Vampirates 3: Blood Captain (28 page)

46

EYES WIDE OPEN

“How is he?” Grace asked. It had been twenty-four hours since the captain’s arrival at Sanctuary.

“I think you should come and look,” Mosh Zu said. “You may find it a difficult, possibly painful, sight. But his condition is stable. And, if you are to be a healer, you must open your eyes to sights such as this.”

Nervously, Grace followed Mosh Zu into the octagonal-shaped healing chamber.

The Vampirate captain lay on a slab-like table, low to the floor. The drifts of his cape spilled over the table and brushed the floorboards. It was shocking to see him like this. Grace knew he was only sleeping — sent by Mosh Zu into a healing trance — but he might just as well be dead. She was immediately transported back to her childhood. She had never felt comfortable watching her dad sleep. Indeed, she would do everything she could to avoid witnessing it. But every once in a while, she’d walk into the lighthouse living room and find him sprawled on the ratty old sofa, quite motionless. The sight was enough to bring on a cold sweat. Catching her own breath, she would have to walk up to her dad and check for the sound of his breathing or else look carefully for signs of the gentle rise and fall of his abdomen beneath his shirt. Only then could her own breathing return to normal.

Seeing the captain lying motionless like this was similarly uncomfortable. During the time Grace had spent with him, the captain had emanated such power. Now, he seemed stripped of all vitality and authority. Strange because his face was still masked and his hands were still gloved. There was no outward difference in his appearance, and yet there was no question he had undergone a profound change.

“Come on,” Mosh Zu said, leading her back out into his meditation room. “I think that’s enough for now.”

When they were out of the healing chamber, Grace couldn’t disguise her shock. “I hadn’t . . . I hadn’t expected to see him like that.”

“I understand,” Mosh Zu said. “And you do well to acknowledge those feelings, Grace.”

“How is his treatment proceeding?”

Mosh Zu gestured for her to sit down. “I must be honest with you, Grace. He’s not doing as well as I would wish. I’ve stabilized his condition for now but it’s becoming clear to me that this kind of gentle healing will only help him so far. Something more radical is called for, and soon.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Grace asked.

“It’s simple, in a way,” Mosh Zu said. “It comes back to our earlier discussions about healing. To be an effective healer, you must develop the ability to draw out pain from others without absorbing it into yourself. This is not nearly as straightforward as it sounds, especially when we are working with those who mean a lot to us personally. We’re so determined to help those we love that we lose all perspective. We misread signals and, in doing so, our treatment becomes less effective for them and dangerous to ourselves.”

As he spoke, Grace reflected on how hard it had been to confront Connor’s pain and to help him to heal.

“The captain is utterly dedicated to helping people,” Mosh Zu continued. “He is, without doubt, the most selfless being I have ever met. But there’s the problem. He has been too ready to carry the burdens of others. In doing so, his own self is growing weaker and weaker. If I do not act to remedy this, we are in danger of losing him altogether.”

Grace was chilled at the thought.

“I’m sharing these opinions with you, Grace, because I believe in your own healing powers. But you must listen carefully to what I’m saying and not fall into the same trap that the captain has done. As much as you want to help others — and you can help them in very powerful ways — you must learn not to absorb their pain and carry it around for them. Do not allow their darkness to take you over.”

She nodded.

“I can see the worry in your eyes,” he said. “And I know that in part I’m responsible. You are worried about the captain. Of course, you are. But I
will
heal him, Grace. It will not be easy or straightforward, but I can do it.”

His words were somewhat reassuring.

“Let’s talk about other things,” he said. “Have you seen Lorcan today?”

“Not yet,” she said, “but perhaps I could go and see him now?”

Mosh Zu nodded. “I think that is a very good idea,” he said. “But Grace, there is something I must ask you. Although Lorcan’s sight is restored, given the psychological aspect of his blindness, he is still not quite out of the woods. He remains in a delicate balance. If he becomes overly stressed or fearful, there is every chance that he will retreat back into blindness. If that happens, it will be harder for me to lead him back a second time. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I’ll take good care of him. I won’t do anything to upset him.”

“Off you go, then!” Mosh Zu said. He smiled again. “Don’t look so anxious, Grace. I know he is very keen to see you.”

“Grace!” said Lorcan. He was lying on the bed but now he swung his feet down onto the floor and stood up to greet her. He opened his arms to hug her, but she hesitated, wanting their eyes to meet.

As they did, she found tears welling up in her own eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to blink them away. “I’m sorry! I just had to check again. I’m still getting used to the idea that you can see again, that I didn’t dream this!”

“It’s no dream,” Lorcan said, wrapping his arms around her. “I can see you, Grace! And I’ve never been happier to see someone in all my days.”

Lorcan released Grace and sat back on the bed. She sat down opposite him. For a moment they sat there, smiling at one another.

“How does it feel?” she asked.

“It feels amazing,” he said. “It’s not just that I can see again. Things seems brighter and crisper than before.” He squeezed her hand and gazed deep into her eyes. “Things seem even more beautiful than I had remembered.”

The depth of Lorcan’s gaze was disconcerting. It had been quite a time since Grace had felt his eyes upon her. So much so, that though she was already growing used to it, in some ways it was like the very first time their eyes had met. She was cast back to the moment that she’d opened her eyes on the deck of
The Nocturne
. At first, she had thought she was looking into the sky — so blue were his irises. But then she had realized. And nothing had quite been the same since. For him, too, she pondered, remembering her vision of him looking down into her green eyes. Looking down and recognizing her. But how?

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “You seemed very far away for a moment.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m right here. I was just remembering the first time we met.”

He smiled. “When I fished you out of the water?”

She nodded.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that, too,” he said.

“Have you?” She was excited to hear it.

He nodded.

“I’ve been doing a whole lot of thinking while I’ve been lying here. Well, there hasn’t been much else I
can
do.”

“No,” she acknowledged, squeezing his hand. “No, but that’s all over now. You have your eyesight back and you’ll soon get your strength back.” She paused, remembering Mosh Zu’s instructions. “And soon, we’ll be back on
The Nocturne
,” she said, hoping that she sounded bright and breezy. “And everything will be back to normal.”

Lorcan frowned. Grace felt a flicker of alarm — had she let slip some shadow of a doubt about their return?

“Grace, there’s some things I need to say to you,” Lorcan began. “You may not like them or find them easy to understand at first. But please hear me out and know that I’m saying them because I care about you very much.”

Now it was her turn to frown. His words were ominous indeed.

He took a breath then continued. “When I go back to
The Nocturne
, I don’t think you should come with me. That ship, well, it’s not a fit home for you.”

“I like it there,” she said. “I know it’s crazy, but it’s true.”

He shook his head. “I know you do,” he said. “And, speaking for myself, I like having you there. I more than like it. But it just isn’t good for you. You could go to join Connor . . .”

“No.” Grace shook her head. “No, that wouldn’t work out.”

“I know you don’t feel a connection to the pirate world,” Lorcan said. “But I’m sure in time . . .”

“No.” She shook her head again. Hot tears were pricking her eyes once more. “No, it doesn’t matter how long I stay on a pirate ship, it will never be my home. It’s different on
The Nocturne
. I feel a connection there.”

“I know you do, Grace. And I feel responsible for that.”

As well he might. A good deal of why she felt so at home on the ship was because of him.

“But I was wrong to drag you into this world. It’s not right for a mortal. It’s not safe.”

“Safe?” she said. “I think I’ve taken pretty good care of myself so far.”

She thought back to how she’d repelled Sidorio’s attack. Others would have been driven to terror by being trapped in a cabin with only the most bloodthirsty of vampires for company. But she had kept her nerve and kept him talking, drawing him out on the subject of his life and death — a subject he was only too keen to revisit for a while. In this way, she had bided her time until the captain came to rescue her. If she could deal with Sidorio, she could deal with any of them.

“Grace, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out. You’re not a vampire and you’re not a donor.”

No, she thought. I’m an in-between. And at that moment, being an in-between was just about the worst thing she could imagine.

“You look so sad,” he said. “And it’s my fault.”

“Yes,” she said, her sadness turning into anger. “It
is
your fault. You told me that I should stay, remember? You said there were a million secrets for me to discover on the ship. Don’t you remember?
You
said that.”

He nodded. “I remember. I think I remember every word we’ve ever said to one another. And since I’ve been laid up here, I’ve replayed each and every one of them.” He sighed. “When I said that to you, I was being hopelessly romantic. I thought that somehow we could find a way to cross the bridge between our worlds.”

“And now?” she said. “Why have you changed your mind now?”

He looked at her very intently. “I’ve opened my eyes,” he said.

47

TO LANTAO

It would take the better part of two days’ sailing to journey from the Pirate Academy to Lantao Island. Plenty of time, thought Connor, as they set off in the early morning light. Plenty of time to talk to Cheng Li about the things on his mind.

But as their journey got underway, Connor found himself busily engaged with Cheng Li on the sailing of the Academy sloop. There was no time for heart-to-heart discussions. Instead, their conversation was limited to an exchange of instructions and confirmations as they navigated the boat through the choppy waters.

The strange thing was that Connor was starting to feel better without even saying a word. Perhaps it was simply losing himself in the physical challenge of sailing the boat with Cheng Li. Ever since he was a little kid, he had found comfort in physical activity. When dark thoughts started crowding in your head, there was nothing better than going and shooting some basketball hoops or pounding down the saltwater pool, length after length in perfect freestyle.

Cheng Li was the ideal companion, too. She wasn’t someone who needed constant conversation. Rather like Connor himself, she kept to the mantra of only speaking when she had something to say. He could tell that she was lost in her own thoughts — her head, no doubt, filled with all the various lists and decisions she was making in the run-up to becoming a captain. Even without speaking, she radiated optimism, and this, too, was infectious. Combined with the sun, which had pushed back the clouds and added to the pleasure of their trip, it all made for the perfect day’s sailing.

As the sun finally began to set, they dropped anchor and at last gave their weary bones some rest. Cheng Li disappeared down into the hold for a moment and returned with a hamper of food packed up by the chef at Pirate Academy.

“Dive in!” she said. “I’m sure you’re as ravenous as I am.”

They both opened up the various containers — filled with cold meats and fish, salads and sauces — and piled their plates high with tempting goodies. After a day of physical effort, their appetites were large. Once more, conversation was limited, as they devoured each tasty treat Chef Hom had provided for them.

“I’m going to sleep well tonight,” Connor said at last.

“Me, too!” agreed Cheng Li. “Actually, Connor, you do look dog-tired.” Trust Cheng Li — always a ready compliment at hand.

“I’m going to make some tea,” she said, heading below-stairs once more.

Connor busied himself clearing up the debris of their supper, then ferried the empty cartons down to the galley where Cheng Li was brewing up a tempting blend of green tea with ginger and ginseng.

“That smells great!” he said.

“Take it up onto the deck,” Cheng Li said. “Give it time to brew. I’ll join you in a minute.”

He carried the tray and set it on the table up there.

Then he stretched out on the cushioned bench to relax while the tea brewed. He propped his head on a life jacket and settled back, gazing up at the star-filled sky. He searched the heavens for his favorite constellations. He always drew comfort from this game. It took him back to the lighthouse, to Grace and his dad. But tonight, by the time he’d found Aquila, his eyes were heavy and he had no strength to keep them open anymore.

When Cheng Li came back up on deck, she found him fast asleep, his breathing long and deep. She unfolded a blanket and draped it over his body. She padded around the deck quietly, lighting the lanterns. Then she sat down again and began to sip her tea.

Connor awoke with a start. Immediately, he was fully alert. He felt a chill through his bones. The sky was black and the night air was empty of the warmth of the sun. But it wasn’t just that. His dreams had given way to memories and the last thing he had seen, a second before waking, was his rapier slicing into Alessandro’s flesh.

“What is it?” Cheng Li said. He looked up and found her sitting opposite him, making notes by lamplight in one of her books.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Connor said.

She set down the book and the pen and waited for him to begin. He imagined that this was what it might be like sitting in a psychiatrist’s chair.

There was no point in delaying things any further. This was what he had come to her to talk about, seeking her out at Pirate Academy and embarking on this voyage with her. He had allowed himself to be distracted by her news. He had let the sunny day and the business of sailing wrap a comforting blanket around him — almost persuading himself that he still lived in the old world. The world before this terrible thing had happened. But there was no longer any place to hide.

“I killed a man,” he said.

She nodded.

Instantly, he understood. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said. “News travels fast. It’s why you came to find me, Connor, isn’t it? To hear what I had to say on the matter?”

He nodded. “Yes. I didn’t know where to turn. I couldn’t stay on board
The Diablo
. Not after they gave me the Blood Captain. I sailed around, going nowhere. I threw my sword into the ocean. Finally, I knew that there was one person who just might be able to help me.”

“Me,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded again.

“All right, then,” she said. “Well, you’d better tell me all about it, don’t you think?”

She was a good listener. He could tell she was taking in every word, every emotion that the words gave rise to. And she didn’t interrupt. She was patient, even when he had to break off to think of the right way to express his feelings clearly to her. It was important to tell her exactly what he felt. She sat and waited for him to get there in his own time.

When he was done, she nodded, then remained silent and still for a time, as if her head was still computing the information, sifting through the various facts he had presented to her.

“Well?” he asked, hoping to nudge her into speaking.

She seemed surprised. “I can’t take away your feelings of guilt,” she said. “You killed a man. He awoke that morning with a life stretching out ahead of him, who knows how far? And you cut that short. There’s no denying or getting away from that fact.”

Connor listened. He had thought he’d derive comfort from her words, but if anything, she was making him feel worse.

“None of us can remove the guilt we feel when we take another’s life. But in my opinion, nor should we try to. Guilt is a reasonable price to pay, I think. There’s nothing satisfying or rewarding about taking someone’s life from them. Nor should there ever be.”

“You’ve killed?” Connor said.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Several times.”

“How do you come to terms with it?” he asked. “How do you move on and get on with your life? How do you continue to enjoy life as a pirate?”

Once more, she considered his words before framing her answer. “When I kill, I feel exactly as you do now. They say that the first time is worst, that you become numb to it after that. But I reject that philosophy. I don’t want to feel numb. Why should I? There’s no strength in denying the feelings that are racing through you, the feelings that make you human. We feel guilt for a reason. Just as we feel fear or joy or fatigue. They are signs. We are not
supposed
to kill each other. But in the world we live in — like it or not — it happens.”

“Okay,” he said, wondering where she was going with this.

“The way that I move forward is by not killing unnecessarily. You’ve seen me in battle, Connor. I believe in precision. I’m not into wanton violence; I’m into results. During your rather brief spell as a student at Pirate Academy, I believe you heard John Kuo’s lecture on
zanshin
. Do you remember?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “
Zanshin
is the state of super-alertness in which you are ready to defend and attack in all directions.”

“Yes,” Cheng Li said. “But it’s a state of alertness I believe in maintaining at all times — outside of battle as well as in the heart of it. The more alert you are as a pirate, the fewer life-and-death situations you will find yourself in. Being a pirate captain is not about being a killer. Sometimes you are forced into a situation in which you have no other choice. It’s you or them. Or it’s them or your comrade. It seems clear to me that you acted in this way. If you had not killed the security guard then most certainly Moonshine Wrathe
would
have been killed. You were given your orders and you followed them. In terms of the combat situation, you displayed a great mastery of
zanshin
.”

He felt somewhat flattered by her words, but she had not yet finished.

“Where you are less capable of
zanshin
, Connor, is in life away from combat. The raid on the Sunset Fort was a typical Molucco Wrathe ploy. A deed of derring-do for mercurial gain. There was no higher motive, no strategy. Oh, I understand that Cate’s action plan was quite clever — what I mean is, there was no overarching strategy at the end of the day. You allowed yourself to be caught, once more, in a situation where the dangers were quite unnecessary.”

“You mean, like the attack that resulted in Jez’s death?”

“Exactly.” Once more she nodded.

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m making an observation,” she said. “That’s all. You will never find that killing becomes any easier. There’s not a thing you can — or should — do about that. But what you
can
do is make sure that you reduce being in situations where you need to kill. You don’t need to leave piracy behind. You just need to think more about the kind of pirate you want to be. And the kind of pirates you want to be with.”

Her words had not comforted him in the way he had hoped or expected they might. It wasn’t even comfort he felt right now. But he did feel somehow different about what he’d done. And just for a moment, he had a sense that he might be able to go forward. But then it disappeared, drowned out by the familiar tide of dread rising within him.

“What is it?” she asked, quick to notice the change.

“I understand what you say,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve never felt so scared before. I don’t understand it. I’m not in any danger now. In every moment of danger, I’ve done what was asked of me. But now here — on this calm night, in the middle of the ocean — I’m absolutely terrified. Why is that?”

Cheng Li considered his words, then smiled at him. “It’s very simple, really,” she said. “The greatest terrors aren’t out there on the oceans. They’re not hiding in the shadows.” She leaned closer and put her hand over his heart. “They’re deep inside you. They’re in your blood.” She removed her hand and shook her head. “You’re no different. It’s the same for all of us.”