Vampirates 5: Empire of Night (10 page)

"No!" Grace said. "How many times do I have to tell you: Sidorio is nothing to me. Less than nothing." She exhaled deeply. "I have
nothing
against Vampirates and I'm
proud
to be a dhampir. It's all very new, but I'll adapt; I always have before. But the one thing I can tell you with complete and utter clarity is that I abhor everything Sidorio stands for and I don't want any part of his empire now... or ever."

"Bravo!" said Johnny, bringing his hands together, clapping and whooping as if he was at a rodeo. "All right, Grace, I get the message. Guess I'll be on my way." He set his Stetson back on the crown of his head and climbed up onto the guardrail, standing there proudly as if he was lord of all the oceans. Clearly spending so much time with Sidorio was rubbing off on him. He nodded at Grace before executing a double backflip over the side of the ship.

"Wait!" she cried. "You forgot something." She waved

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the envelope containing the invitation from Sidorio and Lola. Grace tore the envelope in two and tossed it over the side in Johnny's wake.

"Grace!" Turning, she saw Lorcan striding across the deck toward her. Her heart was racing from her encounter with Johnny and all that he had told her.

Lorcan came to a standstill before her. His cravat was unfastened but, other than that, he looked as pristine as when he had arrived at the feast earlier that evening. He was always meticulous about removing every last trace of blood post-sharing, although this time Grace noticed a dot of red on his dress shirt. The spot of blood took her back to the image now imprinted in her brain of the dark, claustrophobic cabin below. Lorcan reached out his hand to her. "Grace, what is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm a little shaken up," she said. It was nothing less than the truth.

"By what you saw earlier?" he asked. "I knew it was too soon. Oskar was trying to be helpful, but he lets his wild ideas run away with him." Lorcan opened his arms and drew Grace into them, enfolding her. He kissed her on the head. "Everything's changed so fast for you. For me, too. It's going to take us some time to make sense of this."

Grace nodded.

"But we will adjust," he said with conviction. "And remember, however strange things seem to you now--however scary, however impossible--I'm here for you. I'll be with you every step of the journey."

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Again, she nodded. She felt safe now, protected. She looked up into Lorcan's eyes. All traces of his rampaging hunger were gone now. His eyes were as blue and infinite as the oceans. Just like the first time she'd seen him. Just like the first night he'd kissed her.

"Come on," he said, reaching out his hand. "Let's get you back inside. It's a little unchivalrous of me to say so, but you do look about ready to drop."

Lorcan took Grace back to her cabin, and they talked for a while. Then, she had to confess that she really
was
very tired and, with daylight on its way, she was more than ready for a good, long sleep. Lorcan kissed her good-bye and left to make his own way back to his cabin.

After he'd gone, Grace didn't even bother undressing. She just drew the covers up over herself and snuggled down into the comfortable bed, closing her eyes tightly shut. Almost immediately, she fell into a dream. But it was not a restful dream. It was feverish, seen through a haze of black and red. There was Oskar, standing in his cabin, his shirt flapping as he lifted his arm. On his tanned forearm were two words, written in blood: SHARE ME!

She glanced at Lorcan, who was wiping traces of blood from his lips. "Grace!" he said, tossing his cravat over his shoulder and walking toward her. "Grace, I'm here for you."

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He reached out his arms and she ran into them, desperately needing his protective hug. He kissed her head.

She looked up at him, yearning to see his cool blue eyes. But as she glanced up, it wasn't his face that she was looking into, but Sidorio's. He hugged her tighter and tighter, suffocatingly so, and smiled down at her. "I'm here for you," he said. "Every step of the journey."

Grace woke from the dream, drenched in perspiration. It took her a while to steady her breathing. It was only a nightmare. What else could she expect, after everything she had been through? She caught her breath. Only a nightmare. There was a glass of water at the side of her bed. She reached toward it, desperate for a sip of the cool liquid. But as she made contact with the glass, she froze. There, on her bedside table, was the invitation. The one she had torn in two and thrown after Johnny into the sea. Grace frowned, her hand reaching out for the envelope. It was in one pristine piece, and it was bone-dry. Was this some kind of magic?

As Grace leaned forward, she realized she wasn't alone in the cabin. Someone was sitting in the chair at the foot of her bed. Unnerved, Grace reached for a match and lit the oil lamp at her side. As she did so, the room was illuminated with a soft glow. It was faint but quite sufficient to reveal the striking features of the person sitting, arms

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folded, staring right at her. Now, the woman leaned forward and addressed her directly.

"Grace, what is all this nonsense about you declining our invitation? I can't condone this kind of behavior. You're my stepdaughter. Don't we deserve the chance to get to know one another?"

"Lady Lola?" Grace rasped.

Lola smiled and unfolded her arms. "I was hoping you might call me Mummy."

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11 THE WICKED STEPMOTHER

Lola shook her head. "I don't know why I said that. About you calling me 'Mummy,' I mean. Of course, that's not at all what I expect, or what I want."

"What
do
you want?" Grace asked, sitting up in bed and feeling at a distinct disadvantage, given that Lady Lola had quite literally caught her napping. "What are you doing here?"

Lola smiled. "I shouldn't have entrusted the cowboy with such an important task. Oh, I know he's pretty and perfectly charming and I'm aware that you and he have a certain history, but, as I have learned through experience--and perhaps you are already on the way to learning, my dear--if you want a job done, it's generally best to do it yourself."

Grace stared at Lady Lola, her "wicked stepmother."

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Lola was stunningly beautiful. When she had crossed from mortal life into the Vampirate realm, she must have been in her late thirties or perhaps very early forties. Her skin was as white as alabaster, her hair raven-black, and her eyes a deep velvet brown. She had the kind of otherworldly beauty reserved for movie stars or fairy-tale queens and princesses. Every detail was flawless--from her full lips to the beauty mark that punctuated her creamy cheek.

The only feature that stood out was the tattoo of the black heart around Lola's left eye. True, the heart was perfectly drawn and the effect striking. But there was something about it that set Grace's nerves on edge. She couldn't help gazing at the tattoo. As she did so, the heart shape began to melt away and Grace found herself staring at a much less appealing mark. The slightly blurry crescent shape was black in the center but bled to neon green and purple around the edges. Grace realized she was looking at a nasty bruise.

"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" Lola's cut-glass voice pulled Grace back into the moment. Lola began walking toward her, and Grace was suddenly aware of the heady, almost hypnotic, scent of roses.

Lola had moved closer and was now standing directly above her. She placed a hand on Grace's shoulder. "You have a certain wild look in your eyes, Grace. Perhaps you should take another sip of water?"

Grace glanced away momentarily but did not reach for the glass.

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"What is it?" Lola inquired, sitting on the bed and smoothing down her full skirt. "What's stirred you so?"

Grace hesitated, weighing up just how much she was willing to share. She decided to take a gamble. "I see things," she said. "I have a gift."

Lola nodded. "I hear that you have many gifts, my dear. Your father speaks most highly of you."

Grace found the word
father
unsettling. "You mean Sidorio?"

Lola nodded once more. "That's right. Sidorio. My husband, your father. We'll come to him in a moment. First, tell me what you saw before."

Again Grace hesitated, then decided to risk it. "I see beneath the surface of things," she said. "I saw beneath your tattoo." Lady Lola's face froze as Grace continued. "I saw your injury."

"Fascinating," Lola said, somewhat defensively. "What exactly did you see?"

"Just the bruise," Grace said. "It was crescent-shaped." She leaned forward. "I wonder... is it connected to your death and how you crossed?"

Lola folded her arms across her chest. "I remember now; Sid told me that you were fascinated by crossing stories. Aren't you compiling a book of them, or something?"

Grace was surprised, and strangely flattered, that Lola knew this. She nodded. "I like to talk to all the Vampirates I meet and find out how they crossed. Sidorio was one of

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the first to talk to me, about how he was killed by Julius Caesar." As she spoke, she reached over and opened her bedside drawer. Reaching inside, she grabbed her latest notebook and held it out to Lola.

Lola opened the volume and scanned the pages with interest. As she did so, Grace again marveled at her stepmother's beauty. In the light of the oil lamp, Lola's long lashes were elongated by shadows, extending across her angular cheekbones. Grace's eyes traveled once more to the black heart tattoo. As if reflexively, Lady Lola glanced up at her.

"You have very neat handwriting," Lola said, smiling prettily as she closed the notebook and set it down on the bedspread.

To her surprise, Grace felt crushed. She had hoped for a fuller response. She was proud of the work she'd amassed to date on the Vampirates' crossing stories. And, more than that, for reasons she couldn't fathom, she wanted to impress Lady Lola. She found herself gazing at the heart-shaped tattoo once more.

"What are you doing?" Grace heard Lola's voice, but it was muffled now, as if far in the distance. As the voice trailed off, another noise grew in intensity inside her head. It was the sound of horses' hooves. Drumming on earth. There was another sound, too--smaller, softer. Rain. A mizzly country rain. Interspersed with the occasional cry. A bird, perhaps? Intrigued, Grace tuned in her senses more deeply. As she did so, she realized it wasn't a

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cry, at least not an animal cry, but rather a mechanical squeak.

"Stop it! Whatever you're doing, stop it!" The voice was no more than a whisper now, and Grace had no intention of stopping. Her vision was becoming more and more complete. Now she could see horses' hooves thundering over uneven ground and rain collecting in swollen puddles on a country track. The squeak she had heard, she realized, belonged to the wheels of a carriage being pulled by the horses. The carriage wheels were rusty and needed oiling.

Suddenly Grace felt a searing pain, and the vision was instantly lost. Opening her eyes, she found Lady Lola standing over her, her palm stretched out close to Grace's stinging cheek.

Grace stared up in disbelief. "Did you just
slap
me?"

Lola made no attempt to deny it. "You left me no choice. You were being very discourteous. I'm an absolute stickler for good manners."

"Good manners!" Grace stared up at Lola, her cheek still smarting from the slap. "I don't see how you can lecture me on
any
kind of manners!"

Lola sat down again. "Get over it, Grace. I did what I had to do. We don't have much time. I need you to stop daydreaming and focus on what I have to tell you."

Grace folded her arms defiantly. "Give me one good reason why I should give you five seconds of my time."

"Oh, Grace," said Lola, "You know as well as I do that

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you're in a bind and I'm the only one to help you out of it."

Grace shook her head. "I don't know anything of the sort."

"You're a
dhampir
, Grace. Half-mortal, half-vampire.
I
know that and
you
know that. The only problem is, you really don't understand very much about what that means. You need help to discover your true being, to come into your own as an immortal."

"And you're offering that help?"

"You could do a whole lot worse," said Lola.

Grace rolled her eyes, but Lola proceeded, keeping her composure. "You've spent most of your life living a lie. You thought Dexter Tempest was your father. Not so. While he was a nice yet unambitious man who loved your mother and raised you and your brother as best he could, there was no authentic blood connection."

"Dexter was my dad," Grace said. "Whatever Sidorio is doesn't change that."

Lola shook her head. "Your relationship with Sidorio changes everything. Sidorio is your blood father. And Sidorio is a very powerful being. He is High King of all the Vampirates."

Grace snorted with derision, then froze, fearing another slap from Lola's vicious hand. But this time Lola only looked at her questioningly. Grace felt suddenly emboldened. "Sidorio is captain of a ragtag army of renegades," she said. "The ones who couldn't deal with the discipline

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of this ship or Sanctuary. He certainly
isn't
the king of the Vampirates.
This
is the one true Vampirate ship--not yours, not
The Blood Captain
. This ship--
The Nocturne
!"

Lola shook her head. "Once, perhaps, that was true. But this ship no longer even has a captain." She smiled mirthlessly. "I see you don't even try to deny that."

"The captain is... away," Grace said. "But he'll be back soon. And, in the meantime--"

"Stop!" Lola raised her palm. "Before you waste precious breath telling me how Mosh Zu is keeping the captain's throne warm. You've fallen into the same trap again, Grace. You're living another lie. Oh, I know that you feel loyal to the poor captain and others aboard this ship. But
The Nocturne
is dying, Grace. Half the crew have deserted it to join Sidorio. Not because they are lacking in discipline but because they have finally woken up to what they are and accepted the nature of their true being. It was no longer appropriate for them to report to a captain who hid for all those years behind a mask, even before he completely disappeared from view. His time is over."