Immortal War

by Justin Somper

  “She makes me laugh,” he said. “But you take my breath away, Darcy. You always did and you always will.”

  Darcy slipped her hand free from his and rose from the bench. She took a few steps toward the fountain, feeling its spray dampen her face like raindrops—or tears.

  When he spoke again, there was a note of pleading in his voice. “I wonder,” he said. “Do you think you could ever entertain the possibility of giving me another chance?” His eyes sought an answer in hers, but Darcy kept her expression veiled.

  Stukeley sighed. “It gets lonely, don’t you find? I realized that, when I thought Johnny was… gone, there are so few people I trust these days. I know you have your work, and so do I, but there’s all this eternity stretched out before us. It scares me sometimes.”

  “I won’t be your cure for loneliness,” she said sharply, staring into the fountain.

  “No,” he said, standing close beside her, his face glowing in the light of the moon and its reflection in the water. “You’d be so much more than that.”

  Darcy felt a fresh wave of sadness break within her. “We can never be together,” she said. “Your words are like diamonds, Jez. They always were, but your actions fall short.” He looked at her forlornly as she continued. “The reason I didn’t run away with you that night was because of the hideous way you treated the captain—the very man who’d rescued you from the abyss.” It pained her to think of that night but now that Pandora’s box was open, it could not be closed. “You whispered sweet nothings to me, but after you’d gone I learned that you had murdered Shanti in cold blood.” She paused but he didn’t deny it. “I’m sure you’ve murdered many others since then. And now you’re one of Sidorio’s trusted deputies, so you’re just as responsible for this war as he is. It’s your fault your best friend is in the state he’s in.”

  Stukeley frowned. “That’s not fair. You’ve never liked Sidorio.”

  “There’s very little to like,” she said. “But at least Sidorio knows himself. I think you look in the mirror, Jez, and you see someone quite different staring back at you.”

  She turned from him and drew her cardigan more tightly around her. The cold sadness inside her was now equaled by the chill of the night. Once every dream of hers had been bound up with Jez Stukeley. Now all she wanted was to go back inside and bury herself under her bedcovers. Perhaps this was the saddest part of all—that he, whom she had once thought to be her Mr. Jetsam, might now mean so little to her.

  “Is that it, then?” Stukeley asked. Now there was bitterness in his voice. “Is that all the time you’ll deign to grant me before I leave with Johnny?”

  She turned to glance over her shoulder, perfectly poised. “I think I’ve been more than generous, all things considered,” she said. “And now, I think I’d best get back inside. If I stay out any longer, I might catch a chill. Or worse.”

  Darcy turned away and, bowing her head against the night breeze, made for the Corridor of Lights. Walking back into the compound, she was surprised how weightless she felt—as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She walked beneath the butter lamps, finding their distinctive smell homely and grounding. Turning the corner into the Corridor of Discards, she felt as if she were seeing the place for the first time. Her eyes were assaulted from all sides by the shapes and colors of the trinkets so many Nocturnals had left here in order to journey deeper into the compound and on toward a state of peace.

  Darcy paused in the middle of the corridor and reached into the pocket of her nurse’s uniform. With trembling fingers she retrieved a small brooch in the shape of a shooting star. It was the first gift Jez had given her, and she had kept it close all this time—a kind of talisman. Now she placed the brooch here where it belonged—among all the other discarded things. She had been on the verge of placing it here before, when Grace and Noijon had surprised her. But she had found herself afflicted by doubt. Now that doubt had evaporated. Feeling lighter having disposed of the last token of her toxic relationship with Jez, she continued on her way.

  She felt sure that Grace and Noijon could handle Johnny, and she didn’t want to play any further part in their misguided plan. She decided it was best, all things considered, to keep out of their way. Up ahead, the door leading to the inpatient wards was open. She slipped through the door and into the ward. It seemed deserted; the other medical staff must be on a break. Darcy immediately fell back into duty mode, picking up a sheaf of papers that had been dropped on the stone floor and adjusting the muslin curtains around one of the beds to retain the patient’s privacy. She continued on her way, noticing that within one of the muslin tents, there was a light.

  Stepping closer, she saw that on the other side of the curtain, the patient was awake and moving. He was whispering to himself and waving his arms about. Thinking that he might be in some kind of distress, she pushed back the curtain and stepped inside.

  “Are you all right?” she asked gently.

  The patient, a young-looking man with shiny black hair shaped into a pompadour, froze and smiled at her. “Never better,” he said.

  “What were you doing just now?” she asked. “Whispering and waving your arms like that?”

  He winked at her. “I was just playing my guitar,” he said.

  “Your guitar?”

  He nodded and brought his hands up to mime strumming an invisible guitar. Darcy smiled but couldn’t help wondering how badly concussed he must have been to be experiencing such delusions.

  “Don’t look so worried,” he said. “You’re much too beautiful to have frown lines.”

  She smiled at the compliment, taking a closer look at his face and noticing that his eyes were almost as dark as his hair.

  “My actual guitar was lost when we were attacked,” he said. “The band and I were entertaining the troops, you see. We all made it out in one piece, just about—except my 1954 Fender Strat Sunburst.” He smiled. “Now that guitar had the Mojo. Big time! In fact, she pretty much saved my life, you know.”

  “She… you mean it did?”

  The patient nodded, patting the seat beside his bed. Darcy sat down, setting the sheaf of papers she had picked up earlier on her lap and turning her full attention to the young man at her side.

  “This merciless Vamp was bearing down on me with this evil-looking, double-headed ax doohickey. So I took hold of my Fender Strat and staked him clean through the heart with it. He disintegrated into itty-bitty pieces but so, sad to say, did my Fender Strat.” He shook his head sadly but then shrugged. “And that’s why I’m reduced to playing air guitar,” he said. “But it’s probably a good thing because that way I don’t wake up any of the others when I’m practicing my set.”

  “Ah!” Darcy nodded in understanding. “That’s why you were whispering.”

  He nodded. “No flies on you, nurse,” he said.

  “So you’re in a band?” Darcy said. “Would I have heard of it? What’s it called?”

  The young man’s eyes twinkled as he strummed his imaginary guitar with a flourish. “Jet Jetsam and the Jets,” he said.

  Darcy barely dared to ask the next question. “And you are… Jet Jetsam?”

  “The one and only,” he said, putting her out of her misery with the biggest, most beautiful smile she had seen in centuries.

  23

  WALKING WOUNDED

  Johnny leaned heavily on Grace and Noijon as they walked him out across the courtyard and into the kitchen garden. Seeing them appear, Stukeley jumped to his feet.

  “Johnny!” he cried, jumping up and running over to his old buddy. “It’s so good to see you!” Stopping short beside him, Stukeley took a proper look at his friend and comrade. “Man, you look like—”

  “I feel worse than that!” Johnny said, hanging his head.

  “Where’s Darcy?” Grace asked Stukeley.

  “She had to go,” he said. “Or, to be more accurate, she felt she had to get away from me.”

  “Oh.” Grace nodded. “Wel
l, I suppose you two should be on your way, too. Noijon and I will go and distract the guards.” She was about to set off when Johnny reached out and softly caught her arm.

  “Hey,” he said. “Don’t I get to thank you for saving my life?”

  Grace shrugged awkwardly. “You’ve already thanked me,” she said. “Hundreds of times.”

  He smiled at her, opening his arms and drawing her into the gentlest of embraces. “I owe you,” he said. “If you ever need me, if I can ever help you, I’ll be there in a flash.”

  “Thank you,” she said. It was a kind offer but she couldn’t imagine what set of circumstances would send her running to him. “You really should get going now.”

  “Sure thing, sugar. I just want to say one more thing. If you ever change your mind about Lorcan… I know that ain’t likely any time this millennium, but if you ever do, I’ll be waiting.”

  Grace remembered how during her first healing session with Johnny she had felt the tangible sense of his happiness during their midnight horseback rides. In another lifetime perhaps they could have made it work, but not now, not the way the die had been cast. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him not to wait for her but she decided, on balance, that it was kinder to say nothing. Instead, she let him stand back on his own two feet, then addressed Stukeley. “Take good care of him, Jez, or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  Stukeley nodded. He didn’t even call her out for using his long-forsaken mortal name. “I’m grateful to you, Grace. More than I can say.”

  “Come on,” Noijon said. “Time for the final phase of our plan.”

  It all went without a hitch and soon the two comrades were on the other side of the Sanctuary gates—Stukeley leading Johnny back down the mountainside.

  “Guess you know what happened to my ship?” Johnny said mournfully.

  Stukeley nodded. “Those scumbag pirates came under cover of the dawn light and stole it from you.”

  Johnny’s eyes were wide and sorrowful. “That was my ship, mi hermano. My ship and my crew.” He shook his head. “Hell only knows what they did to my men and women if they did this to me.”

  Stukeley spoke gravely. “Word on the water is that the oblivion toll was high.” He squeezed Johnny’s shoulder. “But you’ll get another ship.”

  Johnny’s eyes were cast down. “Truth be told, I’m not sure I deserve one. I let my team down, Stuke. We shouldn’t have been caught unawares like that.” He lifted his eyes once more to meet his friend’s.

  “You know who was behind this attack?” Stukeley asked.

  “The unholy Alliance, of course.”

  “Yeah, but I mean who specifically.”

  Johnny shook his head.

  “Lorcan-freaking-Furey,” Stukeley sneered. “Seems like Captain Sanctimonious is directing military strategy for their side now.”

  “Really?” Johnny shrugged. “Well, it ain’t no surprise when you think about it. The self-hating Vampirate needs something to keep himself warm on those long, cold winter nights.”

  Stukeley grinned. “The way you were talking to Grace back there, I thought you were all going to be friends.”

  “Nah!” Johnny shook his head. “I’m done fighting him in love, but I sure ain’t letting him get away with anything in war.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Stukeley said as they navigated a particularly treacherous section of the cliff path. Thankfully, the moon and stars were there to guide their footsteps. “You know, I’ve been worrying about you all day long and thanking every one of these stars that you survived.”

  “Thank you,” Johnny said, more touched than he could say by Stukeley’s words.

  “De nada, hermano,” Stukeley said, smiling at his friend. “Sidorio was out of his mind with worry, too.”

  “He was?” Johnny said, his eyes brightening at the thought.

  “More than you can imagine. He had to be physically restrained not to go out into the light and search for you himself.”

  Johnny’s eyes went wide. “He’d have done that for me?”

  “We’re family now,” Stukeley said. “And family looks out for one another.”

  “Brothers to the end!” Johnny said, reaching out a hand to his comrade.

  Stukeley felt the tears budding in his eyes as he gripped Johnny’s hand tightly. “Brothers to the end!”

  24

  RETURN FROM THE DEAD

  “Ready?” Stukeley asked Johnny as they waited outside Lola’s cabin on The Vagabond.

  His companion nodded, so Stukeley knocked on the door.

  It was Sidorio who called out in response, “Enter!”

  Smiling in anticipation, Johnny pushed open the door and stepped gingerly inside, followed by Stukeley.

  “Stetson!” Sidorio immediately rose to his feet and strode toward Johnny. He opened his arms to him but a voice, from deeper inside the cabin, caused them both to freeze.

  “So, the cowboy has risen from the dead!”

  Sidorio immediately glanced over his shoulder. “I thought you were having a little rest, dear.”

  Lola emerged from her private salon, clad in a voluminous layered nightgown, holding a compress to her forehead. She was followed by Camille and Holly, whose face instantly brightened on seeing Johnny. Sadly, the same could not be said for Lola. Her features brought Stukeley to mind of lowering skies before a thunderstorm finally breaks.

  “How’s your headache?” Sidorio asked.

  Lola ignored the question, brushing past him to focus squarely on Johnny. “Welcome back, Cowboy,” she said, affecting a Texan twang. “We sure are stoked that you made it home to the range!”

  “Thank you,” Johnny said, tipping his hat and misjudging the mood of the chamber entirely.

  “Did you have fun, flirting with the enemy?” Lola inquired, back to her usual clipped tones. At her side, Holly looked perturbed by this line of questioning.

  “Not really,” Johnny said, wising up to the general mood. “I was too sick for that, sadly.”

  “What a shame,” Lola said. “For everything your actions have cost us, you might as well have had a few laughs.”

  Johnny glanced over Lola’s shoulder to Sidorio. “I’m really sorry about losing my ship,” he said. “I feel just terrible about my crew. I was no kind of captain to them.”

  Lola’s lips made a smile but there was no levity in her voice as she took a step closer to Johnny. “You speak the truth, Desperado. You are no kind of captain. But frankly, my dear vacquero, your ship and your crew are as insignificant as you are.”

  “Lola!” There was warning in Sidorio’s voice and in his eyes, too, but, when Lola raised her hand, he fell silent again. Lola resumed her attack on Johnny.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve cost us? My husband and I were meeting with the most influential Vampire leader in this quadrant this morning. We were in the middle of signing an accord that would have extended our power beyond the oceans and across the land for as far as the immortal eye can see.” She paused momentarily to grab her belly, then swiftly resumed. “The blood was drying on the contract when news of your defeat and presumed death arrived.” Her eyes narrowed. “How disappointing that the intelligence transpired to be only fifty percent accurate.”

  Stukeley had heard enough and now stepped in to defend his comrade. “Johnny fought hard to prevent the pirates taking The Diablo—he was nearly killed in the process. I think he deserves a little more gratitude. Now, I know how important that alliance was to you—to all of us—but Eternal DeWinter was always going to be an unpredictable ally. There are others that Johnny has been working on for months now…”

  “Too slow!” Lola said. “That’s the problem with all of you men. You plot and you plan and you scratch your… heads, but you just can’t get the job done! You were flailing about on The Blood Captain until I arrived and turned you into a force to be reckoned with.”

  “We were doing just fine until you came along,” Stukeley said huskily.

 
“What did you say?” There was hot lava in her voice. It left no doubt in anyone’s mind that Mount Lola was about to erupt.

  “I said…” Stukeley began, feeling suddenly liberated from caution.

  “She heard you,” Sidorio said, his voice utterly commanding, as he stepped forward. His eyes took in all of those gathered in the room. “You all have a right to your own opinions, but this isn’t helping matters. The events of the past twenty-four hours have stretched our emotions as taut as piano wire. Our feelings are running high. But what kind of an army are we if we fall apart at the first sign of trouble?” His imperious eyes swept the room once more. “No kind of army, that’s what! We all need some time out to take stock. Johnny, you lost your ship and your crew this morning. You nearly lost your life—again. That shouldn’t have happened but it did. We learn from it and we move on.” Now his eyes settled on Lola. “Lola, we lost momentum in a key alliance today. Again, it’s regrettable, but our power grows all the time. We can still win this war—Stukeley’s right when he says there are other, better, allies just waiting for us to call.”

  He brought a reassuring hand to his wife’s shoulder. There was a strange look on her face, impossible to decipher. She opened her mouth and from her lips came an earsplitting scream. It lasted well over a minute. Sidorio, who hadn’t merely heard the scream but felt it tearing through every fiber of his being, turned toward her. “Please, darling, try to keep things in perspective. I know Johnny messed up, but…”

  Lola seemed a little unsteady on her feet. She stumbled, reached both hands to her belly, then opened her mouth once more. The others all braced themselves for a second scream. Mercifully, it did not manifest.

  “My labor has begun,” she said, with quiet composure. Pushing past Sidorio, she reached out her arms for Holly and Camille. They immediately offered their support and led her back inside her bedchamber.