..." She turned to Johnny. "What do you think?"

  "Let's give it a try," he said, taking the bottle from her hands.

  "What do we do?" Grace asked, feeling a strange electricity running up and down her spine. "It's a screw top, so do we just open it here and drink it down? Or shall we take it back to my cabin?"

  Johnny giggled. "I like it down here," he said. "It feels kind of naughty, doesn't it?"

  Grace nodded, finding that she was smiling, too.

  "You said yourself that Lola and her posse are out for at least a couple more hours. I reckon we can take our time." He held out his lantern. "There are some glasses over there; and, look, we can use that old rug as a picnic blanket. Make ourselves all nice and cozy. Come on, partner!"

  He ambled along the avenue again, bottle of wine in one hand, lantern in the other. Grace followed after him, feeling a heady sense of excitement.

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  "I've got to do this," Darcy told Lorcan. "You do understand, don't you?"

  Lorcan's eyes registered concern, but he nodded. "I'm not sure it's the wisest move," he said. "But yes, of course, I understand. I'd come with you, but look at the state of me! I wouldn't want Grace to see me like this. Besides, I never really mastered the art of astral travel."

  "It's okay," Darcy said. "You stay here and get cleaned up or take a well-earned rest. I've never seen anyone work so hard. No wonder you're growing fresh muscles nightly!" She brushed his arm lightly with her fingers. "I'll go and talk to Grace. I'm sure it will set all our minds at rest."

  Lorcan nodded. "I hope so," he said, opening his arms and drawing Darcy into them. "Be careful, though, you hear me? And be sure to tell Grace how much I miss her and want her back here..."

  Darcy looked up into Lorcan's eyes. "In your arms?"

  "Well, yes," he said, a little awkwardly.

  "Don't worry," Darcy said, smiling. "I know it's Grace you want."

  "You're very important to me, Darcy," Lorcan said. "You know that, don't you?"

  She nodded. "We're like brother and sister, you and I. Why, I'll be speaking with a Connemara brogue before you know it!" She hugged Lorcan tenderly, then slipped out of his embrace. "I'm going to go back to my own cabin and project from there, if you don't mind."

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  Lorcan nodded. "Come and find me as soon as you get back, you hear?"

  Darcy Flotsam prided herself on being one of the most accomplished practitioners of astral travel aboard The Nocturne . While many of the Vampirates--many of the Nocturnals, she corrected herself--Lorcan included, struggled with the basics of projection, she was sufficiently skilled that she could select from two different modes of travel. The first would take her directly to a place that she knew; this was the way Grace made her nightly rendezvous in the captain's cabin. The second, more subtle, method enabled Darcy to travel to a person, rather than a place. This was how she had once traveled to Grace aboard The Diablo ; and this, she decided, was how she would now travel to her aboard The Vagabond.

  But even when you were skilled at the psychic arts, you had to allow a certain margin for error. As Darcy wrinkled her nose at the musty odor that suddenly enveloped her and glanced about at her now decidedly gloomy surroundings, she thought she must have traveled to the wrong location. It took her a moment to detect the floorboards beneath her feet; but, following them, she skimmed along to the end of the dark corridor. As she did so, she heard soft voices and laughter ahead.

  Darcy felt her heart lift. One of the voices belonged to

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  Grace. Whatever strange place this was, her abilities had not failed her. She gave herself a mental pat on the back and proceeded in the direction of the voices. She was aware that Grace wasn't alone, but that was okay. If she was careful, she could quietly observe her friend and, when the coast was clear, perhaps give her a little sign of her presence.

  As her vision grew more acute, Darcy wondered what all these shelves on either side of her might contain. Then, she discerned the unmistakable shapes of bottles; row upon row of them. It took her a moment to make the connection, and then she felt sick to her core. She r
emembered Grace's grim tales of Lola Lockwood's night harvests. So , she thought, these are the cellars . It made sense--there was a darkness and gloom to this location that was not about the lack of lighting or the dank environment, but surely emanated from all the lives cut short and drained into the bottles surrounding her. Darcy shuddered but refused to be deterred. This was never going to be a walk in the park, and she badly needed to talk to Grace. Providing she accomplished that mission, she could endure this veritable chamber of horrors.

  Seeing a pool of light fanning out around the corner, Darcy hung back a moment. She must be close. And yet the voices and laughter had receded. Confused, she floated to the very end of the corridor and, steeling herself, glanced in the direction of the light. As soon as she did so, she regretted it.

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  There was Grace, sure enough. She was stretched out on some kind of blanket, an open bottle and two half-empty glasses at her side. But Grace wasn't alone; she was with a young man. Darcy couldn't get a good look at him because his back was turned toward her, but he was lying alongside Grace. Then he moved, and Darcy saw the one thing she hadn't prepared herself for. The young man and Grace were kissing.

  Darcy frowned, thinking instantly of Lorcan. She brought her hand across her lips. As she did so, the couple broke their kiss. Darcy knew that she should retreat, but somehow she couldn't. She watched as the man turned and reached for the bottle.

  "Ready for a top-off?" she heard him say.

  Grace nodded. "Yes, please!" Then she drew herself up into a sitting position. As she did so, she caught sight of Darcy and gasped. Darcy shot back around the corner.