Black Heart Page 26

  Master Yin shrugged, extending his arms, his flattened palms raised upward.

  “Is there any chance,” Jasmine said hesitantly, “I mean, would it be at all possible to do this within ten days?”

  Master Yin looked straight into Jasmine’s eyes. “Ten days, you say? All right, then. Ten days.” He turned to Connor. “And while I work on the swords, you will both be our guests here.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Connor said. “But we have our boat, and provisions.”

  “No, no, no!” said Master Yin. “I am doing you a favor, and now you will do me one. For ten days, you will be our guests. And for ten days, you will keep my crazy daughter out of my hair!” He extended his hand to Connor. “Deal?”

  Connor grinned at the swordsmith. “Deal,” he said, shaking the old man’s hand.

  “I think Miss Yin has a bit of a crush on you,” said Jasmine as they taxied back to collect more of their things from the boat.

  “Really?” said Connor. “I think she’s just grateful for some young company. Any company, in fact. Her father’s so grouchy with her.”

  “Trust me, Connor. I’m a girl. I know a crush when I see one.”

  “Bo’s only twelve,” Connor said. “I’m fourteen.”

  “Girls mature faster than boys,” Jasmine said with a smile. “And you can’t deny that she’s very pretty. You two are perfect for each other.”

  “Except,” said Connor, shaking his head, “I’ve always had a thing for older women.”

  It was Jasmine’s turn to laugh. “Really? That’s news, Connor. So tell me who’s your type? Captain Li? No, she’s probably too young for you. How about Captain Quivers? Or Ma Kettle?”

  “Not that old,” said Connor softly, daring to look Jasmine straight in the eye. “Only a couple of years older than me.”

  “Really?” said Jasmine, her lips framed in a smile. To his surprise and delight, she didn’t look away but instead held his gaze. He was taken back to the first time he’d seen her, limbering up for the morning run on the academy porch. He had been dazzled by her silky black hair and her green eyes. Now he was more than dazzled. But Jasmine was Jacoby’s girlfriend. And Jacoby was his friend. This couldn’t happen. Could it?

  “All settled, Connor Tempest?” asked Bo Yin, popping her head around the door to his room. She had caught him changing into a clean shirt, and as he turned to face her, bare-chested, she flushed with embarrassment.

  “Sorry!” she said. “So sorry! I’ll come back later.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. Maybe Jasmine was right. Maybe Bo did have just the tiniest of crushes on him. It was flattering. She was a nice girl. And now that Jasmine had mentioned it, very pretty.

  “I just wanted you to meet Sinbad,” said Bo Yin.

  “Sinbad?” Connor asked. Did Bo Yin have a brother he hadn’t known about? Then he remembered. Bo Yin had mentioned Sinbad when her father had asked her if she had fed her pet. What kind of pet would Bo have, he wondered? A rabbit? A little songbird?

  “Come on, Sinbad! Don’t be shy!” said Bo Yin, crouching on her knees.

  Connor came to kneel beside her, waiting expectantly.

  Suddenly, the most hideous creature he had ever seen in his life came scurrying into the room. A cross between a bat and a rat, it had mad, luminous yellow eyes, rodentlike teeth, and oversize ears. Stray wisps of hair stuck up from its forehead as if it had recently suffered a terrible shock. But strangest of all were the creature’s paws. It appeared to have thumbs and fingers. They were all long and thin, curved and wizened like the fingers of a fairy-tale witch. But on each hand, the middle finger was at least three times the length of the others. The creature gazed up at Connor, then glanced down and proceeded to sniff his shoes.

  “Ha-ha!” said Bo Yin, “Sinbad likes you! Sinbad likes your shoes!”

  “What on earth is it?” Connor asked.

  “He’s an aye-aye,” Bo said. “Isn’t he cute?”

  Connor shook his head. Cute wasn’t the first word that sprang to mind.

  As the sun set in Lantao harbor, Connor set the table for dinner, while Bo busied herself at the stove making laksa, assisted by Jasmine.

  “Have a taste. Tell me what it needs,” said Bo, passing a spoon to Jasmine. Bo watched intently as Jasmine blew on the broth, then took a sip.

  “More shrimp paste?” inquired Bo. “Or lime juice? Perhaps some extra chili?”

  “Nothing,” said Jasmine. “Absolutely nothing! Bo, this is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted!”

  Bo beamed from ear to ear. “Maybe I can come back with you and be a cook aboard the Tiger.”

  “You’d get my vote,” Jasmine said.

  “Careful!” joked Connor. “She really doesn’t need any encouragement.”

  “What’s so funny?” Bo asked. “Cheng Li is a pirate. Jasmine Peacock is a pirate. Why not Bo Yin, too?”

  Connor flushed. He’d forgotten how seriously Bo Yin took her dreams of being a pirate. It seemed that the more Master Yin poured cold water on them, the stronger they grew.

  “Of course, you can be whatever you want to be, Bo,” he said with a smile. “But you wouldn’t want to leave Sinbad all alone now, would you?”

  Bo frowned and turned her back. Connor could tell he had upset her. He’d have to learn to treat her with more sensitivity. For now, he decided to check in on Master Yin. He found him inside the workshop, stirring a pan. Like daughter, like father.

  “I’m sorry,” said Connor. “I did knock, but I don’t think you heard me. Are you eating in here? Bo Yin is busy making the best laksa ever.”

  Master Yin beckoned Connor over. “I’m not making soup, Mr. Tempest,” he said. He took a dishcloth and wrapped it around the saucepan, then carried the hot pan over to his workbench. A sword was waiting there. Master Yin picked up a paintbrush and dipped it in the pan, then began painting the tip of the sword with the varnishlike substance.

  “What is that?” Connor asked.

  “Take one silver sword. Paint with compound of aconite and hawthorn. Silver, aconite, and hawthorn. All poisonous to Vampirates.” He lifted the sword and passed it by its hilt to Connor. “There!” he announced. “A recipe for success. The first of the fifty swords Captain Li requested.”

  “Wow!” Connor said, holding the sword in his hand.

  “Yes, wow,” said Master Yin. “Enough for one day, I think. My stomach is rumbling. What’s that you say about laksa?”

  36

  A CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE

  Grace was waiting alone on the deck of the Nocturne as the sun set. It seemed to take an eternity. Were some sunsets actually slower than others or was it just that when you were waiting so urgently for the sun to set, the moon took forever to rise and darkness to come?

  She was tempted to look over the edge of the ship, to see if there was any sign that Darcy was coming to life. But she didn’t dare. She didn’t want to give Darcy any clue that she was waiting for her, and while the figurehead was inanimate until the hours of darkness, her eyes, even while wooden and painted, were sharp.

  So Grace was resigned to standing on the deck and waiting, listening for the strange cracking sound as Darcy’s limbs came back to life and then the splash as she dived down into the waters below for her nightly dip.

  At last, she heard it. Crack. Splash. Grace’s heart thudded. She’d been waiting all day for this meeting, but now that it was upon her she felt exceptionally nervous.

  She withdrew to the shelter of the mainsail so that she would control Darcy’s first sighting of her. It felt a little cruel to play such tricks on a good friend like Darcy, but she knew that she had to take her by surprise; it was vital in this situation.

  She watched as Darcy climbed up onto the deck and retrieved the towel that had been left hanging for her earlier. As she began drying herself, Grace made her move, stepping free from the shadows.

  “Good evening, Darcy,” she said.

  “Grace!” Darcy was wide-eyed. “You
gave me a start. Where did you suddenly come from?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a shock,” Grace lied. “I just wanted to see you.”

  “It’s certainly good to see you,” Darcy said, smiling. “I’ve been worried about you, and I’ve been meaning to visit.”

  Grace shook her head. “It’s okay. Even if you had, I think I’d probably have been asleep. I seem to spend most of the time sleeping.”

  Darcy nodded, drying her hair. “It’s probably exactly what you need under the circumstances.”

  “Under the circumstances?” Grace asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “After the shock of your mother and all that,” Darcy said. She began folding the wet towel in her hands.

  “Darcy,” Grace said, looking her friend straight in the eye, “Darcy, I know.”

  Darcy looked suddenly awkward. She fumbled, and the towel fell to the deck. “You know what? What are you talking about, Grace?”

  Grace stooped to pick up the towel and pass it back. “I know that I’m a dhampir, Darcy—that Connor and I are half mortal and half vampire.”

  Darcy’s eyes widened. “You know!” she repeated.

  Grace nodded. “Lorcan told me.”

  Darcy’s eyebrows shot up.

  “You seem surprised,” Grace said.

  Darcy attempted a recovery. “No, not really. Well, how do you feel about this news?”

  Grace smiled. “I’m fine with it. Happy, actually. I had my suspicions that I was… like you.”

  Darcy smiled back at her. “Yes,” she said. “Me, too. We’ve been good friends since we first met, haven’t we, Grace? And now we’re more like sisters!” She reached out and drew Grace into a hug, then hesitated. “Oh, sorry, I’m still a bit damp! I ought to go inside and change my clothes.”

  “That’s okay,” Grace said. “I don’t mind. You’re right. We are like sisters. And sisters shouldn’t have secrets from each other.” She pulled back and stared once more into Darcy’s huge brown eyes.

  “Secrets?” Darcy asked nervously.

  “I need you to tell me something,” Grace said. “And I need an honest answer.”

  “Of course,” Darcy nodded. “But can it wait until I’ve sounded the nightfall bell and lit the deck lanterns? I don’t want to neglect my duties.”

  “It won’t take a moment,” Grace said. “And afterward, I’ll help you with the lanterns. Darcy, I know that Dexter Tempest wasn’t a Vampirate, so he wasn’t my true father.”

  Darcy froze. “Oh,” she said.

  Grace smiled to herself. Until now, it had only been a guess. Darcy’s expression gave her confirmation. “Darcy,” she continued, “I know that you know who my real father is. And I need you to tell me.”

  Darcy’s eyes glanced nervously at Grace, then away in the direction of the bell. “I really ought to sound it,” she said.

  “Darcy,” Grace said, gripping her arm. “You said it yourself. You’re a good friend of mine, more like a sister. You have to tell me this.”

  Darcy frowned and shook her head. “It’s not as simple as that, Grace. I wish it were. But I’m under strict instructions not to talk to you about this.” She sighed deeply. “That’s why I haven’t been to visit you in your cabin. I’ve been desperate to see you and know you’re doing okay, but they told me I mustn’t.”

  “They?”

  Darcy nodded, without elaborating. “They know how loose-tongued I am, how hard I find it to keep things from the people I care about.”

  Grace sighed. She felt she was getting closer to the truth. If only she could crack Darcy.

  “Darcy,” she said, “if I tell you some names, you don’t even have to say yes or no. You could just nod or maybe simply brush your hair away from your face. You could even go off and ring the nightfall bell. It wouldn’t be like you were telling me anything. Simply doing your regular duties.”

  She looked intently at her friend. Darcy had the appearance of a cat cornered in a dark alley by a more dangerous predator. There was no time to lose.

  “Mosh Zu,” Grace said. Darcy stared back at her impassively.

  Grace digested the information. Time to try another name.

  “Sidorio,” she said. Darcy frowned at the mention of his name, but again was silent.

  “The captain,” Grace said. Darcy frowned once more and remained silent.

  Grace took a breath. The stakes had risen now.

  “Lorcan,” she said.

  “Lorcan!” exclaimed Darcy.

  It was a different reaction to the other names. Grace decided to push further. “Yes, Lorcan,” she said. “It all fits. Every time we get close, he finds a way to push me away. He’s always looked out for me, to the point of going blind to save me. And I know that his blindness was in part psychological, because of things he was wrestling with—like having a daughter and not being able to tell her the truth.”

  Darcy’s mouth gaped open. Grace nodded and continued. “And when Sally emerged, during the captain’s healing catharsis, there was something in the way she and Lorcan looked at each other. A deep bond between them. And a couple of times afterward, I caught sight of them together and they seemed so close.”

  “They were c-c-c-close,” Darcy stammered. “But that doesn’t mean—”

  “Yes.” Grace nodded once more. “Darcy, you’re not betraying anyone by telling me the truth.”

  Darcy frowned again.

  “You’ve already practically told me,” Grace said.

  “I have?”

  “Don’t you remember? I told you how I felt about Lorcan, that I had romantic feelings toward him. We were talking about you and Jez and me and Lorcan, remember?”

  Darcy nodded.

  “And you said that Lorcan did have feelings for me, but maybe not those kinds of feelings.”

  “Grace,” Darcy said, “this is very complicated. Really, I’m not the one to talk to you about this.”

  “It’s true, though, isn’t it? Lorcan is my father. It’s okay to tell me. I’ll deal with it.” She smiled.

  Darcy shook her head. “I can’t talk to you about this. I made a promise. And I have to honor that promise, even if it makes things difficult between us. Just try to understand that no one is trying to hurt you here. We all care for you very much. Everything we’ve done has been to protect you.”

  “Protect me? But how—”

  “Grace, I really do have to sound that bell,” Darcy said. “I’m so sorry that you’re having to go through this. But please, wait for the truth to come to you. Don’t go around like a bull in a china shop trying to force it out. It won’t help.”

  And with that, Darcy walked off purposefully to sound the bell.

  Grace stood alone once more, no closer to the truth. If even Darcy had been sworn to secrecy, then this must be very important indeed.

  Back in her cabin, Grace’s mind went over and over her conversation with Darcy. Had her friend indicated that Lorcan was the twins’ father? She had certainly reacted more strongly to his name than to any of the others. And the more Grace reflected upon her own reasoning as she had presented it to Darcy, the more concrete her case seemed. But if Lorcan was her father, why were they all so intent on keeping this from her? Clearly, he had some explaining to do. Her mother, after all, had loved another man—Dexter. But knowing Sally and knowing Lorcan, there must be a decent, reasonable explanation for this, even if it was that her mother had simply loved two men, one mortal, one Vampirate. Grace could live with that. She could even live with the disappointment of knowing that Lorcan wasn’t quite the person she thought he was. He would still be a key figure in her life.

  She just needed to know the truth. But how would she ever find it if the Vampirates had agreed upon a conspiracy of silence?

  37

  A BRUTAL ROMANCE

  Lady Lockwood awoke on her silk-covered chaise longue in a state of mild confusion. Above her, in place of her cabin’s hand-painted ceiling, she saw stars. She turned and found Si
dorio at her side, watching her intently.

  “What’s wrong, my love?” he asked.

  “I’m on my chaise longue,” she said, “which is usually in my cabin. But unless I’m very much mistaken, I’m up on the deck of my ship.”

  He smiled softly at her. “You’re not mistaken. I carried you up here, chair and all.”

  “You did?” She smiled quizzically at him. “Whatever for?”

  He pointed above them. “There are so many stars out tonight,” he said, “I wanted them to be the first thing you saw when you woke up.”

  “Oh, Sidorio,” Lady Lola said, sitting upright. “You’re such an extraordinary creature—so capable of romance and gentleness one minute and of extreme evil the next.”

  “Thank you, my love,” he said. He would never tire of her compliments. “So,” he asked, “how did you enjoy our little outing tonight?”

  Lola smiled as she thought back to their earlier adventures. It was not her usual practice to hunt blood prey for herself. Usually she relied on her very able crew and then drank, at her leisure, from one of her elegant Venetian glasses. Even with John Kuo, she had had his body drained before taking more than a taste of his blood. This, she knew, was not Sidorio’s way. Though he humored her by drinking from her antique goblets, he much preferred to take blood directly from the source.

  So it seemed only fair that as he had deigned to try things her way, so she should step into his shoes and experience his world.

  “It was rather exhilarating,” she said, her face a little flushed. “Not something I’d necessarily want to do every night, but once in a while—especially with you.” She paused. “It was wonderful to see you in action, Sid. You were utterly merciless, my darling. I’ll never forget the way you punctured that thorax!”

  He blushed, clearly embarrassed by her flattery.

  She turned and found a decanter and two glasses on a table at her side. Once more, she gazed at Sidorio in wonder.