Immortal War

“I’ve got plenty more tricks up my sleeve,” Cate said bullishly. Hopefully, he’d buy it. The truth was, she was short on tricks, imagination, and raw energy. Jez Stukeley had always been an exceptional fighter, and it seemed that now that he had supernatural abilities to throw into the mix, he was in another league altogether. One completely beyond her own.

Gritting her teeth, she threw herself back into the fight, but, once again, he swiftly neutralized her attack. “Someone’s running low on gas,” he said, smiling through extended fangs. “Not long now and I’ll be tasting your blood, Cate.”

The repellent thought made Cate shudder. She readied herself for his attack, but something had thrown him off his mettle.

“Impossible!” he rasped. His gaze was directed beyond Cate. She didn’t dare turn and follow his stare. It was too dangerous.

But she felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder and heard a familiar voice in her ear.

“Thought you could do with some help, Catie!”

Bart! Could it really be Bart? She must be imagining it—perhaps a sign that she was close to the end. But then he stepped past her and drew his sword against Stukeley—one buccaneer against the other. Stukeley was as dazed as she was. Impossible as it was to conceive, Bart Pearce had come back from the dead to fight one more duel.

Barbarro and Trofie were just about holding their own against Lola, though she was now backed up by Nathalie, Angelika, and Camille.

“Face it, pirates!” Lola crowed. “You’re outnumbered.” As her comrades fell into a tight formation around her, Lola reached out her hand and grabbed Trofie by the golden wrist, her other hand lifting her sword toward Trofie’s swanlike neck.

“No!” Barbarro cried.

Lola laughed at the frail mortals. She was still laughing as a pair of hands reached from behind her and threw her roughly to the side. Simultaneously someone pushed forward and, in swift succession, knifed Angelika and Camille. The two dead Vampirates fell to the deck, contorting as their bodies began to burn. Lola was stunned— what weapons could have such an effect?

As Trofie stumbled forward, Barbarro reached out to catch her. He found himself gazing up at his two dead brothers. Both Molucco, who had dealt with Lola, and Porfirio, who had dispatched her two aides, looked decidedly pleased with themselves.

They both extended their swords toward Barbarro’s. The tips of the two pirate captains’ swords struck against each other. They stood there, waiting—it seemed—for Barbarro to join them. At first, he stood rooted to the spot, mouth agape. Then, still unable to form words, he raised his sword and felt the metal’s connection with the two other blades.

“Just like old times!” Molucco declared.

“Yes,” Porfirio agreed. “We always did depend on one another to get us out of scrapes! One for all…”

“… and all for one!” Molucco said, laughing loudly.

The familiar sound, which Barbarro had never thought to hear again, delighted him more than he could put into words. “But how can you be here?” he asked.

“If anyone has a score to settle with these bloodsuckers, it’s the Brothers Wrathe!” Porfirio said.

“Too right!” agreed Molucco. “I’ve got a particular cowboy Vampirate in my sights!”

“Don’t forget the harpy!” Trofie said, staring into the empty space where Lola had stood only a moment ago. “Where did she get to?”

“She can’t have got far, min elskling!” Barbarro cried, grabbing his dear wife’s hand and gazing in wonder at his beloved brothers. “Come on, let’s finish off these demons—together!”

Johnny wasn’t sure quite why he felt compelled to tell Olivier everything. It was as if the older Vampirate had administered a truth serum, though he had had no opportunity to do so. Maybe it was simply a reflection of Johnny’s guilty conscience. There was something of the priest in Olivier’s demeanor. Perhaps it was this and this alone that elicited Johnny’s willing confession.

“It was Stukeley’s idea,” he continued. “He wants to break Lola’s spirit and eliminate the threat to our position in the Vampirate hierarchy.”

Olivier nodded, seemingly unshocked by Johnny’s confession. “I understand,” he said. “Heaven knows, I’m familiar with the frustrations of playing second fiddle.”

“You are?” Johnny said, wondering how he could take Hunter from Olivier.

“Why, yes,” Olivier said. “You could say I’ve made a career out of it.”

Johnny stepped toward Olivier. Olivier might ooze authority, but Johnny was young and virile, and he had a silver dagger still concealed about his person.

But this time, things didn’t go his way. As he reached for the dagger, he found it was missing, and, glancing around in his confusion, he saw that miraculously it had made its way into Olivier’s clenched fist. Baby Hunter was still tucked securely in the crook of Olivier’s other arm. Olivier was smiling.

“Now look, Cowboy, I’m going to talk fast because you don’t have much time. But no more tricks, you understand? I’m a dhampir, you see. Rhymes with vampire but infinitely more powerful. Your little friend Grace— she’s one, too, more’s the pity, but we’ll let that lie for now. I’m the one calling the shots here and now.” He smiled. “I’ve listened to your story and I’m sympathetic to your predicament, truly I am. These two mewling babes do present a threat to your future career and, as it happens, also to mine.”

Johnny found himself grinning. You just never knew when the wheel of fortune was going to turn back in your favor, but it sounded very much like Olivier was going to cut him a deal.

“I shall permit you to take one of the infants,” Olivier continued. “Lola charged me with looking after baby Hunter so I’m sure you’ll understand my reluctance to let him out of my sight.” He brought his finger to the tip of Hunter’s nose, then looked up again, smiling serenely at Johnny.

Evil was wriggling in Johnny’s arms. Johnny held him close, his eyes still fixed on Olivier. “You’re going to let me take Evil and… get rid of him? And you won’t tell Lola?”

Olivier made a mime of zipping his lips. “Mum’s the word!” he said with a smile.

Unable to believe his good fortune, Johnny decided to waste no more time. He strode toward the door, hugging Evil close to his chest.

“Whatever you plan to do with him,” Olivier said, “you might want to avail yourself of one of the lightboats currently idling in the waters just below. You’ll be much less visible than if you run across the decks.”

“Thank you,” Johnny said, feeling genuinely in Olivier’s debt. “I’ll pay you back for this.”

Olivier nodded. “Yes, you will,” he said. “Now, listen once again, Cowboy, as I elucidate—that means explain to you—the price of my silence.”

Cheng Li had realized the impossible was happening and that her crew had been joined not only by their slaughtered comrades but also by some of the leading stars of the pirate firmament. There was no time to dwell on how such a miracle had occurred. Once, not long ago, she would have dismissed the possibility if she had not witnessed it with her own eyes. Now, she was hard put not to stand back and marvel at the sword skills of Chang Po and, in particular, Cheng I Sao. But there was no time to stop and stare. The dead pirates had evidently come back for a reason—to make the difference in this mother of all battles. She needed to capitalize on this miraculous gift and go send Sidorio to his final resting place—though, truly, rest was the very last thing she wished for the self-styled King of the Vampirates. Feeling flushed with murderous intent, Cheng Li set off toward the center of the deck, the true incarnation of evil in her sights.

But, before she could reach him, one of his cronies leaped out across her path. She could have screamed with