Lorcan smiled, deciding not to burden her just now with Connor’s true state of mind. “He seemed well.”
“Really?” Grace inquired, turning toward him.
Lorcan nodded. She seemed to be reassured. “But, as fond as I am of Connor, I knew I was with the wrong Tempest twin on their birthday.”
Grace shook her head. “I’m glad you were with him.”
Lorcan reached into the folds of his coat. “I brought you this, by way of a birthday gift.” He held his hand out to hers. His palm was folded but, as Grace looked down, his fingers opened. Sitting in his palm was a platinum ring, with a small diamond.
“Lorcan!” Grace exclaimed. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”
He smiled. “Just like you,” he said. He had smiled at her many times, but in that instant there was a deeper connection between them than she had ever felt before. Despite all her fears, she suddenly felt calm. It was as if Lorcan were her anchor amid the turbulent sea.
“Shall we see if it fits?” he asked.
She nodded, wondering which finger to offer him. Was this ring more than a birthday gift? Suddenly, she felt flustered. There was so much going on right now.
“This ring?” she said tentatively. “It’s absolutely beautiful. But what does it mean?” Her eyes met his. Lorcan Furey’s eyes had never looked bluer.
“It means I love you, Grace,” he said, smiling once more. “But I have a feeling you may know that already.” As he spoke, he lifted her right hand and slipped the ring onto her fourth finger. “It’s a perfect fit,” Lorcan said, clearly pleased.
“Just like us,” Grace said. “Oh, Lorcan, I do love you.” As she spoke the words, she could feel tears falling. She tried to draw them back but was powerless to do so. It seemed that no matter how powerful she became, she thought ruefully, she could still not prevent her tears from flowing.
“Hey,” Lorcan said, squeezing her hand. “Why are you crying?”
Grace didn’t want to voice it but she couldn’t prevent herself. “I’m not ready to die,” she said.
Lorcan nodded. “You’re thinking about the prophecy, aren’t you?”
She paused, gratefully accepting a handkerchief and drying her eyes. “You knew about the prophecy, too?”
Lorcan shook his head. “No. I only found out from Obsidian just now, when I arrived back. He knew you might be upset and he thought I ought to know.”
“But how come you didn’t know before?” Grace asked, surprised.
“It happened five hundred years ago, by all accounts,” Lorcan said. “Remember, Grace, that was before I joined the ship.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I keep forgetting that. I think I just assume you were always here. We’ve never talked about your life before The Nocturne, or how you crossed.”
“No, indeed,” Lorcan said, drawing just slightly back from her. “We will one day, Grace.” His eyes met hers. “I promise. I want you to know everything about me. Lord help me, I’ll tell you about my brother Cathal and the whole wretched story.”
Grace fingered the beautiful ring Lorcan had given her, confident he would one day tell her his full story. For now, though, they had other, more pressing, things to discuss.
“So,” she said. “Obsidian told you about the prophecy. And the Four Cardinals?”
Lorcan nodded. “It didn’t come as a complete surprise. Do you remember when Obsidian was away and Mosh Zu called you and me and Darcy together that one time? He mentioned then, just in passing, that once there were other ships in the fleet besides The Nocturne.”
It was like a switch clicking inside Grace’s head. “I’d forgotten,” she said. “But yes, I do remember that.” Things were coming into focus now. “And those ships were the three commanded by the other Cardinals.”
Lorcan nodded. “They divided the oceans between them. Obsidian Darke took the southern quadrant, hence his title Cardinal South.” He paused. “Grace, these are highly confidential matters… I know I can trust you not to share what I say with anyone.”
“Of course,” she assured him, wondering what was coming next.
“For some time now, Cheng Li has been pressuring me to get Obsidian to deliver an alliance with the other Nocturnals. The Vampirates’ fleet has expanded, and continues to expand far faster than anyone understands. The Pirate Federation has mobilized all its ships.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Grace asked.
“This war,” Lorcan said, “has reached a critical point. The scales are just about equal, but if Sidorio and Lola continue to expand, then the balance will be tipped. As I say, there are no more pirate ships to bring into the Alliance…”
“But there are Nocturnal ships that could come in and make the difference?”
Lorcan nodded. “That’s what Cheng Li believes. And, for some time now, I’ve had that throwaway comment of Mosh Zu’s in my head. That once, there were other ships in our fleet. I’ve raised it with Obsidian several times, but each time he has told me that it isn’t a viable option. In fact, he has never acknowledged that there even were other ships until tonight, when he told me about the prophecy.”
“He must realize the severity of the situation,” Grace said. “He’s changing, just as he had to change before to accommodate the new dangers.” Her heart lifted. “He told me that the time for secrets was over. He must have come to a decision to reunite with the other three Cardinals and end this war.”
Her heart was racing. But, as she looked once more into Lorcan’s eyes, she saw a shadow. “No,” he said.
“What do you mean, no?”
Lorcan drew himself forward and climbed off the bed, turning to face Grace from the middle of the cabin floor. “Obsidian told me of the prophecy and revealed to me the existence of Cardinals North, East, and West. He even went so far as to confirm that they are still out there in their quadrants. But he will not summon them back.”
Grace was aghast. “But he has no choice,” she said. “If what you say is true, if time really is running out for the Alliance, isn’t it the only option left?”
Lorcan nodded. “I’d say so, yes. But he says that there is a rift between himself and the other Cardinals and he cannot call upon their help.”
“A rift? What kind of rift?”
“He didn’t say. It was clear that our conversation had come to an end. And I didn’t press him any further. I can’t continue to push at that brick wall anymore, Grace.” For the first time, Grace saw fear in Lorcan’s eyes. “I’m scared that this war is turning, Grace, and that the one thing we can do to bring about victory is being denied us.”
As she considered his words, Grace was surprised to find her own fear melting away, to be replaced with a wave of calm and clarity. Now she, too, eased herself off the bed and stood up. “All right,” she said. “So Obsidian refuses to summon the other three Cardinals. So be it.” She smiled. “There’s nothing to stop us from summoning them, though, is there?”
Lorcan met her eyes. “Could we? How? I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Grace smiled. “The prophecy said that it was up to me or Connor to win this war. Well, maybe this is how I can fulfill the prophecy. By calling them back.”
“But how?” Lorcan said again.
“I’m not sure yet,” Grace said, bending down to open her bag and remove the dhampir notebook from inside it. She held the book out toward Lorcan. “I have the feeling the answer will be in here somewhere,” she said.
“What is this?” Lorcan asked, turning the pages.
“I’m pretty sure it belonged to Olivier,” Grace said, talking as fast as she was thinking. “I found it hidden in the treatment rooms at Sanctuary. You know Olivier’s a dhampir, right?”
Lorcan looked up from the open notebook. “Olivier? A dhampir?”
Grace nodded. “He’s much more powerful and dangerous than we thought.”
“And he’s working with Lola and Sidorio,” Lorcan said, grimly.
Grace shrugged. “Big whoop. T
hey have one dhampir on their team. The Alliance has two—Connor and me.”
Lorcan glanced back down at the notebook. “You say this book will tell you what to do, but as far as I can see, Grace, it’s completely blank.”
“To you, yes,” Grace said, reaching out her hand. “Because you’re not the one it’s meant for. Give it back to me, please.” As she took it in her hands, text began to appear on the page.
“Summoning the Cardinals,” she read.
Lorcan shook his head in amazement, watching as Grace sat down again, continuing to read. He didn’t think he had loved her any more than in this moment. But then a dark thought came to him. Yes, the prophecy had said that she and Connor would bring peace back to the oceans. But hadn’t it also said that one of them must die to achieve this? What if that was the price Grace would pay to bring back the cardinals and turn this war?
“You can’t do this,” he said suddenly, reaching for the book.
“I think I can,” she said confidently, her eyes still on the page.
“But what if it’s too dangerous?” Lorcan pleaded. “What’s the point in winning this war if I end up losing you?”
Grace looked up at him, realizing she had become the strong one. “We all do what we have to do,” she said. “We don’t have a choice. Like my dad, I mean, Dexter, always used to say, we have to trust the tide.”
“I love you, Grace.” There was a plea as well as a declaration in his words.
Grace set the book down and rose to her feet once more. “I love you, too, Lorcan. And I don’t want anything to stand between us spending eternity together.” She wrapped her arms around him once more, seeing the ring he had given her glint in the candlelight. “But I have been given these extraordinary powers for a reason.” Her eyes met his. “It’s time for me to use them.”
33
DIVISIONS
Connor found himself standing in the center of the deck of The Tiger. Above him, the ship’s distinctive white sails billowed. Connor’s eyes traced the line down from the mast to the timber decking below, then out to the sea and sky. The burnished gold of the sky told him it was either the beginning of dusk or the end of dawn. He could see the honeyed light reflected in the blood-spattered blades of the pirates spread out across the deck. Many had lowered their weapons—as if the battle were over. It must be dawn then. No Vampirate would dare venture out into the growing daylight, so it was safe to regroup.
Connor glanced at his comrades’ faces. They looked weary. In the lines and scars etched upon their faces, he could see the toll not only of this latest battle but of the longer war. Gradually he became aware that they were all looking at him. And in their eyes were shock and fear and pain. For him. Why? What had he done?
Now, he heard cannon fire and smelled the acrid aftermath. He was finding it harder and harder to breathe. Something was blocking his airway. Glancing down, he saw the problem in all its shocking simplicity. A sword was buried deep in his chest.
The sight was almost comical, despite what it portended. No wonder his crewmates were looking askance at him.
Eyes closing, he slumped down, feeling the deck boards rise up to meet him. The sword wormed its way deeper into his flesh. Every faltering breath was noticeably more difficult than the last.
“Open your eyes, Connor!” a voice commanded him.
Obeying, he forced open his eyes and found himself gazing up at a blur of faces. Nearby, he heard a woman’s cry.
“Come… Captain Tempest. He is wounded. He needs…”
Was it Jasmine? It sounded very much like her. Connor was confused. He wasn’t a captain! He wanted to call out to Jasmine, but he found he was unable to make a sound. A result, no doubt, of the sword spearing his middle.
Her voice grew more urgent. “Captain Tempest is cut. Please come…” Now he saw her luminous face appear among the others. His eyes sought out hers. If he was on the verge of death, he would take his leave of this world looking into those amazing eyes. He smiled up at her, but she did not return his smile. Lifting her head, she called out. “There’s so much blood… I’m not sure how much longer he can last.”
He felt hands moving across his chest, in an exploratory fashion. Then he watched as the sword was wrenched out and blood gushed up from his open wound. He saw the blood spatter Jasmine’s face. He felt a burning sensation in his chest, which grew swiftly into a pain deeper and more unbearable than he’d ever thought possible. He closed his eyes again and had the sensation he was traveling at a rate of knots through the air or across the ocean. But when he forced open his eyes again, there was Jasmine: her face still stained with his blood, her eyes like dark jewels.
She leaned closer, her hair falling about her face and brushing his. The tips of her hair were clogged with blood, but she didn’t seem to care. He felt her cool hand against his cheek. It felt nice. Even nicer as she stroked his cheek. Then two things happened in quick succession. The effort of keeping his eyes open simply became too much. And then he realized he could no longer feel Jasmine’s touch. Was this it, then? Was this the end?
His vision suddenly shifted and he saw himself lying on the deck. He could see Jasmine bent over him and others close but moving back, slowly, respectfully. Beneath his supine body, a pool of crimson fanned out across the blond deck boards. Jasmine was still stroking his face but he sensed she knew that he was already gone.
Connor’s vision grew dim until he was engulfed in utter darkness. Now he heard a hammering close by. It grew louder and closer. Opening his eyes—surprised that he was able to—he came to with a jolt. He found himself stretched out on his bunk in the familiar cocoon of his cabin. Shards of the intensely disturbing vision remained in his head. The scene had been somehow familiar, but how? The shards were fading fast now, as the hammering grew louder. Then a voice boomed from the other side of the door.
“Open up, Tempest! I know you’re in there.”
Connor staggered to his feet and opened the cabin door to find Jacoby standing on the threshold, his usually pale face puce, feet tapping the deck boards in agitation.
“What’s wrong?” Connor asked, feeling that half of him was still deep in the vision, on the deck of The Tiger. It made him an easy target as the full force of Jacoby’s fist made contact with his jaw.
“What the…” Connor protested, falling backward onto the boards at the foot of his bed. Looking up, he saw Jacoby towering over him, like the mast in his vision. There was a wildness in Jacoby’s eyes as he reached out and grabbed Connor’s shirt, pulling him up from the floor. “Get on your feet, Tempest! You’re coming with me!”
He dragged Connor to the cabin door.
“Where are we going?” Connor managed to rasp. “And why?”
“Up onto the deck,” Jacoby snarled, releasing Connor and shoving him roughly along the corridor. “To sort out the situation between you and me.”
Connor did not protest. He knew this moment had been coming. Jasmine had let him know she intended to come clean with Jacoby, to trust him with the truth about herself just as he had trusted her. She must have just told him. Connor felt sick, partly with trepidation but mostly with guilt. He could understand how Jacoby might want to tear him apart limb by limb; he’d have felt the same in his friend’s shoes. Only he wasn’t even sure he could call him that anymore. Because, whichever way you looked at it, Connor Tempest hadn’t been much of a friend to Jacoby Blunt.
As they reached the door to the deck, Connor opened it and felt Jacoby jostle him roughly from behind. They fell together onto the deck boards, Jacoby pinning Connor down and raising his fist once more.
At the last second, as Jacoby’s fist came down, Connor managed to twist his head. The full force of Jacoby’s blow sailed into the deck boards. Clearly pained, Jacoby frowned but said nothing. Connor took advantage of his comrade’s weakened state to push him back and bring himself to his feet.
Nursing his injury, Jacoby rose to stand before Connor. There was fury in Jacoby’s eyes, and, as he
opened his mouth, Connor saw—for the first time—Jacoby’s enlarged incisors. It was a chilling reminder of what Jacoby had become.
“Save your breath,” Jacoby cried, smiling strangely. “You’re going to need every last gasp.” As he finished speaking, he let out a roar and propelled himself up into the air. As he plummeted down again, he reached his arms around Connor’s neck and dragged him across the length of the deck. Where had Jacoby learned to fight like this? He’d always been handy with the sword, but this was something else entirely.
“One of the advantages of being turned,” Jacoby rasped in Connor’s ear. “Those rancid Vamps left me with a few new tricks.”
Of course. It made complete sense, and it was a wake-up call to Connor. He wasn’t exactly short on new tricks himself. Focusing himself, he slipped out of Jacoby’s clutches and back-flipped across the deck, landing a few meters away and catching his breath. He could see Jacoby was surprised. For a second, he even looked impressed. Then his eyes began to change and Connor saw deep pits of fire there. Connor shuddered. Fire was usually the sign of a hungry Vampirate. Had the triggers between anger and hunger become muddled in Jacoby? He was new to this state and, it seemed, not quite as in control as he appeared.
With a sound much like the whistling of the wind, Jacoby flew across the deck and, grabbing Connor, continued racing toward the mast. Connor felt his back collide with solid oak at an incredible speed. The pain was intense. His head ached and his eyes watered.
Now Jacoby’s hands reached out for Connor’s neck and began to squeeze. His strength was considerable but Connor’s was a match for it, and, lifting his hands, he began to pry Jacoby’s fingers away. With relief, he felt the pressure on his neck release and saw again the surprise in Jacoby’s eyes. Then Jacoby smiled and squeezed harder. Connor felt his airway being closed. It took him back to his dream. Was it some kind of omen? His eyes closed, and, just as in the dream, he found darkness. It was something of a comfort. He found himself wondering, is this the end? Was death coming to him not through a sword but simply the hands of a former friend?
Immortal War v-6 Page 24