Immortal War

toward her. Other than a few cuts and grazes, Jasmine looked fine. It was clear that she was not here as a patient. Grace’s hands clenched into protective fists. Jasmine was Connor’s comrade and girlfriend. Had Connor been wounded in the battle? Her thoughts had been so much with Johnny that she hadn’t even stopped to think of her brother. The words of the prophecy came back to her in sharp relief. One twin must die. No, this was too much—not Johnny and Connor. Please, no.

Standing before Grace, Jasmine’s face broke with evident relief. “Thank goodness you’re here, Grace,” she said. “He’s in a really bad way. I thought that they’d take us to the infirmary at Pirate Academy, but they said he was… that he was too far gone for that.” She managed to get the words out but only just before she started to sob.

Grace stood before her brother’s girlfriend, barely daring to ask the question. “Jasmine, are you talking about Connor?”

Jasmine shook her head, her face pale, her eyes wet with budding tears. “No! No, Connor’s fine. It’s Jacoby!”

Grace felt ashamed at the relief that flooded through her. Suddenly things were coming back into focus. “Jacoby? But that’s wonderful. He’s alive after all!”

“Barely,” Jasmine said with a shudder. “Wait till you see what they did to him. It’s a good thing Commodore Li killed that despicable Johnny Desperado before I could get my own hands on him. He kept Jacoby in a cage!”

Grace didn’t know where she found the strength to squeeze Jasmine’s shoulder reassuringly and tell her, “Let it go, Jasmine. All that matters is that Jacoby’s safe.” She smiled softly. “He’s in the right place now. I’ll do everything I can for him.”

Grace moved toward the stretcher and flinched as she saw Jacoby borne aloft. She was shocked, but not in the way she had expected to be. She knew that, whatever else, she had to remain calm. Turning, she saw Jasmine watching the unfolding scene intently. Grace’s eyes sought out Noijon. As if reading her mind, Noijon moved swiftly across to Jasmine and drew her away across the courtyard. Grace turned back to address the rescue team in a low but firm voice.

“Why wasn’t this patient bagged?”

The ambulance man looked at her in confusion. “He’s a pirate. Or what’s left of one. We don’t bag pirates.”

“Look at him!” Grace commanded, her own eyes falling upon the livid burns covering Jacoby’s face and arms. The burns were fresh, but they were also familiar. She had seen them before on Lorcan’s face—after he had stayed out too long in the light.

“Hmm, that’s strange,” admitted the ambulance driver. “I don’t remember him having those when we brought him off the boat. He must have taken a turn for the worse.” Grace frowned and shook her head as the man continued. “Anyhow, my job is to deliver them to you to fix up. He’s your problem now!” So saying, he actually smiled at her as, helped by his mate, he passed Jacoby’s ravaged body across to the nursing team. They clamped the patient onto a stretcher-trolley.

“I’m going with him,” Jasmine said, breaking away from Noijon.

“Wait!” Grace called to them both. “He’s in a bad way, and we can’t lose any more time in beginning his treatment.” Seeing the raw terror in Jasmine’s face, her voice softened. “Of course you can come with us, but I can’t let you into the healing chamber.”

“He will be okay, won’t he?” Jasmine asked in a voice little more than a whisper. Before Grace could construct an answer, she heard her name being called again.

Turning, she found Dani beckoning her over to another of the ambulances. Grace hurried over, then saw that she was standing over a zipped-up patient bag.

“I need you to take another patient,” Dani told her. “It’s a Nocturnal, severity Gold. He or she—it’s not possible to tell which—is in a very bad way.” When Grace didn’t answer, Dani continued. “I’m sorry to ask, Grace, but I’ve already assigned cases to all the other healers. I’ve sent two of the most badly wounded to Mosh Zu. Frankly, you’re the only other healer capable of handling two of this severity.”

Grace didn’t want to waste precious time thinking about this. Her earlier numbness had drained away and she felt filled now with a powerful energy and the urgent need to get started on her work. She nodded at Dani, then turned to her team.

“Noijon!” Grace called out. “Come over here, please, and bring another trolley. We’re taking on a second patient. Evrim, take Jacoby down to the healing chamber and prepare him for me.” Seeing Jasmine hovering nearby, she added, “And someone please make Deputy Peacock comfortable in one of the anterooms.”

Everyone did exactly as Grace instructed. They all had the utmost faith in her.

With Jasmine settled outside, Grace gazed down at Jacoby’s lifeless body and the livid burns on his face and arms.

“Evrim,” she said softly, “I need you to begin treatment while I get started on the other patient. It’s a close call, but he, or she, is in more urgent need of my attention.”

“No problem,” Evrim said, gratified by this sign of Grace’s trust in her.

“You’ve prepared a Nocturnal for treatment many times before,” Grace said. “You know what to do.”

Now Evrim turned to Grace, her dark eyes wide with confusion. “But Grace, I thought he was a pirate,” she said.

“Was,” Grace repeated. “Past tense. Look at these burns! What more information do you need? He’s been converted—and none too willingly by the looks of it.” Their eyes met as Grace continued. “It’s imperative that Deputy Peacock knows nothing of this. Not yet. She needs to hear it in the right way and from the right person, understand?”

Evrim nodded. “I’ll start with some salve for his burns.”

Nodding, Grace gave her colleague’s arm a reassuring squeeze, then pushed back the gauze curtain to attend to the patient on the other side of the healing chamber.

Noijon had made all the necessary preparations, and, as Grace took her place at the foot of the bed, he lost no time in passing her the first set of healing ribbons. Glancing down at the wounded Nocturnal, Grace shuddered. There was no question. This was the most extreme case she had ever been confronted with. Poor, beaten-up Jacoby was going to have to wait his turn.

For all Grace’s earlier doubts, she found herself rising to the challenge of the healing process and grateful for the complete concentration it demanded from her. Maybe this was exactly what she needed, to distract her from her nascent grief. She soon found her own thoughts and feelings floating away as she became deeply immersed in the uniquely intimate dance between patient and healer.

Noijon was with her every step of the way. They had worked together so often now that he anticipated her every move. It was clear, too, that he took pleasure at being challenged in this way. The healing was slow and arduous at the beginning, and Grace knew that, even if they were successful, this was going to be a long journey. But they persisted, and, slowly but surely, Grace began to sense intermittent but strengthening signs of the patient’s returning vitality.

She knew now that the patient was a man. His body was ravaged with lesions, and the burning—which she now knew to be the prime cause of his wounds—had gone deep. His extremities began to patch themselves back together. His hands were too charred, and in any case too weak, to hold Grace’s healing ribbons. Taking this into consideration, Grace instructed Noijon to bind the ribbons through the patient’s hands—securely enough that they would not break free but loose enough that the ribbons would not rub against the sensitive skin there. Noijon swiftly attended to these preparations, then stepped back, presenting Grace with the other end of the ribbons.

Her eyes were closed now, and, as she took hold of the ribbons, she felt a faint but building rhythm. It called to mind the drums that signaled the beginning of Feast Night. The drumming grew louder and more frequent. This