Epilogue:
Varick
A river of my own blood surrounded me, my skin healing over from the damage that had been inflicted by the sunlamps, the silver chains, and many more of Ingus's contraptions. As I lay in the Helsings' dungeon, Mercy's whispers ran through my mind: the words she'd spoken about Selena. Of what she suspected she was.
From the moment I'd been turned, I had made it my mission to seek out a cure. Something to reverse the Vampire curse that had been laid upon me and tarnished my soul. But I'd given up hope after too many years of searching, at last surrendering to the half-life I'd been left with.
Ravenos had been powerfully affected by Selena's blood, and so had I. I hadn't felt this human since I'd actually been alive. But if Selena's blood could return a V to its human form entirely, then she was in danger. From both Hunters and Vampires alike. And now helping her to escape on the yacht was starting to seem like a terrible mistake. Because I could no longer protect her. And the agony of that knowledge was worse than the literal torture I was being subjected to in this cell.
For some reason, my mind drifted to the day I had been turned. Somehow, it comforted me to relive the last few hours before my human life had been stolen from me. Back when my crew had walked at my side...
Spring, 1804
We'd travelled south for days on end. My King wasn't so keen on me or my men, it seemed; the English were sentencing twelve pirates to death every day. Or so I'd heard. And my information was weak seeing as it came through the flapping mouths of whores into the ears of my drunken crew. Exaggeration was in their nature, especially if Pud caught word of a story. By the time he'd retold it to my men, the details were exaggerated and unrealistic.
So we sailed for Clew Bay on the west coast of Ireland where a safe haven awaited us. My father had struck a deal with the pirate clan who resided there, which was of great fortune to us seeing as anyone not in allegiance with the clan were blasted out of the waters upon sight.
As we sailed into the bay, the colours of my father's ship were raised high on the main mast, surrounded by the rising land and calm Atlantic waters, we dropped anchor and made our way to shore. The pebbled beach rose to meet a single tower known as Rockfleet Castle, though it was barely more than a glorified tower. Sheer grey walls rose upwards to meet a ring of turrets at the top. It may have been small, but I was aware of the power this clan held. Not least by the many ships they had floating in the bay. If the cannons atop Rockfleet couldn't take us down to meet with Davy Jones, those on the Pirate Queen's fleet certainly could.
Kaitlin walked down the shore to greet me, a courtesy that didn't pass me by. Her mother and my father had been close and, as such, our bond remained in loyalty to them.
Her flame-red curls danced in the wind behind her as she moved into the water in sturdy boots. Unlike most of the women I came across, Kaitlin was no stranger to men's clothing. Her breeches were a dark green and she even had a velvet doublet on to match. The only feminine piece of her clothing was the knitted shawl she had gathered around her shoulders. And I could hardly blame her; the wind was biting.
“Varick.” She beamed a crooked smile and rushed to embrace me. The teasing from my men didn't surpass me and the moment Kaitlin released me, I rounded on them. “Kaitlin's more man than half of you lot. I assure you, many have had a slit throat instead of a hello from her.”
Kaitlin eyed my men with raised brows. “So this is what passes for men these days?” she asked in her celtic tones, clicking her tongue.
“Apparently,” I muttered and she shot me a grin.
“Perhaps they'll learn a thing or two from the women of Rockfleet.” She turned on her heel to a chorus of whistles and I slid my sword from its holster in warning.
My men fell silent and my gaze landed on Pud who was stumbling up the rocky shore, his nose buried in a notebook as he furiously scribbled something down. He had come to annoy me less since I'd taken an interest in his training, but his stories were ceaseless. I had to enforce silence on him during his training, lest I lose my mind.
Jameson joined my side, adjusting his belt. “Why did you never bring us here before?” He gazed after Katilin with such intent that it made a laugh burst from my throat.
I clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Good luck laying her, mate. I'd reckon you're at risk of losing more than your dignity in trying.”
Jameson ran a hand over his braided blonde hair, smoothing it back. “If anyone has a chance, it's me. Always did have a thing for redheads.” His eyes slid to mine. “Or perhaps you have a previous arrangement with the girl?” He started pumping his fists by his hips and I jabbed him with the butt of my sword. He wheezed out a breath, clutching his side, still smirking.
“I'll take that as a yes.”
“You can take it however you like, James. Kaitlin's family-” I gave him a stern stare. “-are not for bedding.” Not that I really thought he had any chance of doing so. But his attempts may not have reflected well on me.
Pud halted before the tower that jutted into the sky above us and began furiously sketching on his pad.
I jerked my chin at him.“Round that one up, Jameson,” I ordered, marching ahead to join Kaitlin's side.
She linked an arm through mine as we waited for the door to be unbolted from the inside. It was a simple wooden arch, no good for keeping out an army.
“Perhaps you need a little more reinforcement here,” I remarked. “A ram could knock down this door in two seconds.”
Kaitlin shrugged. “An army would have to reach my door first. And if they did, I would be ready.” As the door swung open, I came face to face with a canon of gold and inlaid emeralds shaped into shamrocks.
“Jesus,” I muttered, running a hand into my hair.
“Come, you must be tired. How far have you travelled?” Kaitlin asked as we headed through a dark room of wooden furniture with a roaring fire before the hearth. The only daylight in the room came through the arrow-slits high up on the next level. It was accessible by a wooden staircase, circling the room. It creaked underfoot as we climbed, and as we reached the third level, Kaitlin directed us between several rooms.
“As captain, you have your own.” She passed me a brass key and I took it in hand, thanking her.
“I'll have baths drawn up for your men, and a feast will be made in your honour.”
“You're too kind, Kaitlin. I wish I had a home to welcome you into to return the favour.” A dull sigh parted from my lips as I thought of my childhood. My mother had been an English maiden, a servant girl to a grand estate on the Kentish coast. She'd met in with my father after he visited Redwood Manor to meet with the Lord of the house. My mother was a victim of abuse, not even my father had divulged the details to me. But he recounted driving a sword into the man's neck after he found him beating my mother. He told her he could drop her at a pirate port of her choosing to start a new life. And whilst he sailed her to the West Indies, they fell in love. And my mother never parted from him thereafter.
As Kaitlin left me to rest in my room, I tried to conjure an image of my mother. But all I had was the descriptions from my father. An angel of hazel hair and lake-green eyes. Eyes, which I had supposedly inherited.
“Every time you look in the mirror, you see her,” my father would tell me, but it had never provided much peace of mind.
I moved past the four-poster bed, hung with crimson curtains, walking to the vanity stand where an oval mirror was perched. A woman's brush and powder pot sat beside a Flintlock pistol. Typical Kaitlin. Perhaps she'd forgone her own quarters for me tonight.
A beard took over my jaw. Days at sea, with a rough course to sail, gave me no time to shave. But when I docked, I always took care to trim it back. The men said I resembled my father with a sheet of stubble and that was something I used to my advantage. After all, they had been his crew previous to his death, so I would use all the tactics I could to maintain command over them.
My eyes were deepest green, so dark that at times they appeared black. I had my father's thick ebony hair and the cut of his jaw, but she lived on there in my eyes.
A year after I was born, she'd been killed in a battle with a pirate known as Mad Melwick. Though she'd been in the Captain's quarters, soothing me as a battle raged on between the two ships, a cannon ball had taken out the hull where she remained concealed. The resulting shrapnel had ended her life.
My father had found her, with me still held tightly in her arms, just an infant. Even I hadn't avoided damage, a slither of a scar across my forearm was a reminder of what had happened that day. My father had hunted Melwick until his revenge was taken from him in gold and, most importantly, blood.
Gold which was now hidden on an island in the north sea and only I had the knowledge of its whereabouts.
It took a while for me to relax enough to sleep. I'd grown accustomed to the rocking of a ship to lull me into resting. Here, the world was still, calm. Not at all what I was used to. But eventually, sleep came for me.
Cannon fire woke me- a single shot. My hearing rang with the proximity of it. It took a moment for me to realise I wasn't aboard my ship.
Screams tore through the tower and I was suddenly on my feet, my sword in hand.
The door burst open and a woman walked in, her eyes a deep grey that seemed to go on forever. Beautiful didn't come close to describing her. She shone like starlight, her features were sharp and flawless, the only mark on her was a smear of red around her lips.
“Drop it,” she commanded in a silky soft voice and my fingers opened on the hilt of my sword. It clamoured to the ground, but I wasn't afraid, my mind awash with her calming presence.
“I've been looking for you for a very long time, Varick.” She moved toward me with easy grace, her hips swaying in a dress that was far too flimsy for the brutal weather on the Irish coast.
“Looking for me?” I questioned, trying to focus my thoughts. But each one I had slipped away before I could grasp it.
She slipped a finger under my chin, coming eye to eye with me. “You have the smell of fate about you, Varick Cartwright.”
“Fate?” I echoed.
She laughed softly, the sound like a sweet song in my ears. “There is so much we have to talk about.”
I blinked heavily, nodding my agreement.
“But first, you have to die.” Her hands clasped my neck and with a sharp crack, the world as I knew it ended forever.
I was dragged back to my senses by a snapping of teeth. Sitting upright and pushing the hair from my eyes, I gazed across the cells to where Ignus and Ulvic Hund were standing, prodding at that damn wolf again.
“Finally,” Ignus gasped. “How much of that stuff did you give him?” He rounded on Ulvic.
“You said you wanted him to remain this way for as long as possible.”
“Yes, yes.” Ignus waved a hand. “No matter. We can be sure it works now. But I'd like you to develop a quicker antidote.”
Ulvic hesitated, then bowed his head. “As you wish.” He shifted to the side and I craned my neck to see into the wolf's cage. “Forgive me, but why do you want him this way at all?”
Ignus grinned, the kind of evil smile that would make any normal person run for the hills. “I would like him obedient in both forms. There is much a wolf can't do, that a man can. And now that Varick has betrayed us, we'll need another monster on our side.” He rapped his knuckles against the bars. “Hear that, wolf?”
“I have a name,” a voice snarled from within the cage and my ears pricked up. I knew that voice.
Making my way to the edge of my cell, I tried to get a better look, my heart thundering in my ears. I must have been imagining it. It was impossible that he was here.
“Who cares?” Ignus marched away and Ulvic hurried to follow.
When they were out of sight, I hissed across the corridor, “Hey!”
Two hands took hold of the bars in the wolf's cell and a face came into view. His hair was overly long, but still hung in a loose plait down the back of his head. His light eyes found mine, eyes I never thought I'd see again.
I shook my head, trying to figure out if the Helsings' were playing some twisted trick on me.
“Jameson?” I breathed in disbelief, blinking hard to try and shift the vision.
A hopeful smile curled up the corners of his mouth. “It's good to see you again, brother.”