Immortal War

read to me when she has the time—in Italian. I don’t understand a word of it, of course, but I nod sagely at regular intervals.”

“You’re shameless!” Jasmine said. “Who else?”

“Next to come calling was Doctor Tempest herself. She’s become quite the young beauty, wouldn’t you say?”

Jasmine nodded. He was right. In the time they had known her, Grace had emerged like a butterfly from a chrysalis. “But I’m not sure she’s officially a doctor.”

“No,” Jacoby agreed. “She’s far more powerful than that. She’s a healer. But, pretty as she may be, I can’t do the flirt thing with Grace. It would be too weird.”

“Because she’s Connor’s sister?”

Jacoby shrugged. “Not so much that. More the fact that she’s been down deep into my psyche during the healing process.”

“Ah, yes,” Jasmine said. “That makes sense. So, who came after her?”

Jacoby was suddenly tongue-tied. “Her name is Luna,” he said. “She’s… she’s… Mexican.”

Jasmine nodded matter-of-factly, squeezing Jacoby’s hand once more. “And this Luna, is she another looker?”

Jacoby smiled and let out a whistle. “Seriously, you have no idea.” He took control of himself. “Almost as pretty as you but just not quite.”

Jasmine smiled at the compliment, then, in the same bright and breezy tone, asked, “And is Luna your donor?”

Jacoby froze, then turned to Jasmine, his eyes wide and questioning. “You know?” he said.

She nodded, squeezing his hand more tightly. “Yes,” she said. “I know and so does Captain Li, and, Jacoby, I promise you, everything is going to be fine.” So saying, she leaned across and kissed him on the forehead.

Jacoby’s head was racing. “Man!” he said. “This really is a red-letter day. You’re really cool with me being a Nocturnal? And Cheng Li, too?”

Jasmine nodded. “We all want you back on The Tiger, Jacoby, just as soon as can be. It’s where you belong.”

26

AFTER MIDNIGHT

Lilith, mistress of the Blood Tavern, sat inside her glass booth carefully applying a fresh coat of emerald polish to the nails of one hand. A young male Vampirate entered the reception area. At the sight of new customer, Lilith lifted the hand with wet nails. A half-smoked cigarette burned low between two nicotine-stained fingers. No one could say Lilith wasn’t a proficient multitasker.

“You again?” she said as the young man approached her booth. “My, you’re a thirsty lad! Not that I’m complaining, mind. It’s customers like you have made my business what it is today. Allowed for all my extensive franchising and whatnot.” She took a pull on her cigarette, thinking how cleverly she had surfed the wave of the Vampirates’ rise to power. It paid to have connections, and little Lilith’s went right to the very top of the Vampirate command. Exhaling leisurely, she thought of Sidorio. She’d always known he was destined for greatness.

The customer pushed his money across the counter. “I’d like a pint, please,” he said, matter-of-factly but with a familiar undertone of urgency. They were always in a hurry, these immortals, when it came to blood.

Lilith’s dry hand clamped down on the notes.

Connor glanced around the vestibule, grateful to see that it was empty, save for a woman in huge fashion glasses too intent upon reading a magazine to even notice him. Perhaps she was waiting for her companion to finish up. Connor remembered waiting on that same ratty sofa during his first visit here with Jez. That had been many months ago, and the magazines were still no more current. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman over on the sofa turn the page of her magazine, oblivious.

“Which room?” Connor said, anxious to be on his way.

“Number Six,” Lilith said, her lips raised in a wry smile. “Off you pop, Mr. Smith.”

“Thanks.”

After he had disappeared through the velvet-covered doorway, Lilith finished up her cigarette and twisted the cap back onto the bottle of nail polish. She slipped down from her stool and pushed open the door at the back of her booth, padding over to the sofa area. Whistling a rather saucy old shanty—it quite made her blush to think of the lyrics—she began sorting through the magazines. She made neat piles of them, watching the glamorous young woman on the sofa all the while.

The woman, still wearing her oversize sunglasses, continued to read her magazine article. At last, she closed the journal and placed it carefully on the coffee table. Standing up, she smoothed down her jacket, lifted her purse, and nodded at Lilith. “Thank you,” she said. “You’ve been very helpful.” She removed a crisp roll of notes from her purse and held them out toward Lilith.

Lilith’s eyes were wide, but her hands closed over the notes as tightly as a clam. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink yourself while you’re here?” she offered. “On the house, of course.”

The glamorous visitor shook her head. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but I’m going back to my ship now. There’s no rest for a captain!” She smiled, pleasantly, and removed her sunglasses. As she did so, Lilith gasped.

“Oh, now look at your heart tattoo! Isn’t that fetching?”

Mimma gave a wink with her right eye so that Lilith could appreciate the full effect.

“Oh, yes!” Lilith said, her own eyes bright beneath her creme-de-menthe sparkle-effect eye shadow. “Love it! I’m going to do one of those hearts around my own eye.”

Mimma chuckled at her girlish enthusiasm.

Encouraged, Lilith inquired, “And why is that young Vampirate lad of such interest to you, I wonder?”

Mimma smiled. “Loose lips sink ships,” she said, raising a finger to her mouth. She winked again, then turned and sauntered back out the way she had come in.

Grace took the flask of berry tea and her cup and walked over to the counter. As she sat down, she realized she was no longer alone in the room. She looked up with some surprise to see Sidorio closing the door behind him and stepping toward her. She set down her cup carefully, determined to remain in control. Was there any point in even asking how he had managed to evade the fortresslike security here at Sanctuary?

“What are you doing here?” she inquired instead, her tone neutral.

“I came to see you, of course,” Sidorio answered brightly, approaching the counter. “You haven’t forgotten what day it is, have you?”

Grace glanced at the wall-clock, which read twenty after midnight. She turned back to Sidorio, puzzled. “It could be Tuesday or Wednesday. I’m so busy here, one day bleeds into another.”

Sidorio smiled at her and, despite everything that had happened between them, there seemed to be genuine warmth in his smile. “You’ve forgotten,” he said, producing a package from the folds of his coat and setting it down on the counter. “It’s your birthday, Grace.” He tapped the package. “And this is your gift from me.”

It was a tubular shape, wrapped roughly but evidently with some care and finished with a dark red ribbon, tied in a bow.

Grace was taken aback. She had genuinely forgotten that it was her and Connor’s birthday. It was a sign of just how hectic things had been at Sanctuary. This war didn’t take a convenient break for birthdays—this war