Page 102 of Anatomy of the Immortal Species

Constantine raked a hand through his hair. “We can’t tell the Tribunal about it. Something’s going on there.”

“I agree.” Zacharia raised his eyebrows. “So, what do you suggest we do about him?”

“Does anybody know you took the body?”

“Not yet.”

Constantine reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone. He took several pictures of the body, including the Council tattoo. The symbols could be photographed but were visible only to Council members who saw the photo. Kaliope had another tattoo as well, which he also decided was worth capturing.

His palms itched to beat up the pervert who’d toyed with her dead body. It wouldn’t be the smartest move, however, when the man could lead them to something bigger.

Once he finished taking photos, he said to Zacharia, “Take the body back to his workshop and make sure you leave no traces. Photograph everything you can while there. The general must be connected to the reptilians.”

The hybrid bent down to tie the bag. “You want me to keep following him?”

“Just keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

***

Later that evening, Constantine pulled into the Hospital’s underground parking lot and shut off his car’s engine. After Zacharia’s gruesome discovery, he’d driven around for a little longer, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. All he’d achieved was to have some rather depressing realisations about the state of the world. His upcoming date with Diana was the only thing that could lighten him up.

He still couldn’t grasp his pull to Diana, and he wasn’t questioning it anymore. He hoped she, too, had reached the same conclusion, and that she’d join him tonight.

A few days ago, he had purchased a dress for her, finding unexpected pleasure in the selection: a sleek black fabric with a dusting of silver, delicate straps, a cowl neckline, and a form-fitting design that reached the knee, with a sheer section runningfrom mid-thigh to hem.

He’d bought presents for women before – a dress was a “thank you for the good fuck” or an invitation for one. Usually. But this time, it was different. He aimed for Diana to lower her defences – the ones that came with being a strong, independent, and aloof woman.

A woman should also be delicate, yielding, and alluring. And thoroughly cared for.

Constantine had sent the box earlier that day with a note, telling her he’d wait for her at 10 p.m. in the gym.

At two minutes to ten, he arrived, but Diana was nowhere to be seen. By seventeen minutes past, he was contemplating whether to call and check on her. Just then, the door opened, but it wasn’t Diana – it was Amelia, carrying the box with the dress and accessories.

“Diana asked me to give you this,” she said.

Constantine took the unused gift. There was a folded note on top of the box. He picked it up and opened it.

Everyone has an eye for beautiful things. But I can’t accept. Thank you. D.

At that moment, Constantine realised he had hoped for more than just seeing Diana in a dazzling new dress – and eventuallyoutof it – tonight. He’d thought that by putting her in the right mood, he could dissuade her from entering the Al-Hatib Tournament. Then, he’d hoped to savour that light in her – the one that made him feel a little less twisted – for as long as he desired.

“She told me her flight is tonight at nine,” Amelia said.

Constantine glanced at his watch, though he already knew the time. “Did she mention if she’s flying private?”

“No. Just that she was on her way to the airport.”

Constantine opened the lid of the box and dumped its contentsonto the floor: the dress, the lingerie, the shoes… but no gun. He exhaled, hoping she had found a way to keep the gun with her.

Amelia stared down at the pile on the floor. “It seemed to me that Diana wasn’t all that eager to go,” she said, lifting her gaze to him.

He gave her a crooked smile.

Diana had made the right choice. Whatever he would have done to her soul would have been far worse than anything she might face in the Al-Hatib Tournament.

***

Amelia’s fingers tried the hidden compartment beneath the bench while she pretended to admire the stars. Disappointment took root in her chest when she found it empty.