“There,” said Olivier. “All done. That wasn’t so bad after all, eh?” He took a fresh roll of bandage and some scissors from his satchel, then seemed to have second thoughts. “Actually, Grace, why don’t you replace Lorcan’s bandage? You seem to be getting pretty expert at it.”
Grace nodded, taking the bandage and scissors and setting to work. Olivier watched her as she neatly fastened the new bandage about Lorcan’s head.
“Excellent work,” Olivier said. “You’re very lucky, Lorcan Furey, to have such a competent nurse at your side.”
“Don’t I know it?” Lorcan said, smiling again.
Grace’s heart leaped. Two smiles in short succession. She hadn’t seen that from Lorcan in quite some time.
“Now, I also brought you something to drink,” Olivier said.
Immediately the smile disappeared.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“It isn’t what you think it is,” Grace said. “It’s a substitute for blood. It’s a tea made from seven wild berries that grow here on the mountain. It’s full of minerals and other nutrients.”
Olivier smiled. “That’s right,” he said. “We don’t expect you to start taking blood again until you’re ready. In the meantime, this tea will help you to gain strength.”
Lorcan remained impassive. “I’m feeling tired again,” he announced.
“That’s no surprise,” Olivier said. “If you feel tired, you must rest. That’s why you’re here. It’s all part of the healing process.”
“Do you want me to stay with you?” Grace asked.
“Yes.” Lorcan nodded. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.” She smiled and gave his hand another squeeze.
“I’m going to leave you two,” Olivier announced. “And I’m leaving a flask of tea here on your nightstand. If you’d like some, ask Grace to pour it for you. No pressure, Lorcan, but if you can manage even a small drop of it, it will help to speed your recovery.”
“All right,” Lorcan said. “Let me sleep and we’ll see about the tea.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Olivier nodded and began collecting his things together and putting them back into the satchel. Standing up, he reached for the door. “Grace, a word,” he said, beckoning her out into the corridor. She followed.
“Let him sleep,” he said in hushed tones. “But when he wakes, try to get him to drink some of the tea. Don’t force him, but if anyone can get him to drink the stuff, it’s you.” He smiled. “Probably best not to tell him you found it disgusting!” he added.
Grace nodded.
“I’ll check back on you both later,” he said. “Oh, and I almost forgot. I have something for you.”
He opened his satchel again and produced a book. He held it out to her.
“What’s this?” she said, expecting it to be more information about Sanctuary, or perhaps a collection of recipes for herbal remedies. But as she turned the book on its side and read the spine, she smiled.
“The Secret Garden! One of my favorites.”
“I thought you might want something to occupy yourself while he’s sleeping,” Olivier said.
“Thanks,” Grace said. Once again, she found herself revising her opinion of Olivier. Her first impressions of him had been quite wrong. He really was quite considerate after all. She watched him pad off along the corridor, satchel over his shoulder, knocking on the next door and disappearing into the next vampire’s chamber. Then she pushed back the door to Lorcan’s room. She could tell from his breathing that he had already fallen asleep. She sat down in the chair at the foot of the bed and quietly opened up the book. She had read it for the first time years ago and often since. The familiar opening was like a balm to her.
When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle . . .
With a contented sigh, Grace soon found herself lost once more in the story of poor Mary Lennox’s arrival at the lonely house on the moors.
“What are you reading?”
The voice came out of nowhere.
Grace glanced up.
“What are you reading?” he asked again.
“How can you tell I’m reading?” she asked, disconcerted.
“Because I can hear you turning the pages,” Lorcan said with a chuckle. “It didn’t take a great deal of psychic ability to work that out.”
“Have you been awake long?” she asked.
“I dunno.” He shrugged and pushed himself up.
“Here,” she said. “Let me rearrange your pillows for you.”
“Thanks,” he said. “You certainly do make a good nurse. I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble. It’s not fair.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “You looked after me, remember? You rescued me from drowning, and then, on The Nocturne, you protected me. . . . The least I can do is plump your pillows.”
“All the same,” he said, this time reaching for her hand, “I’m very grateful to you, Grace.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Grace saw the flask that Olivier had left on Lorcan’s nightstand. He was in such a good mood she thought it might be the moment to mention the tea again. She was building up to asking him, but he spoke first.
“So are you going to tell me or is it some deep, dark secret?”
“What?” she asked, feeling guilty and not entirely sure why.
“What you’re reading!” he said.
“Oh!” She smiled. “It’s The Secret Garden. Olivier gave it to me. It’s one of my favorites. Do you know it?”
“I’ve heard of it,” he said. “But I’m not much of a reader. What’s it about?”
“Well, there’s this girl called Mary Lennox,” Grace said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “She’s been living in India but her parents have died and she’s sent back to England to stay with her guardian in this vast manor house. It’s a beautiful but lonely place. Her guardian’s wife died and he’s still in mourning. The wife had a walled garden but, after she died, her husband locked it and buried the key . . .”
“It sounds sad,” Lorcan said.
“It is quite sad,” Grace said. “But I like sad stories. And it’s very beautiful too.”
“Would you read some to me?” Lorcan asked.
“Yes, of course I will,” she said. She returned to the chair and opened the book at the beginning again. “Are you sitting comfortably?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” he said.
Grace smiled. “It’s just something my dad used to ask Connor and me before he read to us,” she replied.
“Ah,” said Lorcan. “Well, yes, Miss Tempest, I am quite comfortable. So let’s hear about this secret garden of yours.”
Grace opened the book and began to read.
“I think I’d better leave it there for now,” Grace said, after reading a few chapters aloud. “My voice is getting hoarse.”
“It’s a grand story,” Lorcan said. “And you read it very well.”
“Thank you.” She looked up at him and smiled.
Lorcan yawned.
“Are you sleepy again?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Actually, I feel wide awake. I could do with getting up and about.”
“Really?” Grace was surprised.
“Yes,” he said. “Shall we go for a little wander?”
“Sure,” said Grace. “Mosh Zu said we could go outside, didn’t he?” Then she thought again. “Oh no — it’s light.”
“Well, let’s go on a little exploration indoors then, shall we?” Lorcan suggested.
“Yes! Why not?” Grace was pleased that Lorcan was keen to get up and about. She couldn’t help but think this must be a good sign. She closed the book, marking her place for later, then came over to help him out from under the blankets.
“There you are,” she said. “Swing your feet down to the ground. They left you some soft shoes.”
“Slippers, Grace,” he said. “Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? I’m an invalid,
so of course they gave me slippers. It’s okay. If you put them in front of my feet, I’ll put them on.”
She did as he asked and he pushed his toes into the slippers.
“Righto,” he said. “Let’s go on a magical mystery tour.”
Grace glanced at the flask of tea on the nightstand. “Before we go,” she began, “do you think you might try a drop of tea?”
He considered for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m not thirsty,” he said. “Maybe later, when we come back.”
Grace felt somewhat deflated, but at least she had tried. And Olivier had instructed her not to push Lorcan.
“Okay,” she said. “Are you ready then?”
He nodded. She pushed open the door and led him out into the corridor.
“Left or right?” she asked.
“You choose,” he said.
She decided to go to the right. At first Lorcan was a little unsteady on his feet, but as she led him along, he fell into a rhythm. The dimly lit corridor was deserted. All the doors on both sides were shut. It reminded Grace of being back on The Nocturne, when the vampires were sleeping; or after the Feast, when they were locked behind closed doors, sharing.
One corridor led into another. Grace was unsure whether they could make a complete circuit if they kept going or if, like a maze, the corridor would lead them to a dead end or in a direction from where it would be hard to retrace their steps. Still, she kept going, unsure whether this was now a new corridor or one they had walked down before.
“It’s very quiet,” Lorcan said.
“Yes,” agreed Grace. “The others must be resting.”
“You see?” Lorcan smirked. “I’ve got more get-up-and-go than the rest of them, even in this condition.”
“Yes,” Grace said. “Yes, you have.”
As the corridor turned again, Grace saw an open door to one side, and the glow of light from within it. She must have paused because Lorcan asked her, “What is it? Why have you stopped?”
“There’s an open door up ahead,” she said.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Lorcan said. “Let’s investigate!”
Grace nodded, delighted that he seemed in such good spirits. She led him along the corridor to the fan of light that spilled out from the open door.
“Here we are,” she whispered, hesitantly leading him inside.
“Well,” Lorcan asked, also whispering. “What’s the room like?”
“It’s bigger than your room and mine,” she said, feeling less nervous now that she saw the room was quite an ordinary one. “Rectangular in shape. There’s a sofa and a couple of chairs around a low table. On one side of the sofa is a shelf of books, and boxes of games and . . .” She turned. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“What is it?” Lorcan said.
“There’s someone in here,” Grace said, her eyes meeting those of the good-looking boy sitting at the table. He nodded at her and returned her smile, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling at her. In front of him was a chessboard. He seemed to be in the middle of a game, judging by the pieces scattered on either side of the board. But his opponent must have slipped out for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Grace said, addressing the boy directly once more. “We didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“No problema,” he said. “It’s nice to know someone else is awake and moving around here.”
“How’s the game going?” Grace asked.
“It’s pretty level,” said the boy, running a hand through his thick curly hair. “But then, the players are well matched.”
He turned his eyes from Grace to Lorcan, and as he did so, Grace took the opportunity to get a better look at him. He was dressed in the same robes as Lorcan, so it was clear he was another vampire, undergoing treatment. But under the robe, she could see he wore a red neckerchief. This gave her pause, but her train of thought was interrupted as his eyes flashed back to her.
“I don’t suppose either of you play chess?” he said hopefully. “It gets really boring playing by yourself, even if you are pretty awesome at it.”
“I play,” Lorcan said, turning. “But it would be a little hard at the moment.”
“Ah yes, I’m sorry,” said the boy. “I hope you’re not in too much pain.” He looked back at Grace. His brown eyes were disarmingly wide. The openness of his stare drew her in. It was like a hand reaching out to her, pulling her toward him. It was inviting but, at the same time, she felt uncomfortable. No, not just uncomfortable. She felt fearful. As if some instinct was telling her not to get close to him. To turn around now, while she still could.
“How about you, little lady? Can I tempt you to a game?” His voice was as soft and melting as his eyes.
“We should probably get back,” she said. “We all need some sleep —”
“No,” said Lorcan and the stranger simultaneously, cutting her dead.
“No,” Lorcan repeated. “I’m not ready to go back to my room.”
“And I’m not about to lose the only good company I’ve had in weeks,” said their new companion. “Sit yourselves down, folks. Make yourselves at home. It puzzles me, it really does, why so few of the others make use of this rec room.”
Suddenly he shot his arm across the table. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You didn’t tell me your names?”
“I’m Grace,” she said, “Grace Tempest.” She took his hand and shook it, noticing two things. His grip was strong. And his hands were a little callused. Something in her mind clicked.
“Pretty name, Grace,” he said. She noticed the trace of an accent. Now her mind was spinning. He had said problema before. Not problem but problema.
“And this is Lorcan Furey,” she said, trying to keep as levelheaded as possible.
He shook Lorcan by the hand. “Good to meet you, Lorcan.”
“And you are?” Lorcan asked.
“I’m Johnny,” he said. “Johnny Desperado.”
Of course! This was Johnny. The cowboy whose ribbon she had held in her hand. The one whose memories she had somehow tapped into in her dreams. The one whose lonely death, hanging from a branch above the snow, she had channeled. Grace froze, unable to take her eyes away from him. This did not escape his notice. Smiling, he gave her a wink. Without taking his eyes off her for an instant, he spoke once more.
“Well, are you guys going to stand on ceremony like that all night, or sit yourselves down and tell ol’ Johnny something about yourselves?”
26
LOST
“So,” Bart mused as he steered the safety boat out of Limbo Creek. “Blood Tavern — a one-of-a-kind kind of place, or do they have a franchise?”
Connor grimaced. “It’s all very well you making jokes about it,” he said. “You didn’t have to go inside.”
“No joke,” said Bart. “Serious question, mate.” He turned to Jez. “Is it a unique establishment or are there blood taverns all over the place, if you know where to find them?”
Jez shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t even remember going there before. Only, when I was inside, it did seem familiar.”
“Hmm,” Bart said. “And what exactly goes on in there?”
Connor sighed. More than anything, he wanted to leave the world of the strange “tavern” behind him. He tried to turn his mind to Ma Kettle’s. That was what a tavern should be — a place to drink and have some fun with your mates. Not a place where you went to drain another person’s blood.
“Guess you two are gonna hold out on me, eh?” Bart said.
Jez nodded. “Since you didn’t have the cojones to come in with me and Connor, I reckon we’ll keep mum.” He sighed. “Besides, I really don’t want to talk about it. I needed blood and I got some. End of story.”
“All right, buddy,” said Bart. “I can take a hint.”
“Just take me to the Vampirate ship,” Jez said.
Bart glared at his old friend. “I’m not sure I like the new you,” he said. “Take me to the Blood Tavern . . . Take me to the Vampirate ship . . . If you don�
��t mind me saying so, buddy, since you died, you’ve gotten awful bossy. What’s the rush anyhow? Aren’t you immortal now? From where I’m sitting, you’ve got all the time in the world.”
Jez shook his head. “That’s just it,” he said. “Maybe I’m not immortal yet. Maybe I’m not wholly a vampire. If there’s a chance . . . any chance that the Vampirate captain can reverse the process, then I want him to do it. So, the way I see it, time is of the essence.”
Connor spoke now. “But if the captain did reverse the process, wouldn’t you be dead again?” He had a grim memory of Jez lying cradled in Bart’s arms, bloodied and pale in the wake of the fateful duel.
Jez nodded. “I’d rather be dead than be this way.”
“Is it that bad?” Connor asked.
“You have no idea.”
Bart’s face was a picture of gloom. When he spoke, his usually robust voice started to falter. “You can’t die again. It’s not fair . . . on us. We already lost you once. Then you come back —”
Jez’s words cut across his friend’s. “I’m still lost to you, mate. I’m lost to you and I’m lost to myself.” Connor saw then the abject despair in Jez’s eyes. In a way, it scared him more than the fire that had blazed there during Jez’s blood-hunger.
“We need to get you to that ship,” Connor said. “The captain will be able to help you. I’m sure of it.”
“I hope so,” Jez said. “I’ve never hoped for anything so much in all my . . . well, I’ve never hoped for anything so much.”
“If only wishing were enough to get you there,” Bart said. “I still have no idea how we’re going to find it. What do you reckon, Connor?”
Connor looked around them. They were in the middle of the ocean. They could no longer see the land. Nor were there any ships in their midst. Suddenly, it all became clear to him. “Stop the boat,” he said.
“What?” Bart asked.
“You heard me,” Connor said. “Stop steering the boat. Let’s just float here for a moment.”
Bart shook his head. “I dunno. I’m out in the wilderness with two jellyheads!” Nevertheless, he obeyed Connor’s command and brought the boat to a standstill.
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