Justin Somper - Vampirates 4 Black Heart

Justin Somper

For Peejay, for too many reasons to list here.

Chapter One: INTRUDERS IN THE FORTRESS

It was a calm, clear night. The Typhon charted its course through the ocean, sleek and confident as a killer whale. On deck, the pirates of the night watch performed their duties with time-honored precision. Belowdecks, their crewmates variously rested, ate, relaxed, and prepared for the business of the next day. The Typhon was a well-oiled machine, from the crow's nest to the galley, from the lowliest of pirate apprentices to the captain and his deputy.

In one of the smaller but nevertheless grand staterooms two levels below the main deck, four people sat around a circular table. The table was covered with a red silk cloth, from which arose a structure resembling the four walls of a fortress. Each wall was composed of small tiles, half wood, half bone, stacked tightly together. But evidently this miniature fortress was not impenetrable. The walls had been ravaged. Some of the tiles had made their way onto racks placed in front of each wall while other tiles lay bone side up on the table revealing an array of intricate colored symbols.

"Well," said Trofie Wrathe, a golden finger tapping the wooden rack in front of her. "This is fun, isn't it?"

Opposite her, her husband, Captain Barbarro Wrathe, was silent.

"Oh, yeah, big fun!" grunted Moonshine, their son, positioned to Trofie's right.

"I think it's a marvelous game," said the elderly man on Trofie's other side.

Trofie nodded encouragingly. "Thank you, Transom. I believe it's your turn now."

"Is it?" The Wrathes' trusty majordomo seemed confused for a moment. Then he reached forward and, with quivering fingers, removed a tile from the wall. Turning the bone side toward him, he drew it up to his eyes to examine the symbol more closely.

Moonshine sighed loudly. "Get a move on, Grandpa!" he hissed.

His father gave him a stern look.

"Well, really!" the boy persisted.

"Moonshine," said Barbarro Wrathe, his resonant voice loaded with warning.

Transom dropped the tile to his rack and, with a sudden burst of energy, began shuffling the other tiles around as if he was performing an elaborate conjuring trick.

"Remind me," Moonshine piped up again. "Why exactly are we torturing ourselves in this particularly grim fashion?"

Barbarro sighed, shook his head, and lifted a glass of honey-colored liquid to his lips.

Trofie smiled pleasantly. "Tuesday night is family night, min elskling. It was my idea, as you well know. I don't feel we've been spending enough time together." There was steel in her voice as she continued. "That's all going to change now."

In response, Moonshine rolled his eyes.

Trofie glared first at her son and then at her husband. "Will you say something to your son?"

Barbarro shrugged. "Maybe he has a point. He's not enjoying this. I'm certainly not enjoying this, and I can't believe that you --"

"I'm having a wonderful time," Trofie said, a wide grin immediately appearing on her face. "And so is Transom."

The majordomo was still rearranging the tiles on his rack. As he did so, his face went through a series of contortions. Suddenly, his fingers ceased their miniature ballet. He looked up and gave a little smile.

"Mah-jongg!" he exclaimed, flipping forward his rack to reveal neat sets of different tiles.

"Bravo!" cried Trofie, clapping her hands. She did not make much sound since one of her hands was crafted from gold, the other of regular flesh -- but her delight was plain to see. "Well played, Transom!" she said. "I think you're getting the hang of this." She glanced around the room. "Well, now, shall we set up for another game?"

"No!" boomed Barbarro and Moonshine in unison. For once, they had found something to agree upon.

"All right," said Trofie, clearly deflated. "What shall we do next?"

"You tell us, Mom," said Moonshine. "Family night is your gig."

"If I might be so bold," Transom began, "I could have the cook prepare a light meal for you?"

"Yes," said Trofie, nodding. "That would be lovely. Perhaps some gravlax, with cloudberries and cream?"

"Very good, madam," said the ancient retainer, rising to his feet and heading toward the door.

After Transom had left, Barbarro rose and lifted a decanter, refilling first Trofie's glass and then his own.

"Share the wealth, eh, Dad?" Moonshine said, grinning as he reached for a glass.

Barbarro shook his head and put the cut-glass stopper back in the decanter.

"But it's family night!" Moonshine persisted. "The one night of the week where we share and share alike."

"Don't push it any further than you already have, my boy," said his father, sitting back down. He reached for his wife's hand and tentatively caressed the golden fingers with their ruby nails. "We've given this a good go, Trofie, but what's the use in kidding ourselves? I could really do with going over those charts again. Would you mind --"

"Yes," said Trofie, abruptly withdrawing her hand. "Yes,min elskling, I would mind very much. No one is leaving this room. We're going to spend quality time as a family if it kills us." She folded her arms defiantly.

Barbarro grunted. Moonshine mimed stabbing himself in the heart and slumped, fake dead, on his chair. And that's how they sat -- in complete, suffocating silence -- until there was a knock at the door.

The relief in the room was audible. "Come in, Transom," called Trofie.

The door opened, and a vast domed silver tray came into view.

"I thought you said a 'light meal,'" Trofie laughed, but the smile froze on her lips when she saw that it wasn't Transom who had brought the tray. It was carried by a tall figure dressed in a dark cloak and hood.

"Who are you? What's going on?" Barbarro exclaimed as the figure set the tray down on the table. Two more cloaked figures came into the cabin. They closed the door and stood like sentries on either side of it.

"I asked you a question," Barbarro boomed. "Who are you?"

In answer, the first figure threw back her hood, shook out her long dark hair, and smiled at the three Wrathes. She was a strikingly beautiful woman with wide brown eyes and razor-sharp cheekbones. Slightly to the side of her plump lips was a delicate beauty spot. Around her right eye was makeup -- or perhaps a tattoo -- in the shape of a black heart.

"Is it necessary that I ask you a third time ..." Barbarro began.

At last the stranger spoke. "We're from the Oceanic League for the Defense of Elderly Retainers, O-L-D-E-R," she said in a clipped English accent. "It's high time you hired some younger staff, isn't that right, ladies?"

Her two companions smiled enigmatically as they pushed back their own hoods. They were younger women, both as strikingly beautiful as their mistress. Like her, they each had a black heart shape inked around one eye, though in their case it was on their right side.

"Seriously, who are you?" Barbarro persisted. "No one comes aboard the Typhon without an invitation."

"Is that so?" said the stranger. "Well, I've never been the kind of girl to wait for an invitation, the kind of girl who stays home and pines for the phone to ring." She laughed. "Not my style. I mark my own dance card, so to speak."

Moonshine grinned. There was something decidedly cool about this woman. And though she called herself a girl, from where he was standing, she was all woman. Her two companions were just as gorgeous. Whoever they were -- whatever their business -- they had certainly saved family night from being a complete washout.

"Well," said the stranger. "It's quite an honor to at last make the acquaintance of the great Wrathe family."