I pulled myself from the still-churning surf with a grimace – a near-constant expression of mine for the last few weeks, honestly. As bad as rotting beneath the capital was, I found being surrounded by arrogant nobles nearly as unpleasant.

  Lucien was pulling one of his men from the water as well, and I begrudgingly summoned one of the oars from the remains of my skiff and scooped the last surviving soldier from the water with a last burst of magic.

  For my trouble, I turned to find a fencing blade pointing at my heart. Lucien’s eyes were hard as ice, and his hand did not tremble, wrapped within the basket hilt of his sword. “Relinquish the skiff to me, Radagan,” he said, voice as flat as his eyes.

  I grimaced once more, spat to one side and wrung one sodden sleeve out onto the wooden planks beneath my feet. “There’s no vessel left for me to helm, hunter. I pose no danger to you now. Unless yer scared of an old man and his blade?” I asked with a jagged grin, my teeth glinting in the light cast from the hunter’s pistol.

  “I saw the oar, pirate.” He replied simply.

  I sighed, muttering “I’ll let your man drown next time, then,” before saying the ritual words. “This vessel,” I said, gesturing to the broken remains of wood littering the choppy waters behind us, “is all yours, captain.”

  I didn’t quite manage to keep the disdain from my voice, but the oar did begin to float away from the platform that we stood upon without my magic to animate it any longer.

  “I will lead. Radagan behind me, and Francis and Timo bring up the rear. Lights on,” he commanded, and both soldiers took out thin lengths of wood, engravings running up and down their surface. A pause and then Lucien gestured, the sticks shining with a faint purple glow to help light our way.

  We trudged through the bilge, climbing over spare rigging coiled up and used as ballast. I unsheathed my cutlass, clutching the slightly curved blade in one fist and wrapping my other hand within the long sleeve of my coat. Lucien glanced back at me but ultimately said nothing about it. Evidently, he wasn’t worried about betrayal at this moment, and he had good reason not to.

  There were noises in the ship that were familiar to all of us; hissing, coughing, gurgling. As if creatures with lungs full of water were trying to screech.

  Vampires.

  Lucien led us through the belly of the dead galleon, and he was the first to react to the attack. A flash of movement, and then purple light was streaking out in front, blowing a hole through the head of a sailor. Or what had once been one, at any rate.

  I heard splashing behind and turned in time to see the soldier at the rear go down beneath a shambling pale thing with eyes like seashells gleaming in the deep and teeth as long as a spider crab’s legs. He screamed as he died, and his friend shouted in anguish, “Timo!” even as he pulled ineffectually at the vampire making a mockery of his comrade’s neck.

  I wasted no such time, and the blade of my cutlass severed head from shoulders cleanly. Timo was dead though, his life’s blood leaking out into the dirty water around our feet. We journeyed on.

  Lucien dispatched 3 more turned sailors as we continued, but I noticed a surprising lack of coordination. I didn’t comment on it, but Lucien had surely noticed as well, and seemed to pick up his pace as we passed through the ship.

  He muttered some words and purple bloomed once more in the belly of the ship, a soft light shooting off towards the aft of the vessel. He grinned at us over his shoulder, and the light flashed strangely against his teeth, making them look unnaturally white, although perhaps that was a personal preference of mine. I was a pirate, after all, and we weren’t known for dental hygiene.

  “He’s here,” he whispered, eyes dancing. “Notice how the thralls could barely stand on their own? He turned them recently – it’s lucky we arrived so soon after the wreck, or they might have posed real danger.”

  I wondered what Francis would say about that, considering the circumstances of his friend’s death, but I didn’t care enough to ask.

  “Can a vampire turn those already dead?” I asked. I knew the generalities, as did all born in Cerevis, but I’d spent my life on the ocean, so vampires weren’t a danger I needed to fear overmuch.

  “No, pirate, no they can’t. He will have turned these just before the wreck, I suspect. That was probably the cause of it – the captain deciding it would be better to wreck themselves and die than float back to harbour as the thrall of some wytch-beast.”

  “Brave man,” I grunted.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Agreed. I can only hope to make a similar decision should it ever come time to choose,” said the hunter, turning to face forwards once more and striding onwards through the murky vessel. “What brought about that question?” he asked.

  I hesitated, before deciding to share my worries. Perhaps he could shed some light on them – he was a vampire hunter, after all. “They all bear marks, hunter. Deep-crawlers have very distinctly shaped beaks, and their bites are hard to mistake.”

  He didn’t turn, instead shooting a stumbling thrall in the face and cutting down another that emerged from a dark crevice, even as he replied. “What are these deep-crawlers? You mentioned them before as well.”

  “Unlike anything you’ve seen, I’d wager,” I said, throwing his own words from earlier back at him. “But they resemble the deep-sea squid that sometimes plague ships that roam too far from the coast. Smaller though, much smaller. Most are no larger than a man, and some can fit in the palm of your hand. Sneaky buggers-”

  “Yes, yes. That’s all well and good, Radagan, but as I said, the vampire can only turn those still alive, so perhaps they were simply gnawed on while stumbling around this gods-forsaken ship.”

  I grimaced to myself as he dismissed my question without due consideration. Still high-born, no matter his current competence. There was no more time to discuss though, as we climbed a set of stairs out of the bilge and onto the second deck. Lucien seemed convinced that the vampire was close, and we moved through the crew’s sleeping cabins, fighting off the odd turned sailor every now and then, until we reached a room at the haft of the ship.

  It was dimly lit, but soon the purple glow of Lucien’s magic lit the room in full, his power reaching its zenith in the presence of the vampire he had crossed a hundred miles to hunt down.

  He stared at the corpse in confusion and disappointment, seemingly unable to comprehend that his quarry could be dead. I supposed he had likely spent many an hour envisioning himself being the one to kill the creature, and now that dream lay cold and pale on the floor before him.

  He snapped his head up at the same time as my hand went behind my back, fingers resting on the handle of my Old Bessie. A woman, beautiful and achingly pale, emerged from the shadows at the edge of the room. Her lips were full and red, as if stained by blood, and her eyes glowed faintly in the purple light. Lucien’s thin blade appeared beneath her chin, and she stopped with a gasp.

  The moment she started speaking, I decided she needed to die. She had wide eyes, her mouth open in an expression of shock, and as she wove her tale over the young vampire hunter, I realised how dangerous this woman truly was.

  “Oh, my hero! You have come for me! I was so afraid, I couldn’t possibly tell you how awful it’s been…” she babbled, voice breathy and filled with gratitude.

  To my surprise, he cut her off with a gesture. “Enough, woman! I can tell that you are infected. How is this so? You are not his thrall else you would have no wits to speak so.”

  “No no, you misunderstand. I swear, my lord, I’m just a humble cook! He,” she said, pointing at the corpse of the vampire on the floor between us, “took over the ship. Day by day more of us turned, until the captain realised what had happened and steered us into a storm in the hopes of grounding us far from Cerevis. Oh, but it was so terrible! The groaning of the ship, the water rushing inside!”

  She cringed to one side, batting her eyelashes at the hapless young fool, even as she lied to his face.

  “I woke here after the wreck, and I can only curse my luck that he found me hours ago. He bit me, here,” she said, thrusting her wrist out to us, and I saw a fresh wound there, two great rents in the skin swiftly healing.

  “How is it that he died, then?” Lucien asked, hesitant. “You surely do not expect me to believe you defeated a mature vampire alone?”

  She seemed to shrink back, flinching from his words, and he stepped forwards instinctively. I could tell it was forced though. Her eyes remained flat and empty even as she winced and curled upon herself, and I tightened my grip on my pistol.

  “No, my lord! I shot him – my da left me an ancient flint-lock, and taught me how to use one. He was a great admirer of the wytch-hunters, and made sure I knew where to aim to hit the heart before he let me leave for fortune on a ship. I must have gotten lucky, sir, because he dropped to the floor and hasn’t moved since!” She implored him, big eyes pleading, and I knew he would crack likely before he did.

  He made a show of humming in thought, inspecting the vampire’s body briefly. There was a bloody rent in its chest, but I couldn’t tell what had caused it in the dim light.

  “We shall take her with us. Francis – bind her wrists and gag her.”

  She fell to her knees gratefully as Lucien gave the order, but I growled in frustration. “This is a bad idea, Lucien,” I warned. “She can’t be trusted – she is a thrall, and will kill us as soon as she has the chance.”

  He turned to me with a sneer though. “We do not kill women in cold blood, pirate.” I sighed as I heard the disdain in his tone once more. “And she is no longer a thrall. She killed the one who turned her – the prime – and has therefore taken control of his compulsion.”

  He turned to her then, speaking in a suddenly much calmer voice, as if reassuring a spooked horse. “Do not worry, you will be treated with respect and dignity until we can ensure a comfortable end to your plight. I am only sorry we did not get here sooner.”

  She smiled up at him, and I saw the lad grin in response, gracing her with what he no doubt thought was a suave expression. I felt faintly sick.

  I also noticed the same bite marks I’d seen in all the other thralls and even the young boy we’d initially found in the skiff. A circular pattern of needle punctures and the outline of a triangular beak around them. I wondered what tale the trail of dead men was trying to tell me, even as the idiot high-born lad twittered on.

  “Drop the remaining thralls, if there are any, and let us return to the ship. They have a hold with a temporary prison – you understand, don’t you, my dear? One can never be too careful.”

  “But of course, my lord! Please, I would feel more comfortable behind lock and key anyway. At least until I can see my da again. I’d be ever so grateful were I to be able to say goodbye in person,” she murmured with another flutter of lashes.

  I sighed as I followed along. If I had to name two things that had caused nearly as much damage as the God-Plague, it would be arrogant nobles and desperate young men. The two combined would surely be the end of me.