Demons of the Ocean Read online

  “Move it along, sonny,” bellowed the pirate behind him, nearly blowing out one of Connor’s eardrums.

  The room was full of action. As he weaved his way back to the table, Connor passed pirates arm wrestling across empty plates and rolling up the first tobacco of the day, while others got in a quick game of cards before their labors began in earnest.

  Toothless Jack and his foul-smelling mate passed Connor on their way out of the mess.

  “Have fun, Captain Courageous!” Jack grinned.

  Connor frowned and pushed on as the Stinkbomb noisily let rip once more. Connor was mightily glad he was sharing a cabin with Bart.

  He had almost reached the table when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself facing Cheng Li.

  His heart began pounding. She was the last person he wanted to see.

  “I need to speak to you,” she said. “Let’s go outside.”

  Connor looked over at Bart, who stood up and began walking toward them.

  “I’ll talk to the boy alone,” Cheng Li said. “Leave those teas here.”

  It was a sunny morning but nevertheless a strong wind was blowing around the deck. The sound of the billowing sails, as they passed underneath, was deafening. Some of the pirates were already busy going about their duties — repairing the rigging, cleaning the cannon, climbing the rigging to take their watch. Cheng Li led Connor to a sheltered spot on the foredeck. It was quieter here and they were all alone.

  “I wanted to apologize,” she said.

  Connor could hardly believe his ears. It was the very last thing he had expected to hear.

  “Yesterday was a terrible day for you, boy, and I fear that I was not as considerate of your feelings as I might have been.”

  “Thank you.” He couldn’t think what else to say.

  Cheng Li looked strangely at him. He realized that she was trying to smile. It appeared to be a torturous effort for her facial muscles and eventually she gave up.

  “How are you doing today, anyhow?”

  “I’m okay,” he said. He felt better than okay, actually. Food and sleep had restored his energy levels and he still felt the strange sense of calm that had come out of nowhere and flooded through his body the night before.

  “It would seem that even Bartholomew’s snores didn’t prevent you from sleeping,” she said. Although she didn’t quite manage a smile, her eyes sparkled just a little.

  “Almost,” Connor chuckled, “but not quite.”

  “And so, today, you begin your new life as a pirate.”

  He nodded.

  “Any idea what to expect?”

  “Not really.” He shook his head, looking around the deck. More of the pirates had come up from breakfast and were joining the others in their chores. It seemed there was a lot to be done and everyone knew their places.

  “It’s a good time to join up,” Cheng Li said to him, “especially for someone like you, who has . . . who needs a change. Piracy is changing, Connor. Our powers grow daily. If you work hard and learn fast, you could find it a very good life. There’s a lot I can teach you.”

  Connor remembered Bart telling him about Cheng Li’s training at Pirate Academy. Clearly, she was ambitious and committed. He was flattered that she saw potential in him and couldn’t help but feel rather guilty that he had no real interest in being a pirate. But she didn’t need to hear that, nor did Captain Wrathe, Bart, or any of the others. His one and only goal was to find Grace — to find that ship that none of them believed existed but that he had seen as clearly as he now saw Mistress Li, standing there before him.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said. Her voice was utterly businesslike again. “Last night, I lay awake in my bunk and I reflected upon what you told us.”

  Again, Connor could hardly believe his ears.

  “I thought about that shanty of yours and about how you described seeing the ship just before I rescued you.”

  “You . . . you believe me?”

  “I never doubted that you thought you saw it. I’ve just been puzzling over whether such a ship could really exist.”

  “It could,” Connor said. “It does.”

  Cheng Li shook her head. “You have no proof, Connor.”

  “The shanty . . .”

  “That isn’t proof. A song won’t help you to find your sister.”

  “Last night,” he said, “just before I went to sleep, I had this image of Grace sleeping safely on the ship.” He smiled at the memory. The image had been so strong he had almost been able to feel the softness of her pillow.

  “Excellent,” Cheng Li said. “So, we now have one vision, one dream, and an old song to go on. Really, boy, that’s about as much use to me as a paper cutlass. I’m looking for hard facts and you’re giving me whims and fantasies.”

  Connor frowned. Did she believe him or didn’t she?

  “I’m telling you everything I can,” he said.

  “It’s probably safest to give up on this,” she said crushingly. “It’s probably best not to get your hopes up. Captain Wrathe would berate me severely if he knew I was even having this conversation . . .”

  “I won’t tell him,” Connor said, desperate not to lose her — albeit shaky — allegiance.

  Cheng Li looked out to the horizon. “Could there really be such a ship?”

  Connor smiled. He knew that there could be. He could feel it in his veins. The Vampirate ship was out there somewhere and Grace was aboard. It wasn’t just a matter of him believing it now. Whatever her bluster, he could tell that Cheng Li believed it — wanted to believe it — too. He had an ally.

  “Of course,” she said, “there’s one rather important fact we’ve overlooked.”

  Connor turned to her.

  “Let’s suppose, just suppose, for a moment that the Vampirate ship does exist. And let’s suppose that this ship does have your sister aboard . . .”

  “Yes,” Connor said, impatient for her to continue.

  “There’s no easy way to say this, boy. If it’s a ship of demons — of Vampirates — what do you suppose they want with your sister?”

  She might as well have pierced his heart with an icicle. Connor felt her words cut through him but he couldn’t disregard the truth of them. What a fool he’d been. Here he’d been clinging on desperately to the idea that Grace had been rescued by the Vampirate ship. But even if she was on board, it wasn’t a rescue. And even if she was still alive this very morning, she might not be for long. Cheng Li had said before that drowning was a gentle way to die. Death at the hands of the Vampirates was unlikely to be quite so peaceful.

  13

  BROKEN MIRROR

  “How long have I been here?” Grace asked, as Lorcan stepped into her cabin, bearing a tray of food.

  “And a good day to you, too!” he said, smiling.

  “How long have I been here? How many days?”

  “Let me see,” he said, setting the tray down on the desk opposite her bed. “Why, I believe it’s been . . . three days and nights. No, no, I’m wrong. Make that four.”

  Four days and four nights. Grace trembled. If he hadn’t told her, she would have had no clue. Since her arrival on the ship, she had found it impossible to keep track of time. Of course it didn’t help that her watch had stopped and that there was no clock in the cabin. Being stuck in here, with the curtain drawn, she was mostly deprived of daylight. She felt tired so much of the time that it added to her sense of disorientation.

  “I brought you some hot porridge,” he said. “You must be hungry.”

  She was hungry but she had questions for him and he was becoming far too skillful at deflecting them. He’d lull her into eating the food and then she’d feel tired and lose focus on what she’d been waiting to ask him. And, after a time, she’d close her eyes and drift off to sleep. And when she woke he’d be gone — her questions unanswered. But no — not this time.

  “Lorcan, where is my brother?”

  “I don’t know that, Grace,” Lorcan
said. “You know I’d tell you if I did.”

  “It’s been four days,” she said. “I want to see Connor. I need to know where he is. I need to know he’s all right.” She was close to tears from a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.

  “I’m sorry, Grace. Truly I am. But I have no answers for you. Only the captain can answer those questions.”

  “Then I must see the captain,” she said, suddenly purposeful. “Would you take me to him?”

  “I’ll have to talk to him first. I can’t just take you to his cabin.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll talk to him, Grace.”

  “Today? Tonight?” She clasped her head. “Is it day or night? I don’t know.”

  “It’s night, Grace,” he said, taking her trembling hands and holding them for a moment. “Yes, I’ll talk to him tonight,” he said softly. “Now, will you not taste some of this porridge while it’s still hot?”

  “It will stay hot,” she said. “It always does. Just like these candles never burn down.” She got up and stared into one of the glass lamps. “I’ve been here four days and these candles are always lit, except the one time when I blew them all out. And then they all lit up again. Explain that to me!”

  Lorcan smiled and shook his head. “I told you this was no ordinary ship.”

  “But what kind of ship is it?”

  Her question hung there. He looked into the space between them as if waiting to pluck just the right words from out of the air.

  “’Tis the kind of ship where girls grow tired and weak if they don’t eat. Come on, Cook made it especially for you. It would break her heart to see it uneaten, so it would.”

  “If you want it, you eat it,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I have no hunger.”

  “All right. All right. If it will make you feel any better, I’ll eat your porridge.”

  She brushed past him and sat down at the desk. There, on the tray was a large white bowl full of hot porridge. It did smell good. Also on the tray was a jug of cream and a bowl of brown sugar crystals. As usual, the spoon had been wrapped in a starchy white cloth napkin. And, as usual, Grace found the food impossible to resist. She unwrapped the napkin from the spoon and sprinkled sugar over the porridge. She watched as the heat of the oats melted the sugar crystals into a deliciously thick syrup. Then she plunged in her spoon and ate hungrily.

  “There now, you’ll feel better for that,” said Lorcan, who had sat down on the edge of the bed while she ate.

  Porridge was supposed to give you energy. She remembered that from home economics class. But, like all the food she ate on board the ship, this left her feeling full but tired. Grace turned away from the desk and faced Lorcan again.

  “Are you drugging my food?”

  “What?” He laughed.

  “You heard me. Every time I eat or drink something, I feel so tired. Then I sleep for hours at an end — or what I think is hours. I really have no sense of time.”

  “Grace, you nearly drowned the other day. When I found you, there was barely a flicker of life in you. The body and mind take time to heal. Has it not occurred to you that maybe you just need to sleep?”

  It did make sense when he put it like that. Lorcan Furey had a remarkable knack for calming her dark fears. He seemed able to make sense of everything, but when he left her — when she awoke alone — all that gnawing, pulsating dread crawled back inside her head.

  “I’m going to go,” he said, standing up. “I shall find the captain and ask him for news of your brother. You’re right. You must have news of him. It isn’t fair.”

  He strode to the door.

  “Are you sure I couldn’t just come with you? Oh, I’d do anything to get out of this cabin for a bit.”

  He shook his head. “I must go alone. But I understand. Really, I do. I’d hate to be cooped up in here — though it is one of the best cabins on board and,” he pointed to the small washroom, “one of the few with en suite facilities. But, like I keep telling you, it’s for your own safety. I shan’t be long and while I’m gone . . .”

  “I know,” she said, “I know — don’t look out of the window.”

  “I was going to say — try not to worry. But yes, since you mention it, please keep the curtain drawn.”

  She nodded. He smiled at her and then slipped out through the door, locking it behind him.

  She was tired again. Of course she was. There had to be something in the food. And although she kept blowing out the incense, it seemed to keep relighting itself, sending its heady scent of vanilla and jasmine through the cabin. At first, she had thought the smell delicious — now it was cloying. She felt so sleepy. So very sleepy.

  No. She had to stay alert. This was too important. She had to stay alert and await Lorcan’s return. She looked around the room once more for something to distract her. Her eyes fell onto the notebook and pens on the desk. Suddenly, she had a flash of inspiration.

  She lifted the food tray off the desk and laid it onto the floor. Then she picked up one of the notebooks, smoothed it open, and took up one of the pens.

  “Day four,” she wrote. “Porridge. Lorcan has gone to ask the captain about Connor. Also asked him about candles and if my food is drugged . . .”

  She looked down at the words. It was not exactly poetry, but it might help her to better keep track of time.

  Just then, she heard noises on the deck — footsteps and voices. She set down the pen and walked over to the curtain. With the window shut, it was possible to hear voices only if they were right outside or if people shouted. For now, the noise was indistinct. That meant that people were not directly outside and that she could probably chance a look out.

  It wasn’t the first time she had disobeyed Lorcan’s warning — not the second, nor the third. She had grown practiced at pulling back the curtain only a fraction and blocking out the candlelight by pressing her face close to the windowpane.

  She did so now, once more, looking from side to side, searching for any sign of the crew. The deck looked empty at first. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a gaggle of people milling about by one of the guardrails. She tried to catch their voices but they were too far away.

  “Come closer,” she whispered.

  As if her words had enchanted them, the people moved away from the guardrail and walked into her field of vision. Grace pressed more tightly to the sliver of glass, desperate to ensure that not one flicker of candlelight showed from inside the cabin.

  She watched the people pass by. She heard fragments of sentences but nothing she could piece together. One of the crowd, she realized with a start, was the man who had stared at her that other night when she’d been caught looking out of the window. Sidorio — that was his name. And he hadn’t so much as stared at her as through her. She remembered the way his face had mutated, his eyes like pools of fire. But now he seemed like a normal man. It was as if she had simply imagined the strange metamorphosis. Perhaps she had. Perhaps it had only been a feverish dream.

  She heard the lock turning once more. Lorcan. Quickly, she dropped the curtain and jumped back onto the bed.

  Lorcan slipped back inside, once more turning the key in the lock.

  “I have spoken with the captain,” Lorcan said.

  “Thank you.” Her heart was racing. “What did he say? Is Connor here?”

  “He told me to tell you that your brother is safe but he is not on board this ship.”

  “Not on board? Then how does he know he’s safe?”

  “The captain knows.”

  She felt her frustration flooding over her again. “So when is the captain coming to talk to me?”

  “That can’t happen tonight, Grace.”

  “So you’re taking me to him.”

  “Now is not the time, Grace. The captain has many other tasks to attend to.”

  Many other tasks? What could be so important as this? What kind of monster was the captain to ignore her pleas? How could he be so cruel? She
was close to tears.

  Lorcan turned his back to her, as if he was about to leave the room.

  “Don’t leave me here alone,” she said.

  He turned, smiling. “I’m not leaving.” He had something in his hands. It was the hand mirror that she’d found on the lacquered chest. The one with no glass.

  “Take this,” he said.

  She looked at him questioningly.

  “Trust me. It’s a gift from the captain.”

  A gift? A gift of a broken mirror? She was getting to dislike the captain more and more. Was this his idea of a joke?

  “Take it from my hands,” Lorcan said.

  Grace shrugged. It would do no harm to take it, though a fat lot of good it would be to her. But as she held the ornate mirror in her hands, something strange happened. A trail of mist began to waft around her. It was coming from the mirror itself — from the panel where the looking glass should have been. She looked up at Lorcan, confused, but she could barely see him, the mist was forming so quick and so thickly. Before she knew it, she was standing in the center of a thick white cloud. It made her feel thoroughly dizzy.

  And then, the mist cleared. But she was no longer in the cabin. She was on an outside deck. She looked down at the deckboards. They were a natural brown — unlike the red-painted boards she’d seen earlier. She drew her eyes up again and there, standing less than a meter away from her, was Connor.

  “Connor,” she said, smiling broadly and running toward him. But as she ran, he moved farther away from her. Or rather, he remained the same distance away. She stopped running, realizing that she had not, in fact, moved.

  “Connor,” she called once more. He did not seem to hear her.

  She understood. This was a vision — as real as it seemed. She could see Connor and hear him, but it was strictly a one-way process. Never mind, this was better than nothing — much better.

  It was definitely Connor, though he was wearing someone else’s clothes — the clothes of a seafarer. But he seemed happy enough. She watched as he ran over to a broad beam. It was a mast. He was pulling on a rope. She realized that he was hoisting a flag. She looked up and saw the skull and crossbones. Connor was on a pirate ship!