Page 90 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)

Mikhail

A Month Later

They had won. The humanid was dead. The Sacreds had vanished.

They’d reclaimed the Hospital and resumed the healing work, though it would take a long time before everything returned to normal.

Presiyan had once again taken his place as the leader of the Tribunal and Prokaliya.

He married Jasmina beneath the impenetrable glacier of the Prison.

Though most of those who betrayed him perished in battle or were executed, his greatest foe – the man who had impersonated him – had escaped.

Mikhail hadn’t attended the wedding but had sent his warmest wishes.

As for the traitor, Mikhail had his own plans for him.

Callan remained temporarily at the Hospital, joining the Council, although Mikhail had several reasons to distrust the firstborn. His motives for certain actions were yet to be uncovered.

They travelled to Kamchatka but only found corpses. The humans had died inside the magic barrier. The area seemed deserted, and they had no way to go in. Despite Amelia’s bargain with the ayradjakli, there were still no signs of improvement in regeneration.

Sevar had slipped away and now governed Antambazi with the Chosen. No one knew what plans occupied his mind.

Mikhail needed to decide whether he wanted to continue their feud. He also had to find a way to breach the magical barrier in Kamchatka and check if the device there was still operating.

But first… He needed to steady his breathing.

He paused outside the Council chamber, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to the wall. His head spun, and his legs threatened to collapse. He had to regain his balance if he wanted to continue the mission that had consumed him for over two centuries.

But how, when…

They had won, and yet he felt as though he’d lost everything.

He entered the chamber, where eighteen beings had already assembled. No surprise – he was half an hour late.

He walked past Constantine, who had been unusually secretive over the last month. As he passed behind Nyavolski, he gave the vampire a pat on the shoulder. Nyavolski had held the Hospital together during the siege, saving dozens of creatures from falling into Vaka Hara.

Looking ahead to his seat at the head of the table, Mikhail noticed the figure sitting in the chair to his right. For the first time, she was attending the Council after he had invited her to join.

As Mikhail moved towards his seat at the head of the table, his gaze fell on the figure seated at his right hand. This was her first time attending the Council since he had invited her.

His legs buckled again, and he hurried to sit before anyone could notice his weakness. Once more, he masked it, but he could never escape the constant internal ache.

Why had he believed placing Alex in Viktor’s vacant seat would ease his burden? Damn it. All she did was remind him of the loss of his closest friend, stoking the sorrow in his chest until it burned into a suffocating rage.

At their farewell, Viktor had confided to Alex that he’d lost his inner spirit. And yet, he’d still sacrificed himself. Had he known he wouldn’t survive, or had he been hoping for a miracle? Mikhail would never have an answer.

Viktor, who had stood steadfastly by his side during the creation of the Hospital. Now, on the site of his death, there was a stone slab inscribed with the words, ‘Saviour of dozens of creatures . ’

Damn it, Viktor.

Breathe!

Mikhail cleared his throat. “Good evening, creatures.”

***

Alex

Alex Volk hadn’t spoken to anyone in the past month except her brother and Mikhail. Viktor had taught her so much in life, but he hadn’t taught her how to live without him. He had been her saviour. Her parent. Her mentor. Her closest friend.

Now, her only pillar of support was her brother. However, after Viktor’s death, Grigor refused to return to the Hospital.

For the first time, Alex had the freedom to do whatever she wanted.

Yet most days, she could barely manage the journey from her bed to the bathroom.

Taking Viktor’s seat on the Council was a small comfort.

She could never replace him, but she would do everything in her power to assist Mikhail in the fight against the disrupted regeneration – when the manticore was ready to take it up again. He, too, had lost much.

She listened to his words at the Council. He spoke of the Hospital’s long journey to recovery, the casualties of the battle, aiding the creatures who had endured the Queen’s torment and the harpies’ cruelty, and addressing the rumours of flying women circulating in the human world.

Callan sat at the opposite end of the room, and as Alex watched him, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a mistake. Her obsession with him had blinded her to details she would never have overlooked otherwise. Losing Viktor had forced her to open her eyes to many things – Callan among them.

She waited for the meeting to finish and, sure enough, Callan approached her. “How are you, beautiful?” There was a hint of sympathy in his gaze, but the love she’d once thought she saw there – and that he had once encouraged her to believe in – was gone.

“I’m fine, thank you. Can we talk?” she said.

He followed her, not quite as eager to escape her as he’d been in those final days at the winery. And why would he be? He was no longer chasing Amelia or pursuing his other goals.

Once they were alone in the corridor, Alex faced him and said matter-of-factly, “I translated your journal.”

He raised an eyebrow.

He has no idea, does he? Oh, but he would understand soon enough.

The corners of her lips twitched. “And unlike the edited copy Kathrine translated, the one everyone else has, mine is complete. From the first page to the last.” She emphasised those last words.

For the briefest moment, he looked as though she had poured cold water over him.

But then, he was Callan again – composed as ever, warm as daylight, elusive as the night.

“As far as I’m aware, the original journal is in Antambazi,” he said smoothly, “and to be honest, I don’t feel nostalgic about it. Nor is it very useful to anyone.”

“If it’s in Antambazi, how did it end up in your room at the cabin?” Alex fixed him with a challenging glare, savouring the effect of her words. “I suppose that’s why you were so eager to rush back after the harpy attack – to retrieve it. You must have been quite disappointed when it wasn’t there.”

And just like that, his mask slipped. “ You took it?”

The grimace on his face made her insides warm with satisfaction.

“Kathrine may not have been able to decipher much of the text because it was written in the demonic language, but for me, words hold no secrets. And neither do you any longer. I concluded you gave up reclaiming the ring because you were in love with Amelia. Oh, I’ve been deluded… ”

“Give it to me!” The warmth in Callan’s amber eyes flared into hellish fire, threatening to destroy her.

But she didn’t care. “That’s not going to happen. If you want your journal back, you’ll do as I say.”

Callan crossed his arms, his muscles tensing. “Little girl…”

“Oh, please! ‘Beautiful Alexandra’ or ‘goddess’. That would be more fitting, wouldn’t it? After all, you’re a god, aren’t you? And from now on, you’re my servant.”

His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

She smirked. “In case you ever want to see your journal again, of course. From what I’ve read about your curse, you’re going to need it very much.”

He slammed his palm against the wall behind her, pinning her between the plaster and his body. “One day, I’ll get my journal back, and you’ll regret this.”

His intimidation tactics didn’t faze her in the slightest. “Until that day comes, I’ll have my fun. Won’t I, my Horned God?”