Vampirates 4: Black Heart (27 page)

"I'd have liked to have seen that," Sally said. "Dexter used to tell me about it. And I'd have liked to have seen it through your eyes, and Connor's."

Grace held the padlock in her hands, wondering if she had it in her to break it. If only Connor were here now, his brute strength might have done the trick. But she didn't have his physical power. There was no way she could break the substantial metal chain.

Then a fresh thought occurred to her. She might not have Connor's physical strength, but she had different powers of her own, powers that had begun to emerge during her time on the Nocturne and at Sanctuary. So far, these had been in the areas of thought connection and astral traveling, but perhaps there was a chance that she could use them in other ways, too.

"What are you doing, my darling?" Sally asked, seeing Grace's concentration.

But Grace could not answer. Her focus was directed to the padlock, which weighed like an anchor in her palm. Was there a chance, just a chance, that she could persuade it to open? Persuade it, that was the word. She wouldn't force it, just coax it, of its own volition, to open. As if it wasn't an inanimate metal chain but a large insect or a scorpion. As she framed this thought, she stopped seeing the chain at all. Instead, looking into her hands, she saw a red and black scorpion.

Open, she willed it. Please, open for me.

She watched as the creature's pincers began to move. It was opening! It was moving ...

"Grace!" Her mother's voice again.

She had to stay focused on the scorpion. To tease open its pincers. Just a little more ...

But as much as she willed it, the pincers refused to open any farther. At last, Grace sighed and admitted defeat as the scorpion disappeared and she looked down once more at a rusty padlock.

Sally put an arm around her. "Were you trying to break the chain?"

"Yes," Grace nodded. "But I couldn't do it." Tears were welling in her eyes. She had so wanted to take Sally into the lighthouse and up to the lamp room.

"It's all right," Sally said. "We don't need to be in the lighthouse to feel close to your father."

Her voice was like balm to Grace's shattered nerves. "No, we don't," she said, releasing the padlock at last. "You're right."

"Well," Sally said, "Cook certainly did us proud, didn't she?"

They were sitting back on the beach, surveying their picnic spread of sandwiches, fruit, and other tempting goodies.

"Yes," agreed Grace, popping open two bottles of pink lemonade and passing one to her mother.

"Cheers!" said Sally, clinking her bottle against Grace's.

"Cheers!" echoed Grace.

"No, no, my darling," Sally said. "That's not right. When you say cheers, you must look into the eyes of the person you're cheersing. Try again!"

"Cheersing?" laughed Grace. "I don't think that's an actual word, Mother."

"Don't be stubborn," Sally said. "Just because you haven't heard it before doesn't mean it isn't a word." She lifted her bottle once more and gazed directly at Grace. Grace stared back and mirrored the gesture. Their vivid green eyes locked.

"Cheers!" exclaimed mother and daughter in unison as their bottles clinked again. Then each took a swig of the delicious lemonade, which was already warm on account of the early afternoon sun.

The picnic exhausted them, and they packed the remnants back into the hamper, then stretched out on the beach.

"We should have brought along a blanket," Grace said.

"No." Sally shook her head. "I like lying on the sand."

Grace wrinkled her nose. "But sand gets everywere!" she said.

"Yes, my darling," grinned Sally. "That's the whole point of sand."

Grace laughed. She was having such a lovely time. Was this what it was like to share time between mother and daughter? She had nothing to compare it to. It felt like being out with a girlfriend, though really Grace's only true girlfriend was Darcy, and they had yet to go on a picnic together.

"What are you thinking about?" Sally asked her.

Grace shielded her eyes from the sun. "Just how special this is. How wonderful it is to have this time with you."

"For me, too," Sally said. She hesitated, as if she was preventing herself from speaking. Then she shook her head and opened her mouth again. "I'm trying to keep things light and bright," she said, "because I don't want either of us to get upset and spoil this special day."

"Me, too," Grace said.

"But still," Sally said, "I want to tell you how sorry I am, Grace. You deserve so much more than this. So many more picnics on the beach and cliff-top walks. You deserve so much more of a mother than me."

"No," Grace said, looking directly into her mother's eyes. "No, you're everything I ever hoped my mother would be."

"Really?" Sally asked, a tear in her eye.

"Yes," Grace said, reaching out and hugging her. "Really."

They left the hamper on a rock and walked along the beach, arm in arm. Not a soul was around, and they had the long stretch of sand all to themselves. They were barefoot, both pairs of sandals now resting beside the picnic basket.

"Our one afternoon," Sally said sadly as they walked along the water's edge, "and we must spend it talking about the past."

Grace nodded. She knew there wasn't much time left for them to say all they had to say. "What happened after Dad joined the Nocturne?" she prompted gently.

"Well," Sally said, softly, "at first, things went on as before. I continued to serve Sidorio, just as Shanti did Lorcan. Sometimes, I confess, I wished that Sidorio might be a bit more like Lorcan. Shanti would tell me things that Lorcan had said to her, and it was clear to me that they had a real friendship, unlike Sidorio and me."

Grace couldn't help frowning at this. Sally shook her head. "It wasn't a romance, Grace. Not at all. But Lorcan and Shanti were friends. They talked. She was more to him than simply his blood supply."

Grace remembered the terminology Oskar had used. MBS. Mobile Blood Supply.

"Sidorio," Sally continued, "remained aloof, formal." She shrugged. "But as time went on, it mattered less and less to me. I was spending more and more time with Dexter -- my dear, darling Dexter."

Grace smiled. "What did you and Dad talk about when you were out together?"

"Everything! He was such an interesting man. So different from all the other men I'd known. They were all show, with nothing inside, hollow somehow. Your dad was different. There were so many depths to him. We never ran out of things to chat about."

Sally paused, reaching down and trailing some grains of sand through her fingers. "But increasingly," she said, "we talked about one subject more than any other. Our future." She sighed. "Dexter was so optimistic, so starry-eyed. He wanted to take me away, off the ship, to start a new life together. But I kept telling him that I had made a commitment to the ship, and to the captain and Sidorio. He had known that when he bluffed his way aboard. And I'd told him time and time again, ever since. He knew what he was getting into -- the choices I'd made."

"What did he say to that?" Grace asked.

Sally smiled. "He said that no decision was irreversible. He said that we should go and talk to the captain and see if he was willing to break the bond."

Grace was wide-eyed. "And is that what you did?"

"I kept arguing against it," Sally said, "but Dexter was very persuasive, and in the end I thought, well, he's right. There's no harm in asking, is there? And so, yes, I went, on my own, though, to see the captain ..."

Sally's words failed. Grace looked over at her mother. Weariness was etched all over her face. The walk must have exhausted her. She should let her take a break. Grace sighed and reached over to brush a stray strand of auburn hair away from her mother's green eyes. "Why don't you take a rest, Mother?" she said, leading her back toward the picnic hamper and their shoes.

Sally closed her eyes gratefully, her fingers wrapping themselves around Grace's own. She squeezed Grace's hand weakly, then let her body relax. Before too long, Sally's breathing had lengthened and grown soft.

Grace watched her mother sleep for a while, amazed to be so close to her yet to know so little about her. Finally, she pushed herself up to a sitting position. She looked out to sea, remembering her younger self walking here with Connor, collecting shells and skimming pebbles across the water, turning and waving up at their dad in the lighthouse. Suddenly, she felt an overpowering desire to see her brother.

Careful not to disturb her mother, Grace looked back at the lighthouse. "Connor," she whispered. "Connor, where are you? I can't do this on my own."

27THE VISITOR

It had been a long day, and Connor had been desperate to get to his cabin and flop on his bunk. But although he was dog-tired, as he lay on the bunk he found that his mind was still spinning with thoughts that prevented him from drifting off to sleep. He tried to shut them out, punched his pillow into a different shape, and settled down again. But still, sleep wouldn't come. He reached for a book and began to read. In spite of his best efforts, his head was still spinning with anxiety. He set the book down in exasperation.

"Connor?"

The voice was instantly familiar. And close. Connor looked up to find Grace standing beside his bunk, looking almost as surprised as he felt.

"Grace!" he exclaimed. "How did you get here? How did you know where to find me? And to sneak into the cabin, without me noticing!" He pulled himself up against the pillows. "I guess I must have drifted off," he said.

"No," Grace said. "It may seem like I'm here with you, but I'm not."

Connor grinned. "Oh, I get it. I'm dreaming this. It makes sense. I've been thinking a lot about you today, wanting to see you. So I dreamed you up."

Grace shook her head. "No, Connor. You're not dreaming. I think I'm astral traveling." She smiled. "It's good to know you've been thinking about me, though. I've been thinking about you, too. Guess where I am?"

Connor frowned. What kind of a question was that? "You're here, in my cabin!"

"No," she said. "This is an astral projection of me. Look, I'll show you." She walked over and sat down on the bed beside him. He was puzzled. She appeared to be weightless.

"Here," she said. "Don't freak out. Now, take my hand." Saying this, she extended her hand toward him. He reached out for it and wrapped his fist around her smaller one. He couldn't feel anything there; his fist had simply curled in on itself. Yet when he glanced down, he could see that Grace's hand still appeared to be beneath his. Now it was his turn to shake his head. "I really don't get this," he said.

"As I said before, this is a projection of me," Grace said. "It's really me. I'm here with you, and we can talk and stuff. But my physical body isn't there. It's separated from my mind. It's something Mosh Zu taught me. It must have become instinctive."

Connor was tempted to pinch himself and check that he wasn't dreaming. But somehow what Grace said made sense, and he realized that it was further evidence of her immersion in the other world -- the world he needed to persuade her to separate from. However she came here, whatever had brought her to him, this visit was a gift. He realized that the main cause of his sleeplessness had been her -- his anxieties about her and his need to talk to her. Well, now he had the chance.

"It's good that you're here," he said. "I need to talk to you."

She nodded. "I guessed that, Connor. We've always been close, haven't we? I think, on some level, we're able to pick up on each other's moods -- to know what each other is thinking."

"Maybe," Connor said cautiously.

"We just need to refine that process, strengthen the connection," continued Grace, "so that we can communicate even when we are physically apart." She smiled. "Now, answer my question!"

"What question?"

"The one I asked you before. Where am I?"

He frowned once more. "You mean besides here?"

"Yes," she said. "Where is my physical body?"

"Tell me," he said. "It's late. It's been a difficult day. I'm not in the mood for guessing games."

Grace wrinkled her brow but then smiled again. "I'm in Crescent Moon Bay, on the beach."