Immortal War

Cate looked up at him through her tears.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“They say misery loves company,” answered Moonshine. “And, right now, you look decidedly miserable.”

“I just miss him,” Cate said to Moonshine. “It’s as simple and complicated and painful and irreversible as that.” She slumped back on the secluded bench. The night air was scented with oleander, and sweet pomegranates hung ripe and low just above their heads. Moonshine stretched out on the seat. “You know, my Uncle Luck had a maxim. A pirate’s life—”

“Should be short but merry.” Cate cut him off. “Yes, Bart was wont to say that, too. It’s a downright stupid maxim, if you ask me.”

Moonshine smiled. “I’d have to agree with you. The merry part is fine, but let’s marry that with a long life, please… Though of course I wouldn’t want to be an immortal like them.” Shuddering, he pointed at a couple of figures making their way up from the dockside toward the hall. “What’s with their long faces? Sheesh—they don’t look like they’d be any fun at a party.”

Cate gave a hollow laugh. “I’m not really in the party spirit myself right now,” she said.

“You know what? Maybe that’s exactly what we should do!” Moonshine said, his eyes bright. “Put a hefty chunk of your inheritance behind the bar at Ma Kettle’s, send out invitations far and wide and have ourselves a party—nothing better than getting filthy drunk with your buccaneer mates!”

Cate shook her head. “Do you really think that would make me feel better?”

Moonshine grinned. “How would I know? We’re little more than strangers. Besides, I’m not old enough to consume hard liquor. Prescription drugs, on the other hand…”

Cate rolled her eyes. “In any case, I don’t get the inheritance unless I agree to be your deputy.” Her eyes met his. “And there’s no chance of that happening anytime soon.”

Moonshine shrugged. “Hey-ho. No party for you then, CC. Just the almost-widow’s armband for another few months and, I fear, more of those lines across your forehead. Of course, Uncle Luck’s bequest could also buy you some timely Botox. I’m sure my mother could recommend someone.”

Cate shook her head. “You’re really not a very nice person, Moonshine, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” A sliver of starlight broke through the branches overhead and bisected his face. “But let’s face facts: There are more than enough nice people in this world,” he said. “You’ve got nice Connor Tempest and nice Jasmine Peacock and oh, that lovely Lorcan Furey, and… well, the list goes on. Nice, nice, nice. What the world needs right now is characters, more like Uncle Luck. He wasn’t always nice but he’ll be remembered as a legend.”

Cate nodded. “And you’re planning to step into his shoes, are you?”

Moonshine shrugged. In his hand was a pomegranate, which he’d just grabbed from the branches above them. He sliced it in two with his pocketknife and began intently removing the seeds—every last one of them. Cate watched him with renewed interest.

“Do you have OCD?” she asked.

“I have pretty much everything.” Moonshine continued worrying away at the fruit. “You name it. Lots and lots of baggage, all personally monogrammed of course!”

“Poor little rich boy,” Cate said. “Where did it all go so wrong for you?”

“Oh, Cate,” Moonshine said. “Dear, sweet Cate! I know that it’s easy to romanticize being born into fabulous wealth, but I’m here to tell you, it doesn’t stop you from having this big gaping hole of empty inside.”

Cate snorted. “Try being born into abject poverty. When I was a kid, the big gaping hole was the one inside my stomach.”

Moonshine offered her the deseeded half of pomegranate and got to work on the other half. “Well, now you need never go hungry again,” he said. “Not with the money Uncle Luck has left you.” He flicked away another seed with evident disgust.

“You really expect me to come and be your deputy?” Cate said, shaking her head. “For three years?”

Fireflies seemed to dance in Moonshine’s eyes. “Can you imagine anything worse?” he asked.

Cate laughed at that. “I really don’t get you,” she said.

“Of course you don’t get me,” Moonshine said. “I’m far too much of a riddle for the likes of you to unpick. I’ve confounded some of the finest psychiatric minds on each of the seven oceans. Their voyages to the bottom of my psyche have cost my parents a pretty penny, but let’s face it, Trofie and Pops have got plenty to spare.” He looked at her strangely. “You’re smiling at me,” he said. “Please don’t do that. It’s unnerving.”

Cate shrugged. “I know one thing, Mr. Nasty,” she said. “You followed me out here, for reasons I can’t quite fathom, to make sure I was okay.”

“Oh nooo,” Moonshine said, seemingly horrified at the thought. “You couldn’t be more wrong. I came out here to bug the hell out of you. I saw you were vulnerable, Cate, and I closed in for the kill. That’s the kind of guy I am.”

Cate couldn’t help but notice that, however harsh his words, Moonshine was now smiling broadly back at her.

“Come on,” said Moonshine. “Better get back inside. I’ve got a plan I want to put to the Council and I think you should hear it.”

Cate raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, but he just tapped his lips and beckoned her to follow him. Shrugging, she did as he requested. It sounded as if things were about to get interesting.

Even before they set foot inside the hall, Cate and Moonshine could hear raised voices. The two Nocturnals they had seen earlier were exiting as they came to the doors.

“What’s going on?” Cate asked.

“The Evening Star has fallen to the enemy,” said the first of the messengers.

“What of Captain Fallico and the crew?” inquired Cate.

“Dead,” confirmed the second messenger. “Only the onboard Nocturnal survived, and he has been taken to Sanctuary. His wounds were very severe, though. He may not endure the night. The Federation is discussing a counterattack right now.”

“No time like the present, then!” Moonshine said, gathering himself. Cate looked at him questioningly as he pushed open the doors and stalked to the front of the Rotunda, leaving Cate trailing in his wake.

There were shouts from different factions within the room: some calling for retaliation against the Vampirates; others expressing fear that the enemy was gaining significant ground.

Ahab Black was trying to restore order to the proceedings. He seemed almost relieved when Moonshine leaped onto the stage and raised his own hand to quiet the baying crowd.

MOONSHINE’S PROPOSAL

“I have a proposal, if I may beg your attention,” Moonshine said, standing firm under the gaze of so many experienced captains.

The roomful of pirates and Nocturnals looked at the teenager with interest and waited for him to go on.

“You may have heard that I’ve lately been promoted to the rank of captain. My uncle, Molucco, bequeathed me The Diablo, but it is currently in the possession of the Vampirates. So I’m a captain with no ship. The Wrathe family, as you are all aware, has had its fair share of wounds at the hands of our common enemy. I have lost both my uncles. I have lost the ship I would have captained. My parents’ ship has been targeted and my mother personally assaulted.