Page 101 of Anatomy of the Immortal Species

He turned the volume up, the sounds of drums and guitars vibrating through the compartment. His mind drifted away from his unsuccessful leadership and flickered back to his otherproblem. He wondered when an upcoming date had last made his stomach flutter.

Never.Because he didn’t really date. He consumed and left.

And how he craved to consume Diana. It was why his palms sweated and he kept checking the time, deliberating whether he should call and postpone their date. He wasn’t a good man for her.

His phone went off, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Are you up for some target practice?” Zacharia asked.

Constantine glanced at the dashboard. “Not really.” Target shooting required patience, and his swirling thoughts wouldn’t allow him to stay still.

“Trust me, you’ll want to join me.”

Constantine sighed. Whatever the hybrid intended, it had to be important if he couldn’t wait until they met tomorrow at the Hospital. “Send me the address. Will meet you there.”

Thirty minutes later, he parked in front of the shooting range. Retrieving his gun from the glove compartment, he strolled inside and bothered with the procedures of registering with his fake ID and licence.

Adjusting the earmuffs above his ears, he took his position next to Zacharia at the firing stations. The rhythmic crack of gunfire from other participants echoed off the walls. With sharp, practised movements, the hybrid loaded his gun and shot.

“Care to explain why we’re here?” Constantine said, his words barely audible above the constant barrage of bullets.

Zacharia tilted his head to a middle-aged man a few stations to their right.

Constantine crinkled his nose, exploring the aromas mixed with the gunpowder scent. He wouldn’t bet his life on it, but that man was human. His greying hair hinted at his mid-fifties, while his shooting stance revealed the skill of an experienced marksman. But why was Zacharia interested in him?

Curious to see it play out, Constantine focused on his target and took a firing stance. They established a rhythm of shooting and reloading, which they hung to for a while. When the human man left, they did too.

Constantine assumed they’d be following him, but Zacharia gestured for him to wait until the man exited the range. When he was gone, they walked out on the street and stopped by Zacharia’s Lexus.

Constantine glanced at his watch. “What was all that about?”

“That was about General Petrov,” Zacharia said. “A former general of the Bulgarian Land Forces. He’s one of those untouchable figures in the human world, you know? The kind around whom everything can burn, but they won’t even be singed by the flames? He’s also an ex-best buddy of the late Minister of Transportation.”

“You mean Kaliope’s lover?”

The hybrid nodded. “The general and Minister Vrabchev were part of the same social circle. At some point, Vrabchev must have become a liability, so the general took him off the scene, with the assistance of the minister’s wife, of course.”

Constantine grimaced. “Okay… and?”

Zacharia scanned their surroundings before opening the car boot. A black bag filled the compartment, its thick surface creasing and reflecting the light.

Constantine’s insides twisted into a knot when the smell penetrated his nostrils, hinting at the contents.Fuck, fuck, fuck.He clenched his fist, needing to punch something, even before he’d heard the rest of the story.

“I visited the general’s mansion in the suburbs of Sofia,” Zacharia said. “He has a workshop. A hideout where he dismembers immortal beings and arranges their organs like bloody trophies on his wall.”

Constantine grabbed the end of the bag and untied it.

“It’s been treated with something to preserve it from decay, but it still smells foul.” Zacharia stepped next to him, both of them hiding the compartment with the bulk of their bodies.

Pulling the bag apart, Constantine revealed a decapitated female body. He couldn’t perceive much from this position, so he turned the body along with the bag. His jaw clenched when he spotted the Council’s tattoo on her butt.

“Is that Kaliope’s body?” he asked.

Zacharia crossed his arms. “Yes.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’ve been stalking the general for a while. He’s a strict routine man. Every Thursday he admires his trophies, comes to the shooting range at the exact same hour, then has a cake and a coffee in a secluded restaurant. And call me sick, but I found it satisfying to steal one of his trophies and come shooting right next to him.”