The doors to the dining hall were thrown open and two Nocturnals ran into the room, finally silencing the captain.
“We’re under attack!” they cried in unison.
Lorcan caught Grace’s glance across the table. Her expression was grave. Everything they had predicted had come to pass.
“How many ships?” Lorcan cried at the messengers from above.
“Three!” shouted the first Nocturnal.
“We’ve already lost men and women!” cried the other. “We need help!”
Their words caused a swell of chatter in the room, which now rose to fever pitch. Still, as Obsidian Darke raised his hand, the room fell silent.
“Attack Protocol,” he said in his most commanding voice. “You all know what you have to do.”
It was true. They had been preparing for the eventuality of attack for some time now. Within seconds, Lorcan’s own team—the elite fighters—had gathered around him.
“Commander Furey!” One of his best men grabbed his arm. “We have no swords!”
Of course they didn’t! It was a convention of the Feast that there were no weapons inside the dining hall. Accordingly, the Nocturnals and donors had all left their swords in their cabins. How were they supposed to quell an attack with no weapons?
Lorcan turned helplessly to Grace. “How did we let it come to this?” he cried.
Grace did not answer. Her eyes were closed and her hands outstretched. She was chanting in a language he did not recognize. What on earth was she doing?
Then he noticed fresh movement along the table and on the floor. Once more, cutlery was moving about. Had a fourth ship pulled up alongside to cause a fresh collision? Suddenly, the cutlery began rising from the floor and table and spun, faster and faster, around the room. Lorcan and the others were frozen, gazing in amazement as knives, forks, and spoons whirled about above their heads. Lorcan’s eyes turned back to Grace. Eyes closed, arms outstretched, she continued to chant.
There was a blur as the cutlery spun faster and faster. Then it began to slow and Lorcan saw that above their heads were no longer knives and forks but swords. How on earth had she done it? And, of more immediate concern, how were they going to claim the weapons without being sliced in two in the process?
His answer came as the movement above slowed and the swords hovered in the air, hilts facing down. Along the banqueting table there were now two lines of swords, waiting to be claimed. It was nothing short of a miracle.
“Take your swords,” Lorcan cried, gazing in wonder and love at Grace, whose eyes remained closed as she held the swords in position.
Each Nocturnal and donor reached above his or her head and took hold of a solid steel sword, which Grace had somehow delivered to them.
“And now,” Obsidian cried, leading the charge out of the hall, “we fight!”
It could have been chaos as the crew of Nocturnals and donors streamed out of the sole doorway, but somehow it wasn’t. The long nights, and days, of training had paid off. Everyone knew what was at stake and everyone wanted to play his or her part in securing victory.
Lorcan watched as Grace opened her eyes at last. She looked momentarily disoriented, then smiled to see the lines of Nocturnals and donors armed with their gleaming weaponry.
“I don’t know how you did that, Grace,” he said, “but wow!” He reached for her hand. “Come on!”
“Where are we going?” she asked as they ran out into the corridor. Lorcan realized that, alone among the crew, Grace had not been trained in the emergency drills. It was somewhat ironic, given that she was the most powerful of them all. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances.
“I’m going out on deck,” Lorcan said. “And you’re going back to your cabin to wait this out.”
He thought she might argue but was grateful that she didn’t. Hand in hand, they ran along the corridor after their comrades. Above them, they could hear steel clashing against steel. There could be no doubt. The fight was under way.
As they came to her cabin, Grace pushed open the door and pulled him inside.
“Grace, I need to go!” Lorcan said, as the door shut behind them.
“You need to be strong,” she said, drawing back her sleeve and offering her wrist to him. There was no doubting her intention. He could see the veins pulsating beneath her skin.
“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head as his heart beat wildly.
“You must,” she said. “The Vampirates have been clever, arriving here just when the Nocturnals are at their lowest ebb. You need blood now if you’re to put up a proper fight. And, make no mistake, tonight you must put up a proper fight.”
Lorcan held her hand in his but shook his head once more. “I’ll find Oskar,” he said. “I’ll drink from him.”
Grace shook her head. “There’s no time,” she said. “Let me do this one thing for you.”
Lorcan’s eyes met hers. It was something he used to dream of, but not like this. But, if not now, then when?
“All right,” he said. “But only a drop.”
Nodding, she lifted her wrist to his lips and waited for his fangs to puncture her flesh.
Lorcan watched in awe as the wound began to heal in front of his eyes. He looked up at Grace. Her face was beatific.
“You’re wonderful,” he said, smiling. “I hope you know that.”
“You’re pretty wonderful, yourself,” she said.
“There’s so much I want to say to you, Grace. I thought we were assured of spending eternity together, but now I see how much time I’ve wasted.”
Grace smiled reassuringly at him and shook her head. “We didn’t waste a second,” she said, her eyes bright. “And now you must go and win this war.”
“All right,” he said. “And you’ll stay here and wait for me?”
Once more, he expected her to protest, but she nodded and lifted her hand to stroke his hair. He leaned forward and kissed her. It was a brief, urgent kiss. As their lips parted, Lorcan stood there looking at Grace, aware that the clock was ticking and he had to leave her. Despite her words of reassurance, he was conscious of the very real possibility that they had shared their last kiss. He couldn’t think this way. Head down, he turned and reached for the door.
“Wait!” she called out to him.
“I can’t!” He wanted to, more than anything, but the battle was calling him. He had no choice but to answer its call.
“What should
“Stay here and keep safe!” he said. “And do everything in your power to ensure we’re victorious.”
“Everything?” she said, her eyes meeting his across the cabin. He thought he understood what she was asking.
He nodded. “Everything,” he repeated then turned and began to run up to the deck.
37
OBLIVION
Lorcan charged up to the deck, feeling boosted physically and mentally by the shot of blood Grace had given him. Though he was accustomed to the fresh influx of energy that followed blood-taking, this was far more intense.
