Vampirates 5: Empire of Night

by Justin Somper

  "No," Bart said, raising his hands to his ears. "I don't want to hear it."

  "I'm hungry for blood!" Connor cried. He reached out and tried to displace Bart's hands. "I, Connor Tempest, need and want blood."

  Bart dropped his hands and shook his head. There were tears in his eyes. "Not you," he said. "Not you." Then almost a whisper. "Not you."

  Connor frowned. "I didn't want to put you through this. I don't want to put any of the others through it. That's why it's better if I stay here. Now, perhaps, you'll understand."

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  Bart nodded, his face crestfallen.

  "I'm going back to the ship now," Connor said. "It'll be dark soon, and they'll wonder where I am." He looked up at Bart. "I'm hopeless at good-byes," he said. "So I'm just going to turn and keep walking along this beach, and you're going to get into your boat and go. Okay?"

  Bart nodded. "Okay," he said, the small word heavy with all the sadness of the world. He stood on the sand, watching impotently as Connor set off on his lonely journey.

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  37 THE UNINVITED GUEST

  After his painful encounter with Bart, Connor stepped out onto the deck of The Blood Captain with a heavy heart. It hadn't been easy telling his longtime friend to go away and forget about him. In truth, Connor had never felt lonelier. Just when he needed friends like Bart the most, something inside him was telling him that--for their protection more than his own--he must push them all away.

  The deck was deserted, and Connor was grateful to be the first of the group to arrive. A cool night breeze was blowing, and Connor inhaled it, hoping the deep breaths would help calm his tormented mind. He walked over to the deck rail and gazed out at the ocean. The sky was already velvet-black, and the sea took on the same dark tones. It was like looking out into an infinite void. Connor

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  was unsure whether it was the thought or the breeze that made him shiver.

  Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. Instinctively, his shoulders arched as he turned to see who it was.

  "Good evening, Connor."

  Connor found himself staring into the cold, appraising eyes of Obsidian Darke.

  "Lieutenant Darke, good evening."

  "You seem somewhat agitated," Darke said. "Something on your mind?"

  "No." Connor shook his head. "I'm just hanging out, waiting for the others to go over to The Vagabond for Tiffin."

  "Tiffin," Darke said. "Nonsense, if you ask me. A hive of vampires buzzing around as if they're at a cocktail party. A complete and utter waste of time--even for those of us with unlimited rations of time at our disposal."

  "If you think that," Connor said, "why bother going?"

  Darke considered his words, then shrugged. "Your father wants me there, and we must all march to the beat of your father's drum. Isn't that so? He is, after all, King of the Vampirates. For now, at least."

  Connor frowned. "We all have to make our own choices," he said. "Be our own men."

  Darke smiled, though the corners of his mouth barely curved upward. "How young you are, Connor Tempest. How very young." He stepped back. "Well, I shan't wait with you for the rest of the pack. The sooner I get there,

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  the sooner I can make my excuses." He turned and made his way across to the other side of the ship where a passageway extended out to The Vagabond .

  Connor turned back to the deck rail, grateful to be free from Darke's cloying company. He wasn't, however, alone for long. Hearing footsteps, he turned to see which of the others had made it out first. As he looked up, his heart plummeted like an anchor.

  "What are you doing? I told you to go!"

  "I know," Bart said. "But I couldn't leave like that. You mean too much to me--to all of us. I had to come and talk to you just one more time."

  Connor shook his head. "Talking won't solve this," he said. "We could talk for days and we wouldn't find a resolution."

  "I'm not ready to give up on you, buddy," Bart said, wrapping his muscle-bound arm around Connor's shoulder.

  Connor shrugged off Bart's hug and turned to face him. "You have to get off this ship right now," he said. "Every second you stay here places us both in severe danger."

  Shrugging, Bart turned and leaned against the deck rail. The message was clear--he wasn't going anywhere. Connor frowned. What could he do? He knew that Bart was acting out of the goodness of his heart, but this was madness and highly dangerous.

  Behind them, the deck door creaked open. Connor glanced across as two figures stepped out on deck. Stuke

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  ley and Johnny saw Connor and raised their hands in greeting. They strode over to join him. Connor's blood ran cold.

  "Who's your friend?" Stukeley asked, as he and Johnny arrived at Connor's side.

  Bart turned and presented his face to them. Johnny looked perplexed, but Stukeley's face turned a whiter shade of pale. "What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.

  Bart grinned. "Is that any kind of greeting for your old buddy? Seems to me I gave you a friendlier welcome when you returned to The Diablo not so long ago."

  Stukeley was unmoved. "We've all traversed a lot of water since then," he said. "You're on our ship now, and you're not welcome. Especially now that you're part of the Vampirate assassination squad on board The Tiger ." Stukeley glared at Bart.

  Connor's eyes darted between his two old friends. He watched as Bart shrugged nonchalantly and extended his hand to rest on Stukeley's shoulders. "Seems like your memory is getting highly selective, old pal," he said. "Didn't you and your cowboy companion here do a deal with my captain, Cheng Li--head of the assassination squad? Didn't you in fact join forces with her in an attempt to assassinate Lady Lola Lockwood, wife of your commander-in-chief?"

  Stukeley exchanged a dark look with Johnny, then looked back at Bart. No further words were spoken, but it

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  was apparent that some form of standoff had been reached.

  "Is your amigo joining us at Tiffin?" Johnny asked Connor, brightly.

  "No," Connor said.

  "Yes," Bart answered simultaneously.

  "No," Connor said again, louder.

  Stukeley smiled. "Actually," he said, "I think Bart should come along. It could be fun."

  Johnny grinned. "Well, he can't come in those clothes. They don't even pass for smart casual. You know Lola's a stickler for such things."

  "Can one of you lend me something to wear?" Bart asked.

  Johnny grinned again. "As you can see, hombre , you're a little bigger than us three. I'd be happy to lend you some clothes, but I don't think you'd be able to fasten them."

  Stukeley nodded. "He's right on the money, per usual. There's only one person on this ship with the same collar size as you."

  As if on cue, the deck door was thrust open again and Sidorio swaggered out onto the deck. As usual, he was dressed elaborately in an outfit custom-made by Lola's favorite tailor. The captain pounded over to the others in a cloud of pungent aftershave. "Evening, all." Noticing Bart, he raised an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

  Connor stepped into the fray before any of the others

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  could. "This is my friend Bart," he said. "He's come to visit me. Just for the night. Assuming that's okay with you."

  Sidorio looked Bart up and down, then turned to Connor with a smile. "Whatever you wish," he said. He extended his hand to Bart. "Any friend of my son's is a welcome guest on my ship."

  Connor watched as Bart and Sidorio shook hands. This whole meeting was surreal. He wondered if Stukeley would say anything about where Bart had come from, but he held his tongue--for now. It was Johnny who broke the silence.

  "Captain, we were just saying that Bart needs something more formal to wear for Tiffin. We wouldn't want to offend Lady Lola. He's only packed a minimal wardrobe, and he could really do with borrowing a shirt and some pants from you."

  "Connor, you know where my cabin is. Take your friend over and find something for him to wear.
We three will head over to The Vagabond as an advance party. Lola, as you know, hates to be kept waiting."

  "Yes, Father," Connor found himself saying. Anything to keep the peace. He was aware of Bart flinching as he said it.

  Firmly he led Bart across the deck and through the door leading into the ship's interior.

  When they were safely inside, Connor turned to Bart once more. "This is madness!" he said. "Stukeley and Johnny will be telling Sidorio all about you right now."

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  Bart shrugged. "Perhaps," he said. "But I'm assuming their captain doesn't know about their secret pact with Cheng Li. I think that stick of dynamite should buy me a few hours of protection, don't you?" He smiled.

  Connor shook his head. "You're not dealing with mortal minds anymore," he said. "You need to understand that things play very differently around here."

  "Don't worry about me," Bart said. "I can take care of myself. Our next challenge is to find me something that fits but that isn't made of either leather or steel. And absolutely no feathers!"

  Lola peeled herself away from Sidorio's side as Grace entered the room, flanked by Mimma and Nathalie. Lola smiled to herself, noticing how like three gothic peas in a pod they looked. The girls had done exceptional work on her stepdaughter.

  "Grace, darling, how charming you look tonight. Sid will be so touched you're wearing his mother's brooch again . And I see Mimma's done you another heart tattoo."

  "Yes," Grace nodded, her eyes bright. "I was thinking I should get it tattooed on properly."

  "I suppose so," Lola said, drawing her away from the others and leading her into an unclaimed corner of the room. "We need to have a little chat, dear."

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  Grace rolled her eyes. "What have I done now?" she asked.

  "Hmm," Lola said. "I wonder." She folded her arms. "Let me give you a clue. It involves a key, my cellar, and a certain swarthy vaquero ."

  Grace realized there was no getting out of this. "I'm sorry," she said.

  Lola frowned. "I've told you before, Grace. I have high standards for my crew--and even higher ones for members of my family." Her expression softened, and she extended a silk-gloved hand to Grace's shoulder. "If you wanted blood, you need only have asked. After all, I am the world's leading connoisseur of the stuff. Skulking around in the cellars with Johnny, well, it's just not how people like us behave!"

  Grace's eyes were wide and hungry. "You'd really give me blood?" she asked.

  "Of course." Lola's eyes sparkled and she beckoned over Jacqueline, who was carrying a silver salver bearing a bottle and two glasses. Lola lifted the bottle and poured a modest amount of the ruby liquid into each glass. Then she extended one to Grace. "Wait!" she commanded imperiously. "First we tilt, then we swirl. Then we savor the aroma. And then-- and only then --do we drink it."

  Lola lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. Grace upended the glass and drained it thirstily in one gulp. Lola exchanged an exasperated look with Jacqueline.

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  "Like father, like daughter," she said. "Just what I need--another project."

  Mimma appeared at their side, smiling excitedly. "Excuse me, Captain, but your husband is asking for you. It seems that Connor has arrived with a friend."

  "Really?" Lola's interest was piqued. She turned to Grace. "Jacqueline will keep your glass full during Tiffin," she said. "But you must learn to sip, not gulp." And with that, she turned and walked away to join her husband once more.

  "Darling," Sidorio said, his hand reaching across to stroke the small of her back, "I'd like you to meet a good friend of Connor's, Bart Pearce. He's visiting for the night."

  Lola extended her gloved hand to Bart and smiled. "Welcome to The Vagabond , Bart." She laughed coquettishly. "I heard Chef Escoffier was serving rare beef tonight, but I had no idea this was what he meant."

  Bart bowed his head to Lady Lola and kissed her gloved hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lockwood. I mean Lady Sidorio ! Connor has told me so many nice things about you."

  "Really?" Lola arched an eyebrow, then smiled at Bart. "Please, call me Lola." She looped her arm through his. "Now, let's get you a drink," she said, leading him off with Connor and Sidorio following close behind.

  Bart looked apologetically at his host. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm afraid I don't really drink what you're serving."

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  Lola waved his hand. "I know that, silly, but I do have a few more conventional vintages in my cellars, you know. When my husband tipped me off you were coming, I had the girls go down to find a bottle of the 2505 Shiraz. I take it that might be to your taste?"

  "Well, yes!" Bart said, as surprised as he was relieved.

  Smiling, Lola clicked her fingers, and Zofia appeared at her side with a bottle and a glass. "Bart, Zofia. Zofia, Bart. Zofia will take care of your particular drinking needs tonight, won't you, dear?"

  Zofia nodded and smiled prettily. Lola spun Bart around toward the table. "If only I'd had more notice of your visit I'd have asked Chef to prepare more food."

  Their eyes swept across the table, which was, as usual, groaning under the weight of Chef Escoffier's creations.

  "It looks like there's plenty to me," Bart said.

  Lola placed her glove on Bart's forearm and gave it a squeeze. "A man of your dimensions needs a good feed," she said. "But don't worry, Grace seems to be off her food at the moment, so you can have her share! Look, there she is, Connor's twin sister--not that you'd know it to look at them."

  Bart nodded. "We know each other," he said.

  "You do? Oh, isn't life amusing? Six degrees of separation? Pah! More like two, I say. Grace! I say, Grace! Come on over and say hello to an old friend."

  Grace reached for Johnny's hand, and together they approached Bart and Lola.

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  "Hello, Grace," Bart said, opening his arms to hug her hello.

  She looked at him strangely and did not embrace him, one hand squeezing Johnny's tightly, the other locked around her glass. "Bart, how surprising to see you here. Have you met my very good friend, Johnny Desperado?"

  Bart nodded. "Yes, we met before," he said, turning jovially to Johnny. "How's your night going?"

  "Swimmingly, thank you," Johnny said, tipping his Stetson toward Bart. "And yours?"

  "Very enlightening," Bart said.

  Lola reached forward and swiped the Stetson from Johnny's head. She sent it flying into the corner of the room, where it landed on a hat rack. "Johnny dear, you know the rule. No hats indoors. And frankly, why you'd want to cover up that lovely head of hair is a mystery to me." She ran a gloved hand through his thick, dark locks.

  Grace frowned and tugged at Johnny's hand. "Weren't you about to tell me something in private?" she said.

  Johnny glanced at her. "Was I? Oh, er, yes, of course I was." He followed as she led him off toward a private corner.

  Lola grinned at Bart. "Don't they make a lovely couple?" she said. "Well, Bart, do sit down." She glanced over her shoulder. "You too, Connor. You know how delicious Chef's food is."

  "Yes," Connor said, sitting down and pulling out the seat next to him for Bart.

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  "We'll catch up later," Lola said, her gloved hand massaging Bart's shoulder. Then, she looped her other arm through her husband's and whisked him away.

  Bart nudged Connor. "This isn't going badly at all, buddy," he said. "Great food. Good Shiraz. Beautiful ladies. And your stepmom, Lady Lola--she's somethin' else. I'm so glad our assassination attempt failed and I got the chance to meet her properly. Now pass me the jumbo shrimp and try to relaxez-vous !"

  Connor frowned. "Don't be deceived by appearances," he said. "And don't let your guard down for a moment. You might just die laughing."

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  38 THE FOURTH BUCCANEER

  Bart nudged Connor. "Grace has changed quite a bit, hasn't she?"

  Connor shrugged. "Has she?"

  "Clothes, hair, black heart tattoo, Vampirate boy
friend... yup, I'd say she's certainly changed some since last I clapped eyes on her."

  Connor glanced up at his sister. She was standing hand in hand with Johnny, chatting with her girlfriends about something or other. They seemed to be hanging on her every word. Evidently, she was Ms. Popularity within the Vampirate ranks. She appeared to be having a good time--and maybe she really was. If so, good for her! Doubtless, she was finding the whole transition to being a dhampir a whole lot easier than he was.

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  "Buddy, do you reckon that's blood in Grace's glass?" Bart asked him.

  "I don't know," Connor said, somewhat bored. "What's this new obsession of yours with Grace?" Nevertheless, he found himself looking over once more, just in time to witness her taking a long sip from her glass. As she did so, the hunger was evident in her eyes. Could she actually be knocking back blood like it was grape juice? It was possible. He couldn't condemn her. As his eyes circled the room, he was suddenly aware of all the blood in close proximity. In glasses. In bottles. He could smell it. Taste it. He wanted it. Now.

  "Connor?" He felt Bart grip his arm. "Buddy, did you hear what I said?"

  Connor was torn from his reverie. He turned to Bart and noticed his friend's expression. "What's wrong?" Connor asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "Not a ghost!" Bart rasped. "For a moment there, you had actual fire in your eyes."

  Connor shrugged. "It happens when I get the hunger. It happens to us all."

  There was a haunted look on Bart's face. "I remember when I first saw Jez--I mean Stukeley--look that way. And now you share the same look."

  "Don't worry," Connor said. "I'm not about to lean over and puncture your neck, if that's what you're concerned about. I have it under control."