Darren Shan - 02 Ocean of Blood

The sailors were dubious — a fit couldn’t explain the blood smeared around his lips and chin — but they liked Malora, so they picked up the almost unconscious Larten and hauled him back to his bed. Malora followed, talking rapidly, telling the others trailing behind of the medicine she’d need, asking them to apologize to Yasmin, hoping they wouldn’t stop to ask questions if she kept them busy.

As the sailors maneuvered Larten through the doorway of their cabin and into bed, Malora paused outside and offered up a silent prayer to the gods. It seemed as if they’d gotten away with it. The captain was arriving and he looked like thunder, but she was sure she could laugh her way out of this. She’d blame it on the flu, let them strap Larten down if they wished to stop him straying again. No real harm had been done. Al things considered, it could have been a lot worse.

And then, as the captain roared at his crew and demanded to know what the hel was going on, it did get worse.

“He drinks blood!” someone yelled.

The captain and the others fell quiet. The sailors who’d dropped off Larten joined the rest of the crew outside and stared with them at the person who had spoken. It was, of course, young Daniel Abrams.

“He’s a bloodsucker,” Daniel said, relishing the attention. He hadn’t meant to speak up, but the drama in the cabin had excited him and he wanted to see more fireworks. “He’s some sort of demon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Malora snapped. “It’s the flu. He didn’t know what he was doing. Captain, you must believe me.”

And maybe he would have, except that was when a chaos-craving Daniel played his ace.

“If he’s not a bloodsucker, why was you cutting open sailors and bottling their blood the last place we docked? It was t’ feed yer bloodthirsty beast of a master! There’s vials in the cabin,” he said triumphantly to the shocked captain. “Search. You’ll find ’em, still bloodstained I bet, unless he’s licked ’em clean.”

“Daniel!” Malora cried. “Why are you doing this? I thought you were my friend.”

But Daniel had forgotten about his crush on Malora. He craved bloodshed. The scene with Yasmin had whet his appetite and he couldn’t stop now, any more than Larten could have when the hunger overwhelmed him.

The captain studied Daniel soberly, then turned his gaze on Malora. “Step out of the way, please, ma’am.” He nodded at a few of his sailors.

Malora shook her head. “Captain, no, don’t listen to him, it was just —”

“Ma’am!” the captain barked. “Ye’re not listening t’ me. Ye have t’ move now. This is bad fer yer master and if ye don’t get away from there immediately it’ll be bad fer you and all. If ye give him to us, I’ll settle fer that and spare ye. But if ye stand up fer him… fer what he did…” His features hardened. “It’s time t’ choose.”

The young woman looked from one stern-faced sailor to another. There was a vicious gleam to their eyes — they had caught the same dark lust as Daniel. Her friends had disappeared and she knew better than to beg for mercy. It didn’t exist here now.

Malora nodded slowly, accepting what destiny had unleashed upon her. Unlike Larten, she had no problem choosing her path. No problem at all.

“So be it,” she said, softly closing the door so as not to disturb the unconscious vampire. As the sailors bunched around her, silent as a pack of sharks, she laid the palm of one hand on the door and bid a silent farewell to the lover she would never get a chance to truly love. Then, turning calmly, she faced the mob closing in on her, sneered at their savage, bestial hunger, drew a knife and made her stand.

If the crew had stormed the cabin, Larten would not have been able to resist. He had passed out on top of his bed. It would have been a simple matter for them to turn him over, bare his left breast and drive a sharpened stake through his heart.

But superstition and fear swept through the sailors once they had dealt with Malora. Instead of rushing to finish the cruel business, they paused to debate the situation. And in that pause their doubts exploded.

“He’s a vampire,” one hissed, and explained what vampires were for those who didn’t know. It was a maelstrom of myths, theories and hysteria after that.

“He can turn into a bat.”

“He can turn into smoke and slip away.”

“He’s powerful at night, but weak in the day. We should wait for the sun.”

“A stake through the heart willdestroy him.”

“So willsunlight.”

“And holy water, but we ain’t got any of that.”

“If we attack now and he wakes, he’l be stronger than us.”

“Wait.”

“Daylight turns them to ash.”

“Aye, wait.”

“He can’t hide from the sun.”

“Wait.”

“Aye.”

“Wait.”

Larten was groggy when he awoke. He could have happily slept much longer, but something had disturbed him. Creaking noises, sharper and louder than the normal twangs of the ship, coming from directly overhead. As he listened, the sounds came again. It was as if the room was trying to rip itself apart.

As Larten sat up, confused, a couple of planks were torn loose from the ceiling and sunlight pierced the cabin. He flinched and drew back from the beams. There was laughter outside.

“There! He’s frightened o’ the light. Hurry, lads. Once we pull the rest o’ that ceiling away, he’s finished. He’ll be ash by breakfast.” Larten stared with astonishment as a crowd of sailors hacked through the thin roof of his cabin. They were working like a team of ants. They’d tear all of the planks away in a matter of minutes and Larten would have nowhere to shelter.

He couldn’t remember much of the night before, but he swiftly worked out what had happened. They had discovered his true identity and were coming to kill him. This was serious. The sunlight wouldn’t destroy him instantly, but he couldn’t stay exposed to it for long. He would have to retreat and seek shelter in the bowels of the ship. He could barricade himself in somewhere, but it was going to be nigh impossible to keep them out. Still, he had to try.

“Malora?” he croaked, although he already knew she wasn’t there. He looked for her, to be sure, then sighed with relief. They’d either captured her or she had gone over to their side to save her own neck. He didn’t mind which, just as long as she wasn’t sucked down into the pit with him. If this was to be his end, so be it, but there was no reason why the innocent girl should suffer too.

The vampire grinned bleakly as the sailors tore the ceiling to shreds. He felt better than he had in ages, stomach stil warm with Yasmin’s blood, head clearer than it had been for several days. Ironically, it seemed that he had gotten the better of the flu at last, so at least he could die in good health.

Larten washed his hands in a finger bowl, gargled from a glass of water, then drank the rest. He dusted off his clothes, brushed his hair back and blew his nose several times for good measure. Vampires didn’t fear death. Larten had already lived longer than most humans. This would be a good way to die, hunted and staked by a mob. Seba would chuckle proudly if word ever reached him in Vampire Mountain. “When you have to go,” he had often said to Larten and Wester, “try to go in style!”

As the last of the ceiling was pried away with crowbars, Larten crouched, then sprang through the gap that had been created, landing on the deck like a cat. The sailors cried out with alarm and reeled away from the freed vampire. As they scrambled over one another, shrieking with terror, Larten stood to his full height and glared at his tormentors, looking majestic despite his dirty clothes, red eyes and scraggly beard.