Immortal War

Later that same night, a lone figure stepped ashore at the Blood Tavern. He entered the vestibule and approached Lilith’s dome.

“Back again?” Lilith said, looking at the young man curiously. “You’re a thirsty lad… third night on the trot, isn’t it?”

The young customer wasn’t keen to be engaged in conversation. “I’d like a pint, please,” he said, pushing his money across the counter.

Lilith’s hand clamped down on the notes. “I’ve been trying to place your face these past few nights. Didn’t you first come in here months back with a friend of yours?”

Connor shook his head. “You must be thinking of some other guy,” he said.

“Wait a mo! You wanted blood for him back then, not yourself. Said you were a pirate. Your name was… oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue… Connor! That’s it—Connor…”

“Smith!” Connor said. “Connor Smith is my name.”

“Really?” Lilith arched an eyebrow.

“Which room?” Connor interrupted, anxious to bring this conversation to a close as the shame crept up on him again.

“Room Seven,” Lilith said.

“Thanks.” Connor immediately made for the velvet-covered doorway. He had no desire to linger here, where he might be spotted or, worse, run into someone he knew. He slipped through the doorway, making his way toward Room Seven. He knocked, then took a deep breath and stepped inside.

10

MIND GAMES

It was late in the afternoon when, having performed two other healings and managed to grab the briefest of catnaps, Grace returned to the ward to check up on the patient. She coughed discreetly to make her presence known, her hand resting on the muslin curtain that surrounded the patient’s bed.

“Come inside my cocoon,” called a voice she instantly recognized, though it was hoarse from all he had lately endured.

Grace slipped around the curtain and found Olivier sitting up in bed. His face looked markedly different now to when he had been brought in. The deep fissures that had opened up the path to oblivion were now merely wounds. His flesh had patched itself together, and he looked, more or less, as she had remembered him from their former encounters. It was a truly remarkable transition. Grace knew that in large part this metamorphosis was due to her expert healing. But the healing process was a joint journey undertaken by patient and healer, and Olivier had played his part in this impressive recovery. There was a long road ahead, but now at least he was strong enough to answer some of the questions that had been bugging her.

“What happened to you?” Grace asked.

His mouth opened but he hesitated.

Grace smiled gently. “There’s no need to tell me if it’s too painful.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. It was entirely predictable, really. War is brutal, isn’t it? And this war is rewriting the book on brutality, wouldn’t you say?”

She nodded. The cases she had dealt with every single night and day since the outbreak of war were testament to the truth of his words. “But I don’t understand,” Grace said. “When I last saw you, you were heading off with Sidorio’s crew. How did you end up here? I assume it was the Vampirates who did this to you—not our own forces?”

“It was indeed the Vampirates,” Olivier acknowledged bitterly. “You’re right—I did flee from here in the company of Sidorio. I’ve always been drawn to power. And as great as Mosh Zu’s powers were… are… I sensed that Sidorio’s would prove even greater.” As he spoke Sidorio’s name, Olivier’s eyes met her own. She wondered if he knew the true nature of her relationship with Sidorio. She hoped not, but suspected that he might.

“Of course,” Olivier continued, “you might say that my assessment of the situation was correct—that Sidorio’s powers will ultimately prove unstoppable.”

Grace frowned. “That’s a matter of opinion. But I still don’t understand—if you were part of Sidorio’s crew, why would the Vampirates attack you?”

Olivier shook his head sadly. “Grace, let me share with you what I’ve learned about powerful people. They have a habit of stepping on others in order to achieve the giddy heights. Sidorio used me to help instill unrest here at Sanctuary, but, once that was accomplished, he didn’t have sufficient vision to find further use for me.” There was an awkward pause between them. Grace found herself thinking about the book she had glimpsed in Olivier’s vision: The Way of the Dhampir. Why would Olivier have had it? Could he be a dhampir himself? If so, couldn’t he have better protected himself from attack? And if he wasn’t a dhampir, then why was he so interested in them? Did he know about her and Connor? Had he known about them before they had found out the truth for themselves? She must not forget that Olivier had been extremely close to Mosh Zu and therefore privy to many closely guarded secrets. All of which made his ultimate betrayal so explosive.

The thought flashed across her brain again. Could Olivier be a dhampir? He had always claimed parity with Grace during their previous encounters, on the basis that they were neither Vampirates nor donors but “in- betweens.” Had that been his way of saying that they were both dhampirs? She hadn’t even known what a dhampir was back then. How he would have loved being a step ahead of her. Always a step ahead.

She was aware of his eyes upon her. They were so much sharper now than when he had arrived to be healed. Now they were like needles, just as before. She took a breath. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her. She had come a long way since their last meetings. She met his gaze. Had he somehow managed to key into her thoughts? If he was a dhampir, he might well be capable of that. But no, when he resumed speaking, it seemed that he had been brooding further—not on her but her father.

“Sidorio isn’t what you’d call a forward-thinker. I had so much to offer him.” Olivier smiled pointedly. “So much knowledge and skill to share. But he was only able to focus on the two boys he had already made his deputies—Stukeley and Desperado.” He spat their names as if expelling a lump of gristle. Grace could tell there was no love lost between the three of them.

“So,” Olivier continued, “having lured me away from this place, Sidorio cut me adrift. I found myself without portfolio, as it were.” Again, his dark eyes met Grace’s. “I couldn’t very well come back and beg Mosh Zu for forgiveness.”

“You should have come back,” Grace said. “Mosh Zu would have forgiven you.”

Olivier shook his head. “You’re wrong, Grace. I’ve known him a lot longer than you. And I know full well that, once he is crossed, mercy is not one of his finer qualities.”

Though it galled her to admit it, Olivier spoke the truth. But this was not a line of discussion Grace was keen to pursue.

“So where did you go?” she asked.

“I disappeared for a time,” Olivier said. “To lick my wounds.” He lifted his bandaged arms. “Not that my wounds then compared to these! I watched from the shadows as the changes coursed through the Vampirate world, and it gradually fractured into one of Vampirates and Nocturnals. When war came, I joined up like all good Nocturnals.”

Grace was surprised by this. “You’re a Nocturnal?” she said.