Page 20 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)

Amelia

The following morning, the Queen summoned Amelia to her chambers.

Amelia approached with a determined stride. She was resolved to negotiate and demand a meeting with Mikhail before the day was over.

Shame washed over her at the memory of last night’s vision, of how quickly she had assumed the beast had been him. No matter what, Mikhail would never hurt her. The other man, however…

She shivered at the recollection of his human face, revealed after he’d subdued her in his monstrous form.

Fear tried to claw its way up her spine, but she forced it down.

‘… the Oracle’s visions are merely vague images from which you must draw conclusions…

’ Gea’s letter said. But what could she conclude from what she’d seen?

No, don’t think about it now . She needed to stay focused. On Mikhail. If her suspicion that the first vision was linked to him proved correct… Her chest heaved with dread. She would make the Queen regret everything.

Upon entering the room, she nearly recoiled. A jolt of terror lanced through her. Overnight, the massive portrait had migrated from behind the curtain to a place of honour on the wall. The man’s honey-coloured eyes seemed fixed on hers, even as she took her seat opposite the Queen.

“Any progress with Renenutet’s Necklace?” the Queen asked, making no comment on the drastic alteration in décor.

Suddenly, Amelia wanted to scream, but she couldn’t afford to lose her composure. A single outburst could ruin everything. “I’m working on it, summoning visions…”

She could swear the man’s gaze was burning into the back of her neck, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to turn around.

The Queen nodded towards the portrait. “Do you recognise this man?”

Amelia glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t think so.”

The Queen’s eyebrows arched, and Amelia struggled to decipher her expression. Yes, she had experienced a vision of this man abusing her, but the Queen couldn’t know that.

The Queen pointed a crimson nail at the painting. “To you, he might be known as C – the author of the journal circulating through the Hospital. Or rather, fragments of it.”

Amelia couldn’t stop her eyes from widening. C’s journal! The very journal that had exposed the existence of the reptilian race – and the same C. whose words had ensnared her.

“I still don’t understand how a copy ended up in the Hospital,” the Queen mused, “but it’s missing the most critical part of the text – namely, how he banished my race to Antambazi.”

Amelia remembered his notes on reptilians, but the final parts were missing. Now, the pieces came together. “Why did he do it?” she asked.

The Queen’s features contorted, her eyes narrowing into slits, and her lips curling back into a snarl. “He despises my race more than anything in existence, but I assure you, when I’m through with him, the sole reminder of his existence will be that portrait.”

Realisation dawned on her. Amelia had seen this man in her visions – not one of her memories, but another’s. A woman, lost in an intimate moment with him. Could last night’s vision have also been from that woman’s memories? Had something gone awry, causing her to see her own face instead?

“So, he’s alive?” she asked.

“He is now. Since you and Korovin’s group stole his body from the Temple of the Dead Immortals, where I kept him imprisoned for centuries.”

Amelia frowned. “We stole a mummy. The Beduin vampires intended to sacrifice it to the Horned God…”

The Queen shook her head. “ He is the Horned God. The vampires had no idea that their rituals sustained the very magic keeping him trapped. The Temple was a carefully crafted illusion to ensure he never escaped.”

Amelia felt the weight of an unseen gaze. Watching. Waiting. The burning in her nape intensified, but she refrained from glancing at the portrait.

“I want to warn you about him,” the Queen said. “Even in his weakened state, he’s far more than just an immortal man. If you encounter him and I’m not there, do not engage him, because you stand no chance. Run, as though the Devil himself were chasing you.”

Amelia swallowed hard as the previous night’s vision flooded her mind. “ Weakened state, you say… What does he need to regain his strength?” Her pulse raced while she expected the Queen to answer, The ring . It would have fit the vision.

“He could sustain himself for a while with blood – the stronger the better. But in order to heal fully, he would require Renenutet’s Necklace.”

Not the ring, but…the necklace? Amelia hid her confusion behind a stony expression. Something else was becoming clear. If she failed to find the necklace for the reptilians, it could fall into worse hands. Maybe it was those hands the Oracle had referred to in her letters?

“Don’t fret,” the Queen said, mistaking Amelia’s tension for anxiety. “Everything is falling into place. Even your reckless actions at the Temple have yielded a positive outcome. Had you not revived him, it would have been nearly impossible for you to see through his eyes.”

Amelia licked her dry lips. “Why would I want to?”

“How else will you find where he’s hidden his pocket watch?” the Queen replied with a wry smile. “Perhaps I forgot to mention that the other item you’ll retrieve for me is in his possession.”

Amelia recalled Gea’s letter. ‘ Callan’s Pocket Watch for lycanthropes.’

She cleared her throat. “C. stands for…?”

“Callan, of course! The father of lycanthropes and manticores alike.”

Amelia’s mind spun. Dave’s bedtime story – the tale of the first immortals.

Witches and humans had once been Earth’s only inhabitants.

Then, the deity Gord descended, fathering three children: Ana, the first nymph; Sandir, the sire of necromancers and vampires; and Callan, the firstborn of manticores and lycanthropes.

Her mind returned to her vision of the previous night. The dominant energy. The manticore form.

Suddenly, everything took on a chilling new clarity that knotted her insides. Callan, in the stories, possessed both the manticore and the wolf as his secondary forms. Which meant… “He might need the necklace to restore his power, but Callan will want the ring, won’t he?”

The Queen’s gaze fixed on the portrait, burning with hatred.

“Yes. Callan was the ring’s first owner and will stop at nothing to reclaim it.

You see why that object should never have remained with Mikhail Korovin?

It was only a matter of time until Callan snatched it and took advantage of its strength.

But thanks to you, that didn’t happen. Now, if you find the necklace before he does, he will forever remain a forgotten, pitiful demigod. ”

***

Alex

Alex applied black eyeliner and mascara, then painted her lips a subtle shade of pink. She almost never let her hair loose, but tonight, blonde waves cascaded over her shoulders, their glossy ends brushing the curve of her waist.

She stood there, feminine and beautiful – a sensation that always overcame her when she saw him. However, the platonic nature of their interactions was starting to wear thin.

For years, she had yearned for love, having devoured countless romantic novels and films depicting the climax of a man and woman’s relationship. Now, she wanted to experience it for herself.

She entered the room of the Horned God, determined to end her inexperience once and for all.

Additionally, she needed a distraction from the guilt gnawing at her after she’d drugged Viktor.

Her adoptive father was fast asleep in his room.

Better that way. In his current state, he was far too close to Vaka Hara.

Alex doubted he’d manage to maintain his composure during the coming night.

But first, she had to seize this final moment alone with the Horned God.

She untied her cloak in the same manner she did when ‘attacking’ Bobby from the Blood Bank. And this time, she had concealed something special underneath: a dress with a lace neckline, delicate and alluring enough to be mistaken for lingerie. It suited her goal for the evening – to end up in bed.

The Horned God stared at her for a beat, then reached out to gently trace her chin with his fingers. “You’re stunning, but it’s time for us to leave.”

“Already?!” She gasped. Still, the disappointment didn’t catch her off guard. Deep down, she’d suspected he wouldn’t share her plans for the night. Of course, he wouldn’t. She squared her shoulders, fighting the urge to slump. He was putting their safety first.

“I’ve arranged a car,” he said. “We have to take the loop I secured, and we have to leave now. Can you drive?”

***

Amelia

Amelia reached for the glass of juice in front of her. “What stops him from entering Antambazi and retrieving his ring?”

“Me, of course.” The Queen’s face remained stoic. “The moment I lay eyes on him, I’ll bring his worst nightmares to life. He’s wise enough to understand that.”

Amelia didn’t think she was exaggerating. “And what if he does get the necklace?”

The Queen tilted her chin upward. “Then I’ll make sure both of you regret it.”

A few seconds passed, each dragging out like an eternity.

Patience…

The door burst open, shattering the tense silence. Sevar stormed in with a thunderous expression. “There’s been a revolt at the Hospital. Someone spread a rumour that Mikhail Korovin had returned. It made the prisoners bold, and they attacked our guards.”

Amelia turned her head just in time to catch the Queen’s lips parting in surprise. “Mikhail Korovin, at the Hospital?”

Amelia’s heart leapt. The following milliseconds were a fleeting glimmer of hope. It was also one of those moments when you dared not breathe, for fear of shattering it.

“No, he isn’t. He’s exactly where we left him.” Sevar’s voice crushed that blossoming hope into the ground.

“You’re losing control, Sevar. Who spread this rumour?” the Queen demanded, irritation clear in her tone.