Immortal War

by Justin Somper

  “Thank God,” said Cate to herself. Then, tentatively, she tugged at the rope. It held, so she pulled again, harder this time. Securing her end to a chair, she called down to them. “Hang on in there; I’m going to get help to pull you in. But just so you know, Cheng Li, we’ve won back The Diablo!”

  “We did?” Cheng Li’s voice was recognizable but weak. Moonshine grinned at her. “You bet your sweet katanas we did. Turns out we’re quite a team, Commodore Li!”

  Under normal circumstances, he might have gotten a slap for that. As it was, Cheng Li smiled and sank back into his arms as he swam her back to safety. In the distance, ambulance boats were already heaving into view.

  18

  PLANS INTERRUPTED

  Darcy stepped inside her room, closing the door behind her. “Grace,” she said in surprise. “What’s going on? You look terrible. And why are you packing that bag?”

  “I’m going away for a bit,” Grace said, drawing the zip across the top of the bag.

  “Where are you going?” Darcy asked. “For how long? And why now?”

  She watched her friend’s face as she registered each of the questions. Grace was flinching as if she were being assailed by gusts of biting wind.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, exactly,” she said, sitting down on the edge of her own bed. “I need to see Lorcan, Darcy. I’m going back to The Nocturne.”

  “What’s brought this on?” Darcy inquired. “I know you miss him, but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there? There must be for you to desert your patients, and Mosh Zu, and…”

  “There’s a prophecy,” Grace told Darcy. “Mosh Zu made it five hundred years ago.”

  “What kind of prophecy?” Darcy asked.

  “A remarkably accurate one, in many respects,” Grace answered. “He foresaw a time of war and that the threat would come from within the Vampirate realm—from a warmonger…”

  “Sidorio!” Darcy exclaimed.

  Grace nodded. “There’s more. Mosh Zu foresaw that the warmonger would have twin children and that they…” At last she faltered. “That we, Connor and I, would play a key role in resolving the conflict.”

  “Which you are!” Darcy exclaimed protectively.

  “Yes,” Grace agreed, tears now flowing. “But there’s a price to be paid, Darcy. One of us must die. That was part of the prophecy.”

  “How do you know all this?” Darcy asked.

  “It’s all here,” Grace said. “In this little book.” She reached into her bag and passed the book across to Darcy. Grace watched as her friend turned the pages, and saw the understandable confusion in her eyes.

  “It’s blank,” Darcy said.

  Drying her eyes, Grace smiled wryly at her friend. “It’s blank to you because you’re not its custodian. I know it sounds crazy, Darcy, but it speaks to me.”

  Darcy closed the book. She knew Grace well enough to believe her story, however far-fetched it might seem. “I presume you’ve talked to Mosh Zu about this?”

  Grace nodded. “I did, when I first found the book. And he told me not to worry.”

  “Well, then…” The relief was evident on Darcy’s face.

  “The book told me to trust no one. And when you think about it, Darcy, Mosh Zu has kept things from me before. So has Obsidian. They both conveniently forgot to tell me that I was Sidorio’s daughter, though they knew it from the very first.”

  Darcy’s eyes fell. “To be fair, Lorcan knew it, too.”

  Grace shrugged. Maybe she was even more alone than she had figured. “I didn’t want to believe the prophecy,” she said. “I’ve tried to shut it out of my mind and focus on my work here, but I can’t do it. I think the time is coming when either me or Connor is going to die.”

  Darcy pointed to the book. “Has it said something else to you to make you think that?”

  Tears coursing down her cheeks, Grace nodded.

  “What did it say?” Darcy asked, putting her arms around Grace. “You have to tell me.”

  Grace bit back her tears. “It said that we’re approaching the end of the war. That when Lola’s twins are born, the end is in sight.” She trembled in Darcy’s arms. “I have this feeling I can’t seem to shake that, for some reason, the world cannot contain both pairs of Sidorio’s twins.”

  Darcy felt a sudden tightening in her chest. Usually, Grace was so strong and resolute. Despite everything she had been through, it was rare to see her so vulnerable. She had offered Darcy comfort on many occasions and now, more than anything, Darcy wanted to be the strong one, but she wasn’t sure what solace she could offer. She had a sudden vision of the first time she and Grace had met, on the deck of The Nocturne. She had been lighting the lamps when she’d become aware of this strange girl staring at her. Grace had been wide-eyed with wonder back then. Now, her eyes were shadowed with deep fear.

  “I don’t want you to go,” Darcy said, “but I think you’re right. You need to see Lorcan.”

  Grace nodded, crumpling into Darcy’s embrace.

  Just then, there was the familiar sound of bells. They both registered it like a shock of icy water. They stood, locked in each other’s arms, frozen for a time as the bells continued, summoning the healers and nurses to their positions.

  “You can still go,” Darcy said as Grace began shaking her head. “Yes, you can, Grace. Let the other healers take the brunt this time. You’re in no fit state to heal, anyway.”

  Grace drew herself back upright and dusted herself down. “I can’t do that,” she said.

  Darcy was resolute. “Sometimes, you have to put yourself first,” she said.

  Grace hesitated, catching sight of the book. She was desperate to see Lorcan, but could she really abandon her colleagues at this time?

  She stood stock-still on the floor, unable to commit to a movement in either direction. Just then, there was a loud knocking on the door.

  “Grace! Grace, are you in there?” It was Tooshita.

  Grace darted to the door and opened it. She saw Tooshita’s relief, then surprise at seeing Grace in tears.

  “I’m glad I found you,” Tooshita said. “It’s all hands on deck, I’m afraid. We have some bad casualties coming our way.”

  Darcy came to the doorway and asked Tooshita, “Another attack?”

  Tooshita nodded. “A victory for us, though,” she said with a smile. “The Alliance has taken back an important ship. The Diablo, I think…”

  “The Diablo!” Grace exclaimed. Immediately, she thought of Johnny. “You say the Alliance was successful?”

  Tooshita nodded. “Come on, Grace, we’ll walk and talk.”

  Grace found herself propelled along the corridor. Darcy hurried after her and Tooshita.

  “Do you know any other details?” Grace asked, unable to prevent herself from asking the next question. “Do you know if the captain of The Diablo escaped?”

  “The Vampirate incumbent, you mean?” Tooshita asked.

  Grace nodded. Johnny, she thought. Kind, handsome Johnny. Poor, misguided Johnny. The most contrary man she had ever met. Her enemy. Her friend. He was so many things to her. What if… She found herself unable to complete the thought.

  Tooshita’s eyes were dark. “There was a terrible fight,” she said. “A duel between him and one of our leaders, Commodore Li. They crashed through his cabin windows and into the ocean together. But only one of them came back up for air.”

  They had walked so fast that they were already at the entrance to the compound. Grace was aware of Darcy hanging back behind them as Tooshita pushed open the doors into daylight. The other healers were already waiting outside.

  “Who came back?” Grace asked as she and Tooshita strode out into the bracing light. “Cheng Li or John—Cheng Li or the Vampirate?”

  Tooshita smiled softly at her friend. “Good news,” she said. “Commodore Li is making an amazing recovery. He tried to take her down with him, but he failed.” Evidently, she didn’t notice Grace’s expression as she marc
hed on into the waiting area. Grace stumbled after her, feeling suddenly weak. It was an effort putting one foot in front of the other. Not Johnny. Not Johnny. Not Johnny. But she knew, deep down, that it must be true. War was raging and its fire would consume them all.

  19

  REUNION

  Grace watched, feeling wretched and numb, as three ambulances arrived at the top of the hill. Three ambulances meant a lot of casualties for her and her fellow healers to attend to. She should have followed Darcy’s advice and disappeared when she had the chance. Now there was no escape. Darcy’s words rang in her head. You’re in no fit state to heal. Darcy’s words were even truer now than they had been when she’d spoken them.

  Although Grace felt numb, she knew that deep within her was a maelstrom of turbulent emotions. She was in profound mourning for Johnny—for everything he had been and everything he might have been. She had always felt that, with time, she could save him from himself. Now it seemed that time had run out. How could she possibly heal the wounded from the battle to regain The Diablo when all her thoughts and feelings were with the man they had killed?

  Grace watched the scene in front of her with a sense of disconnection. Moments of crisis like this had somehow become commonplace. The rescue workers made up a well-oiled team; they all knew their places and responsibilities. The ambulance doors were opening, and there was Dani, clipboard in hand, ready to classify the casualties and assign them to the healers. The staff began passing the patients over to the stretcher-bearers. Grace waited, with a mounting sense of dread, for her patient to be assigned and her name to be called.

  She started when she recognized an ashen-looking Jasmine stumbling out of the back of one of the ambulances. What is Jasmine doing here? Obviously, she would have been involved in the attack on The Diablo. Is she wounded? Grace watched as Jasmine walked purposefully toward her. Other than a few cuts and grazes, Jasmine looked fine. It was clear that she was not here as a patient. Grace’s hands clenched into protective fists. Jasmine was Connor’s comrade and girlfriend. Had Connor been wounded in the battle? Her thoughts had been so much with Johnny that she hadn’t even stopped to think of her brother. The words of the prophecy came back to her in sharp relief. One twin must die. No, this was too much—not Johnny and Connor. Please, no.

  Standing before Grace, Jasmine’s face broke with evident relief. “Thank goodness you’re here, Grace,” she said. “He’s in a really bad way. I thought that they’d take us to the infirmary at Pirate Academy, but they said he was… that he was too far gone for that.” She managed to get the words out but only just before she started to sob.

  Grace stood before her brother’s girlfriend, barely daring to ask the question. “Jasmine, are you talking about Connor?”

  Jasmine shook her head, her face pale, her eyes wet with budding tears. “No! No, Connor’s fine. It’s Jacoby!”

  Grace felt ashamed at the relief that flooded through her. Suddenly things were coming back into focus. “Jacoby? But that’s wonderful. He’s alive after all!”

  “Barely,” Jasmine said with a shudder. “Wait till you see what they did to him. It’s a good thing Commodore Li killed that despicable Johnny Desperado before I could get my own hands on him. He kept Jacoby in a cage!”

  Grace didn’t know where she found the strength to squeeze Jasmine’s shoulder reassuringly and tell her, “Let it go, Jasmine. All that matters is that Jacoby’s safe.” She smiled softly. “He’s in the right place now. I’ll do everything I can for him.”

  Grace moved toward the stretcher and flinched as she saw Jacoby borne aloft. She was shocked, but not in the way she had expected to be. She knew that, whatever else, she had to remain calm. Turning, she saw Jasmine watching the unfolding scene intently. Grace’s eyes sought out Noijon. As if reading her mind, Noijon moved swiftly across to Jasmine and drew her away across the courtyard. Grace turned back to address the rescue team in a low but firm voice.

  “Why wasn’t this patient bagged?”

  The ambulance man looked at her in confusion. “He’s a pirate. Or what’s left of one. We don’t bag pirates.”

  “Look at him!” Grace commanded, her own eyes falling upon the livid burns covering Jacoby’s face and arms. The burns were fresh, but they were also familiar. She had seen them before on Lorcan’s face—after he had stayed out too long in the light.

  “Hmm, that’s strange,” admitted the ambulance driver. “I don’t remember him having those when we brought him off the boat. He must have taken a turn for the worse.” Grace frowned and shook her head as the man continued. “Anyhow, my job is to deliver them to you to fix up. He’s your problem now!” So saying, he actually smiled at her as, helped by his mate, he passed Jacoby’s ravaged body across to the nursing team. They clamped the patient onto a stretcher-trolley.

  “I’m going with him,” Jasmine said, breaking away from Noijon.

  “Wait!” Grace called to them both. “He’s in a bad way, and we can’t lose any more time in beginning his treatment.” Seeing the raw terror in Jasmine’s face, her voice softened. “Of course you can come with us, but I can’t let you into the healing chamber.”

  “He will be okay, won’t he?” Jasmine asked in a voice little more than a whisper. Before Grace could construct an answer, she heard her name being called again.

  Turning, she found Dani beckoning her over to another of the ambulances. Grace hurried over, then saw that she was standing over a zipped-up patient bag.

  “I need you to take another patient,” Dani told her. “It’s a Nocturnal, severity Gold. He or she—it’s not possible to tell which—is in a very bad way.” When Grace didn’t answer, Dani continued. “I’m sorry to ask, Grace, but I’ve already assigned cases to all the other healers. I’ve sent two of the most badly wounded to Mosh Zu. Frankly, you’re the only other healer capable of handling two of this severity.”

  Grace didn’t want to waste precious time thinking about this. Her earlier numbness had drained away and she felt filled now with a powerful energy and the urgent need to get started on her work. She nodded at Dani, then turned to her team.

  “Noijon!” Grace called out. “Come over here, please, and bring another trolley. We’re taking on a second patient. Evrim, take Jacoby down to the healing chamber and prepare him for me.” Seeing Jasmine hovering nearby, she added, “And someone please make Deputy Peacock comfortable in one of the anterooms.”

  Everyone did exactly as Grace instructed. They all had the utmost faith in her.

  With Jasmine settled outside, Grace gazed down at Jacoby’s lifeless body and the livid burns on his face and arms.

  “Evrim,” she said softly, “I need you to begin treatment while I get started on the other patient. It’s a close call, but he, or she, is in more urgent need of my attention.”

  “No problem,” Evrim said, gratified by this sign of Grace’s trust in her.

  “You’ve prepared a Nocturnal for treatment many times before,” Grace said. “You know what to do.”

  Now Evrim turned to Grace, her dark eyes wide with confusion. “But Grace, I thought he was a pirate,” she said.

  “Was,” Grace repeated. “Past tense. Look at these burns! What more information do you need? He’s been converted—and none too willingly by the looks of it.” Their eyes met as Grace continued. “It’s imperative that Deputy Peacock knows nothing of this. Not yet. She needs to hear it in the right way and from the right person, understand?”

  Evrim nodded. “I’ll start with some salve for his burns.”

  Nodding, Grace gave her colleague’s arm a reassuring squeeze, then pushed back the gauze curtain to attend to the patient on the other side of the healing chamber.

  Noijon had made all the necessary preparations, and, as Grace took her place at the foot of the bed, he lost no time in passing her the first set of healing ribbons. Glancing down at the wounded Nocturnal, Grace shuddered. There was no question. This was the most extreme case she had ever been confronted with. Poor, be
aten-up Jacoby was going to have to wait his turn.

  For all Grace’s earlier doubts, she found herself rising to the challenge of the healing process and grateful for the complete concentration it demanded from her. Maybe this was exactly what she needed, to distract her from her nascent grief. She soon found her own thoughts and feelings floating away as she became deeply immersed in the uniquely intimate dance between patient and healer.

  Noijon was with her every step of the way. They had worked together so often now that he anticipated her every move. It was clear, too, that he took pleasure at being challenged in this way. The healing was slow and arduous at the beginning, and Grace knew that, even if they were successful, this was going to be a long journey. But they persisted, and, slowly but surely, Grace began to sense intermittent but strengthening signs of the patient’s returning vitality.

  She knew now that the patient was a man. His body was ravaged with lesions, and the burning—which she now knew to be the prime cause of his wounds—had gone deep. His extremities began to patch themselves back together. His hands were too charred, and in any case too weak, to hold Grace’s healing ribbons. Taking this into consideration, Grace instructed Noijon to bind the ribbons through the patient’s hands—securely enough that they would not break free but loose enough that the ribbons would not rub against the sensitive skin there. Noijon swiftly attended to these preparations, then stepped back, presenting Grace with the other end of the ribbons.

  Her eyes were closed now, and, as she took hold of the ribbons, she felt a faint but building rhythm. It called to mind the drums that signaled the beginning of Feast Night. The drumming grew louder and more frequent. This was a good sign. Grace knew that the patient’s heart was beginning to repair. Now the beats made her think of the ocean lapping against the shore or the side of a ship. She continued her work, tuning in to the nuances of the patient’s heartbeats. The drumming grew progressively louder and louder until its beats became horses’ hooves, thundering across the sand.