reached for Cate’s hand, gripping it tightly. “I’ll never forget watching that ship of Vampirates sail away with him that night and feeling so powerless to help him.” Her eyes met Cate’s. “I think we have to let them go,” she said. “For our sake as much as theirs.”
Nodding, Cate turned back, desolately, toward the horizon.
14
BROUGHT TO BOOK
All that night, Grace waited for a chance to go to the lab and see if Olivier’s book was still hidden there under the counter. She had no doubt of its power and importance and was intent on discovering for herself what lay between its blue cloth covers. Nor did she doubt that, as soon as he was capable, Olivier would set off to retrieve the book for himself. She was sure now that this was one of the reasons he had come back to Sanctuary—perhaps the main reason. Fortunately, he was not yet strong enough to rise up from his bed. But he would be soon enough. He was making a surprisingly swift recovery, given the severe state he had arrived in. The clock was ticking.
But it was one of those nights where everything seemed to be conspiring against Grace. First, there had been the arrival of more ambulances and a fresh healing procedure to conduct. Then Tooshita had asked Grace to take on an extra ward round while she was immersed in another healing. It was a favor Grace could not deny her friend and fellow healer. Just as Grace was at last heading off in the direction of the lab, she was assailed by Darcy, in an obvious state of distress.
“Do you have five minutes free to talk?” Darcy managed to stammer out before her face crumpled into tears.
Nodding, Grace put her arm around her friend’s waist and swiftly steered her along the corridor and out into the open air. Once outside, they embarked on the short walk to the small herb garden with the water fountain. There, Darcy told Grace how a Nocturnal patient they had thought was making a strong recovery had taken a turn for the worse and they had lost her—despite their best efforts.
Grace took Darcy’s hand as tears streamed down her friend’s cheeks. “I completely understand why you’re so upset,” she told her, “but, remember, we’re successful in the majority of cases we treat. We’re healers, not miracle workers, Darcy—we can only do our best. You know that as well as I do.”
Darcy nodded, lifting a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “I know, Grace. You’re right, of course. I don’t know why this one patient affected me so much. I didn’t even get to know her, like you sometimes do.”
Grace smiled. “You’re a wonderful nurse, Darcy,” she told her. “Don’t forget that. All the healers say so. Everyone fights to have you on their team.”
“Really?” Darcy’s wide eyes were filled with hope once more.
Grace nodded. “You’re right to put your blinders on a bit. We all need to do that, I guess. If we dwelled on the horror and pain every time we began to treat a new casualty, we’d be next to useless.” She paused. “But every once in a while, the horror—the enormity of it—does strike you. It’s inevitable. And it’s not a bad thing. But these feelings will pass.” Grace stroked her friend’s arm reassuringly. “I’m sure you did everything you could to help her recover. It’s very sad that she wasn’t strong enough to make the journey back, but it’s not your fault.”
She couldn’t help thinking then of Olivier. His wounds had been the worst she’d ever seen and yet his recovery had seemed effortless. She wasn’t so arrogant as to attribute this solely to her own healing powers. More likely, Olivier was a dhampir and therefore able to heal himself. But that didn’t explain how he had been so badly injured in the first place. She was starting to strongly disbelieve his tale of his suffering at the hands of Lola’s squad—plausible though it was. Perhaps, on reflection, it was rather
Returning her gaze to Darcy, Grace saw there were fresh tears in her friend’s eyes.
“You should get some sleep,” Grace said. “I’m not saying that things will be significantly better when you wake up, but I’ve seen the hours you’ve been keeping, and you’re in danger of running on empty.”
“Thanks, Doctor!” Darcy said with a forced grin. “Is that your prescription, then?”
Grace nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Give yourself at least six hours, none of these so-called power naps. Put in your earplugs and forget about the bells. And go and see Jim. I think you could do with some blood, Darcy. You look like you’re at a low ebb.”
At the mention of her donor, Darcy brightened. “Yes, that’s a good idea,” she said.
“Why don’t I walk you over to the donor block?” Grace suggested.
Darcy smiled but shook her head. “No, that’s okay, Grace. I can make my own way. I might stay here for a bit, anyhow. It’s always peaceful in this garden, whatever craziness is going on around us. Maybe I just need a little quiet time.” She squeezed Grace’s hand. “Thanks for being here for me, Grace—as always.”
“We’re best friends,” Grace said. “It goes with the territory. You’ve always been there for me, ever since we met.”
“And I always will be,” Darcy said, her voice suddenly full of passion. “Now off you go, Grace. I’m sure you have a hundred things to be getting on with.”
Grace smiled to herself. There was just one further thing on her list tonight. She rose to her feet and smoothed down her skirt, then turned and took her leave of Darcy and the sweet-scented night garden.
Back inside the compound, Grace made her way through the corridors, intent on getting to the lab without any further diversion. Miracle of miracles, it seemed that this might at last be possible. The corridors were empty. Everyone was getting on with their business. Now was her moment to investigate under the counter and see if that book of Olivier’s was still hidden there.
As she approached the door to the lab, Grace’s heart was hammering. As much as she tried to calm herself, she knew—somehow—that the book was really important. Not just to Olivier, but also to her.
She pushed open the door, excited to think that in a matter of moments she would have the book in her hands and be able to start uncovering its secrets. But as the door swung forward, Grace’s heart sank. She was not alone.
“Good evening, Grace.” Mosh Zu looked up from the central counter, where he was busy preparing a potion.
“Hello,” she said, trying to inject some brightness into her voice. She didn’t want him to think that she wasn’t pleased to see him. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you in here.”
Mosh Zu shrugged. “It has been a while. We’ve all had our hands full with the wounded.” He turned his face to her. “I thought it would do me good to come and handle something other than wounded flesh.” As he spoke, he lifted a pestle and began grinding seeds into the base of a mortar. He smiled softly at her. “There’s a fresh batch of berry tea over there, by the stove. Why don’t you pour yourself a draft and keep me company?”
Grace nodded automatically. Then, as Mosh Zu returned his gaze to the pestle and mortar, her eyes skimmed the base of the counter. Was the hidden panel on this side? It was tantalizing to be so near, yet so far from the moment of discovery.
Before she might arouse Mosh Zu’s suspicions, Grace moved over to the stove. Next to it was a small counter, on which sat a crate filled with metal flasks. Above the counter were shelves crowded with crockery and cooking utensils. Grace reached up and retrieved an enamel mug and a thermometer, just as Mosh Zu had trained her. She lifted one of the flasks out of the crate and unscrewed its double cap carefully before inserting the thermometer and watching closely as the level rose to thirty-seven degrees Celsius. Body temperature.
She inhaled the familiar smell of berry tea—the brew of seven rare mountain berries that Mosh Zu had created as a substitute for blood. Grace carried her mug and the flask over to the main counter. She pulled up a stool at the other end of the bench from Mosh Zu and poured a draft of liquid into the mug. He watched her
