Immortal War

said.

“What do you mean, no?”

Lorcan drew himself forward and climbed off the bed, turning to face Grace from the middle of the cabin floor. “Obsidian told me of the prophecy and revealed to me the existence of Cardinals North, East, and West. He even went so far as to confirm that they are still out there in their quadrants. But he will not summon them back.”

Grace was aghast. “But he has no choice,” she said. “If what you say is true, if time really is running out for the Alliance, isn’t it the only option left?”

Lorcan nodded. “I’d say so, yes. But he says that there is a rift between himself and the other Cardinals and he cannot call upon their help.”

“A rift? What kind of rift?”

“He didn’t say. It was clear that our conversation had come to an end. And I didn’t press him any further. I can’t continue to push at that brick wall anymore, Grace.” For the first time, Grace saw fear in Lorcan’s eyes. “I’m scared that this war is turning, Grace, and that the one thing we can do to bring about victory is being denied us.”

As she considered his words, Grace was surprised to find her own fear melting away, to be replaced with a wave of calm and clarity. Now she, too, eased herself off the bed and stood up. “All right,” she said. “So Obsidian refuses to summon the other three Cardinals. So be it.” She smiled. “There’s nothing to stop us from summoning them, though, is there?”

Lorcan met her eyes. “Could we? How? I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Grace smiled. “The prophecy said that it was up to me or Connor to win this war. Well, maybe this is how I can fulfill the prophecy. By calling them back.”

“But how?” Lorcan said again.

“I’m not sure yet,” Grace said, bending down to open her bag and remove the dhampir notebook from inside it. She held the book out toward Lorcan. “I have the feeling the answer will be in here somewhere,” she said.

“What is this?” Lorcan asked, turning the pages.

“I’m pretty sure it belonged to Olivier,” Grace said, talking as fast as she was thinking. “I found it hidden in the treatment rooms at Sanctuary. You know Olivier’s a dhampir, right?”

Lorcan looked up from the open notebook. “Olivier? A dhampir?”

Grace nodded. “He’s much more powerful and dangerous than we thought.”

“And he’s working with Lola and Sidorio,” Lorcan said, grimly.

Grace shrugged. “Big whoop. They have one dhampir on their team. The Alliance has two—Connor and me.”

Lorcan glanced back down at the notebook. “You say this book will tell you what to do, but as far as I can see, Grace, it’s completely blank.”

“To you, yes,” Grace said, reaching out her hand. “Because you’re not the one it’s meant for. Give it back to me, please.” As she took it in her hands, text began to appear on the page.

“Summoning the Cardinals,” she read.

Lorcan shook his head in amazement, watching as Grace sat down again, continuing to read. He didn’t think he had loved her any more than in this moment. But then a dark thought came to him. Yes, the prophecy had said that she and Connor would bring peace back to the oceans. But hadn’t it also said that one of them must die to achieve this? What if that was the price Grace would pay to bring back the cardinals and turn this war?

“You can’t do this,” he said suddenly, reaching for the book.

“I think I can,” she said confidently, her eyes still on the page.

“But what if it’s too dangerous?” Lorcan pleaded. “What’s the point in winning this war if I end up losing you?”

Grace looked up at him, realizing she had become the strong one. “We all do what we have to do,” she said. “We don’t have a choice. Like my dad, I mean, Dexter, always used to say, we have to trust the tide.”

“I love you, Grace.” There was a plea as well as a declaration in his words.

Grace set the book down and rose to her feet once more. “I love you, too, Lorcan. And I don’t want anything to stand between us spending eternity together.” She wrapped her arms around him once more, seeing the ring he had given her glint in the candlelight. “But I have been given these extraordinary powers for a reason.” Her eyes met his. “It’s time for me to use them.”

33

DIVISIONS

Connor found himself standing in the center of the deck of The Tiger. Above him, the ship’s distinctive white sails billowed. Connor’s eyes traced the line down from the mast to the timber decking below, then out to the sea and sky. The burnished gold of the sky told him it was either the beginning of dusk or the end of dawn. He could see the honeyed light reflected in the blood-spattered blades of the pirates spread out across the deck. Many had lowered their weapons—as if the battle were over. It must be dawn then. No Vampirate would dare venture out into the growing daylight, so it was safe to regroup.

Connor glanced at his comrades’ faces. They looked weary. In the lines and scars etched upon their faces, he could see the toll not only of this latest battle but of the longer war. Gradually he became aware that they were all looking at him. And in their eyes were shock and fear and pain. For him. Why? What had he done?

Now, he heard cannon fire and smelled the acrid aftermath. He was finding it harder and harder to breathe. Something was blocking his airway. Glancing down, he saw the problem in all its shocking simplicity. A sword was buried deep in his chest.

The sight was almost comical, despite what it portended. No wonder his crewmates were looking askance at him.

Eyes closing, he slumped down, feeling the deck boards rise up to meet him. The sword wormed its way deeper into his flesh. Every faltering breath was noticeably more difficult than the last.

“Open your eyes, Connor!” a voice commanded him.

Obeying, he forced open his eyes and found himself gazing up at a blur of faces. Nearby, he heard a woman’s cry.

“Come… Captain Tempest. He is wounded. He needs…”

Was it Jasmine? It sounded very much like her. Connor was confused. He wasn’t a captain! He wanted to call out to Jasmine, but he found he was unable to make a sound. A result, no doubt, of the sword spearing his middle.

Her voice grew more urgent. “Captain Tempest is cut. Please come…” Now he saw her luminous face appear among the others. His eyes sought out hers. If he was on the verge of death, he would take his leave of this world looking into those amazing eyes. He smiled up at her, but she did not return his smile. Lifting her head, she called out. “There’s so much blood… I’m not sure how much longer he can last.”

He felt hands moving across his chest, in an exploratory fashion. Then he watched as the sword was wrenched out and blood gushed up from his open wound. He saw the blood spatter Jasmine’s face. He felt a burning sensation in his chest, which grew swiftly into a pain deeper and more unbearable than he’d ever thought possible. He closed his eyes again and had the sensation he was traveling at a rate of knots through the air or across the ocean. But when he forced open his eyes again, there was Jasmine: her face still stained with his blood, her eyes like dark jewels.

She leaned closer, her hair falling about her face and brushing his. The tips of her hair were clogged with blood, but she didn’t seem to care. He felt her cool hand against his cheek. It felt nice. Even nicer as she stroked his