Vampirates 3: Blood Captain (10 page)

17

THE WELCOME

“Hi! It’s me, Grace. Can I come in?” She pushed open the door.

“Grace!” said Lorcan, stretching after his lengthy sleep. It was now past dusk. “Of course you can come in,” he said, sitting up. “How are you tonight?”

“I’m all right,” she said, hoping that she sounded convincing. The last thing she could face was bringing Lorcan up to speed on the tense scenes that had preceded the captain’s — and Shanti’s — departure. “More importantly, how are
you
?” she asked brightly.

“None too shabby,” he said. “I slept really well. Much better than I can remember. Maybe there’s something special in the air up here!”

“Talking of air,” she said, “maybe we can get you out and about later?”

“Do you think it’s allowed?” Lorcan asked, surprised.

“This isn’t a prison,” she said. “It’s a place of healing. I’m sure it’s fine to go outside for some air. If you want to.”

“Maybe later,” he said.

Nodding, Grace sat down on the bed. As she did, she realized she was in danger of crushing a sheet of paper.

“What’s this?” she asked, pulling a card from underneath her and taking it in her hands. “There’s some sort of card here. Did you know it was here?”

“Oh, yes,” Lorcan remembered. “Olivier left it for me before. He said it’s some kind of welcome message. He offered to read it to me but I was too tired before.” He grinned. “Besides, I thought you might read it to me. I have a fonder liking for your voice.”

“Of course,” Grace said, smiling. Lorcan had a knack for making her feel better. All thoughts of Shanti began to recede. She picked up the card and began to read . . .

Welcome, wandering soul. Welcome to Sanctuary.

Everything you think you know is about to change.

You think you are a limited being. But you are no more limited than the sky or ocean.

You think there is only one path. There are many paths.

You think you cannot change. You can change.

You think you are too weary to continue your journey. You are about to regain the energy you need. You will never feel weary again.

You think the best times are behind you. The best times are spread out before you like the most beautiful of gardens.

You think that your existence is empty. We will enable you to fill that void.

Your time of wandering is over. At least, it can be. The choice lies within you. The fact you have made your way here — no easy or regular journey — tells me that you want to change.

You will be amazed at the changes you can make here. Now, you may feel chained to a hunger which never seems to cease but only demands more. You may feel lost in an endless cycle of hunting and hungering. This cycle produces a thick fog that prevents you from seeing what lies beyond it. You may fear there is no other way. There is another way. We will remove the fog and open your eyes. Prepare to see things very differently.

There are three stages to your treatment here. There is no fixed time period for each stage or for your treatment as a whole. There are no expectations for you to fulfill. Stay as long as you wish to. Take as long as you need. Do not concern yourself with how quickly or how slowly others pass through the treatment phases. Allow yourself to progress at the pace that is right for you.

The gates of Sanctuary are never closed. They welcome whoever needs to come here. Equally, you may leave at any time. When things get tough — and they will get tough — you may be tempted to leave. Your treatment will make intense physical, mental, and emotional demands upon you. These challenges may seem greater than any you have faced before — in life, in death, or beyond. Know that you are up to these challenges. Embrace the struggle. You will be stronger for it. Be assured that the time of struggle will come to an end.

You may feel that you are a very long way from being human. However long it is since you crossed, remind yourself that once you were human. Cling to the best of what we might term human traits while learning how to accept and nurture the rest of what you are.

There is greatness within you. Learn to recognize it.

There is peace within you. Learn to nurture it.

There is another way. You are about to discover it.

Many arrive here feeling that they have been given a terrible burden to carry. We will show you that you have been granted not a burden but a wonderful gift. Perhaps it is the most wonderful gift of all. Be prepared to unwrap it.

Mosh Zu Kamal

Grace felt quite emotional as she finished reading. She carefully set down the card on Lorcan’s nightstand.

“Well, that’s a lot to think about,” Lorcan said.

“Yes.” Grace nodded. She reached for Lorcan’s hand and held it in her own. “This is a strange place, but I think you’ll find the help you need here. Mosh Zu seems like an extraordinary . . . man.”

Lorcan nodded.

“And I’m sure,” Grace said, “I’m sure that if anyone can help you, he can.”

18

MOONSHINE’S LAIR

“My cabin’s at the bottom of the ship,” Moonshine said, as he led the way back along the corridor to the main staircase, which plunged down through the center of
The Typhon
. “Ordinarily, the VIP cabins are on the top deck, but I wanted one down in the depths. And I always get my way.”

With that, he climbed onto the stair rail and let go, sliding down in ever decreasing circles. Connor watched him. In his dark clothes, Moonshine looked like a witch in flight. Connor climbed onto the stair rail himself, deciding to follow suit. The ride was brief but exhilarating. As he jumped down onto the bottom deck, he saw that Moonshine was already striding ahead toward a heavily bolted door, with so many padlocks hanging from it they looked like Christmas tree ornaments. Moonshine’s pale hands began twisting the combinations to snap open the locks.

“My parents are very security-conscious,” Moonshine said. “Besides, I really value my privacy.”

Watching the mound of opened padlocks amass on the floor beside Moonshine, Connor couldn’t help but think this was all a little extreme. But maybe, just maybe, it was justified — if the rumors that Trofie had been kidnapped were true. He wondered if he dared ask Moonshine for the truth about that — about his mother’s metallic hand. Perhaps not yet.

At last, the door opened and a heady cocktail of incense, body odor, and something animal assaulted Connor’s nostrils.

“Welcome to the underworld!” Moonshine announced, smiling as he stepped into his room. He continued without even looking at Connor. “And just so we’re clear on this, the fact that I’m letting you in here doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything dumb like that. Okay?”

“Fine by me,” Connor said. “Fine by me.”

Moonshine’s room was vast — at least as big as Molucco Wrathe’s cabin back on
The Diablo
. It was a room fit for a prince, and Connor supposed that that was what Moonshine was, a pirate prince. The thought of it, even without the noxious smell of the room, was enough to make him slightly nauseous.

The walls of Moonshine’s cabin were painted black. A large iron four-poster bed stood in the middle of the room. Where curtains may have hung from a regular bed, metal chains hung from this one. As the ship moved, they clanked together. The sound would have been enough to give you a headache, even without the thrash-shanty music that Moonshine had flicked on upon entering the room, and which was now turned up to the max.

Connor had developed a deep hatred of thrash-shanty, especially when played this loud. The tune — if you could call it that — sounded somewhat familiar. But then, he thought, all thrash-shanty sounded the same.

The music sorted, Moonshine sauntered over to a vast pinball machine on the other side of the cabin. “Pirate Pinball,” he said over his shoulder, by way of explanation. “My dad had it made for me. It’s a one of a kind.”

Connor shrugged. Hearing Moonshine speak and seeing the bounty in his cavernous lair, he got the sense of a spoiled brat who had never been told “no” and who had been indulged with whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it.

One entire wall of the cabin was lined with shelves, which were loaded with stuff. One shelf was home to several model ships. While Moonshine lost himself in Pirate Pinball, Connor stepped closer to the shelf to take a better look at his models. They were impressively detailed and very finely painted. Connor imagined a younger, nicer Moonshine slaving away over these ships long into the night. He saw what looked to be a replica of
The Typhon
itself. Beside it was another, slightly larger ship. He saw its name painted in tiny red script on the side of the vessel.
The Diablo
. Connor reached out for it . . .

Moonshine suddenly turned. “Don’t touch . . .
anything
!” he cried, twisting away from the pinball machine and stomping over.

Frowning, Connor set the model ship back on its shelf. “Sorry,” he said. “But this is really good. How long did it take you to make it?”

Moonshine smiled and it was like storm clouds suddenly parting to reveal the sun. “Aw, my dad and I made that ship together. It took us a whole weekend. We got so into it, we both fell asleep with paintbrushes in our hands and Mom had to come down here with blankets so we could sleep like that . . .” He shook his head in a reverie. “Happy days!”

Connor was surprised. This was an entirely different window into Moonshine’s relationship with his dad.

But suddenly Moonshine’s beatific smile was replaced once more by his default sneer. “And if you think that’s true, Tempest, you’re a bigger sucker than I thought. Do you really think that pirate captains have time to build model ships with their sons? Yeah, right. I did it myself — with a bit of help from Transom . . .” Seeing Connor’s blank look, “Transom — our majordomo.” Connor still looked blank. “Our head servant, dummy. The guy who gave you champagne and sushi before dinner.”

“Oh, him.” Connor nodded.

“Yeah, him,” Moonshine said. “And don’t start thinking that there’s a special friendship between me and him or that he was like my substitute dad. He only came down with glue and paintbrushes because my mom slipped him a nice fat bonus.”

Connor was unmoved. “So you had a tough childhood?” he said, glancing around the room. Under his breath, he muttered, “Get over it.” Poor little pirate prince, he thought. But frankly, he didn’t feel at all sorry for Moonshine.

He continued exploring the shelves, his eyes roving from a collection of rare seashells to a row of books called
Lives of the Most Notorious Pirates
. He noted
Volume 16: The Brothers Wrathe
. He was about to reach for the book when he became aware of a fresh squeaking sound, which he managed to distinguish from the music.

Turning again, he saw that Moonshine was standing before a large cage, which had previously been covered in a black cloth, now discarded.

“Hello, my lovelies,” Moonshine crooned. He reached into the cage and helped out two creatures from inside. When he turned around again, Connor saw that they were two largish rats, who, grateful to be free, were now crawling over Moonshine. Moonshine grinned. “I call them Flotsam and Jetsam,” he said. “Flotsam’s the one with the white patch. Isn’t she pretty?” He paused. “They’re twins,” he said, smiling strangely.

“Really,” said Connor, still trying to get the measure of his strange companion.

For a moment, Moonshine seemed quite transported by his pets. As they scurried up and down his arms, he looked more peaceful than before. He sat down in a globe-like chair that was suspended from the ceiling by a chain.

“What was
your
childhood like?” Moonshine asked as he continued to pet Flotsam and Jetsam. The question took Connor by surprise.

Connor decided to take the question at face value. “It was good,” he said. “My dad was a lighthouse keeper. We never knew my mother. It was just the three of us — my dad, my sister Grace, and me. We didn’t have much but we were happy. We lived in the lighthouse . . .”

“Ah,” said Moonshine, ruffling the fur under Flotsam’s chin. He was very gentle with the rats, thought Connor. Moonshine looked up again, through the thick strands of his hair. “Happy days in Crescent Moon Bay! Shame that Pops died, eh? Bye-bye, Dexter Tempest! Bye-bye, nice Crescent Moon Bay!”

Wow! Connor hadn’t seen
that
coming. Moonshine’s nastiness was deeper than he’d anticipated. But he was more struck by something else. “You know about me,” he said.

“We’ve done our homework,” Moonshine said. “Trofie and I
always
do our homework.”

Connor was beginning to see there was a strange bond between Moonshine and his mother.

“And how’s your weirdo sister?” Moonshine continued. “Still consorting with the Friends of the Night?”

Connor just shook his head. He was determined not to let this strange boy wind him up. Moonshine continued, undaunted. “Looks like little Gracie got all the interesting genes in your family. Just my luck that I get saddled with the wrong twin.”

“It’s okay,” Connor said, suddenly angry. “I can leave at any time.”

“Yes,” said Moonshine. “Yes, you can leave. You can go back to
The Diablo
and bed down in a hammock next to that himbo Bart. You can go back to your sword practice and toadying to my uncle. But you’d better remember something, Tempest. As much as he might tell you you’re the Next Big Thing, as much as he might flatter you that you’re the son he never had, you’re
not
his son.
I’m
the heir to the Wrathe fortune. Not you. Me!”

“Whatever,” Connor said. “I’m not some kind of fortune hunter, if that’s what you think.”

“Oh no?” Moonshine said. “You mean you’re actually here because you see Uncle Luck as some kind of replacement father figure?” He gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. “You’d better understand something. Molucco Wrathe isn’t the doddery old sea dog he’d have you believe. He’s as sharp as my
shuriken
. He uses people. He makes them think they’re part of the family and then he sends them into the line of fire. Your friend Jez, for instance —”

“Don’t,”
Connor began, his voice cracking. “Don’t talk about Jez.”

Moonshine grinned. “Oh but I must, Connor,” he said. “I must talk about Jez Stukeley to illustrate my wider point. Molucco Wrathe pretended that Jez Stukeley was a prized member of his crew. But he still sent him into that duel with Captain Drakoulis’s prize fighter —”

“He didn’t send him,” Connor snapped. “Jez volunteered.”

“Same difference. Molucco let him fight when there was no way he could win. Molucco sent Jezzy boy to his death. And one day, for all his talk of you being the prodigal son, he’ll do the same to you.”

“No,” Connor said.

“Yes,” retorted Moonshine, just as emphatically. “Yes, he will. Because that’s what we Wrathes do. We’re users. Me. My parents. Uncle Luck. Why, even good old Uncle Porfirio. We’re all the same. We’ll tell you anything we feel like to get what we want. But when push comes to shove, we’re only out for what we can get for ourselves.”

“No,” said Connor again. “That might be true for you and your parents, but Molucco’s not like that. He saved my life. He’s always looked out for me.”

Moonshine laughed. “How long have you been on the scene, Tempest? Three months is it, now? You know
nothing
about this world, nothing about this family. Well, don’t worry. You’ll soon see things differently. If Uncle Luck’s being good to you right now, it’s only because he hasn’t worked out how to use you yet. But he will. He always does. We all do. If you really want to know what the Wrathes are, look at me. You might not like what you see, but I’m the only one of this whole crazed dynasty who tells it like it is.”

Connor looked at Moonshine’s acne-ridden, pockmarked face. He saw the livid purple scar. It wasn’t a pretty picture, but nor was the one he was painting of his family. Suddenly, the noxious smell of the cabin was too much for Connor. The rich food and drink he’d enjoyed earlier in the evening began to repeat on him and he had a sudden fear of throwing up. He needed fresh air, and fast!

Connor turned and walked briskly out of Moonshine’s lair. He began climbing the stairs two at a time. He found himself shaking, as if there were poison in his body. Perhaps there had been something wrong with the blowfish after all and it had just had a delayed reaction. No, he thought. The poison had come from Moonshine’s mouth — the vitriol of a lonely, jealous, threatened kid. There was no truth in what he’d said. None at all.

Behind him, he heard Moonshine close and bolt the door to his lair. One lock clanked shut after another. How fitting, thought Connor, that Moonshine chose to reside down there, with his pet rats, in the putrid darkness of his vast cabin. What a loathsome creature he was. But try as Connor might to dismiss Moonshine’s words, some of what he said had hit home. The seeds of doubt had been sown.