Page 63 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)

Mikhail

Mikhail emerged from the forest after a brief sprint in his transformed form.

As he walked through the overgrown grass outside the lodge, he looked up at the sky.

The stars shone high above, a constant reminder of another day gone without progress in freeing the Hospital.

Presiyan was reaching out to more Tribunal members and allies, but all his actions remained cautious.

They lived in a time when any friend could become an enemy in an instant, especially when the regeneration serum was involved. Creatures only saw a simple solution to their problems, unaware that the person offering the solution was also creating the problem.

Mikhail wiped the fine beads of sweat from his brow. The early June heat was as unbearable as this cursed waiting. He wanted to seek his own friends – beings he’d done favours for over the years, who would take his side – but Presiyan insisted it was far too dangerous.

For now, he and Amelia were stationary targets, and no one could discover their location.

It grated on him. Mikhail was a man built for movement, for action, for control – not for sitting in shadows and waiting while others made the next move.

All he could do was wait and try to piece together the puzzle: the Oracle, the Sacreds, the reptilians, the captured Hospital.

And Callan. After escaping Antambazi, Mikhail had been desperate – desperate enough to partner with anyone who could provide the faintest hint of information.

Back then, usefulness mattered more than trust. As the days went on, he began to notice things.

Small things. Nothing damning, but subtle details that gnawed at him.

Callan’s helpfulness seemed too perfectly timed. Mikhail recognised the type: composed, competent, unreadable. A man who never revealed his full hand. Someone who smiled while calculating your next misstep.

A man who circled Amelia like a hawk waiting for its prey.

Mikhail pushed the thought aside. He wasn’t jealous. Who Amelia chose to let near her was none of his business. His suspicion of Callan was rooted in something entirely different.

Mikhail joined Callan and Viktor in the common room. His best friend appeared just as captivated by Callan as everyone else seemed to be.

“Any word from Presiyan?” Mikhail asked. The Tribunal leader and his group had left for Romania two days ago to negotiate with the head of a vampire clan they hoped to ally with.

“Nothing yet.” Viktor gestured towards an empty armchair. “Callan was just explaining why infant mortality rates used to be much higher than they are now.”

“Mortality among children of immortal species, I assume?” Mikhail sank into the armchair. “That’s hardly new information. Mortality rates were higher even a few centuries ago, let alone in his era. Another thing we can thank human medicine for.”

“The issue wasn’t a lack of medicine,” Callan said in his usual serene tone. “Many healers and priests were excellent at treating illnesses, but it wasn’t diseases that killed the children. It was the adults.”

“The adults?”

“Wars among immortals always resulted in the highest child casualties, which makes sense considering how defenceless our young are. However, seeing the world from today’s perspective, I suspect it was another defence mechanism – the planet protecting itself from overpopulation by immortals.

Logically, after thousands of years, immortals should outnumber humans many times over, but the numbers aren’t in our favour. ”

The indifference with which Callan spoke about innocent victims grated on Mikhail. “Does that mean you view the impaired regeneration as another population control mechanism?”

“I understand how the situation looks from your perspective,” Callan said, “but doesn’t it strike you as odd that since regeneration has weakened, the world has gradually quieted down?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, but you’re not wrong,” Viktor conceded.

“So, you find these disruptions… beneficial?” Mikhail kept his eyes fixed on Callan.

“You’re misunderstanding me, Korovin. I’m simply pointing out what stands out to someone who wakes up a thousand years later,” Callan replied with a polite smile.

Mikhail clenched his jaw to hold back the words he wanted to unleash. It was easy to talk about vulnerability when the wounds of losing loved ones didn’t burn inside you every single day. “Right. It’s much easier to analyse a situation from the outside.”

“Outside?” Callan shook his head. “I promised to help you find a solution for impaired regeneration, and I intend to keep my word. That places me right in the centre.”

“That’s not what I meant. We’ve seen your genetic results when we used your DNA to compare with creatures affected by the Changes. You regenerate properly.” Without waiting for a response, Mikhail stood and turned to Viktor. “Can we talk?”

“Excuse us.” Viktor grinned at Callan before following Mikhail into his room. “You still don’t trust him, huh?” he asked once they were alone.

Mikhail crossed his arms and leaned against the window frame. “Is it that obvious?”

Viktor laughed. “I doubt you’re unaware.”

“He views death as a defence mechanism .”

“And he’s not wrong. Imagine what would happen if immortals couldn’t die.” Viktor settled on the edge of the bed, his annoyingly knowing expression fixed on Mikhail. “This is about Amelia, isn’t it?”

Mikhail exhaled a sharp breath, his irritation escaping in a loud sigh. “That bastard was a mummy two days ago, but you suppose I distrust him because he’s after a woman I don’t even remember? Viktor, you’re the smartest creature I know, but lately, you’ve been slipping.”

“Callan is charming and shares interesting stories. You’ll see for yourself if you give him a chance.”

“I’ve accepted his alliance, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him,” Mikhail said.

“That’s not why I wanted to talk. I have a question for you.

Have you ever heard of…” He scratched his neck, searching for the right words.

“A creature that can cause necrosis by touching someone? With just a touch, the flesh deteriorates to the point of necrosis.”

“A nymph?”

Mikhail grimaced. “Nymphs have to pierce the skin with their nails, and even then, they inject poison deep inside. I’m talking about necrosis caused by surface contact.”

“Magic?” Viktor’s brow furrowed in curiosity.

“Probably…” Amelia’s witch blood – it had to be witchcraft.

“I’ve never heard of anything like that, but if some witch is causing necrosis with bare hands…” Viktor whistled, gazing at the ceiling. “That means they’re making very dangerous deals with the Higher Powers.”

“That’s the only explanation? Could it be an object that grants the power?”

“If it’s an object, it’s likely just a conduit for dark magic. Either it’s magic, or you’re talking about a new biological species, which would be too much after the reptilians.”

“Relax, no new species. But is it possible for someone to make a deal with the Higher Powers without realising it?”

Viktor chuckled. “I have no idea, my friend. Why don’t you ask Zacharia? He’s more knowledgeable about witchcraft.”

“Zacharia went to the village to check the human news.”

“Ask him when he gets back.”

Mikhail lowered his gaze to his hands and fell silent.

“You and Presiyan aren’t trying to recruit some dark witch or witcher, are you?” Viktor asked.

Mikhail ignored the question. He wasn’t keeping Amelia’s secret for her sake – he feared what his enemies might do if they ever got wind of it. “One last question,” he said, tilting his chin towards Viktor. “Would you trust a creature capable of causing necrosis with their hands?”

Viktor looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Not for the next thousand years.”

***

Mikhail

His heart pounded against his ribs, desperate to rouse him.

Air rushed into his lungs as Mikhail’s eyes snapped open.

He sat up in bed, taking in the night sky beyond the window; his fingers brushed over the four scars on his torso.

The stars reminded him he was far from Antambazi, and the healed wounds whispered he was far from his past.

He pulled on his clothes in the dark, wondering where to wander this time to calm the demons in his mind. Every tree stump in the area was familiar now, and the dense forests of Strandzha threatened to become his second home.

Running a hand through his hair, which brushed just below his ears, he allowed his thoughts to drift.

His building – sheltering hundreds of creatures he had pledged to protect – was under siege.

The Hospital, once a sanctuary, was gradually fading into a distant memory.

And here he was, meandering through the mountains, waiting.

The floorboards creaked under his heavy steps as he moved along the hallway. A sliver of light seeped from a door at the far end. An instinct drew him towards it, like a beacon in the dark.

He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated in mid-air. This was inappropriate. Visiting her at this hour might give the wrong impression.

Yet, his fist struck the wood. After a few sluggish seconds, came the slow grind of a key in a lock.

She had locked herself in? Perhaps his assumption that she still harboured feelings for him was misplaced, and Amelia had long forgotten him in favour of someone else’s company. Someone like Callan.

The door swung open, revealing her standing there, her hair tousled and wearing a T-shirt at least two sizes too large. Mikhail’s gaze swept past her into the room, half-expecting to spot Callan. No sign of him.

“Yes?” Amelia asked when the silence stretched.

He cleared his throat. “Alex said you needed me to fix some furniture.”

Her puzzled expression almost made him turn on his heel and retreat. Then, understanding dawned on her face. “I had a broken chair, but Callan fixed it earlier today.”

Of course . Mikhail forced a smile. “Then tomorrow at 10 a.m. We’ll train in the forest.”