Darcy nodded, shuddering. Of course she remembered that prophecy, though she had hoped never to hear of it again.
“I think…” Grace began. “Or, it would be more accurate to say, I feel, that the time is drawing near.”
Darcy’s eyes were riveted to Grace. “Has the book said something to you?”
Grace nodded. “Today is my birthday. Connor and I turn fifteen today, though to be honest, I feel about a century older.”
“Oh, Grace!” Darcy said. “I wish I’d known. I’d have gotten you a gift. Though I don’t know what exactly.”
Grace smiled. “Well, whatever it was, it would have been better than Sidorio’s. That horrendous painting was his idea of the perfect present.” She shuddered. “Sidorio had to go back to The Vagabond because Lola was in labor with their twins. Strange, don’t you think, that a second pair of twins should be born on the very same day as me and Connor?”
“And when the twins are born,” Darcy said, “the end of the war is near—and either you or Connor will…” She could barely get the words out. “One of you will die?”
Grace nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice a barely discernible whisper. She drew herself together and looked straight into Darcy’s eyes. “I haven’t told Mosh Zu I’m leaving. In fact, we’re barely on speaking terms at the moment.”
“What should I say if he asks about you?” Darcy said.
Grace shrugged. “I was hoping you’d find a way to cover for me,” she said. “Buy me some time. But you can just tell him the truth if you prefer. I’m really past caring what he thinks.” She bit back fresh tears. “Darcy, I’m really scared and I need to get to The Nocturne right away.”
Darcy reached out and gripped Grace’s hand. “I can see how frightened you are,” she said. “But have you taken time to think this through? If you are potentially in danger, isn’t Sanctuary the very safest place for you? Aren’t you placing yourself in far graver danger by leaving?”
Grace’s voice emerged stronger and more determined than she felt. “I have to get to Lorcan,” she said. “You, better than anyone, must understand that.”
“Yes,” Darcy said. “Of course, I understand. I’ll do my best to cover for you here.” The two young women hugged again, then Grace stepped back and smiled. “Darcy Flotsam, what exactly are you doing with that guitar?”
“I borrowed it,” Darcy said, grinning. “For Jet. I thought it would raise his spirits to be able to make music again.”
“I see,” Grace said, still smiling through the tears, and, though it was hard, she looked straight into Darcy’s eyes. “I hope things work out between you and Jet,” she said. “I really hope he’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”
Her words awoke fresh alarm in Darcy’s face. “You’re talking as if you’re going away a lot longer than a night or two. Grace, the way you’re talking, it’s as if we’re never—”
Grace lifted her hand. “Don’t say it, Darcy. Please! Just let me go.” She turned and walked along the corridor, and, despite the temptation, she did not glance back once.
In Grace’s mind, the path down the cliff and onto the ambulance boat had grown more and more tortuous, with fresh obstacles arriving at every turn. In reality, it was straightforward enough to get where she needed to simply by lying. At the gates, she told the guards lie number one. “I’m going to fetch some supplies.” Such was their trust in her that no one objected. Instead, they smiled and opened the gates, wishing her a safe trip. Then she had the good fortune to coincide with an ambulance vehicle about to set off down the mountain and told the second lie. “Mosh Zu has sent me on an important mission. Can you take me down to the harbor?” The crew asked no further questions. They were only too happy to help. At the harbor, she found one of the ambulance boats idling and plucked a third lie from thin air: “I need to get to The Nocturne. There’s a badly wounded Nocturnal on board who I’m going to treat.”
So it was that, barely thirty minutes after Grace and Darcy had parted, Grace found herself racing across the sleet-gray ocean, on her way to The Nocturne and to Lorcan. It was strange after all this time to find herself traveling in daylight, in the open air, with crew members bustling all around her—albeit at a discreet distance. A shame, perhaps, that it wasn’t better weather so she could appreciate the now alien sensation of the sun on her face. But, in many ways, the dreary day suited her mood. Even the sting of the rain on her cheeks was no trouble to her.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come inside for a bit?” a kindly young member of the crew asked her. “You can get dry and I’ll make you a hot drink if you want.”
Grace smiled as best she could, but shook her head. “I’m fine out here, thanks.” She turned her head away to watch the trail of churning foam the boat left in its wake. Sanctuary was lost in the mist now and they were surrounded by silvery ocean on all sides. When Grace turned back again, the young sailor had left to talk to his mate.
There was something about being back on the water that instinctively soothed Grace. She knew that Darcy had had a point when she’d said that Grace would be safer within the Sanctuary compound, but what she hadn’t wanted to say to Darcy was that the safer she was, the more danger she feared Connor might be in. At least this way she was equalizing the threat to them both.
Could the prophecy really be true? Had she and Connor come on this extraordinary journey only to perish now? She let the wind dry her face, thinking back to the voyage they had embarked upon together from Crescent Moon Bay all those months ago. It was almost a year ago now but it seemed like ten or more. So much had happened. Each of their lives had changed so profoundly.
And now this prophecy… Having witnessed so much suffering and death, there wasn’t much she wanted more than for this war to come to an end. But she wasn’t prepared to die for it. After seeing those who had, it rather shamed her to admit this, if only to herself. She was not ready to die. But nor was she ready to lose Connor. There had to be another way.
“Miss!” The young sailor was standing beside her again. She realized that she had lost all track of time, her thoughts circling around and around inside her head like a vortex.
The sailor was pointing up across to where a ship lay moored in the lee of a bay. Grace’s heart missed a beat as she found herself looking once more upon The Nocturne. Its unique winglike sails billowed in the breeze. Its mast stood tall and strong. The only strange thing about seeing the ship again was the space where Darcy should be as the figurehead. Grace thought once more of Darcy and everything their friendship had come to mean to her.
Staring up at the hulk of the galleon as the ambulance vessel drew alongside, Grace felt as if the ship itself held the key to the mysterious prophecy. She felt calmer simply knowing that Lorcan was here. She would see him again in a matter of minutes, hold him again, and talk to him about these terrible fears. And he would know what to do. Because he always did. Lorcan, dear sweet Lorcan, had never once let her down.
28
RETURN TO THE NOCTURNE
As Grace climbed the ladder onto The Nocturne, she heard cries and thuds above her. A blur of feet greeted her as her eyes drew level with the deck. She took another step and saw that the deck of The Nocturne was alive with movement from prow to stern. Men and women were squaring up to one another with swords and a host of other weapons. Grace lingered at the edge of the ship, taking it all in. So, it had come to this.
The faces of many of the combatants were familiar to her. She didn’t know all of their names, but she had seen them often enough during her travels. They were the donors. Stepping onto the deck, clutching her bag in her right hand, Grace surveyed the scene. The very last thing she had expected was to see donors fighting. On a chill day such as this, it was unusual to see the donors up on deck at all.
But she sensed she was not in any danger. She turned to give a thumbs-up to the captain of the ambulance vessel. He nodded and lost no time in giving the orders to sail on. Grace began weaving her way through
the combatants, anxious to get inside and find Lorcan without delay. She had the door within her sights when someone jumped across her path. A pair of boots clomped onto the red deck boards and a hand reached out before her.
“Halt!”
Grace felt a wave of adrenaline course through her. Was there danger here after all? But when she looked up, she found herself gazing into a familiar face, lean and tanned. The eyes were jet-black, the smile pure Hollywood.
“Oskar!” Grace cried, dropping her bag and throwing her arms around Lorcan’s donor. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“You, too,” Oskar said, his eyes brimming with light. “The old place just hasn’t been the same without you.” He gave her another squeeze, then pulled back from her. “Hey—check out my lately acquired sword skills!” He began whirling his rapier around his head dramatically, then proceeded through an intricate sequence of moves.
Grace was impressed. “Where did you learn to do that?” she asked.
“Right here.” Oskar smiled. “From the master himself, aka Lorcan Furey. He was charged with training us all up.” Oskar rested the tip of his sword on the decking and mopped his brow. “To begin with all our training sessions were at night, but now that we’re getting the hang of it, some us have been deputized to oversee daytime training.” His dark eyes seared into hers. “You look surprised?”
Grace nodded. “I am. I never expected to see the donors become a fighting force.”
“War changes everything,” Oskar said, drawing himself upright and tensing his muscles. “No sense in a fighting machine like this going to waste!”
Grace nodded, smiling but nonetheless concerned. Things must be getting serious if it had come to this. Her need to see Lorcan felt even more pressing now.
“It’s so great to see you, but I have to go,” she said, already making her way toward the door. “I have some urgent business to discuss with Lorcan.”
“Wait!” Oskar called after her.
“I can’t,” she cried over her shoulder, walking on. “I’ll come and find you later.” There was an expression on Oskar’s face she couldn’t quite read, but it evaporated as another of the donors crept up behind him and drew him back into the fray. Turning away again, Grace pushed open the door leading to the ship’s interior.
She was aware of the beating of her heart as she made her way down the familiar corridors. It was like coming home. She couldn’t be sure if it was the look and smell of the ship itself that made her feel this way or whether it was the promise of Lorcan. Either way, it felt good.
At last, she was standing in front of his cabin. She knocked on the door and waited a moment, longing to see him. There was no answer, and, unable to contain her excitement now that she was so close, she twisted the door handle and pushed it open.
“Lorcan?” she called, stepping inside his cabin. It was dark within and the portholes were covered, as she had expected, with blackout material. The lamplight from the corridor cast a lackluster glow into the room. It was just about sufficient to confirm that Lorcan wasn’t here. She was momentarily deflated but reasoned that he must be somewhere else on the ship.
As she turned back toward the corridor, she found that the doorway was now blocked by a silent figure.
“Lorcan?” she repeated, but, as her eyes traced the silhouette, she realized it was not Lorcan but Obsidian Darke standing before her. His imposing frame filled the doorway.
“Grace,” he said, his distinctive voice as abrasive as ever. “Welcome back to The Nocturne. I’m afraid Lorcan isn’t here.”
Grace struggled to make out Darke’s features through the gloom. “Where is he?”
“With Cate and the crew of The Tiger. He helped to mastermind the recapture of The Diablo and is now helping them to plan what to do next.”
Grace felt the energy draining out of her body at the news that her journey had been in vain. What was she supposed to do now? The ambulance vessel was long gone and it wasn’t as if she could just hail a taxi boat and head over to The Tiger or back to Sanctuary.
“Why don’t you come to my cabin?” Darke suggested. “It’s more comfortable in there. There are candles and the fire is lit.”
His cabin? It was the last place she wanted to go, and, frankly, he was the last person she wanted to spend time with. It made her sad to think this way. When she had known him as the anonymous Vampirate captain, she had felt very differently. But there was something about Darke she found forbidding. Yet, despite herself, she followed him as he turned and crossed the hallway into the captain’s cabin.
“Please,” he said, “sit down.” He lifted a poker and began agitating the coals in the grate. Grace sat down in the chair she had sat in many times before. She watched Darke stir up the fire, then set down the poker and take his seat opposite from her.
“Well,” he said, smiling at her. “I hadn’t expected to see you today, but I’m pleased to have the opportunity to wish you a happy birthday in person.”
“You know that it’s my birthday,” she said, her tone neutral.
He nodded.
She had wanted to keep things polite, but he had unwittingly lit a fuse of irritation inside her. “Of course you know!” she found herself saying. “You and Mosh Zu know everything but you keep things secret from the rest of us, even when those secrets affect our lives in the most profound ways.”
It was clear from Darke’s tone that he was taken aback by her attack. “What secrets have I kept from you, Grace?”
She couldn’t believe she was hearing this. “What secrets? Where do I begin?”
She hesitated, feeling the anger bubbling away inside her. Perhaps it was better to shut up and leave now, but the fuse had been lit and there was no going back. “You knew that Sidorio was my blood father and you kept that from me until you had no choice but to tell me. And you knew all about my mother but you hid that information from me, too. Until you chose to bring her back.”
Darke raised his hand. “I didn’t choose to bring her back. As you may recall, I was very weak and on the verge of oblivion myself.” His face was etched with sorrow. “I was no longer able to protect Sally or the other souls I had carried for so long.” His eyes returned to Grace. “I know it’s small comfort, but at least you got the chance to know her for yourself. I had hoped that would be… meaningful to you.”
Grace frowned. “I got to watch my mother die. Thanks for lining up that experience!” She was shocked by the anger evident in her own tone of voice. Her voice softened as she continued. “I’m not denying that the time we had together was precious. Whether it was your intention or not, I’m grateful for that time. But you have to know how painful it was to get close to her, only to lose her again.”
Darke nodded, his face somber. “I do understand that,” he said. “I know what it’s like to lose those you are closest to.” His eyes met hers. “You and I were close once, but it appears, from your perspective at least, that our friendship is over.”
Grace felt a surge of anger. “It’s not a matter of perspective,” she said. “You’ve kept too much from me. You and Mosh Zu. You both knew that Sidorio fathered me and Connor, and you knew that we were dhampirs, but, for reasons that escape me, you chose not to tell us.”
“We were always going to tell you,” Darke said now. “But we wanted to wait until you were strong enough to handle the information.”
Grace folded her arms. “That’s awfully convenient, isn’t it?”
Darke shrugged. “It also happens to be true.” He looked deep into her eyes. “What other secrets have I kept from you, Grace?” he asked. “Or have you come to the end of your list?”
She shook her head, holding his gaze. “No,” she said. “I haven’t finished. Because now I’ve found out about the prophecy. So I know that you and Mosh Zu have both been keeping the biggest secret of all. That either Connor or I must die, in order to bring peace to the oceans.”
Darke rose to his feet. “You know about the prophecy?” he said
. “How?”
“Not from you,” Grace said. “And not from Mosh Zu. No, I had to find out by other means.”
Darke frowned. “What means do you speak of?”
“A book I found.”
Obsidian looked thoughtful. “I assume you’ve spoken to Mosh Zu about this?”
“Of course,” Grace said. “He brushed it aside and told me it wasn’t important—though I’ve no doubt he lost no time in informing you.”
Darke shook his head once more. “He didn’t, as a matter of fact. This is the first I’ve heard of it, though, believe me, I wish that wasn’t the case.”
“Well,” Grace said with a shrug, “at last you know what it feels like to be kept in the dark.”
Darke turned his head away. Seeing that the fire was dwindling in the grate, he walked over and lifted the poker again. For a minute, there was silence within the cabin, followed by the hiss, spit, and crackle of the fire as it grew strong once more. Carefully, Darke set down the poker and turned to face Grace.
“I had no idea you felt such anger toward me,” he said. “But I’m honestly glad you have shared your feelings with me, and, now you have said things as you see them, I can understand how you feel.” He came to stand behind her chair, resting his hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. It took her back to a time when he had spoken only in that whisper, but now his voice grew louder once more. “I never thought I was keeping secrets from you and Connor. I was just trying to protect you both. When you set out from Crescent Moon Bay, neither one of you could have anticipated just what you were sailing into.”
His hand remained on her shoulder. At his words, Grace found herself back in Dexter’s old boat as it splintered around her and she was thrown into the ocean.
Immortal War Page 20
