Immortal War

smashed. Blood of many distinct vintages gushed over the floor and seeped down into the deck boards, unsavored. On the far wall, painted in blood, were the words:

YOU’VE LOST THE WAR!

Sidorio watched as Lola fell to her knees, her ruffled skirt now fully immersed in the sea of blood. “No!” she cried out, lifting her hands out from under the pool and running them dementedly through her hair. She was covered, head to foot, in blood. She looked uncharacteristically helpless as she turned to him, eyes showing the deep pain of this brutal assault on everything she had worked so hard to create. But there was something undeniably beautiful in the sight of his wonderful wife doused head to toe in the blood of those she had assiduously slaughtered, before filtering and decanting it into bottles. Bottles that now lay smashed all around her, like so many broken dreams.

“How could they do this?” she rasped, shaking her head. “What kind of animals are we dealing with?”

Sidorio waded determinedly toward her, his boots sloshing through the blood, and reached out his hand to hers.

She was trembling. He had never seen her like this. Few people would ever think of Lola as being vulnerable, but Sidorio was privileged to know better. Lola was deeply vulnerable when it came to the things that truly mattered to her: her comrades; her precious wine; her sons; and, doubtless, her husband.

He held her by the wrist and drew her up to her feet once more. “They’ll pay for this,” he said.

“What if we did underestimate them?” Lola asked. “How could they have gotten on board to do this? And away again, too?”

“Those aren’t the questions you should be asking,” Sidorio said.

“No?” Lola looked at him, anxious for answers.

“I’m over being the underdog in this war. I’ve had it up to my ears with pompous pirates and blood-fearing vampires. I’m done with hearing Obsidian Darke’s sanctimonious sermons and then bearing witness to random acts of violence like this.” Sidorio locked eyes with his wife and comrade. “They are the ones who have underestimated us. Not the other way around.”

“What are you saying?” Lola asked, reaching out and resting her elegant, bloodied hands on Sidorio’s shoulders.

Sidorio smiled. “This war ends tonight. Whatever it takes. No one is going to stand in my way. I’ve been more than patient, but no more Mr. Nice Vampirate. This time, the gloves are off.”

Lola at last managed to raise a half smile. “I love you, Sid. I hope you know that.”

He nodded, smiling happily at her. “I know,” he said. “I had you at hello. Now come on, Lola, let’s bring the troops down here to feast and then we’ll go blow the Alliance into smithereens. What do you say?”

For once, Lola Lockwood-Sidorio was silent. Any more words seemed utterly redundant after all the beautiful things he had said.

40

PROTOCOL NINE

Down in the vaults below the Rotunda at Pirate Academy, a meeting was under way in Room 13. It was a special meeting of the key personnel of the pirate and Nocturnal Alliance, convened in the immediate aftermath of The Nocturne’s successful dismissal of Sidorio and his rebel forces.

“Well,” Ahab Black said, “let me be the first to congratulate you, Commanders Darke and Furey. You certainly saw off that punk Sidorio in no uncertain terms.”

“Thank you, Commodore Black,” Lorcan said, nodding graciously, as—at his side—Cheng Li squeezed his wrist. On Lorcan’s other side, Obsidian remained silent.

“Though, I must say,” Black continued, “I’d feel happier about breaking out the Federation champagne if you had actually and conclusively destroyed both Sidorio and his harpy of a wife.”

“Hear, hear!” agreed Trofie Wrathe enthusiastically. “But surely, comrades, the termination of Sidorio, Lola, and the other Vampirate leaders is the next phase of our strategy?”

“Is it?” asked Rene Grammont. “That sounds like an expensive proposition. As I recall, when we last met, the war chest was running perilously low.”

Ahab Black cracked a thin smile. “Worry no more on that score, Rene. We have lately received a sizable donation from our newest captain, Connor Tempest.”

There was hubbub around the table at both aspects of this news. Jacoby and Jasmine exchanged a surprised glance, then turned to Cheng Li, who nodded but said nothing.

“Let me be sure I understand you,” Trofie Wrathe addressed Commodore Black. “You made Connor Tempest a Federation captain? I don’t remember us being consulted about this. And, according to Federation protocol, at least six members of the executive council must endorse all nominations for captaincy.”

Black was unfazed. “Difficult times call for decisive action. As commander in chief of the Federation, I invoked article 224b. Connor’s a fine young pirate, and his investiture sounds just the right PR note to the rest of the fleet.” He smiled. “Moreover, as Connor has signed over a sizable chunk of his inheritance from Molucco, we’re now firmly back in the black… no pun intended!”

Trofie remained incredulous. “I didn’t realize we were in the business of selling captaincies these days.”

Barbarro reached out and placed his own hand over her golden one in an attempt to pacify her. She angrily snatched it away.

Now Pavel Platonov spoke up. “This addition to our finances is undoubtedly fortuitous. Yet I share the concern of Captain Grammont. This war has already proved costly—in every sense. I see no need in prolonging our engagement or committing further expenditure if the threat from the Vampirates has, as I understand it, been neutralized.”

Now Lisabeth Quivers entered the fray. “Is it true, Commodore Black, that the full Alliance fleet is making its way into this very harbor tonight?”

Ahab Black was only momentarily derailed by this question.

“My word, Captain Quivers, your sources are impeccable. Yes, I gave the order for all ships to gather here.”

“Are you deciding everything unilaterally these days?” queried Trofie. “Because, if that’s the case, why are we here at this godforsaken hour and not sleeping in our beds?”

“Why did you summon the fleet?” Captain Quivers asked Black.

“For a rallying call,” Black said. “I want to punch home the message that we’ve won the war. Tomorrow we’ll parade Connor Tempest in front of them, announce his investiture, and outline the next phase in our strategy.”

“Which is what?” inquired Barbarro. “To send out every last Alliance captain with a price on Sidorio and Lola’s scalps?”

Black grinned once more. “Well now, that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, would it?”

“I agree,” said Moonshine Wrathe. “We should go after the Vampirates, and not just the demon duo. We shouldn’t rest until every last one of the ships they hijacked from us has been taken back—just like The Diablo.”

“With respect,” Rene Grammont interjected, “that’s fine rhetoric, Captain Wrathe, but there is a price tag attached to every Alliance vessel pursuing the Vampirates.”

“Not only that,” Cheng Li spoke now. “But if we further antagonize Sidorio and Lola, we could start up the war all over again.”

“It’s not like you to advocate mercy, Commodore Li,” said Black.

“I’m advocating caution,” Cheng Li said. “I’m as concerned about this situation as