At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Kat *Banging on Manouche's door, looking back, searching to be certain she hasn't been followed, shouts*  Be anyone about.

Manouche, Blake and Raven *look around at each other, all conversation stopped.  Raven breaks into big smile* 

Manouche *to Raven*  Looks like ye won't 'ave to wait after all, luv.  *jumps up, runs to door, flings it open*  Blimey, Kat, come in!  *motions her inside*  Where ye been keepin' yerself, mate?  I were startin' to worry.  C'mon in th' kitchen ... *smiles broadly*  Raven's 'ere, an' he's wantin' to see ye.

Kat:  Manouche, you're here.  But how … *  Realizes that explanation of how she saw what had occurred might be difficult, hesitates*  I mean 'ow are ye luv?  I've been about.  Ye say Raven's back.  Is 'e alright?

Manouche:  Me?  I've 'ad me ups an' downs, I'll fill ye in later.  As fer Raven, he's fine.  Well … he’s been through a lot, he’s still recoverin’.  I mean t’ say, ye’d never know t’ look at ‘im, he’s strong an’ healthy, an’ seems so grown up.  Ye’ll be quite amazed by his appearance.  *lowers her voice*  Th’ main thing y’ should be aware of fer now is, he don’t quite remember certain things, savvy?  He remembered you an’ me first an’ foremost, but … he don’t recall his dad at all. 

Kat:  What 'appened to him that made 'im not remember, I wonder.  Doesn't remember Abberline.  Now that's interesting.  Maybe it's a sign.  Maybe 'e don't want to remember.

Manouche;  I’m afraid I know why he don’t remember.  It's a terrible misunderstandin', 'avin' in part to do with th' Inspector's skewered thinkin' on a few things.  Kat, mate, I know ye ain't fond o' Abberline, but ... he's still Raven's dad.  So ... if, later on, Raven still wants t' try an' 'ave a relationship with him despite everything ... per'aps we should help him do just that.  Jus' think about it.  Anyway, this ain’t th’ best time or place t’ go into it.  We’ll ‘ave t’ talk later, you an' me, when no one’s about …  *voice trails off as Raven and Blake enter room*

Raven *looks at Kat lovingly, feeling a little shy*  M-Mother …  *he comes up to her a little slowly, not running up and flinging his arms as he did before.  He stands before her, beaming, then wraps his arms around her gently, hugs her very close*

Kat *Putting her arms around Raven*  Raven, luv. I thought ye were lost to me.  Promise me that if ye e'er want to be takin' to the sea, you'll come to me.  Can ye do that luv.  *Holds him tighter.*

Raven:  I – I will, Mother, I promise.  I don’t remember why I rushed off the way I did, so fast.  But I won’t do it again—   *cuts off, freezes, pulls back, looks at her, frightened*  Mother, what’s happened?  Someone has hurt you … are you all right?  Where’s Constable Crane?  *hugs her close again*  Are you in danger ... I'd kill anyone who tries to harm you ...

Manouche *exchanges worried glance with Blake, speaks up soothingly*  Ahh, no worries, lil' mate, yer mum's fine, I'm sure ... prob'ly jus' needs a coffee, ay?  C'mon, back in th' kitchen, we'll fix 'er up.  *speaks with a lightness in her voice, though inwardly experiencing a dizzy sensation in response to Raven's concerns ... remembers seeing Kat and Ichy asleep in front of the house ... senses a fleeting glimpse of the Heart and Soul tattoo, followed by a vague indication of pain ... it fades quickly as Blake speaks, and she's relieved to hear his voice*

Blake:  I'm thinkin' Kat might like a mimosa, what do you say, Kat?  *also keeps tone light, watches Manouche anxiously*

Kat *Nervously draws back.*  I'm fine.  Perfectly fine.  I have to go.  Ichy is waiting at Chez Roux for me.  I'll return again soon, luv.  I promise.  *Turns and swiftly leaves house.*

Raven *watches her go, tears fill his eyes*  I -- I've frightened her ... I didn't mean to do that ...  *Blake comes over, puts comforting hand on his shoulder*

Manouche:  N-no, luv, y'know how yer mum is, ye remember.  She's like that, savvy?  She rushes off quick-like at times ... wait 'ere ... *turns, runs after Kat, runs to door, calls for her*  Kat!  Kat, come back!  I 'ave a lot to tell ye, mate.  *waits, listens, doesn't hear her.  Sighs, turns to go back inside, stops, hangs onto door for a moment as the pain comes back, stronger this time, like a burning on her arm ... the same part of the arm where Kat bears the tattoo.  She looks down, sees nothing there, no discoloration, no blistering ... she grips the door, and the pain slowly passes.  The key around her neck heats slightly, then very quickly cools down again.  She straightens back up, looks outside where Kat has disappeared, speaks softly but feels certain Kat can hear her*  Come back soon as ye can ... ye ain't alone in this, mate, whatever it is.  *wipes sweat from brow, ducks back inside, closes door, locks it*

Kat *Pauses, having heard Manouche's voice, she looks back expecting Manouche was there, but sees no one; sighs*  But I am alone, mate.  No other way.  *Continues on her way*

On The Lancet:

Malachi *asleep in the cell, is rudely awakened by a loud crash.  He jumps up, hears a second one, feels the ship rock*  What the hell …  *stands, grasps the bars of the cell, looks around, doesn’t see Mr. Noble, or anyone else guarding him.  Hears another crash; the boat takes a sickening lurch to one side, and he notices a faint smell of smoke.  Yells out:*  Okay, somebody better get me out of here now!  *He hears a loud splintering sound from above, and jumps out of the way just as a large wooden beam breaks, sea water pouring in with it; a section of the beam swings down, crashes into the cell door where he had just been standing, busting the door open, the beam jammed into the doorway.  There’s just enough room between the beam and the open door for Malachi to squeeze through.  He grips the beam, soaked by the water, is able to get a firm enough hold on it to climb up to the deck above, from which it came crashing through.  Pulls himself partially through the hole in the deck, stops short as he comes face to face with a pistol*

Carver *holds pistol, stares down at him, big nasty grin on his face, surrounded by about a dozen crew members*  Well, well, well!  Who ‘ave we ‘ere, then?  Comin’ up from below, he can’t be of any particular note, now, can ‘e?  Looks t’ me like he come from th’ galley, an’ were left behind.  *leans forward, mocking smile*  Don’t take it too ‘ard, laddie.  Rumor ‘as it that th’ former captain o’ this bonnie vessel were known far an’ wide fer his delicate constitution.  Chances are yer culinary selections were a tad too much on th’ piquant side fer ‘im, an’ he figured this as a way t’ save face in front o’ his men.  Better t’ leave th’ cook t’ Davy Jones’ locker than fess up to a weak stomach.  *men laugh loudly; two of the larger ones grab Malachi by the arms and pull him up to the deck, stand him on his feet before Carver, who still holds the gun on him*

Malachi *hands up*  Did you say FORMER captain?  So, there’s been another coup?  That’s the second one I’ve been aware of for The Lancet, and I haven’t been on her a fortnight.  Kind of a floating banana republic, isn’t it?

Carver:  WAS, laddie.  She won’t be changin’ hands again anytime soon, now that she’s under me command.  *examines him closely*  What’s yer name?

Malachi *quickly says a name that pops into his head*  Corso.  Dean Corso.  *starts to put hand out to shake, hears several guns cocked, pointed at him; hesitates only slightly at the sound, then smoothly finishes extending his hand to Carver*

Carver *laughs*  Aye, ye ‘ave nerve, son, I’ll grant ye that.  *casts his eye around the crew, nods; they lower their guns, keeping a wary eye on Malachi.  Carver lowers his own weapon, shakes Malachi’s hand*  Y’ take it all right in stride, do ye?

Malachi *shrugs*  It’s not my ship.  It’s a minor irritant … like being bit by a dead bee.

Carver *narrows his eyes*  Ay??

Malachi:  Y’ever read Hemingway, Captain?  Little story called To Have and Have Not.  There’s a character in the story, a rummy goes by the name Eddie.  Always askin’ everyone he meets, “Was ya ever bit by a dead bee?”  He then explains how getting stung by a dead bee can be just as painful as a live one, you can get stung just as bad.  Now the way I see it … *waves arms around* … this is all pretty much out of my control.  *nods toward hole in deck*  My time aboard this ship has been spent entirely down in that miserable galley, cooking for a fool captain who can barely digest rice and tapioca, and never had the guts to tell me.  Imagine, if you will, a man with a shred of culinary vision, working night and day, no appreciation, almost no time spent outside of that lousy hold.  So now, the ship is changing hands again.  It doesn’t matter much to me what happens to the ship, no love lost there.  And, chances are, my lot won’t change much one way or the other.  Well, I take that back, there is a minor improvement.  From the looks of things … *glances around at crew members, then at Carver* … at least now I may be serving a patronage that won’t go spare at the mere mention of Cajun hot sauce or Andoullie sausage.  *a couple of crew members snicker at this*  So y’see, Captain … whether the bee’s dead or alive … the sting’ll be about the same for me, either way.  *grins*

Carver *nods approvingly, starts to laugh*  By all saints, yer a cool one, ye are!  Fortitude like that don’t come along every day.  However, I need ye t’ care, sonny at least t’ some extent.  Would ye like t’ be knowin’ why?

Malachi:  I’m all ears.

Carver *puts arm around him, speaks confidentially*  What ‘appens when one ship takes o’er another ship?  It yields two ships an’ one captain, savvy?  *Malachi nods*  Aye.  Therefore, it’s me decision t’ put ye in charge o’ The Lancet … with a number o’ me trusted crew to remain on board an’ at yer service, whilst I bring me own ship into safe harbor.  I’m namin’ ye captain o’ The Lancet, boy, under me command, fer at least th’ duration o’ the time from ‘ere to journey’s end.  After that, we’ll take stock, see where we stand.  Which, of course, means I’ll decide at that time whether yer an asset t’ be retained, or a useless bilge rat best left to th’ bottom feeders.

Malachi *keeps a poker face*  I’ve run a rig or two in my time, some bigger than this one.  *looks around at ship, then back at Carver*  I believe our partnership could be of great mutual benefit, Captain … apologies, I didn’t get your name …

Carver:  Carver, lad, Captain Carver, late of Fiji an’ Tortuga.  I hate t’ stick ye with a wounded vessel such as this’un be, but there’s little choice under th’ circumstances.  It’ll be as good a test fer ye as any, th’ way I see it.

Malachi *yawns*  Give me a challenge, Captain.  The holes you shot in this ship are ABOVE the water line.  I could bring her into harbor in my sleep.

Carver *laughs heartily, slaps him hard on the back*  I don’t doubt it!  Right, then, Captain Corso, we ‘ave an accord.  *turns to his men, motions to a group of them*  Ye’ll stay ‘ere an’ assist Mr. Corso.  The rest o’ ye, come with me back to th’ ship.  I want guards on Captain Barnes an’ Mr. Noble at all times, along with that psychic.

Malachi *perks up at this, keeps his voice casual*  Psychic?  Who would that be, Captain?

Carver:  Afraid that’s one too many questions, laddie.  At least fer now, till I’ve ‘ad a chance te judge yer mettle.  *one of the men to remain behind approaches them – an incredibly handsome, thudworthy man with brown eyes.  Carver waves an arm toward him, looks at Malachi*  This be Jovi Dominic, he were a yacht salesman before he wised up an’ joined me crew.  An’ he ain’t had so much as a passin’ regret since.  He’ll be yer first mate fer th’ duration.  *raises voice*  Right, ye scabrous dogs, we’re off!  Weigh anchor!  Set course fer that blasted Deppville!

Malachi *still maintains a poker face, watches Carver and his men move to return to the other ship anchored alongside The Lancet; he watches the remaining men scramble to prepare The Lancet to set sail.  Mutters under his breath*  Deppville!  *looks at Jovi Dominic, standing next to him, his expression unreadable.*  Tell me, Mr. Dominic … was ya ever bit by a dead bee?

At Chez Roux:

Kat *Enters Chez Roux, not really expecting Ichy to be there.  Feels a tinge of guilt for the lie.  Spots Abberline and ignores him, taking a seat at the bar ordering rum*

Abberline *sees Kat enter and take a seat, puts the papers back into the folder and goes to her*  Can I join you?  *sees her expression*  This is official business.  The Commander has decided to open the case of the dead pirate.  I need information, that's all.

Kat:  Sit as you like but I 'ave no information that yer not already knowin'.  *Goes back to her drink*

Abberline *takes a seat beside her, orders himself a brandy*  The fact is that I don't know much.  The Commander wants me to arrest you immediately, but I don't want to do that.  I know that you don't trust me, but I really want to make a fair investigation.  Wouldn't you like the matter cleared up for good?  What is the evidence Crane was referring to?  I haven't seen anything, except the locket that vanished.  And there is this, hm … relationship you have with Nate.  Kat, you have to tell me more.

Kat:  You wanta know more, I'm sure you'er 'avin' access to Fiji police records.  They'd be most informative, I assure you.  As for my relationship with Nate, I suppose you could call it that.  He all but killed me.  You can't get much closer than that.

Abberline *sighs*  You are trying to make it as hard for me as possible.  That's not the whole truth about Nate.  Where's Constable Crane?  Don't you see that I am trying to help you, or do you prefer being arrested by the Commander?  Your choice.  *puts his hand on her arm*  There's something else, too – have you seen Raven?

Kat:  Sadly, I've no idea where Ichy is.  'e went off somewhere.  I've seen Raven and 'e saw way too much of me.  Arrested?  Locked up?  That just might work.  Arrest me!  Arrest me now!

Abberline *frowning*  What the hell is wrong with you?  I've got problems enough without you.  You haven't answered a single question, so maybe it is useless to ask what is the matter now.  It's got to be something special if you find the lockup with Nate tempting.  *orders another drink for them both, lights a cigarette, frowns*  You did not tell me if you have seen Raven.  

Kat:  Just what the blazes do you want to know specifically?  I can't answer what I don't know.  Yes I saw Raven if ye were bloody well 'alf listenin' I said as much already.  Now if you're not goin' to lock me up at least 'elp me find Ichy.  'es in terrible danger.  I will say at the moment, Nate is the least of my worries.

Abberline:  Don't be always so touchy.  If you would care to tell me what kind of danger that is, I might help you find him.  Though it must be something very grave for you to accept my help.  Where did you last seem him?  I need a starting point.  *after a short pause*  How was Raven?

Kat:  Raven is perfectly fine other than 'avin' no memory of you.  You are the most exasperating person I've e'er known.  Ye say ye wanta 'elp, and then you be full of bloody questions.  Aside from that, if I were to tell you, you'd not be believin' me.  What's the use, it be a no win situation.

Abberline:  Well, you can look for your precious Ichy on your own then, if I annoy you that much.  I can't do anything unless you tell me something.  You could always try, for once.  Or should I just wander along the streets of Deppville looking for him?  So … *trying to keep calm* … what is the danger that he is facing?  I suppose you are saying all that just to annoy me.  I could help you, you know.   As for Raven, it suits me just fine.  He's just an unwanted kid ...  *voice trails off*  Sorry, I didn't mean it ...

Kat:  Don't you e'er dare to say such a thing to Raven.  Very well, if you must know, Ichy's fallen victim to a vampire.  Now 'ave yer laugh, I've got things to do.

Abberline:  It seems I don't have very much to say to Raven anyway, do I?  If he doesn't even remember me, it might be best I forget him, too.  And I am not in the mood for laughing.  Bitten by vampire ... wouldn't that mean that he's turned into one himself?  Has anyone seen this 'vampire'?  Or his name?  Or are you just bolting away as usual?

Kat:  Sooner or later, 'e'll be rememberin' ye, and ye best not 'urt 'im when 'e does.  You're 'is father, whether ye like it or not, savvy.  *Sighs*  No, Ichy be not a vampire.  It don't work that way.  But she controls 'im at times and yes, I've bloody well seen 'er.  She calls 'erself Loralee.

Abberline:  Oh, I see.  First you didn't want me anywhere near him and now I am the father whether I want it or not.  *orders a new drink, lights a cigarette*  So it is a she then.  *smirks*  I can see why you are so anxious to free him from a vamp ...  Look, I promise to do what I can to find this Loralee and find your Ichy.  Now this is interesting.  Are you afraid of her?  So that's why you wanted to get locked up.  If you still feel like that, just contact me, I can arrange that.

Kat:  You put yerself into 'is life.  Fooled 'im into thinkin' ye cared.  That be the difference.  By the way, ye can wipe that grin off yer face.  I think I prefer ye this way.  Flyin' yer true colors, 'stead of all those fantasies ye were weavin’ for Raven.  That ye gave a damn.

Abberline:  Fine.  Let's be frank then.  I don't give a damn, about him or about you.  I never wanted any kid.  Least of all yours.  If he's decided not to remember me, why would I intrude myself upon him?  He's all yours now.

Kat:  Wonderful.  I'll do ye a favor.  Find Ichy, and I'll take Raven somewhere and ye can forget 'e e'er existed and 'opefully e'll ne'er know what kind of cur 'is father really is.  Now I'm thinkin' I be in need of some fresh air.  It's most foul in 'ere.  *Seething in anger, she exits Chez Roux.*

Abberline *looks after her*  Good.  *takes his notebook, writes down the name Loralee, gathers his files and heads towards the Office.*  Vampires ... She's out of her mind.

On The Lancet:

Malachi *mind racing, absently reads a map as the two ships approach Deppville Harbor … they dock smoothly, and the crew members start talking loudly amongst themselves, obviously glad to be back in a port again*

Carver *boards The Lancet, calls out*  Corso!  Corso!

Malachi *continues to stare at map without seeing, thinking instead about a dozen different things all at once*

Carver *stares at him, comes closer*  CORSO!!  Blast ye, answer me, man!

Malachi *jumps, remembers*  Oh, yes!  Apologies, Captain … I get so wrapped up in my work, you understand.  *smiles disarmingly*

Carver *nods*  I 'ave te admit, ye done a grand job out there.  Don’t reckon I seen it done any better.  Yer claim to ‘ave commandeered in th’ past were no idle chat.  It’d be me pleasure t’ continue our partnership, if yer of a mind, savvy?

Malachi:  Ahhh, partnership … Captain, I would like nothing better.  Truth be told, it was good to command a ship and crew again, it had been too long.  And I can’t express too much what a fine service Mr. Dominic provided, he was most helpful.  But I do have some business to tend to while we’re here … it’s of a rather personal nature, I won’t bore you with the details.  If you’ll give me a little time to take care of things, and if all goes as I hope, I could then join forces with you, my mind and conscience free and clear of distractions.

Carver *eyes him slyly, grins*  We ‘ave an accord, mate.  Matter o’ fact, I ‘ave a fair amount o’ business te tend to meself.  Could be ‘ere awhile.  Ye should ‘ave plenty o’ time to clear up any an’ all matters as needed.  Where can I find ye, while we’re ‘ere?

Malachi:  That’s easy, you can ask anyone here, they know me well.  But be careful, people often get me confused with my brother, Dean.  However, if I’m indisposed at the time and you're unable to locate me, it could be well worth your while to strike up a conversation with him … he engages in a certain form of piracy all his own.  Has a sweet deal at Chateau Blanchefort … he’s quite the opportunist.  *leans closer to Carver, nudges him confidentially*  You’ll find that Dean Corso keeps his hand in more than one till in this town.  Savvy?  *winks*

Carver *laughs, whacks him on the back again*  By th’ saints, laddie, I like yer style!  I jus’ may take th’ trouble to strike up an acquaintance with this brother o’ yers.  Right, ‘ave at it.  We’ll be in touch.  *reaches in pocket, brings forth small pouch full of coins*  ‘Ere ye are.  Never let it be said that Captain Carver don’t take care o’ his own.  Ye’ll not regret this alliance.  *turns, addresses the men*  Avast, look lively, there!  An’ let’s not be fergettin’ our guests in th’ brig.  *swaggers toward crew*

Malachi *opens pouch, eyes widen at the gold pieces.  Takes one out, looks around, bites down on it, grins*  Well, shiver me timbers …  *pockets money, leaves ship, heads for From Hell Court, whistling “A Pirate’s Life for Me”*

Loralee *Watches Malachi from a distance*  Now where have you been?  Not that it matters, I've found you now.  *Smiles*  Soon my love, very soon.

At Chateau Blanchefort:

*Very, very late … a deep, dark, cloudy, moonless night.  A shadowy figure, entirely concealed in black, makes its way to Chateau Blanchefort … coming up from far south end of the expansive grounds, after having bribed the guard dogs with top sirloin.  Removes tiny but powerful penlight from one pocket, wire cutters from another.  Carefully shines light in path ahead, reflecting electronic beams, as well as very thin, nearly invisible wires placed strategically around property.  Figure slowly weaves in and out of beams, cuts through as few of the wires as necessary, knowing the less changes to the property, the better.  Finally reaches castle, returns wire cutters and penlight to pockets; brings forth a knife with various attachments, folds out long, thin rod with odd teeth, somewhat like a key.  Inserts the rod into the lock on a large main-floor window; lock disengages easily with a soft click.  Figure slides window open, cautiously climbs through, into the castle.  Once inside, figure puts away knife, takes out penlight once again, casting beam around the room.  Light falls on various things … stacks of magazines containing articles about Portsmith … leather-bound copies of Portsmith’s speeches and diaries … framed documents on the wall for various accomplishments, including Satisfactory Completion of the Anger Management course, and Perfect Attendance on the Official Bowling Team of Pomp and Circumstance Magazine Contributors … gold-framed portraits of Portsmith in large hats … *

*Figure approaches one of the portraits, quietly lifts it down from the wall, exposing a wall safe.  Removes heavy black glove, revealing hand clad in thin latex glove.  Flexes fingers, brings ear to the safe, turns the lock a few times and eventually cracks the code; lock disengages, door of the safe opens easily.  Figure tenses slightly at soft squeak in safe door; listens, hears no one coming.  Reaches into safe, rummages around, finds small envelope containing several memory-microchips.  Takes envelope from safe, removes microchips, places them carefully in a separate envelope, pockets it.  Reaches in another pocket, finds equal number of microchips that perfectly match in appearance the ones just removed; places them in original envelope, returns envelope to safe.  Closes safe door slowly to avoid the squeak of the hinge, turns lock; carefully replaces portrait on wall.  Looks around room, listens once more to make sure no one is up and about; hears nothing.  Cautiously moves to the window, climbs back outside, softly lowers window shut.  Retraces steps across property, lighting way, avoiding beams and wires.  Passes guard dogs, now sleeping off their fine meal, their bellies full, snoring contentedly.

*Figure continues on, away from Chateau Blanchefort, toward town, keeping to the outskirts; reaches the docks.  Notes with interest the two new ships; proceeds to The Viper, boards ship.  Makes way to main cabin, lights a lantern.  Produces a key, unlocks a cabinet, removes laptop computer.  Sets it up on a table, starts it; pulls out envelope containing microchips.  Selects one, inserts into the reader of the laptop, goes to counter and pours drink, eye on the screen as the video clip starts up.  Watches screen, transfixed … rum pouring from bottle overflows from glass onto counter … Figure glances down at spilled rum, swears, quickly tips bottle back, sets it on counter.  Removes black gloves, mops up spilled rum with them.  Tosses them on counter, turns again to the computer, staring at the video.  Reaches up, pulls off black stocking cap and black hood, runs hands through hair.  Picks up glass and bottle, moves to chair in front of table; sinks into chair, face pale, staring at screen in horrified shock.  Reaches over, turns up volume:*

Mr. Black:  All you have to do is keep Blake occupied for awhile.  Then when he gets home and finds her missing, he’ll have no idea you were involved at all.  Just a little bit of acting on your part, Inspector, then you’re home free.  Now, as for Malachi …

Abberline:  How interesting, I would never have thought any of you turning romantic.  I will write the note and do what you want, but how can I be sure that you keep your word?  What will happen to her?

*Manouche watches the video twice.  Though it’s probably not more than fifteen minutes at most, the second viewing seems longer to her than the one before.  She empties large glass of rum in one gulp; she then reaches for bottle, discarding the glass, drinks deeply.  Lights cigarette with shaky hands; tears fill her eyes, wide with utter disbelief*

Mr. Black:  If you start to falter, worrying about betraying your friends … this document will give you the fortitude to remain strong in your resolve.  Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good, and for certain conclusions to be reached …

Manouche *finishes bottle, starts to tremble violently, fears she may be sick; waits for her trembling and nausea to subside so she can go back to cabinet and open another bottle.  Starts the video clip again for the third time, as if multiple viewings will change the content.  Sees the images again, hears the words.  It's not a vision this time … cold, hard evidence.  Feels her heart break anew*

Manouche *whispers*  By th’ powers … I – I’ll be damned.  I’ll be … I'll be truly, hung-out-to-dry, royally damned …

At the docks:

Malachi *after spending some time at the tavern in From Hell Court, returns to his apartment, stares in dismay at the debris; he’d forgotten that it had been ransacked by the pirates who had abducted him.  Thrown into a foul mood by the sight, he leaves the building, sets out into the streets, wandering aimlessly.  Finds himself back at Deppville Harbor, looks up, surprised to see a light illuminated on The Viper at such a late hour.  Boards ship, calls out softly*  Manouche?  Blake?  It’s me, Malachi …  *hears no response, makes his way toward the lighted cabin.  Tries door, finds it unlocked.  Opens, enters, sees Manouche, dressed all in black instead of her usual pirate gear, cradling an empty rum bottle, passed out, slumped in chair in front of table with laptop computer.  Another empty bottle is on the floor at her feet.  He approaches her, is about to nudge her, when he looks at the screen of the computer.  Frowns, reaches over, strikes a couple of keys; the video clip starts up and he watches, staring in amazement.*

Manouche *stirs, opens her eyes, sees him*  Malachi?  Th-that you, mate?  *brings hand to forehead, looks at computer screen; she moans, looks away*  Bleedin’ sons o’ bitches … turn ‘er off, luv, please … no, never mind, ye may as well see it all …

Malachi *watches the video to its conclusion, shakes his head, trembling with anger, clenching and unclenching his fists.*  I … I can’t believe it.  Abberline??  *turns to her*  We have to get away from here …

Manouche *holds up hand*  No need.  This particular danger’s past.  This video is … well, it’s what ye’d call a prequel, savvy?  *sits up, bottle drops to floor without breaking, rolls; Malachi leans down, picks it up, sets it on table; she continues*  Y’see, th’ attempt were already made on us, an’ it went all te bollocks, thanks to me dear mates, th’ bleedin’ Guardians o’ th’ box.  *she leans forward, slowly stands up, holds up finger in front of him, wobbly on her feet*  Y’see, me dear Malachi, sometimes it pays te ‘ave friends in low places.  Ain't I always told ye that?  *winks, rocks unsteadily, falls forward, he catches her*  Ahh, cheers, luv.  C-can I offer ye a drink?  I’m … I’m sure there’s another bottle o’er there …  *waves hand toward cabinet, looks up at him with a weak smile; meets his eyes, her smile fades, tears fill her eyes, she lowers her head, sobs*

Malachi *takes her in his arms, strokes her hair, murmurs softly*  Shhh, take it easy, trouble girl … he’s not worth it, the bastard.  *brings her over to small couch, holds her as she cries*  Tell me what happened.  I’ve … I’ve been away for a few days …

Manouche *explains everything that had taken place since Abberline went to meet Mr. Black and Mr. Brown at Chez Roux, up to Raven’s return*  B-blimey, I don’t know what t’ do next.  I … I don’t even know what t’ consider first, it’s too much all at once … How could ‘e betray me like that?  An’ in such an underhanded way?  Usin’ me Mr. Blake, to … to … *sobs*  It’s all too ‘orrible t’ think about, I’m afraid I’ll go mad … *looks at him, eyes wide*  M-Mr. Blake did go out that day … he wouldn’t tell me what he were doin’ … an’ he still talks about it all secret-like.  Oh, by th’ powers, Malachi, what’ll I do?  Someone I thought were a friend has stabbed me in th’ back … an’ tainted me engagement … an’ messed with me Mr. Blake …

Malachi:  Babe, I don’t think you have much choice.  You have to tell Blake.  *looks past her, face dark*  And when you do, tell him I’ll be delighted to help him murder that son of a bitch …

Manouche:  No!  No, ye mustn’t!  An’ we can never tell Mr. Blake.  *sits up, grabs Malachi by the shoulders, stares at him*  Th’ Inspector … h-he’s still Raven’s dad.  We can’t ‘arm him, savvy?

Malachi *raises voice, trying to control his rage*  Are you crazy?  Manouche, we can’t just do nothing about this.  This is evidence, he’s committed a crime.  He can’t be allowed to just get away with it.

Manouche:  He’s committed a crime against you an’ me, mate.  *waves hand at computer*  An’ this so-called evidence were obtained in a highly illegal manner.  Y’ think th’ law will give a toss about us?

Malachi:  But Manouche … my dear girl …

Manouche:  Anyway, SOD th’ Inspector, all right?  Most of all … I ‘ave to protect Mr. Blake.  Can ye imagine how he’d feel … if he knew them men from th’ Order used him t’ capture me?  … if he were to learn that, while he were out shoppin’ fer somethin’ so beautiful … that th’ Inspector weren’t there t’ help him at all.  H-he were …  *tears spill down her cheeks*  Oh, bloody ‘ell … *buries face in her hands, sobbing*  How’ll I be able t’ accept a ring he’s bought me, all smiles an’ surprise, knowin’ that that unspeakable, ungrateful bastard ‘ad somethin’ to do with its choosin’?  It’ll be a reminder, with me every day … every time I look at it on me finger … I’ll … I’ll …

Malachi *takes her in his arms again*  Sweetheart, you have to tell Blake.  It’ll be hard, but … you can’t do this, he’ll know something’s wrong.

Manouche *shakes head firmly*  I won’t.  I won’t tell ‘im.  He’s ‘ad so much to put up with, bein’ with me, an’ he’s so good t’ me.  I’ll manage … I won’t ‘ave this ruined fer ‘im.  I can do this.  Eventually, I’m sure th’ true meanin’ behind th’ ring’ll outweigh th’ unfortunate circs behind how it come t’ be chosen.  *looks at Malachi*  Think about it, mate.  From a man’s point o’ view … how would you feel?  *Malachi starts to speak, then stops, thinks for a moment; she watches his face carefully, then nods*  Aye, that’s what I thought.  So it’s settled.  I won’t be spoilin’ his surprise.  An’ ye must promise me ye won’t be tellin’ him, savvy?  *expression softens, looks at him imploringly*  PLEASE, mate.

Malachi *scowls at her*  Without a doubt, you are the most stubborn … *voice trails off, he sees her gazing at him anxiously; he sighs*  Okay, you win.  I'll try.  I think you’re crazy, and I don’t think it’ll work.  Blake’s no fool, he knows when something’s up with you.  And as for me, I can’t promise what I’ll do if I see Abberline again.  But … I’ll try to help you.  *she kisses him on the cheek gratefully.  He looks at her, overcome for a moment, then gently pushes her away, mumbling*  Crazy gypsy.  *stands up*  Let’s have that drink.  Then I’m going to make sure you get home safe.  *walks over to cabinet*

Manouche:  Blimey, luv, ye don’t ‘ave to do that …

Malachi *takes bottle from cabinet, opens, pours out two drinks*  It’s not as chivalrous as it sounds.  I need a place to stay tonight, so I’d like to make use of your sofa, if you don’t mind.  *comes back, sits next to her, hands her a glass*  My place is, ahh, in a state of disarray right now.  I’ll get it sorted tomorrow, but …

Manouche:  Say no more, th’ sofa’s yers, as long as ye need it.  I know Mr. Blake would insist.  An’ Raven’s there, ‘ell be glad t’ see ye.  *holds up glass, taps it against his, drinks*

Malachi *nods, smiling*  I’ll be glad to see him, too.  *takes a drink, they sit quietly for a moment, then something occurs to him*  Manouche … you told me how you got your hands on this video …

Manouche:  Aye …

Malachi:  But aren’t you worried when Portsmith goes diggin’ around and finds it missing?

Manouche:  Ye know me better’n that, mate.  I left a substitute in its place.  She’ll ‘ave to watch it before she’ll realize she has th’ wrong item.  An' I don't think she's likely t' watch it again fer some time.  Jus' keepin' it under lock an' key till she needs it, ain't she?

Malachi:  You left a substi—  what did you leave her?

Manouche:  I gave ‘er a coupla films, with titles she’ll appreciate, if she ever discovers ‘em.  Th’ Crimson Pirate, with Burt Lancaster … Captain Blood, with Errol Flynn.  I considered givin’ ‘er the collected exploits of our own Cap’n Jack … but I figured she already has ‘em as part of her “public enemy” collection, savvy?  *grins, takes another drink* 

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Blake *wakes up early the next morning, looks over at Manouche, curled up next to him, sleeping heavily; smiles drowsily, moves close to her, kisses her.  Gets out of bed, stops, listens as he hears sounds coming from kitchen, thinks perhaps it’s Raven.  Gets dressed, leaves bedroom, peeks in Raven’s room; concern increases as he sees that he’s still asleep.  Walks quietly into living room, unlocks cabinet, takes pistol, tiptoes to kitchen door.  Peers in cautiously, heaves a sigh of relief*  Oh god ... Malachi!

Malachi *making coffee, jumps slightly at voice, grins*  ‘Morning, Blake.  Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.  I, ah, stopped by late last night … Manouche said I could crash on your couch.  They’re doin’ a little work on my apartment.  *pours water into coffeemaker*  This’ll be ready in a few.

Blake *enters kitchen*  What time did you come by?  I went to sleep pretty early.  Don’t know why I was so tired, we didn’t do much, other than take Raven out on the river.  *sits down at table, lights cigarette, offers one to Malachi*  Where you been, we haven’t seen you in awhile.

Malachi *takes cigarette*  Well … it’s kind of a long story.  Raven’s here, you say?  He could fill you in, ‘cause I saw him.  *pauses, glances out window at river*  I didn't have a chance to tell Manouche last night what happened to me a few days ago.  Let's just say I was shanghaied … by pirates.  *grins*  How’s that for irony?

Blake *eyes wide, startled*  Shanghaied!  For a crew?

Malachi:  Not exactly.  *goes on to tell Blake about The Lancet, how he wound up going from the locked cell to captain in two simple coups*  Captain Barnes saw my worth as a bargaining piece to interested parties such as Commander Portsmith, the Order.  As far as I know, Captain Carver is blissfully unaware of my barter power.  He was an amiable enough chap, but I wouldn’t cross him.  I have a feeling he’s not the forgive and forget type.  *pours two cups of coffee, sets one in front of Blake, sits at table*  I couldn’t tell you what he’s here for, but he’s here for something.  It's not just an average pirate pillaging port stop.  *pauses, remembers something, snaps fingers*  I just remembered, he mentioned something about a psychic, being held prisoner in his ship's brig.  That reminded me of that character Kat was hanging around with for awhile … do you remember his name?  Funny-dressed guy, he seemed to get on her nerves, but she never completely chased him off, either.

Blake *nods*  Yeah, I remember that guy, but I don’t recall his name.

Malachi:  I wonder if it’s the same guy?  We could mention it to Kat, send her over there with her shovel.  *laughs, lights another cigarette*  I understand there was some excitement while I was gone …

Blake *sighs*  You could call it that.  I’m glad you were able to help Raven on that ship.  It was a good thing he got here when he did, I had just realized Manouche was missing.  I guess she told you about that …

Malachi *nods, face grim*  Yeah, I heard all about it.

Blake:  I still don’t totally understand it.  I think Manouche is double-dealin’ with the Guardians of the box.  Wish she wouldn’t do stuff like that … but at least it saved her from the Order.  You too, apparently, she insisted on it.  She made that part of the deal with the Guardians.

Malachi *blinks*  Oh?  I didn’t know about that.

Blake:  They left, both those guys from the Order, they left town.  Don’t know if they’ll be back, but at least they’re gone for now.  ‘Course, I told Manouche I’ve forgotten how to take anything for granted, so I won’t be a bit surprised if they come back.  But let’s breathe a little easier while we can.  *smiles, stands up, pours more coffee for the two of them*

Malachi *smirks*  You’re getting very philosophical about life with that crazy girl.

Blake *shrugs*  Survival tactics.  *sits down, glances toward door, turns back to Malachi, lowers his voice*  There’s somethin’ else … I’ve found a ring for her.

Malachi:  Is that so?

Blake *nods, grins*  I’m gonna surprise her with it.  Oh, I know, we’re already married, and we’re gonna have a proper wedding, none of that is any surprise … by the way, looks like it’ll be October 16.  But I wanted to surprise her with something.  She swore up an’ down she didn’t want anything fancy.  But … I wanted to buy my girl a diamond.  So that’s what I’m gonna do.

Malachi *smiles*  Never heard of a woman yet who didn’t love getting a diamond.  Did you already buy it?  ‘Cause I know a thing or two about diamonds, I could help you.

Blake:  I think I’ve found the one I want … went to that jeweler’s near Chez Roux, you probably know the one.  An’ Inspector Abberline went with me.  It was his idea, can you imagine?  I was mystified, it didn’t sound like him at all, but he insisted.  I don’t think he should’ve done it, I think it made him think too much about his wife.  You should’ve seen him, he was a wreck … Malachi?

Malachi *snaps to attention*  Sorry, Blake, you were saying …

Blake:  Yeah ... well, anyway, the Inspector did help me, he helped me a lot, I just don’t know anything about that stuff.  So they’re holding one for me.  I think I can pick it up today.  Then it’s just a matter of finding the right time and place to give it to her.  *smiles*  I can’t wait to see her face.

Malachi *frowns, finishes cigarette*  That … that’s a great thing to be doing for her.  She’s had a rough time of it, she deserves a break.

Blake *nods*  That’s what I figure.  *looks at Malachi’s cup*  More coffee?

Malachi:  Thanks, but no.  Matter of fact, I need to get going.  *stands up, takes cup to sink*

Blake *surprised*  Already?  Don’t you want to stay for breakfast, see Raven?

Malachi:  I do … but I just remembered, I need to meet some people over at the apartment today.  I’ve hired a few guys to clear it out and fix it up, it got trashed pretty bad.  *smiles, reaches out, shakes hands with Blake*  I’ll be back this afternoon.  I do want to see Raven, an’ Manouche and I didn’t finish catching up.  I just have to take care of a few things this morning.  *walks over to patio door*  I’ll take the scenic route by the river.  Tell them both I’ll be back later … and thanks for the use of the couch.  *leaves kitchen, walks down yard toward river, heads back toward town in roundabout way through woods, toward From Hell Court*

Blake *watches him go, pours more coffee, lights another cigarette, thinks for a few minutes.  Rises, goes into room off the living room that serves as his study, sits at desk.  Pulls out ledger, adds up a few columns of figures; nods, satisfied.  Finds checkbook, puts it in pocket; writes note to Manouche, goes from study to kitchen, leaves note on kitchen table.  Remembers gun he set on kitchen counter, takes it, puts it in coat pocket.  Locks patio door, stops at bedroom on way out; Manouche is still sleeping soundly.  He leans down and kisses her cheek, grins as she smiles in her sleep.  He leaves the bedroom, comes through the living room, out the front door, locks it behind him.  Takes deep breath, appreciating the pretty early morning; strolls slowly toward town, to stop first at the bank, then the jewelry store.*