Immortal War

“Who was that?” Johnny inquired.

Lola smiled. “Don’t count him out just yet, Cowboy. He’s in a bad way, but I’m sure the Nocturnals can patch him up with their healing magic.”

“What’s all this about?” Stukeley asked.

Ignoring him, Lola addressed Nathalie and Jessamy once more. “Throw this one over the side to join the others.”

The two Vampirates swiftly embarked on the task.

“Jacqui!” Lola called across the deck. “Do you have the flares?”

“Yes, Captain!” Jacqueline raced forward, flares and matches in hand.

“The girl who played with fire!” Lola giggled as Jacqueline lit the flares. There was a whooshing noise, then a pop, and suddenly the whole deck was suffused with red light.

“Time to make ourselves scarce,” Lola said, taking her husband’s arm. “You may take me home now. I think I shall have a little nap. And perhaps a foot rub wouldn’t be so bad.”

Sidorio drew his disarmingly beautiful, unboundingly vicious wife close in to his side and escorted her swiftly across the deck. It was almost deserted now as the others, having executed their business, had returned to The Vagabond.

Holly came marching across the deck to rejoin Mimma and Sidorio’s two deputies. She and Mimma exchanged a high five, as Stukeley inquired, “Do either of you know exactly what Captain Lockwood is up to this time?”

He was met by two shaking heads.

“But I got myself a ship,” Mimma said, smiling and twirling the keys around her finger.

Johnny brought his own arm around Holly’s waist. “I reckon this calls for a drink.”

Holly glanced at her antique fob watch. “It’s still happy hour at the Blood Tavern.”

“Sugar,” said Johnny, grinning and rolling his eyes, “since they franchised that joint, every hour is happy hour!”

“Well, either way, we’d better make ourselves scarce,” Stukeley said. “Here comes one of those Alliance ambulance vessels.”

“They must have seen the flares,” Johnny said, his eyes sparkling. “This is all kinda crazy… but fun!”

Mimma turned to Stukeley. “Can you give me a quick lesson in how to steer this behemoth?” she asked.

Stukeley nodded, stretching out his hand. Giggling, the four young Vampirates raced hand in hand toward the steering column, their feet slip-sliding on the newly swabbed deck.

EMPTY CHAIRS

Connor felt a knot in his chest as he saw the iconic stone arch that marked the entry point to the Pirate Academy harbor. His mind had been so busy since the will reading, he’d failed to perform the one task he needed to complete. Soon they would be heading into a Council of War with the pirate captains and there would no longer be an opportunity.

Cate was on his side of the boat, expertly steering the vessel toward the center of the arch. On either side, flaming torches hungrily licked the ancient stones and illuminated the engraved words of the school’s famous maxim:

PLENTY AND SATIETY,

PLEASURE AND EASE,

LIBERTY AND POWER.

“Cate!” Connor said, immediately aware that the tone of his voice was all wrong. Too loud. Too urgent. He’d rehearsed this scene so many times in his head but now he knew he was going to mess it up.

Her face met his instantly, unnerved by his expression and sudden awkwardness. “What’s up, Connor?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” He frowned. “Before we arrive at the jetty.”

Cate smiled at that. “You’d better be quick about it, then. We’ve got about five minutes’ sailing time, max.”

Five minutes! He should have stepped up to the plate when he’d had the chance. He’d let Cate down—and not just Cate. He reached his hand into his pocket, his fingers searching for the tiny but potent object inside.

“Connor!” He could hear the impatience now in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s about Bart.”

“What about Bart?” Cate asked, her tone of voice at once profoundly different.

This was too big, too important a conversation to cram into a few minutes, but now that he had started, Connor had no option but to forge ahead. “When he came to find me on The Blood Captain he told me something. Something important…” Here, at last, were the right words. Suddenly he found himself distracted by the sight of figures clustering on the jetty and the trail of torches lighting the path up the hill.

“Connor, what exactly are you trying to tell me?” Cate’s voice drew him back to her eyes. In them, he saw a depth of emotion he had never seen before. Not even when she had heard the news of Bart’s death—the confirmation of her worst fear.

Connor looked straight into Cate’s eyes. “Bart was going to ask you to marry him,” he said. “When he came back. He was going to give you this.” Connor drew his fingers from his pocket but kept his eyes fixed on Cate. “It was his grandmother’s ring.”

He lifted out the tiny circle of metal and passed it to Cate. Instinctively, she reached out her finger. Connor had been expecting to place the ring in her palm and, taken by surprise, he let the metal band fall to the deck boards below. He dropped down onto the floor, searching in the darkness for the tiny band. This was going from bad to worse. If he had lost the ring, he’d never forgive himself.

Above him, Cate stood stock-still. “He was going to ask me to marry him,” she rasped. “After all this time.”

“He always loved you,” Connor said, still desperately trying to recover the ring. “He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.” There it was! He reached out with relief and grabbed the tiny ring between his thumb and forefinger. Rising to his feet, he saw that they were now only meters from their mooring. Grace was standing on the jetty. She smiled to see him and raised her hand.

He lifted his own hand and nodded, then swiftly turned and placed the ring carefully in the center of Cate’s palm. Her fingers closed tightly around it. Besides that small movement, she remained as still as a statue, her shock of red hair buffeted in the harbor breeze.

“I’m really sorry not to have told you before,” Connor said. “I know how important this is to you. And it was to Bart, too. I’ve been trying to work out the right moment to tell you but I’ve completely messed this up. I’m so—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cate said, cutting him silent with a voice as brisk and efficient as her sword. “Connor, we haven’t really talked about Bart’s death. About our loss, yes, but not how it happened… who was responsible.” Her eyes met his, imploringly. “Connor, I need to know. Give me a name.”

He shook his head. “What good would it do?” He could hear voices nearby now. Grace and Jasmine talking. The thought of them discussing him together was distracting.

“I need a name, Connor,” Cate insisted, commanding his attention. “It’s not much to ask, under the circumstances.”

He turned away for a moment, unable to bear the emptiness in her eyes. As he turned, he caught sight of Jasmine. She smiled at him and stepped forward to help moor the boat. Smiling back weakly, Connor turned again to Cate. “Let’s talk later,” he said. “After the Council.”