36
The human woman on Constantine’s lap wouldn’t be getting the ending she hoped for, despite being his type.
Low self-esteem, compensated for with debauched behaviour, unbelieving her luck that she’d landed on his lap.
It wasn’t hard to guess her reasoning. She saw a tailored suit, a gold watch, and an expensive bottle of whisky, and believed that selling herself to him would make her feel as valuable as the rest of his possessions.
Yes, she was exactly his type, Constantine mused, stroking her thigh.
Women like her weren’t seeking love – they craved validation in the form of material things.
And that , he could provide. He always reciprocated somehow, whether it was a human or an immortal on his lap, an insecure novice or a haughty superstar.
This one reeked of inexperience. Her mini skirt and the way her fingers clung to him spoke of desperation and a fear of being easily replaced.
Constantine disliked disappointing women, but he had no choice in this case, seeing as the real reason for his presence in this joint had just taken a seat at the bar across from him.
The Tribunal had six cardinals chosen by Presyian and who answered straight to him.
They were his executors, often referred to as the six hands of justice .
Their identities were shrouded in secrecy, their real faces hidden behind masks.
After months of digging – and a favour he’d be repaying for at least a century – Jaguar had uncovered information about one of them.
They called him Mor, and he was one of the elusive six.
Who would have guessed his favourite nightclub was in Students’ Town?
And that was how Constantine had ended up here. The brief encounter with the human female was a spur-of-the-moment distraction, something to keep his mind off Diana and the Al-Hatib Tournament while he waited for Mor to appear.
The female licked Constantine’s ear, bringing his attention back to her.
“Let’s do this some other time.” He tapped her thigh and moved her off his lap.
She tried to cling on, her hand reaching for his zipper, but Constantine was already standing. He pulled out a few notes from his wallet.
She rose on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “I would have done it for free.”
Perhaps he’d been wrong about her. The approval she sought wasn’t measured in material things – she wanted attention. But tonight, he wasn’t in the mood to offer anything but money.
“Let it be an apology for your wasted time,” he said, then moved over to the bar.
Constantine took the seat which had just emptied beside Mor and gestured for the bartender to pour him whatever the cardinal was drinking.
“Cheers.” He clinked his glass against Mor’s.
The man gave him a side glance. “Two immortals in a human bar? You know no codex compels us to chat, right?”
Constantine smiled. Mor was a lycanthrope with straight black hair falling over his forehead and dark eyes beneath handsomely shaped black eyebrows.
His features had a somewhat boyish, even romantic appearance that clashed with the image of a Tribunal cardinal.
In his modern blue jeans and white shirt, he could pass for an average student.
Rumour had it Mor was the most benevolent of the six, which was why Constantine had spent months tracking him down.
“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. Cute and 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.
He ran his hand down the curve of the young woman’s spine. Suddenly, he was ready to offer her the approval she sought.
***
Hours later, back in his car, Constantine checked his phone. Twelve missed calls from an unknown number. His thumb hovered over the call-back button while he debated whether to spare himself whatever nonsense awaited him. Just then, the phone rang again.
He answered, not recognising the shrill voice on the other end at first.
It sounded like… “Alex? Is it you?”
“Yes, yes…”
“What’s going on?”
“The mummy!” she yelled, making him pull the phone away from his ear. “The mummy’s gone!”
“Stop screaming and explain.”
“I dozed off, and when I woke up, it was gone!”
Damn.
“On my way.”
***
Constantine scanned the room where the mummy had vanished. Three stone tables with drainage channels for water and blood, a sink with a hose, a cupboard against the wall, and a metal gurney. And his entire team – Helena, Nyavolski, Amelia, Viktor, Zacharia, and Alex – were all present.
His brilliant team of scientists.
Helena and Nyavolski were yelling over each other. The surgeon’s curses were directed at nobody in particular, while the nymph’s threats were aimed at Alex.
“I was guarding it day and night!” Alex pleaded, pointing to a chair in the corner and a book on the ground beside it. “I know how important it was. I failed… I’m sorry. Really, I am…”
“For crying out loud! I made you guard the mummy to punish you! I never thought someone would actually steal it,” Constantine snapped. His voice was higher than he’d heard it in years.
“Alex, tell us again what happened,” Viktor cut in.
She threw up her hands in frustration. “I was sitting by the table with the mummy, reading C.’s journal, but I must have dozed off.
I always asked Viktor to cover for me when I needed a nap – I even did that yesterday, because I knew how tired I was!
And I’ve been taking it seriously, because I thought I was doing something important… ”
“Idiot!” Helena hissed.
Constantine glanced around. No mummy, obviously.
Damn it!
“Didn’t Mikhail say he’d put surveillance cameras in the Hospital after the attacks last year?” Amelia asked.
“I already checked. Nothing,” Zacharia said. “There are a few blind spots. The thief must have known about them.”
Of course.
“Who knows about these blind spots?”
“Everyone in security.”
Perfect.
Viktor rubbed his chin, thinking out loud. “Okay, let’s think about it… Why would someone steal a mummy? Who would even need one?”
The room went quiet. Everyone’s faces twisted in concentration, as if they were trying to solve a complex puzzle.
“Well… nobody?” Zacharia said.
Constantine almost laughed but kept his jaw clenched. He asked Alex, “Does anyone else know about the mummy?”
She raised her chin. “Absolutely not.”
“She makes mistakes, but she doesn’t lie about them.” Viktor took a defensive stance beside Alex. “If she’d told anyone, she’d have admitted it by now.”
Constantine’s thoughts swirled. What would Mikhail do?
Block all exits and search every room, car, and creature for the mummy? Too late for that.
Call in the Tribunal to hunt for a stolen mummy from the Temple of the Dead Immortals? That would just ensure he got a cell right next to Mikhail in the ice prison.
Act like the missing mummy, known only to this supposedly trustworthy group, wasn’t a big deal? Reasonable.
“It must be the Beduin vampires. They found out we took the mummy and came back for it,” Viktor said, sounding confident enough that Constantine almost believed him.
“Look on the bright side. At least now all evidence of us stealing it is gone,” Zacharia said.
“And the genetic tests?” Constantine asked Helena.
The nymph, who’d been quiet for the last minutes, spoke up. “We don’t need the mummy anymore. We have the results.”
“What? And you haven’t said anything?!” Nyavolski shouted.
“I just got them, for heaven’s sake!”
“Out with it,” Constantine demanded.
Her lips tightened. “I suggest we move to the Council meeting room. You’re going to want to sit down for this…”