Lola’s bedchamber had become a foreign realm, Sidorio thought as he gingerly poked his head around the door. Lola was propped up in bed, on what seemed like a thousand crimson pillows. She was surrounded by her most loyal crew members—Holly, Camille, Jacqueline, and Nathalie.
“How’s she doing?” Sidorio inquired.
“Who’s
she
? The devil’s mother?” cried Lola, her dark eyes rolling toward him.
She looked quite mad and was, no doubt, experiencing intense pain. Sidorio watched as Holly dipped a napkin in cool water and mopped his wife’s brow.
“Can I do anything?” he asked.
Holly did not respond but Lola did. “I think
you’ve
done
quite
enough. It’s because of you I’m in such pain. And yes, Sid, it
is
excruciatingly painful. I bore two children in my mortal span and their births were agony enough but they were as nothing compared to
this
…” She broke off and began wailing, a new fear in her eyes.
“You must focus on your breathing,” said Jacqueline, who sat at the foot of the bed. “Come on now, just like we practiced.”
Lola nodded, her matted hair snaking across the pillows. As Sidorio watched and listened, his wife began
making a series of strange noises. It was unsettling, seeing her like this—hearing these unusual sounds emanating from her. Suddenly, they stopped and her head rolled around to face him once more. It made him think of their incredible reunion when he had returned her decapitated head to her body.
“Are you still here?” she inquired now, coldly.
“If you’d prefer me to go, I will,” he said, despondent at this strange gulf that had emerged between them—at this, of all times, when she was birthing his twin sons.
Lola’s dark eyes seared into his. “Yes!” she cried. “I’d prefer you to go. We have no need of men here, not now. Bringing infants into the world is women’s work.” She cried out in fresh agony.
“Breathe!” Jacqueline rose from her seat. “Really, you must focus. The breathing will help.”
Holly turned to Sidorio, smiling reassuringly at him. “Everything’s under control,” she said. “Perhaps you had better go and wait on your own ship. This could go on for many hours.”
He nodded, finding himself disproportionately grateful for the girl’s kindness. He blew a kiss to his wife but it fell unnoticed as her head thrashed from one side of the pillow mountain to the other. Feeling utterly at a loss, Sidorio, King of the Vampirates, backed sheepishly out of the birthing chamber.
Grace opened the door carefully and padded soundlessly toward the patient’s bed.
“It’s okay,” Jacoby said. “No need for the Scooby-Doo walk. I’m awake.”
Smiling, Grace carried a chair over beside his bed. As he sat up, she reached behind him and began plumping his pillows.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m going to miss this level of twenty-four/seven care when I’m discharged.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Grace said. “
My
care may be coming to an end, but I’m confident others will pick up the reins when you return to
The Tiger
.”
Jacoby frowned at the mention of his ship. “You really think I can go back there?”
Grace nodded. “Of course, why
wouldn’t
I think that?”
He cradled his hands in his lap. “Let’s not beat around the bush, Grace. We both know what the Vampirates did to me. We both know what I am now.”
“Oh, sure,” Grace said. “You’re a Nocturnal. And, as you may remember, there’s a war going on in which the pirates and Nocturnals are fighting in alliance.
And
, as you may also remember, it is Alliance policy to place a Nocturnal on board every pirate ship.” She paused. “In the case of
The Tiger
, I guess they just increased the percentage.”
Jacoby chuckled, closing his eyes for a moment, his long lashes casting shadows in the lamplight. “You’re
doing a very good job of making it sound easy, Grace,” he said, opening his eyes again. “I imagine that’s all part of the training, eh?”
She shrugged.
“Let’s consider the small but related matters of me needing blood and not being able to venture out into the sun anymore,” Jacoby said, the lightness of his tone belying the import of his words.
Grace nodded but she was matter-of-fact as she answered him. “You’re right. You’ll be better off confining your trips outside to the hours between dusk and dawn. It’ll play havoc with your tanning regime, but, trust me, your skin will thank you for it.” She paused. “As for the blood thing, well, of course you’re right. We do need you to start drinking blood if you’re to become the big, strong Nocturnal we all want you to be.”
He shook his head, sadly. “I can’t do it, Grace,” he said, his eyes tearing up. “It’s just not in me. I don’t want to die but I can’t kill another living being just so I can endure.”
Grace put her hand on his shoulder. “Of course you can’t. But you’re not going to die, Jacoby. You really haven’t done your homework, have you? How many times have you met Lorcan and the others? Every Nocturnal is paired with a donor. The donor provides blood on a weekly basis but it doesn’t weaken them, let alone kill them. When you leave here, your donor will travel with you to
The Tiger
.”
“
My
donor? I don’t have a donor.”
Grace rose from her seat. “Actually, you do, you just haven’t been introduced yet.”
She walked over to the door and pushed it open, calling softly out into the corridor. “You can come inside now. He’s ready for you.”
“Can I come in?” Jasmine’s head poked around the door.
“Hey!” Jacoby called out to her. “This is like the best night of my life. I’ve had one cute visitor after another.”
Jasmine smiled with relief. “Sounds like you’re back to your old self.” She closed the door behind her and stepped closer.
“Not exactly,” Jacoby said. She could see the telltale signs of tension etched across his forehead.
“Tell me about your cute visitors,” Jasmine said, keen to lighten the mood. “Go on, make me jealous. I don’t mind!”
“All right, then,” he said, smiling once more and reaching out his hand for hers. She took it and gave it a squeeze. “Well, first there was my nurse, Evrim. She’s incredibly foxy, with these big, smoky eyes. She comes to 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
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.