The Lantern's Ember

  A fine repast was brought in. When her plate was uncovered, Ember bent to inhale the fragrant steam of plump sausages, flaky fish, and caramelized root vegetables. When she looked up, she saw a ghost staring at her. It hung half in and half out of the wall. The young woman, if a ghost could be called a young woman, opened her mouth as if she wanted to speak, but then Dev turned his head to see what Ember was looking at and the entity vanished in a puff of smoke.

  The server spooned a green vegetable onto Ember’s plate, distracting her. She’d never seen it before and picked up a piece, nibbling it delicately. It was salty but tasty, with little crunchy bits on top. As she ate, she wondered what the ghost wanted to say.

  It wasn’t until she’d tasted everything that Dev told her she was dining on seaweed topped with crispy eel bladder, and that the fruit salad was dressed with something similar to frog’s eyes. She didn’t dare ask what the sausage was made of, and instead set down her fork and knife and asked the vampire captain for her story.

  “I was in love,” Delia started, her dimple flashing. “It was a scandalous affair, and one my parents highly disapproved of, which made it all the more exciting, in my opinion.”

  “Wait,” Ember said. “Parents? I assumed the two of you were brother and sister because you’d been made by the same vampire.”

  “Darling,” Delia said with a laugh, “vampires are only made in the way you’re thinking in the human world, and we consider them…what’s the right word, Dev?”

  “Half-breeds,” he answered.

  “Yes, half-breeds. They have certain limitations that we do not, such as the need to avoid sunlight.”

  “In our case, we were born vampires, just as you were born a witch,” Dev explained.

  “But you do live long lives. Or are you immortal?”

  “By your standards, yes, we live a long time, but we are not immortal. Nor are we invincible. Though we are nearly so when engaged with a witch, such as Dev has been,” Delia said with a cheeky smile.

  “Del,” Deverell warned. “I’ll thank you to share your own stories and not mine.”

  She sighed. “Fine. You know you’re nearly as fussy as Derrick.”

  “Derrick?” Ember asked.

  “Our brother,” Dev explained. “I am the eldest. Delia is fourth. Derrick is the fifth and youngest. Numbers two and three are Daxton and Dragan, who are twins.”

  “So Delia is the only girl?”

  “I am. And the only skyship captain too. Mum and Dad are ever so proud.”

  “Well…shouldn’t there be a Damon or a Dixie or a Dan or about a hundred more of you if vampires live so long?”

  Delia laughed heartily and Ember’s cheeks burned. “Are you asking about a vampire’s reproductive cycles for educational reasons or personal ones?” She winked at Ember and waved a hand. “The answer is: Vampires can breed as much or as little as they like. Our parents wanted five, so they stopped when they filled the available positions.” Delia cocked her head. “You’re an interesting one,” she said. “I can understand why Dev’s trailing you like a puppy looking for a home. Love’s a funny thing, isn’t it?”

  Glancing at Dev, Ember saw that the vampire’s eyes were trained on her. He didn’t look hungry, not exactly. He seemed to be…well, she really didn’t know, did she? Was it concern she saw there? Fondness? Worry? Though she was fairly adept at reading the minds of mortals, Ember found the skill didn’t seem to work on Otherworlders. But if there was one male emotion she knew well, it was worry. Jack wore that look constantly. Well, that and vexation.

  Delia sighed heavily. Her features had gone soft. And not in the way of most women. Human women’s faces sort of melted. Especially when it came to babies and weddings. Their expressions were like bowls of butter left out on a summer day.

  With Delia, it was more of a slight tenderness behind the steel angles of her cheekbones. A gentling of her lips. An easing around the eyes. A relaxing of the shoulders. She spoke about the first ship she’d ever sailed on. It was a flexion class, though Ember didn’t understand what that meant.

  The captain who ran it was a pirate, a smuggler like Delia, and was the only one interested in taking her on as an apprentice. It seemed that vampires were rarely trusted. Even so, he made her do all the hard, menial jobs, hoping she’d give up and walk away at the next port. But Delia was smart, efficient. They grew to appreciate each other, and he frequently asked her opinion when it came to which ships to attack and which to avoid. She had an uncanny way of knowing whether a ship had a large payload based on the way it sat in the air.

  Delia said, “Eventually, he made me his first mate. One night, when we were passing belowdecks, he stopped me, and when I asked what he needed, he kissed me. He was my captain, and he was my first and only love. He was quite rakish and dastardly, and I fell for him harder than I did for flying. Even though he was a werewolf, a natural enemy of vampires, and despite the fact that engaging in an intimate relationship with a fellow officer was a solecism of skyship code, we sought every clandestine opportunity to be together.”

  “So what happened? Did your families protest? Were you discovered?” Ember asked.

  “Ha!” Delia barked. “It wouldn’t have mattered to us if our families had found out. When we were on land, we shot convention out of our cannon and did as we pleased. But when we were on the ship, we were careful. It wouldn’t do to spoil both of our reputations. For all the crew knew, we were simply first mate and captain. To keep our moving about at a minimum, he created a secret passageway from my bunk to his.”

  “Then I don’t understand. What happened?”

  Delia’s face hardened. “He betrayed me. Me and his crew. We were thick in the throes of battle. Our ship was taking a beating. Part of the bulkhead had been destroyed, and we were running dangerously low on witchlight. We were after some highly dangerous cargo, something only rumored to be real—a doomsday device. The plan was to disable the ship, capture the device, and then sell it to the highest bidder.”

  Ember hated to ask but had to know. “Did you find it? What was it supposed to do?”

  “Supposedly, the device was to be used at a certain crossroad. A pivotal one. The idea was that if enough witchlight was harnessed, the device would separate the Otherworld from the human world forever. Either that or collapse them. We were never told the truth. And, no, we never found it, though we did find the ship supposedly carrying it.”

  The captain went on. “We lined our ships up, parallel to each other. The other ship was one of the best in the Otherworld fleet—the Nautilus, it was called. It still had plenty of witch power. The nets were practically bursting with it. We’d barely made a dent in its hull, though ours was tarnished with smoldering pits. We were hemorrhaging witchlight just to remain afloat.

  “I told the captain he should signal the retreat. That we would be fools to stay and if he chose to do so I was desperate enough to call upon the boogeyman for help. I told him we were faster; we could hide in a cloud bank. He refused, and when I demanded to know why, he looked at me with such resignation, such sadness, I practically choked. I knew he was giving up. But I didn’t yet know why.

  “That’s when I saw it. Another ship rising behind the Nautilus—one that was well matched to it. The two ships began to battle, and the Nautilus turned its attention on the much larger enemy. I knew immediately that we’d been used to provide distraction.

  “The new ship was no pirate airship—at least, none I’d ever seen—but it didn’t belong to the Lord of the Otherworld like the Nautilus either. It flew under no banner, and its technology was far superior to anything I’d seen. We needed to scramble out of there before we were captured and interrogated. And yet my captain gave the command to help the new ship and continue firing on the Nautilus. He was no pirate following a code. He was in league with someone. My captain, the man I loved, was a spy.

  “At first, I just stood there, immobile. Then
the crew started shouting, crying, ‘Infiltrator!’ ‘Turncoat!’ ‘Code breaker!’ and ‘Toss him overboard!’ As the first mate, I had to respond. I caught his shirt in my hands and thrust him against the balustrade. ‘Do you admit you’ve betrayed your crew? Betrayed me?’ I demanded, my heart breaking.

  “He looked me in the eyes and nodded. ‘I have.’

  “ ‘Then you leave me no choice,’ I said. Baring my fangs, I sank my teeth into his neck. I’d fed from him before, countless times, and, for a moment, I was able to close my eyes and pretend that it wasn’t happening. That my ship wasn’t crippled. That the man I loved hadn’t acted falsely. But he had. And now it was my duty to end his life.

  “ ‘Goodbye, Delia,’ he said softly, whispering in my ear as he cupped the back of my head. One moment I was draining his blood, destroying the one thing I would have given my life for, and the next there was a painful wrenching, and he was gone. He’d slipped over the railing. My weakness showing, I cried out for him, stretching out my hand to catch his, but he fell fast, disappearing in the clouds.

  “I called the retreat and we limped away as quickly as we could, leaving the Nautilus and the ship attacking her behind. It was quite obvious to me that the Nautilus was floundering. It was going to spiral into the sea any moment, just as surely as our captain. It wasn’t until we were well away that I realized I’d left one of my fangs behind, embedded in the neck of the spy I loved.”

  Delia touched a fingertip to her one silver fang. “I had this one dipped in metal as a reminder. You see, when a vampire drinks, he experiences pleasure through the tooth. I can survive without the pleasure. This way, I’m not tempted to love again. Nothing, no one, will leave their mark on me like he did.”

  Just then, the ship rocked. A man appeared at the door.

  “What is it?” Delia asked, rising quickly from her chair.

  “It’s been a mite blashy the last hour,” the man said. “Weatherglass says we’re headin’ into a storm.”

  Delia smiled. “I suppose it’s all hands on deck, then. Dev, if you wouldn’t mind escorting our guest to her quarters? It looks like we’re in for a bit of a ride.” Before she exited, she turned. “Oh, and, Ember?”

  “Yes?”

  “Try not to cast up your accounts on my ship, eh? Won’t be able to spare a deckhand to clean up after you for a while, if you do.” With a cheeky wink and a flash of her dimple, the captain disappeared.

  The lights flickered, and Ember stumbled against Dev as he guided her speedily through the corridors. When the ship lurched suddenly, Ember screamed, “This feels like more than a storm! Are you certain we aren’t being attacked?”

  “When it comes to my sister, I’m not certain of anything!” Dev replied.

  Finally, they reached their section of the ship. Dev threw the lever securing the door to their quarters and quickly escorted her to her room. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to check on my sister.”

  “Surely you’re not planning on leaving me here,” Ember said. “Just lend me some clothing a bit less cumbersome and I’ll join you on the upper deck.”

  “Absolutely not. You’ll be much safer here in your room. Besides,” he added, tugging on the flounce of her now-drooping collar and daring to kiss her nose, “I rather like this dress. It suits you.”

  Ember frowned as he turned away.

  “Drink some of your tea,” he added over his shoulder. “I believe your witchlight is returning. You’ll find it on the table.”

  “But, Dev—” Ember began.

  He shut the door behind him, fastening the lock on the other side, effectively barring Ember in her room like a prisoner. Angry at his dismissal, and even more irritated at being sent to her bed as if she were a naughty child, she picked up the bag of tea and threw it at the door. Powder poofed in a golden cloud and settled onto the carpet. Ember stomped over to the fallen bag, scooped up what she could, and headed to the bath. Turning the spigot to hot, she ran the nearly boiling water into a mug and added a few pinches of tea powder into it.

  It wasn’t a proper tea at all. She didn’t like its taste, its graininess, or the manner in which she’d been dismissed and commanded to drink it. After stirring it with her finger and sucking the excess drops from her fingertip, she prepared to down the liquid by pinching her nose, when a flash of light distracted her.

  Setting down the cup, Ember strode over to the large windows of the shared sitting room. Ember’s and Dev’s rooms were located on the aft side of the ship. As such, she couldn’t see where they were going, only where they’d been, and at that moment she couldn’t see much of anything. A volley of rain pattered the glass, obscuring the view of the darkened sky.

  As she stood there peering into the night, there was another discharge of light. She thought it was lightning at first, but the normal thunder that accompanied it was different. The boom was softer, sweeter, more like a song, and the light seemed to curl around the ship like a ribbon.

  Pressing her nose against the glass, Ember wished, not for the first time, that she’d borrowed Finney’s spy spectacles. She could just make out swirling shapes, and she longed to peruse them under one of the different spectrums of Finney’s glasses. They appeared to her naked eyes as slightly darker shadows against the dim backdrop of the sky. They were illuminated every time the peculiar lightning struck.

  She heard a scream pierce the sweet music of the song, and in response, something shifted belowdecks. At the bottom of the window, Ember could just make out the black barrel of a cannon as it maneuvered into position. They were firing on something! The skyship shook as it shot, but she heard no resounding blast. Whatever they were aiming for was safe for the moment.

  Another boom sounded as the gunner shot again. This time the aim was true. The screaming noise faltered, sputtered, and stopped, and a distant craft caught on fire and hurtled toward them. A bright light grew and grew until Ember had to shield her eyes. Certainly, this was the other craft crashing into her part of the ship, but there was no time to get out of the way.

  Ember screamed and covered her eyes with her arms.

  When nothing happened, she lowered her arms and took a nervous step back, and, strangely, the light followed her. It wasn’t rushing toward her at all. Then something bumped against the window, something familiar. Jack’s pumpkin! She scanned the window to see if she could open it, but it was sealed on all sides.

  The pumpkin shook its head at her, and she could swear it was gesturing her away, so she took a few steps back. The light grew brighter, so intense that Ember could only look through her fingers. The glass cracked, forming lines of damage like delicate spiderwebs. Then the window shattered. The debris, whipped by the storm, peppered her skirts and was sucked out into the night.

  Flying in, the pumpkin did a little pirouette, but it was clearly weighted down. It had a rope tied to its stem that hung outside the window. It appeared to be carrying something quite heavy. Quickly, Ember led the pumpkin to the desk, which was bolted to the floor, and they worked together to secure the rope to its leg.

  Fog, thick and white, spilled into the room, and Jack took shape, hauling on the rope. His greatcoat was soaked and his blond hair was plastered against his head. She’d never been so relieved to see someone in her entire life.

  “Jack!” Ember cried, and threw her arms around him.

  He gave her a half smile in return but strained to pull the rope. “Help me, Ember.”

  “But I don’t understand. If you’re here, then who’s out there?”

  “Finney.”

  “Finney? Finney!” she cried.

  Ember grabbed on to the rope as well and leaned a bit too far out of the broken window. She nearly lost her hat as well as her balance. Jack yanked her back, tearing the sleeve of the beautiful dress. “Careful!” he shouted. “Don’t want to lose you too.”

  Nodding, rain running down her nose, and wet strands of fallen ha
ir sticking to her face, Ember took hold of the slick rope and pulled. Her arms were shaking by the time Finney’s red mass of hair popped up over the sill of the window. Together, they hauled him in and once the three of them were safely aboard the skyship, they all fell back on the wet carpet, breathing heavily.

  Jack was the first to recover. He gently removed the rope from Finney’s chest and freed his pumpkin. Somehow, Finney had kept hold of his bag as well as his spectacles. The rope that had been lashed beneath the boy’s arms had torn his shirt and given him a terrible burn, but he was alive.

  “You’ve certainly got gumption, Finney,” Jack said, admiring both the boy’s ingenuity and bravery as he lifted the heavy bag from Finney’s arm. “Tying yourself to my pumpkin. I honestly didn’t think you were going to make it.”

  “Your pumpkin likes me,” Finney said with a grin as the smiling orb floated over to him and settled beneath his hand. “He wouldn’t have let me fall.”

  Jack looked at the blinking gourd. He would not at all be surprised if it had thoughts independent of his own.

  Ember, tripping on her sodden skirts, ran to the water closet and picked up the entire stack of towels. She handed one to Jack and then gave one to Finney. He started rubbing his chest dry but then winced at the pain.

  “I think I’ve got something for that,” Ember said. “I’ll be right back.” Riffling through her belongings, she threw items every which way until she found a tube of healing ointment she’d made before she entered the Otherworld. Wetting a towel with the stuff, she pressed it against Finney’s burns.