Page 2 of Anatomy of the Immortal Species

Constantine rose to his full height of nearly six-foot-six. The vampire, taking it as a prelude to the offer, vanished in a flash, leaving the scent of cheap perfume in his wake.

When the necromancer headed for the Righteous’ lounge, the two guards – lycanthropes resembling bears in tasteless clothes – moved to intercept him. Their boss noticed him and signalled for the guards to let him through.

Constantine climbed the steps under Nikolay’s squinting gaze and, without waiting for an invitation, settled onto the empty couch. The softness of the leather against his ass reminded him of the gentle hands of a Thai masseuse.

“As far as I remember, we had an arrangement that you’ll never set foot here again.” The Righteous pointed his cigar at Constantine. His Armani suit was impeccable, as was everything about the setting – the natural upholstery, the heavy table with solid wood legs, the Moët decanter, and the luxurious humidor.

Constantine smiled. “You said if you saw me again, you’d chop my head off, feed my brain to your dogs, and keep my skull to scare away the crows.”

The Righteous shook with laughter. “Is that what I said? I guess I wasn’t clear enough, since you’re here again.” His smile disappeared in an instant behind the thick cloud of smoke the DJ gifted the crowd. “Listen, necromancer, I did what you asked. I moved the market east. You’ve got three seconds to explain your presence.”

The Righteous raised his better hand – the one that had regenerated faster – and began counting down. “Three seconds, necromancer. Time’s up.”

“Oh, come on. We know you don’t have the balls. You’re more about kissing ass than kicking it,” Constantine said, giving in to the temptation to tease him a little longer before getting to the point.

The Righteous took the bait. “I do what I have to survive. In business, humiliating yourself is sometimes necessary for the greater good. But a bastard like you”—he waved a hand in deprecation—“can’t know that kind of stuff. You’re just aservant.”

Constantine leaned back, making himself more comfortable. “If you want to keep surviving, I suggest you listen carefully. Your trashy dump has hosted individuals who know the reason behind the disrupted regeneration abilities of the immortal species.”

The Righteous rolled his eyes. “Sure. And these magical fairies also cured my hands.”

“I’m serious. These guys hired a vampire to deliver a box with a threatening message to the Hospital.”

“You don’t say. And by box, you mean containing that witch’s chopped-off head?”

“Kaliope Gazis,” the necromancer confirmed. “Her head was delivered in a box with a message in blood.”

The Righteous raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “I heard about that. She was the first murdered at the Hospital. Rumour has it, there was a second victim…?”

“A chambermaid.”

“I gather she was murdered by her boyfriend and best friend?”

Constantine nodded. “The official version.”

“Interesting…” The Righteous rubbed his chin. “And wasn’t there a third murder attempt? Some kid? Is it true his head hangs to one side ever since?”

“The boy recovered completely. If you’re at all interested in anything beyond the gossip that’s been spreading around.”

“Hmm… According to that same gossip, the Tribunal hasn’t figured out who murdered Kaliope Gazis and attempted to off the boy. Nor have they caught the alleged chambermaid killers.”

“TheTribunalhasn’t,” Constantine said.

Because Mikhail Korovin had made sure to confuse them, throwing bogus leads their way while he’d tried to catch the perpetrator himself and deal with them. His ploy wasn’t without its risks, given the Tribunal was the institution that upheld theorder and confidentiality of the immortal world.

The Righteous pursed his lips. “But you have, haven’t you?”

Constantine sighed. “I just told you who did it. Or are your brain cells as stunted as your hands?”

“You just confessed to me that you withheld crucial information from the Tribunal, which is grounds for locking you and that pompous fool Korovin up. All I have to do is make the call.”

The necromancer smiled. “You could try. But you’re a businessman who knows when to pick a fight – and when to back off.”

Nikolay gave him a long look before extinguishing his cigar in the ashtray. “And you claim these murders were committed by someone who has taken the habit of hanging around The Seven Horses?”

“I claim that the creatures behind these murders have a cure for the slowed regeneration. It’s how they got the vampire to help them. And they’ve been hanging inside your club.”

“Right.” The Righteous’ voice dripped with sarcasm. “So, these dudes conveniently have a cure for a problem that has plagued the entire fucking immortal world for over three hundred years?”