I screamed, and the vampire sprung.

  It wasn’t near as fast as I had expected, and it seemed to be a newly turned thrall rather than the prime, since it wobbled unsteadily as its legs bunched, and it half-jumped, half-stumbled over to me rather than rocketed through the air.

  That was likely all that saved my life, but it brought time for me to muscle down the scared child within and let the grizzled pirate take his place. The thrall’s teeth met the chain of my manacles, and then its head was wrenched to one side by my full-body heave. I had been a sailor for near on a decade before receiving my captain’s mantle, and while the marks left on your body from hauling ropes in the wind and the spray never truly left you, neither did the strength.

  It had been a solider before turning, and it was possible that none of the soldiers on the deck above were even aware that their comrade had been turned that very night. The padded gambeson it wore had a high collar, and I doubted I’d be able to strangle it given that was the case. Vampires also didn’t really breathe, as far as I could recall, so that would also make strangulation a naturally difficult endeavour.

  I did the next best thing and bellowed at the top of my lungs instead. My scream had already stirred a few people, but sailors and soldiers were notorious for being able to sleep through anything. My captain’s bellow cut through their sleep like a wytchblade through a vampire’s belly, and sailors scrabbled to their feet, shouting in panic as I frantically wrestled with the cursed thing trying to tear my throat to ribbons.

  “Get this fucking thing off me!” I yelled, and sleepy hands soon scrabbled at the thrall’s back. It turned and hissed, three-inch fangs flaring in the dull candle-light, and the sailors flinched backwards like a tide of nervous crabs.

  Then the big man was there, responding to my telepathic plea, a table leg clutched in two meaty fists soon slamming into the misshapen head of the thrall with a crunch. It squealed, a sound like metal shearing across metal, and several of the men clapped hands over their ears, before the big sailor went to work once more. Three heavy blows seemed enough to reconfigure its head into something a little more human, and I urged everyone up.

  “Top deck! Now!”

  Reactions were slow and I once more filled my lungs. “We need to burn it! Get outside and call the hunter!” I shouted.

  The two dozen sailors quickly transformed into a herd of stampeding wildebeast and charged up the ladders and through the soldier’s sleeping quarters. For their part, the soldiers were still rolling from their bunks and searching for weapons and armour, woken by my first shout and now thoroughly confused and panicked by the mass exodus of sailors through their quarters.

  When I came through, dragging the limp form of the thrall by the foot with support from the big sailor, there was an outcry. I perhaps should have thought about how it would look; a rush of sailors and then a notorious pirate dragging the limp and bloodied form of a solider through the ship…but appearances can be deceiving, and there wasn’t much time for straightening out misunderstandings.

  “Oi! What the fuck is going on!?” one soldier called after us, and then another voice chimed in swiftly; “They’ve got Chancer!”

  The room exploded behind us as we burst up onto the main deck, near the stern. The sailors were already milling around nervously, and two had sea-lanterns ready; little more than flickering candles that used whale fat as a source rather than traditional wax, and were covered by a metal cage to protect the innocent flame from the wind and sea-spray.

  “The hunter?” I asked as we emerged, and a tall, gaunt sailor pointed to the aftcastle where I saw the boy Micah running towards the doors as fast as his little legs could propel him.

  We had no more time to think though before the first of the soldiers emerged behind us, weapons held in hand and savage looks on their faces. The sailors behind me shrank back, but I held my ground as the first man advanced on me.

  “Chancer!” he exclaimed as he saw the broken body on the deck behind me, and then his eyes rose to my face, flashing dangerously. “You little shit. I’ll make you beg for what-”

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  The thrall on the floor let out another squeal, clearly coming round from the beating, and I saw the savage desire to kill me in the soldier’s face give way to confusion. Rather than waste further time, I turned and dashed one of the sea-lanterns onto the chest of the thrall, burning fat spraying up its gambeson and onto its head.

  The second lantern was soon following, and then the screaming began.

  It was a known fact that vampires despised fire and died once burned. It was also known that the magical plague fled their body in the final moments, and what was left beneath burned as a human for one last moment. That knowledge didn’t comfort any who witnessed a vampire burn, for their screams and moans and gasps, their frantic twitching and helpless suffering, was still difficult to behold.

  The soldiers watched their friend burn to death with a mix of apprehension, horror, and outrage. It was obvious now what had happened, and none were trying to cut my head off for attacking one of their own any longer.

  No, instead they waited quietly while the thrall that had once been named Chancer died a gruesome death. Only once it’s screams were dying down to a low crackling groan issuing forth from a tortured and cracked throat did the soldiers move.

  The man in the lead that had looked so close to killing me moments before reared his head back and spat at me, the fat glob of phlegm landing on my wide-sleeved coat with a splat. “You and your useless sailors did this, pirate,” he said, disgust dripping from his words.

  “All you’re bloody good for is death, and you bring it e’rywhere you go! I bet you released the bloodsucker from its cell, too!” he accused, some of the men behind him grunting in agreement.

  I looked from the anger in their faces to the naked steel in their fists and realised this was now a dangerous moment. They were scared and had lost one of their own, and there were few things more dangerous than a man who felt humiliated in front of his peers.

  “Backup lads,” I said over my shoulder to the sailors huddled behind me. “Get to the rigging if this goes south.”

  “They’ll be goin’ nowhere, pirate,” sneered the unnamed soldier as he waved his sword threateningly at my face. “We’ll carve up every single one of ‘em if we must, ‘till they tell us who’s responsible.”

  “Lucien was the one who ordered her brought back to the ship! I wanted to kill her the moment we met her. He’s the one who kept her alive after Francis killed one of the sailors yesterday. Think man!” I urged him, but the gleam of vengeance flickered in the solder’s eye, and I knew it was too late.

  “Beg, pirate, and perhaps I’ll spare some o’ the crew. We’ll need some of ‘em to sail us home, anyhow,” was the only solace I received, and it was far from good enough.

  I spat to one side. “You’ll not be harming my crew, boy,” I said in a dangerous voice, low and loud enough for all to hear.

  Many of the sailors at my back stood straighter, and the big one gripped his plank in a creaking grip. Two more picked up lengths of heavy rope and one a whaling harpoon. The soldier sneered again but didn’t attack for a handful of breaths.

  Everyone understood what that meant.

  And then Lucien burst from the aftcastle, shadowed by Micah. I gave him a grateful nod and relaxed slightly as the wytch-hunter arrived, bringing order and a semblance of calm to the situation after checking over the smouldering body and confirming that Chancer had indeed been a thrall.

  He then set about settling the soldiers down. They had questions, and were more comfortable letting the noble-born know of their anger than any of the sailors were, but there was still a firm line between grumbling and mutiny that none wanted to cross in his presence. All had grown up with legends of the vampire-hunters of Cerevis, and while his decisions may have been suspect thus far, cultural conditioning kept the men in line.

  It was my personal opinion that a strong sword-arm and unassailable magical might was the best thing to keep a crew in check, but I supposed the fop had both of those too, however much I hated to admit it.

  After he was assured that no violence would be taking place for the moment, Lucien turned to me, though I spoke first.

  “You need to kill it,” I said flatly.

  He frowned. “You know I can’t do that,” he said. Then, in a much quieter voice, almost to himself, he whispered, “the capital has expectations.”

  “It will turn more of the crew, Lucien,” I pleaded with him, hoping he would see reason.

  “It cannot escape the cage, Radagan. It is simply not possible. This man must have been turned previously,” he countered, swiping a hand through the air as if to bat aside the reality of it.

  I leaned closer and whispered; “It may have already turned half the fuckin’ crew and just be keeping them quiet. You let it live out the night and there’s no telling how many of us will wake tomorrow. It can activate them at any time, aye?”

  The words didn’t seem to penetrate the man’s dense reasoning. “It is impossible, as I said, man! I need the creature for…” he trailed off for a moment, then turned back to me once more.

  “Yes, it can always turn more men…” His gaze settled on me in a profoundly unpleasant way, and I saw a feverish gleam spark within them. “Come with me, Radagan,” he said while turning on his heel, voice now loud and filled with its usual arrogant drawl. “It is time that we dispatched the foul creature. You shall accompany me.”

  I shivered, knowing something was very wrong, but unable to figure out exactly what and without any options other than to follow. And so I descended into the bowels of the ship. Into darkness, and the creature of the night that waited within.