Immortal War

cheek. Then two things happened in quick succession. The effort of keeping his eyes open simply became too much. And then he realized he could no longer feel Jasmine’s touch. Was this it, then? Was this the end?

His vision suddenly shifted and he saw himself lying on the deck. He could see Jasmine bent over him and others close but moving back, slowly, respectfully. Beneath his supine body, a pool of crimson fanned out across the blond deck boards. Jasmine was still stroking his face but he sensed she knew that he was already gone.

Connor’s vision grew dim until he was engulfed in utter darkness. Now he heard a hammering close by. It grew louder and closer. Opening his eyes—surprised that he was able to—he came to with a jolt. He found himself stretched out on his bunk in the familiar cocoon of his cabin. Shards of the intensely disturbing vision remained in his head. The scene had been somehow familiar, but how? The shards were fading fast now, as the hammering grew louder. Then a voice boomed from the other side of the door.

“Open up, Tempest! I know you’re in there.”

Connor staggered to his feet and opened the cabin door to find Jacoby standing on the threshold, his usually pale face puce, feet tapping the deck boards in agitation.

“What’s wrong?” Connor asked, feeling that half of him was still deep in the vision, on the deck of The Tiger. It made him an easy target as the full force of Jacoby’s fist made contact with his jaw.

“What the…” Connor protested, falling backward onto the boards at the foot of his bed. Looking up, he saw Jacoby towering over him, like the mast in his vision. There was a wildness in Jacoby’s eyes as he reached out and grabbed Connor’s shirt, pulling him up from the floor. “Get on your feet, Tempest! You’re coming with me!”

He dragged Connor to the cabin door.

“Where are we going?” Connor managed to rasp. “And why?”

“Up onto the deck,” Jacoby snarled, releasing Connor and shoving him roughly along the corridor. “To sort out the situation between you and me.”

Connor did not protest. He knew this moment had been coming. Jasmine had let him know she intended to come clean with Jacoby, to trust him with the truth about herself just as he had trusted her. She must have just told him. Connor felt sick, partly with trepidation but mostly with guilt. He could understand how Jacoby might want to tear him apart limb by limb; he’d have felt the same in his friend’s shoes. Only he wasn’t even sure he could call him that anymore. Because, whichever way you looked at it, Connor Tempest hadn’t been much of a friend to Jacoby Blunt.

As they reached the door to the deck, Connor opened it and felt Jacoby jostle him roughly from behind. They fell together onto the deck boards, Jacoby pinning Connor down and raising his fist once more.

At the last second, as Jacoby’s fist came down, Connor managed to twist his head. The full force of Jacoby’s blow sailed into the deck boards. Clearly pained, Jacoby frowned but said nothing. Connor took advantage of his comrade’s weakened state to push him back and bring himself to his feet.

Nursing his injury, Jacoby rose to stand before Connor. There was fury in Jacoby’s eyes, and, as he opened his mouth, Connor saw—for the first time—Jacoby’s enlarged incisors. It was a chilling reminder of what Jacoby had become.

“Save your breath,” Jacoby cried, smiling strangely. “You’re going to need every last gasp.” As he finished speaking, he let out a roar and propelled himself up into the air. As he plummeted down again, he reached his arms around Connor’s neck and dragged him across the length of the deck. Where had Jacoby learned to fight like this? He’d always been handy with the sword, but this was something else entirely.

“One of the advantages of being turned,” Jacoby rasped in Connor’s ear. “Those rancid Vamps left me with a few new tricks.”

Of course. It made complete sense, and it was a wake-up call to Connor. He wasn’t exactly short on new tricks himself. Focusing himself, he slipped out of Jacoby’s clutches and back-flipped across the deck, landing a few meters away and catching his breath. He could see Jacoby was surprised. For a second, he even looked impressed. Then his eyes began to change and Connor saw deep pits of fire there. Connor shuddered. Fire was usually the sign of a hungry Vampirate. Had the triggers between anger and hunger become muddled in Jacoby? He was new to this state and, it seemed, not quite as in control as he appeared.

With a sound much like the whistling of the wind, Jacoby flew across the deck and, grabbing Connor, continued racing toward the mast. Connor felt his back collide with solid oak at an incredible speed. The pain was intense. His head ached and his eyes watered.

Now Jacoby’s hands reached out for Connor’s neck and began to squeeze. His strength was considerable but Connor’s was a match for it, and, lifting his hands, he began to pry Jacoby’s fingers away. With relief, he felt the pressure on his neck release and saw again the surprise in Jacoby’s eyes. Then Jacoby smiled and squeezed harder. Connor felt his airway being closed. It took him back to his dream. Was it some kind of omen? His eyes closed, and, just as in the dream, he found darkness. It was something of a comfort. He found himself wondering, is this the end? Was death coming to him not through a sword but simply the hands of a former friend?

Jacoby maintained the pressure on both sides of Connor’s neck. Seeing that Connor’s eyes had closed, he wanted to release his hands but found himself powerless to do so. Suddenly, he felt someone reach from behind him and tear his fingers away. He was torn between gratitude and fear. Turning, he was shocked to see Connor himself standing behind him. How had he managed to slip out of his clutches in such a weakened state? Then Jacoby realized that Connor was still in front of him, eyes closed. Connor was both in front of him and behind him. Either he was going mad or there were two Connors.

“What’s going on?”

Jacoby turned to find Cheng Li striding across the deck. “What on oceans is going on here?”

“It’s a private matter,” Jacoby cried, “between Tempest and me!”

Cheng Li shook her head. “I’m captain of this ship and you are my deputies,” she said. “There are no private matters here.”

Jacoby turned and saw that Connor—the first Connor—was opening his eyes and feeling his neck for bruises. Jacoby immediately felt ashamed of his actions. Then he remembered about the second Connor and glanced around him. But, to his confusion, he had disappeared. There was now only the one Connor. In his furious reveries, had he simply conjured up the second?

Cheng Li shook her head. “You two are senior officers aboard this ship and within the Federation. You are incredible fighters but you should be saving your aggression for the enemy, not unleashing it upon each other.” Her almond eyes narrowed as she looked from one combatant to the other. Shaking her head, she pushed Jacoby away from her. “Go to your quarters and cool down. Connor, I want a word with you.”

Jacoby loped off, glancing back at Connor and scowling.

“What exactly just happened?” Cheng Li asked Connor as Jacoby disappeared inside.

Connor looked across at her, bruised and battered. “The whole situation between him and Jasmine and me just exploded…”

Cheng Li raised her hand to silence him. “I’m not interested in adolescent angst,” she said. “What interests me, Tempest, is this: When I came out, I saw not one but two of you fighting Jacoby. Is this some new power of yours?” She lowered her voice. “Can dhampirs split into two?”

Connor shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess so.” Suddenly, he remembered. “It’s happened before. During the attack on The Diablo, I divided. I was in two places at once.”

Cheng Li’s eyes were wide with wonder. “This could be useful,” she said.

“I’m not sure I can control it,” Connor said.

Cheng Li was contemplating his words when there was a fresh cry from below.

“Permission to come aboard!”

Cheng Li turned and called into the night. “Who seeks permission?”

“Commodore Ahab Black, commander in chief of the Alliance,” came the response.

Cheng Li took a moment to compose herself. “Permission granted,” she called.

There was the sound of a bridge being lowered, followed by footsteps.

Connor and Cheng Li watched as Commodore Black strode down from the bridge of the Federation vessel onto the deck of The Tiger.

“Commodore Black,” Cheng Li said, giving him the Federation salute. “What brings you here at such a late hour? Your business must be urgent indeed.”