Page 22 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)

Amelia

If the heart was a trap, it had already snapped shut around Amelia’s neck.

The pouch hung on its string from her waist. Her thick coat concealed it, as well as Gea’s letters.

She couldn’t gauge how long it had taken her to descend the slope, but by the time she reached the outskirts, her thighs burned with exhaustion, and she was gasping for breath.

The sting of salt pinched her nose as she approached the sea. A few metres from the dark waters, she spotted the silent boatman. She edged towards him, struggling with what to say. Last time, the Queen had boarded his boat without uttering a word.

The shrouded figure of the boatman remained still as Amelia stood at the edge of the cliff. She raised her voice to be heard above the wind. “Will you take me to the ayradjakli?”

For a moment, there was no reaction. Then…

It might have been her imagination, but he nodded.

Time was pressing on her, so Amelia climbed into the boat and settled herself on the bench.

The oar in the boatman’s hands dipped into the sea, slicing through the dark waters.

Had the one who left her the heart warned him to wait for her?

Within minutes, they rounded the rocky outcrop and reached the hollow, its entrance marked by lanterns. The boat halted just shy of the shoreline, and Amelia stepped onto solid ground. She slipped a hand beneath her coat, fingers brushing the leather at her waist.

Before entering the cavern, she glanced over her shoulder. The boat and its oarsman hovered in place, eerily still – more like they were suspended above water than floating on it.

Once she trod between the rocky walls, a familiar oriental melody rose to meet her, drowning out the sound of her footsteps. A nervous shiver raced down her spine.

As before, disappointment pressed heavily in her chest when the music stopped. It had to be some sort of enchantment – ordinary music couldn’t possibly have such a powerful effect.

“To what do I owe the honour, Oracle?”

Amelia spun around. Barefoot and dressed in a black vest and loose trousers, the witcher moved across the cavern floor without making a sound. In the flickering candlelight, his face appeared younger than before, his hair tousled as if he had spent hours outdoors.

“I’m here to propose a deal,” Amelia said.

He studied her with an unreadable expression. Taking his silence as a prompt to act, she retrieved the pouch and tossed it to him.

He caught it deftly, a smile playing on his lips. “I imagine this is quite the offering if the heart you’ve brought me is so unique.” He flipped the pouch into the air before catching it again.

Amelia wasn’t wasting any more time. “Everything between a witcher and their client remains confidential, correct?”

His irises flashed like purple lightning. “Even the assumption of a witcher betraying a client is an insult of the gravest kind.”

She had no choice but to trust him, just as she’d trusted the one who’d left her the heart. Still, it was reassuring to hear it said aloud. “I need your help to get Mikhail Korovin out of Antambazi. Somewhere safe. And unharmed.”

The purple discs in the witcher’s eyes began to spin faster.

Amelia took it as encouragement to carry on.

“I also want Constantine di Angelo freed. He’s another prisoner of the Queen, and he, too, must be taken somewhere safe and unharmed.

He’s in the palace. Lastly, I want you to tell me more about the Seven Sacreds. ”

The witcher and the spinning stopped. “That’s impossible.”

Amelia’s chest tightened with disappointment. “Why not?”

“I could guarantee the safe extraction of those individuals by opening a portal. It can take them anywhere you wish. But this heart”—he nodded towards the pouch”—is worth one portal. Unless those two individuals are in the same place at the same time, I cannot do it.”

“Then get Mikhail out.” She would find another way to help Constantine. Once Mikhail was safe, her thoughts would be clearer.

The purple irises started spinning again. “The Higher Powers refuse your request. There’s an obstacle to Mikhail’s passage through a portal. I can extract the necromancer instead.”

Damn witchers and their connections to the Higher Powers. Of course, nothing could be simple.

“Obstacle? What kind?”

“I don’t know.”

“Chains?”

“I said, I don’t know.”

“Magic?”

“Oracle, contrary to popular belief, my power is not limitless. It has its boundaries.” The witcher folded his arms. “And one of those is that I cannot divine answers. That, as I recall, is your power.”

Her frustration bubbled over. Despite what he claimed, visions weren’t her innate strength – not according to Gea’s letters – but they were all she had to rely on.

She racked her brain, trying to think of something.

Then, she remembered last night’s vision.

The suffocating tightness in the lungs of the being whose mind she’d first entered…

If there was an object around Mikhail that barred his passage through portals and strangled him, she had to uncover it – no matter the cost.

“If you wish, I can get you out of Antambazi,” the witcher said. “I can open a portal from here to the ends of the Earth. This heart will pay what’s owed to me and also our debts to the Higher Powers. Accept the deal, and you’ll be free in sixty seconds.”

“No.” Amelia’s shoulders slumped. Only now did she realise just how much hope she’d invested in a single heart.

The witcher studied her with a mix of curiosity and calculation, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “In that case… I might be able to do something, but I can’t guarantee success. It won’t be easy and may not come without consequences.”

“What is it?” Amelia asked impatiently. She was prepared for anything but returning to the charade of loyalty to the Queen.

The witcher’s gaze remained fixed on her face for a long moment.

“Please,” she said, sensing his hesitation.

He smirked. “Very well. I’ll give you my melody.”

As if summoned by magic, music filled the cavern, ethereal and exquisite.

It emanated from the cracks, the dark corners, and the shadows, seeping into Amelia’s body like an opiate – or a miraculous balm.

Under its influence, the Queen, Mikhail, and even Amelia’s own existence ceased to matter, for the world was made of music, and nothing else held significance.

Then, the music ceased, and the world became grey once again.

“A snap of your fingers will silence the melody and wake you from the trance,” the witcher’s harsh voice grounded her again.

“The melody puts people in a trance?” Amelia asked. “I thought your hypnosis only worked on humans.”

“My hypnosis is limited to humans. My music, however, works on all species. But I have two conditions for giving it to you.” He rubbed his chin again. “First, if you get caught, you must not reveal the secret of the music. And second, you must not use it on the Queen.”

He untied the pouch’s string to extract the heart. When he sniffed the organ, evaluating its quality, Amelia had to suppress her gag reflex. “Why can’t I use it on the Queen?”

His eyes met hers over the bloody, fatty surface of the heart, its blood vessels dangling over his wrist. “Because it won’t work on her.” He pulled the heart away from his face. “All you’ll achieve is giving her the idea of yet another way to manipulate the minds of beings.”

“Why doesn’t your magic affect her?”

“If you find the answer to that question, you’ll gain an advantage over her.”

With one more snap of his fingers, a small square table with two chairs materialised between them. On its chequered cloth, two empty plates appeared, each with a fork and knife.

“With the music, you’ll be able to reach the beings you want to save and leave the realm.”

It sounded good, but… “I… don’t know where Mikhail is. Could you give me a clue so I can find him?”

“I can’t help with that.”

“I had a vision. I think I was inside his mind… and there was this strange buzzing sound, like from a machine. Does that mean anything to you?”

The witcher watched her curiously. “It doesn’t ring any bells.”

She tried to recall the vision, hoping to grasp another detail: the buzzing, the pain, the despair. Yes, there had been something else…

“It smelt of sea salt.”

“Reptilians smell of sea salt. It’s not unusual.”

“And disinfectant.” Yes, amidst all the sensory assaults, she had detected the scent of… disinfectant. A wave of dread washed over her.

The witcher said, “Hmm? Maybe he’s in the laboratory.”

Laboratory? If the Queen had done something to him…

The man beckoned her to sit at the table. “Now we’ll eat. The magic needs fuel.”

She stood her ground. “Do you know where the laboratory is?”

The chair screeched as the witcher dragged it over the rocky surface. “I do. The Queen has summoned me to many of her hideouts. Sit.”

Reluctantly, she obeyed. Her stomach churned with anxiety, but she had to appease him – at least until she obtained the music.

He placed the heart on his plate, then took his knife and fork to slice it.

With surgical precision, he divided the organ into two equal halves, transferring one to her plate.

He stabbed his fork into his portion. “If you want to save your friends, you’ll have to eat your half.” Bile rose in her throat, but he added, “There are far worse things you might have to consume to leverage magic.”

Amelia reached for her fork with resolution. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but she forced herself to suppress the reaction.

Let this be worth it.

The witcher swallowed a bite. “Do you intend to activate the Sacreds?”

Amelia’s hand froze mid-air. “No. I want to understand what they are.” She needed to gather more information about these objects with which she shared such an inexplicable connection.

He looked at her over his plate. “They’re what make us everything we are.”

“And I suppose you know their names?”

The witcher merely smiled in response.

“Will you tell me?” she pressed.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like you, and I don’t want to.” He resumed chewing.