Page 97 of Anatomy of the Immortal Species

“This isn’t a coincidental encounter, Mor. I know who you are. I’m sure you know who I am, because knowing everything falls within your purview. The good news is, all I want is for you to tell me what’s happening with Mikhail Korovin.”

Mor diverted his attention to the cleavage of a blonde sitting a few chairs away, seeming more intrigued by it than by their conversation.

“If you were anyone else, I’d threaten you,” Constantine said. “But even I wouldn’t dare threaten a Tribunal cardinal, so I’m asking you – what’s going on with Mikhail? You know the Tribunal and the Hospital have always been allies. Korovin’s absence is throwing everything into chaos, and now I’m stuck trying to manage a Council full of assholes. I just want to know when I can start planning my holiday to Mexico.”

Mor was silent for a moment. “I wouldn’t plan any trips if I were you,” he finally said.

Constantine swirled his glass. “Why not?”

“The charges are serious. Highest grade. And more than one.”

The highest grade meant murder. And more than one…

“They have proof?” Constantine pressed.

“More than enough… The information came from outside the Tribunal.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it was taken directly to Presiyan, bypassing the cardinals.”

Constantine leaned on the bar. The Tribunal decreed that every accusation had to be brought before a cardinal, and only they could present it to Presiyan.

Mor shrugged. “They probably didn’t want any of us to interfere. We also rely on our relationship with the Hospital.”

“And Presiyan allowed it?” Constantine asked.

Mor shrugged again. “He did.”

“I’ve been trying to contact him for months, but he refuses to speak with me.”

Mor gave a bitter smile. “He hasn’t met with anyone in years.”

“And yet, the creature who provided information about Mikhail’s guilt must have met him.”

Mor finished his drink. “All I know is that Presiyan’s schedule is unpredictable.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “But you might be in luck. On the 14th of this month, he’ll be in Bulgaria for the conclave to elect a new High Nymph. He hasn’t attended such ceremonies for years. At first, he refused, but when he heard it would take place here, he accepted.”

“There’s going to be an election for a new High Nymph? Did the current one die?” Constantine asked, though he cared little for the answer.

“She’s giving up her title to participate in the Al-Hatib Tournament. And you know the odds of returning from that.”

The information felt like a punch to his gut, though Constantine tried to keep an impassive expression. “Where is the conclave taking place?”

“Beglik Tash. Strandzha Mountain.”

“You’re sure Presiyan will be there?”

Mor nodded. “I’ll personally be accompanying him. But I can’t guarantee he’ll speak to you. Good luck, necromancer.”

The cardinal left, moving to the beat of the music, basking in the attention of the women who watched him as he walked away. It must be pleasant to take off a mask that provoked so much hatred and present a fresh, untainted face. It reminded Constantine of his two forms – a handsome human and a grotesque skeleton. Now that the latter was gone, however, he couldn’t deny missing it.

“Hey, you’re still here!” The female reappeared out of nowhere. She had a sharp chin, big blue eyes, and small pouty lips. Cuteand sexy enough to make any man around her rock-hard. If she’d had any sense of her allure, she could’ve made Constantine crawl up to her himself.

His body reacted to the promise in her eyes, but he didn’t confuse genuine attraction with pure lust – his preferred way of dealing with emotions whenever he felt powerless. Sex gave him control.

She’s giving up her title to participate in the Al-Hatib Tournament. And you know the odds of returning from that.

No. He would not think about her. Not now.