Vampirates: Tide of Terror Read Online Free Page B

scimitars. Now the crew of The Diablo were held under swords from both sides. They had no chance of escape. But where was the enemy captain?
    “Let the shamed captain announce himself!” It was the same voice that had commanded them to lay down their weapons. A voice that spoke of violence and no mercy. Connor and the others glanced about the deck. But it was not clear who was speaking. “Let the shamed captain announce himself!” repeated the voice.
    “I have already made my presence clear,” called Molucco Wrathe in response, “which is more than can be said for you , sir.”
    Connor looked over to Captain Wrathe. Even now, in the face of disaster, Molucco had lost none of his grandeur. He was, and would ever be, a larger-than-life character.
    Suddenly, there was a noise high up above. Connor glanced up to the crow’s nest. A man stood there — clad in the same costume as his crew, head to toe in black. The other pirates began looking upward, too.
    Then, to Connor’s amazement, the captain jumped from the crow’s nest. He dived down onto the deck, flying past the sails and rigging, trailing a black cord behind him. As he neared the deck — and certain death — the cord held him tight, like a bungee. He bounced for a moment, then hung upside down — and perfectly still — like a sleeping bat. Finally, the captain unsheathed his scimitar and sliced through the cord. As the cord broke free, he executed a perfect somersault in midair, landing neatly on the deck a few feet from where Molucco stood.
    The mysterious captain strode toward Molucco. His scimitar flashed in the sunlight like cut diamond. He ran it across Captain Wrathe’s neck. Still, Molucco did not flinch.
    Now the captain lifted his other hand and removed the dark coverings of his head. The black cloth unfurled like ribbons, which flew away in the breeze.
    Only now, did Captain Wrathe pale and seem to shrink in stature. Only now, did he seem at a loss for words, gulping for air. Until, at last, he managed to open his mouth and speak.
    “ You! But it can’t be . . . can it?”
    Connor turned to Jez, wondering if he knew what was going on. But, for once in his life, Jez Stukeley was utterly silent.

3
    THE DEVIL AND THE ALBATROSS
    The captains stood face to face. Well, as close as was possible, given that the captain of the containership was a good head taller than Molucco Wrathe. His face was tanned, angular and smooth as soapstone, save for a deep scar, which dissected his cheek like a purple river.
    “Narcisos Drakoulis,” Captain Wrathe exclaimed in wonder. “I thought to have seen the last of you.”
    “I’m sure you did, Wrathe.” Captain Drakoulis smiled, without a trace of warmth. “Many winters have come and gone since Ithaka.”
    Connor looked from one captain to the other, wondering what dark history lay between them.
    “Your crew mutinied. They took your ship. You were marooned. How did you do it? All this . . .” Captain Wrathe’s voice trailed off as he surveyed the deck, taking stock of Drakoulis’ hoards of fighters, their scimitars flashing like fire in the sunlight.
    Drakoulis smiled again through tight lips. “Always have a Plan B, Wrathe. It’s the first rule of captaincy, is it not?” He raised his scimitar in the air, prompting his crew to repeat the gesture, so their weapons surrounded the pirates of The Diablo like a lethal fence.
    “Keep still your weapons,” Drakoulis ordered, “for now.”
    Connor shuddered, wanting to check Jez’s reaction but unable to tear his eyes away from Captain Drakoulis. There was such danger in the captain’s cold eyes and in his emotionless voice. Connor realized that today’s attack had been doomed. He cursed himself for being so gung ho. Now, he might never see Grace again. After everything it had taken to find her, now it might all come to an end on this very deck — at the hands of one of Drakoulis’ crew.
    “There’s been a mistake, Drakoulis,” Molucco Wrathe said.