Page 76

“Well, you die, and we take you anyway,” he says.

“But you can’t possibly let these people out after you’ve been feeding on them,” Abe says, the red starting to fade from his eyes and the insatiable curiosity of his doctor’s mind taking over. “They’ll tell everyone what happened.”

“You seem to forget the power we possess naturally, Doctor,” Ramsay says, tapping his temple. “We compel them to forget. At any rate, there’s nothing a good old spell won’t fix.”

“Who on this ship knows how to use magic?” I ask, wanting an answer of some kind. Are there Vampyres who are also witches, who weren’t turned like I was?

“I do,” Ramsay says, his voice stern, his gaze telling me he won’t divulge any more. In due time, I suppose.

Thane adds, “Even if the humans do remember what happened, no one will believe them.”

“That’s what they said about what happened in Eastern Europe,” Abe points out. “But now we have the term Vampyre because there were one too many stories that legend turned into rumor.”

Ramsay shrugs. “We’re doing our best to be a little more moral. If it backfires, I have no problems sliding backward on the scale.”

Thane lets out a wry snort. “Maren wouldn’t let you.”

“She lets me do what I need to,” Ramsay says pointedly.

“Oh, but when the crew voices their displeasure…” Thane says.

“I take it not everyone is happy with your new system?” Abe asks.

“No,” Thane says. “And we are supposed to be a democracy on this ship.”

Ramsay just shakes his head. “Enough with this jibber-jabber. These men are starving, and I’ve been a most inhospitable host thus far.”

To be fair to the captain, he has given us food, which was rather good, but not the sustenance we really need.

He takes out a skeleton key and opens the door to the hold with a loud creak.

The smell of the humans hits me like a fist to the face.

It’s dark in here, but there is a lamp nailed to the wall, high off the ground, that gives off a low glow, casting the humans in deep shadow.

There are five of them, one woman and four men, all dressed in simple shifts, the white clothes splattered with blood. They are sitting on a pile of hay, chained to the wall by their hands, with enough slack to let them turn around, lie down, or reach for their latrine bucket. They all have empty plates beside them, where a few crumbs of bread linger, and there are jugs of water between each person.

Frankly, it looks like hell, and it smells like it too, even with their sweet blood scenting the air.

They all stare at me with dull expressions, their eyes glazed.

“Are they drugged?” I whisper to Ramsay.

He nods. “It’s a combination of us feeding on them all the time and the rum we keep flowing through their veins. I swear, it gives their blood a little bit of a kick.”

“Five people,” Abe says, looking around the room with a discerning eye. “Five people for fifteen Vampyres?”

“This is why we need more,” Thane grumbles.

“We take a little each day,” Ramsay explains, walking over to a shelf and picking up a needle attached to a tube.

“You don’t,” Thane points out.

Ramsay shoots him an icy look.

“But you don’t,” Thane continues. He looks to us. “He has Maren.”

“Ah,” I say. I immediately think of Larimar. Those gills on Maren’s neck must mean she’s a Syren or still has Syren blood. That explains why the captain gets special privileges from his wife. Her blood goes a long way.