Vampirates 6: Immortal War (44 page)

Johnny pushed open the cabin door to find Grace staring at him in shock.

“What are
you
doing here?” she asked.

“I came for you,” he said. “Don’t be alarmed, Grace. My brief is to escort you to
The Blood Captain
, unharmed. Sidorio has plans for you.”

“I’m not interested in his plans,” she said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“You have no choice,” Johnny said, not without a certain kindness. “This battle is all but won. The Vampirates outnumber the Nocturnals by at least three to one. Sidorio is certain to overpower Obsidian and claim
The Nocturne
for our fleet. The war is coming to an end. Well, this phase of it at least. The southern quadrant is locked down, and then we move on.”

“No!” Grace cried.

“Yes!” Johnny persisted, reaching out his hand. “Face facts, Grace. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

Grace took his hand in her own. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Johnny looked askance at her. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

“This,” she said, expertly pinpointing the pressure points in his hand and watching him instantly slump to the floor, unconscious.

She stared at him for a moment, his words ringing in her head.
The war is coming to an end. There’s nothing you can do about it
.

Wasn’t there? Well, she’d be the judge of that.

“Take a look around you!” Sidorio commanded Obsidian. His neck bore the wounds Obsidian had lately inflicted
on him, but the cuts were already beginning to heal. “See your pitiable crew falling to the deck around you. You couldn’t ask for a more perfect symbol of your dwindling power. Your time is over,
Captain
.” The last word was spoken with the deepest irony.

“No.” Obsidian shook his head. He had sustained lacerations, but these too were closing up as the enemies circled each other once more.

Sidorio laughed mercilessly. “There’s no sense in denying it when it’s clear as night. I came here with a mission to decimate your crew and I’ve already exceeded that ambition. They’re falling like autumn leaves.” He smiled. “It won’t be long before I’ve sent you and every last member of your crew to oblivion and taken
The Nocturne
as part of my fleet. Though I think it’s time we changed its name to something more… gutsy.”

“Is that what this is about?” Obsidian asked. “Is that what’s behind this war? Your petty need for revenge because I exiled you from this ship?”

Sidorio smiled and shook his head. “No,” he said. “This war is about so much more than that.” He had a sudden vision of Lola and their twin boys as he lifted his sword again. “This war is about who controls the oceans.”

“I never set out to control anything but this ship,” Obsidian said as their swords met. “I tried to provide a refuge for vampires who—”

“Spare me the sermon!” Sidorio cried, his sword
clashing against Obsidian’s. “I’ve heard it all before. How you wanted to create a refuge for
the outsiders among the outsiders—yadda, yadda, yadda
. It’s old news, grandpa—it’s all a gigantic con!”

“No!” Obsidian shook his head. “It’s true. Whether
you
believe it or not is of no importance.”

“You created a prison ship for lost Vampirates,” Sidorio cried, stalking Obsidian with his sword, pushing him backward. “You and Mosh Zu Kamal intended to keep us in your thrall, to build your own power base and make the rest of us bend to your ridiculous rules. Whoever heard of vampires who don’t drink blood? It’s perverse!”

Obsidian shook his head. “We never cared for power,” he said. “We wanted Vampirates to have a choice—to be able to rise above their base appetites and find ways to make meaningful use of their immortality.”

Sidorio’s mouth twisted into a snarl once more. “You think that hiding yourself away on a ghost ship and restricting yourself to one furtive drink of blood each week is meaningful?” His eyes widened. “You really do think that, don’t you?”

“Tell me,” Obsidian said, his face up close to that of his rival. “What’s
your
idea of a meaningful existence?”

“This!” Sidorio exclaimed. “Claiming new ships, establishing supremacy over the oceans, throwing over this tyranny of pirates we’ve all been living under for as long as we can remember and bringing the oceans under
our
control.” Once more, he thought of Lola, Hunter, and
Evil. “It’s time to usher in a new sea power—now that’s
my
definition of meaningful.”

Obsidian’s eyes met those of his arch foe. They were filled not just with hatred but with a certain sadness, too. “How can you find meaning in so much destruction?” he asked.

Sidorio shrugged, his eyes flashing fire. “Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree, eh? I’ve never been given to lengthy conversations, like you and your kind. Why don’t we just settle this once and for all? And not like wannabe pirates, but like true Vampirates.” So saying, he threw his sword up into the air and leaped at Obsidian, fangs extended.

Lorcan watched in horror as Obsidian was thrown against the deck. He was already lying there himself, the tip of Stukeley’s sword pricking his own neck. Stukeley’s boot bore down on Lorcan’s arm. In his hand, he still gripped his own sword, but it was useless as he found himself unable to counter Stukeley’s greater strength.

His enemy’s sword felt cold against his neck. But there was a deeper coldness flooding Lorcan’s heart and bones. Around him, he could see the potent signs of defeat. And now he could feel the pitiful truth of it spreading within him.
A ship of losers
. Those had been Sidorio’s words.
A weakened, dying force
. Coming from Sidorio, such words
had seemed like empty bravado. Now they appeared, heartbreakingly, to be true. The deck was littered with fallen members of
The Nocturne
’s crew.

Lorcan felt Stukeley’s boot pressing down again. The pressure was sufficient that, at last, he let go of his sword. Looking up, he saw Stukeley smiling with satisfaction. Lorcan couldn’t bear to look at him. He turned his head and saw Sidorio pinning Obsidian down upon the deck and bearing down, fangs directed at his rival’s neck. How had it come to this? Lorcan’s thoughts turned to Grace. He thought of the moment her blood had flowed into his. He thought, once more, of their fleeting kiss. He had feared that kiss might be their last; it seemed now that it was.

Doubtless, Johnny had found her. Lorcan could only hope that somehow Grace might awaken within herself the power that he and Obsidian had lacked, but he was suddenly filled with doubt. It appeared that they had completely underestimated the powers of their enemy. Maybe it was simply the wheel of fate turning, but, if so, it was a brutal new order that was poised to be ushered in.

He felt a fresh stab of pain in his shoulder and realized that Stukeley was reopening the wound. “Just in case you start repairing yourself,” Stukeley said coldly.

Lorcan stared up at Stukeley’s face. He caught a glimpse of his rival’s brutal sneer, then the Vampirate’s features began to grow distant. It was as if a mist now separated them. Feeling the deepening pain in his shoulder, Lorcan
had no doubt as to what now lay ahead. Still he felt a terrible sadness flow through him as the fog thickened around him. He wanted to cry out, for everything he had lost—everything they had all lost—but it seemed that even this form of release would be denied him as the fog of oblivion drew him more completely into its stifling embrace.

Lorcan’s eyes were closed and, for a time, everything was still and silent and peaceful. If this was his final journey, then perhaps it was not nearly as bad as he had feared. Summoning up the courage to open his eyes, he found that he was still encircled in mist, but it was not as thick as before. He could make out the red-stained deck boards around him. Could it be that he was still on the deck of
The Nocturne
, that he hadn’t been transported to some other place? As the mist thinned, he saw a little farther. He realized that his arm—which had been trapped under Stukeley’s merciless boot—was now free, his sword within his grasp once more. But how? And why was everything so still and quiet?

Glancing up, Lorcan saw something even more curious. Stukeley was still standing above him, but he was
now surrounded by two men and a woman—none of them familiar to Lorcan. The Vampirate did not move. It looked as if he were still alive but frozen somehow. One of the men glanced down at Lorcan and smiled. Suddenly, Lorcan felt sensation again in his shoulder. His numbness gave way to a fresh wave of nausea. He saw the stranger lifting Stukeley’s sword away. Despite the intense rush of pain, he could feel the fibers deep beneath his skin fusing back together. Now he was in no doubt. This was not oblivion. He had, somehow, been saved. The second of the two men reached out his hand to help Lorcan to his feet while the woman crouched down and returned his sword.

Standing up, Lorcan saw drifts of fog moving across the deck. He realized that it must have encircled not only him but the entire deck of the ship. It was thinning now and he began to make sense of what was happening right across the deck. The Vampirates had been disarmed and their swords turned against them by a fresh influx of men and women. Though the newcomers’ faces were unfamiliar, nonetheless Lorcan recognized some kind of union with them, as if they were from the same tribe.

His eyes skimmed the deck, seeking out each of his comrades, Nocturnal and donor. Those who had fallen earlier in the battle still lay motionless, and Lorcan sensed that their stories were at an end. But, as the wisps of remaining mist streamed across the deck, like coils of muslin, Lorcan watched others rise up to their feet again.
At last, his anxious eyes located Obsidian, who, to Lorcan’s great relief, was now standing tall at the center of the deck. Lorcan began making his way over to join his leader.

In front of them stood Sidorio. He, too, was surrounded. But now Lorcan saw that it was not merely the
threat
of force that had held the Vampirates in abeyance. His hands were raised before him, as if pushing against an invisible wall. It seemed as if there were a force field around them. It glowed indigo in the darkness of the night.

As Lorcan reached Obsidian’s side, he saw further movement across the deck. At first he thought it was more of his comrades, come to determine for themselves what miracle had happened here. But then he saw the most mysterious sight his eyes had ever borne witness to. Three imposing figures were making their way toward the center of the deck. One came from the starboard side; the next from the prow; the third from the port side. They were each clad identically in masks and capes. Their attire was exactly that which
The Nocturne
’s own captain had formerly worn, before he assumed the identity of Obsidian Darke.