Captain Charles Vane Black Sails Novels & Stories

Panni replied, her golden gaze shifting to the sky. Above them, the Vane fleet descended. Massive iron-clad dirigibles, held aloft by heated gas and humming with internal brass rotors, blocked out the moon. The lead ship, the Aurelius, lowered its docking claws. A platform descended, carrying Alistair Vane. He was bleeding from the clockshop explosion, his silk suit ruined, but his eyes were filled with a terrifying, religious fervor.

It was the weight of a story finally ending. He had been the guy, the victim and finally the sacrifice. Malachi put his hand on my shoulder. "Elowen he chose this. He knew it was the way to break the tie." I knew I said. I wiped the blood from my lip. Stood tall. "Captain Vane! Get us out of the current! We have a goddess to take to the surface." As The Widows Wail began to move the Sea-Singer swam alongside us. Her presence calmed the big creatures of the deep.

The vessel, painted entirely in vantablack to evade satellite detection, cut through the mountainous ocean waves like a mechanical leviathan. The deck was swarming with dozens of identical Vanguard mercenaries, all armed and waiting in the torrential downpour. Julian was unceremoniously hauled out of the pod by two guards, screaming in agony as his shattered knee dragged across the non-slip deck plating. Dante and Elara stood back-to-back in the pouring rain, surrounded by an army of elite killers, trapped on a ghost ship in the middle of a raging ocean storm, realizing they had simply traded an underwater tomb for a floating fortress.

The red glare of the flare hung in the salt-heavy air like a bleeding star, casting a jagged, rhythmic light over the deck of the mangled gunboat as it pitched violently in the black harbor swells, Verina felt the world tilt, not from the waves, but from the impossible sight of the man standing over a pinned and gasping Miller. Silas’s father, Elias Vane, the original "Executioner" who had supposedly been buried in a watery grave ten years ago, looked like a specter forged from obsidian and sea-spray, his face was a map of deep, jagged scars and a decade of cold, subterranean exile, but his eyes were the same dark, predatory wells as his son’s. The heavy breathing of the two Vane men filled

he replied. "So, we'll be taking my private plane and will be at our destination at exactly 1600 hours. Hop on!" he told Isabella. She was shocked to see the superior side of the Captain. He was like giving commands to his troops. "That's what you say to your co-soldiers?" she asked while giggling. "What co-soldiers? There is no such thing." he laughed at her chosen words. "Well basically yes, but I'm more stiffed and I shout most of the time when talking to them. They can't see this soft side of me. It's only for you!" Carter was very naughty. He loves teasing Isabella.

“Tonight, we move.” The doctor gave a final nod, gathering his instruments and sealing the containers with sterile precision. Outside, the engine of the boat growled to life, cutting through the morning. As Charles guided her toward the deck, the sky above was still ink-black, the horizon only a faint smudge of gray. The boat began to turn, cutting through the restless sea toward the unknown. Below deck, Nina lay motionless, her breathing shallow, her world already swallowed by endless night. Above, Vanessa raised her face to the wind, breathing it in like victory. By the time dawn is fully broke, they would be gone.

“If we go by Kael’s vanguard speed, and the currents along the Western Ocean, we’ve got maybe three days, four if we’re lucky. And Luna, Kael brought fifty ships. The Imperial Missive we intercepted… it says the Emperor is bringing over three hundred. We don’t have enough Black Summit engineers to pull off sabotage at that kind of scale.” Silas spoke next, voice thick, arms crossed so tight his shoulders looked carved. “If three hundred iron dreadnoughts park in our harbor and start firing, the Capital turns to gravel in an hour. Our Sun-Fire wards were made for vampires, not Old World artillery.” “Then we don’t let them reach the harbor,” I declared, my mind already sliding into the tactica

It was inevitable that he would annihilate it. Vivian's expression turned cold as she abruptly sat up. Her gaze was chilling. "How dare you kill my darling? You'll pay for that with your life!" The black-clad figures instantly shifted into a battle formation. A net was cast over Vivian. But such restraints were useless against her. She unleashed her energy, destroying the net and yanking it hard to pull one of the black-clad men toward her. In an instant, her hand wrapped around his throat. -

And that pain, and her love, were stronger than anything else on that goddamn boat. Jeannine leapt at Papa Nightmare using her one good leg and drove the machete through his open mouth and out the back of his skull. The noise of battle ceased around them. The undead soldiers from long ago melted into the decking of the Sultana. The ship itself began to disintegrate as spectral planks gave way to rushing water. “Go!” screamed Curtis. The ghost ship rocked as its boilers exploded. With Papa Nightmare dead, there was nothing to hold the ghost ship together. Time was suddenly catching up with the old ship. The Sultana was reliving its death by fire from over a century ago.

Three of the others leaned in conspiratorially, eyes alight with interest and devious intent. Blake exhaled a stream of grey smoke. "Need to sedate him first. Make it look like an accident. Easy enough." Clouds were beading on the horizon, just a ghost of what could become a storm. Perhaps it was imaginary, but ominous no less. It was all about the signs, the dark omens the captain kept ignoring. The things that had been haunting the Black Hind's path had gone on far longer than anyone else liked to think about. Blake chuckled. His caustic amusement grated on the air, weighing like chains on the deck as he turned away. One more made seven, a veritable crew all by itself. Some even brewing wi