Vampirates 6: Immortal War (23 page)

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 was a good sign. Grace knew that the patient’s heart was beginning to repair. Now the beats made her think of the ocean lapping against the shore or the side of a ship. She continued her work, tuning in to the nuances of the patient’s heartbeats. The drumming grew progressively louder and louder until its beats became horses’ hooves, thundering across the sand.

Her full attention given over to the patient, Grace had a powerful vision of night on a beach and a horse cantering across the shoreline. She realized, with a start, that she was still thinking of Johnny and of their midnight horseback rides. She had allowed herself to become distracted—something that must never happen during a healing. She pulled herself back from the vision, tempting
as it was to linger there, and focused once more on the strengthening heartbeat.

But, as she returned her focus to the patient, the image of night and the beach came into even sharper focus. Bewildered, she found she had no choice but to stay with it. Now her own heart began to race. It was the exact same beach she had ridden across with Johnny on that midnight ride. But now she was seeing it from his point of view. And not just seeing it, but hearing it, too—the crashing waves and the taste of the salt-spray. She was feeling it all from his point of view and was aware of the intensity of his happiness. Her own heart felt as if it might burst. It could mean only one thing.

The patient was Johnny. There could be no doubt. There must have been the most almighty mix-up, but the cocksure ambulance crew had brought in “the immortal enemy” for treatment. Before, she had wanted to punch the ambulance man’s lights out. Now she would have hugged him in gratitude.

She pushed aside these thoughts and allowed herself to return to the beach of the vision. The drumming was louder now—of Nieve’s hooves and Johnny’s heartbeat.

“He’s back.” She heard Noijon’s soft voice in her ear. “You’ve brought him back, Grace.”

Opening her eyes, she saw that the patient’s face had returned from the abyss. His eyes were closed, but there was now no doubt about it. She’d know that handsome cowboy’s face anywhere. A soft smile played on his blistered
lips. It was a good thing Noijon was here or she might do something foolish.

“Great job!” Noijon whispered.

Grace nodded. She was smiling, too. She passed the ends of the ribbons to Noijon. “I need you to continue my work,” she said. “I must attend to Jacoby now.”

Nodding, Noijon stepped into position and took hold of the ribbons.

Grace drew back and stared down at Johnny. She was so grateful that she had been able to heal him. But Sanctuary was not a safe place for him. As soon as she had healed Jacoby and made both her patients comfortable, she needed to find a way to get Johnny out of here—undetected and fast.

“No one is to come into this healing chamber besides you or me,” she told Noijon. “Absolutely no one, understand?”

He nodded, eyes closed, as he began his own healing practice. Grace watched the rise and fall of Johnny’s abdomen. Knowing he was in safe hands, she slipped back to the other side of the curtain, where she knew Jacoby was waiting for her.

“Care for a top-up?” Lola asked her guest, moving toward him, decanter in hand.

He smiled at his hostess genially. “Why not?” Turning to Sidorio, he said, “You certainly have a nice setup here.”

Sidorio nodded, leaning forward, eager to conclude their business. “Yes, we do. Of course, this isn’t our primary ship…”

Lola chuckled as she refilled Sidorio’s glass. “What my husband means to say is that
his
ship,
The Blood Captain
, is the engine of our burgeoning empire. This ship,
my
ship, is very much reserved for the inner sanctum of friends and allies.”

Their guest nodded and lifted his glass aloft. “A toast, then! To friends and allies!”

Sidorio raised his glass and drank it down in one. Lola
bit her lip, disappointed to see old habits resurface. She filled her own glass and took a discreet sip. As she did so, she noticed that their guest was watching her closely. She was not overly perturbed by this. She had never been surprised by this kind of attention.