38
Constantine roamed around the city in his SUV. The view outside his windows blurred into streaks of lights and shadows, but none of it registered.
He turned the volume up, the sounds of drums and guitars vibrating through the compartment. His mind drifted away from his unsuccessful leadership and flickered back to his other problem . He wondered when an upcoming date had last made his stomach flutter.
Never. Because he didn’t really date. He consumed and left.
And how he craved to consume Diana. It was why his palms sweated and he kept checking the time, deliberating whether he should call and postpone their date. He wasn’t a good man for her.
His phone went off, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Are you up for some target practice?” Zacharia asked.
Constantine glanced at the dashboard. “Not really.” Target shooting required patience, and his swirling thoughts wouldn’t allow him to stay still.
“Trust me, you’ll want to join me.”
Constantine sighed. Whatever the hybrid intended, it had to be important if he couldn’t wait until they met tomorrow at the Hospital. “Send me the address. Will meet you there.”
Thirty minutes later, he parked in front of the shooting range. Retrieving his gun from the glove compartment, he strolled inside and bothered with the procedures of registering with his fake ID and licence.
Adjusting the earmuffs above his ears, he took his position next to Zacharia at the firing stations. The rhythmic crack of gunfire from other participants echoed off the walls. With sharp, practised movements, the hybrid loaded his gun and shot.
“Care to explain why we’re here?” Constantine said, his words barely audible above the constant barrage of bullets.
Zacharia tilted his head to a middle-aged man a few stations to their right.
Constantine crinkled his nose, exploring the aromas mixed with the gunpowder scent. He wouldn’t bet his life on it, but that man was human. His greying hair hinted at his mid-fifties, while his shooting stance revealed the skill of an experienced marksman. But why was Zacharia interested in him?
Curious to see it play out, Constantine focused on his target and took a firing stance. They established a rhythm of shooting and reloading, which they hung to for a while. When the human man left, they did too.
Constantine assumed they’d be following him, but Zacharia gestured for him to wait until the man exited the range. When he was gone, they walked out on the street and stopped by Zacharia’s Lexus.
Constantine glanced at his watch. “What was all that about?”
“That was about General Petrov,” Zacharia said.
“A former general of the Bulgarian Land Forces. He’s one of those untouchable figures in the human world, you know?
The kind around whom everything can burn, but they won’t even be singed by the flames?
He’s also an ex-best buddy of the late Minister of Transportation. ”
“You mean Kaliope’s lover?”
The hybrid nodded. “The general and Minister Vrabchev were part of the same social circle. At some point, Vrabchev must have become a liability, so the general took him off the scene, with the assistance of the minister’s wife, of course.”
Constantine grimaced. “Okay… and?”
Zacharia scanned their surroundings before opening the car boot. A black bag filled the compartment, its thick surface creasing and reflecting the light.
Constantine’s insides twisted into a knot when the smell penetrated his nostrils, hinting at the contents. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He clenched his fist, needing to punch something, even before he’d heard the rest of the story.
“I visited the general’s mansion in the suburbs of Sofia,” Zacharia said. “He has a workshop. A hideout where he dismembers immortal beings and arranges their organs like bloody trophies on his wall.”
Constantine grabbed the end of the bag and untied it.
“It’s been treated with something to preserve it from decay, but it still smells foul.” Zacharia stepped next to him, both of them hiding the compartment with the bulk of their bodies.
Pulling the bag apart, Constantine revealed a decapitated female body. He couldn’t perceive much from this position, so he turned the body along with the bag. His jaw clenched when he spotted the Council’s tattoo on her butt.
“Is that Kaliope’s body?” he asked.
Zacharia crossed his arms. “Yes.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I’ve been stalking the general for a while.
He’s a strict routine man. Every Thursday he admires his trophies, comes to the shooting range at the exact same hour, then has a cake and a coffee in a secluded restaurant.
And call me sick, but I found it satisfying to steal one of his trophies and come shooting right next to him. ”
Constantine raked a hand through his hair. “We can’t tell the Tribunal about it. Something’s going on there.”
“I agree.” Zacharia raised his eyebrows. “So, what do you suggest we do about him?”
“Does anybody know you took the body?”
“Not yet.”
Constantine reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.
He took several pictures of the body, including the Council tattoo.
The symbols could be photographed but were visible only to Council members who saw the photo.
Kaliope had another tattoo as well, which he also decided was worth capturing.
His palms itched to beat up the pervert who’d toyed with her dead body. It wouldn’t be the smartest move, however, when the man could lead them to something bigger.
Once he finished taking photos, he said to Zacharia, “Take the body back to his workshop and make sure you leave no traces. Photograph everything you can while there. The general must be connected to the reptilians.”
The hybrid bent down to tie the bag. “You want me to keep following him?”
“Just keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
***
Later that evening, Constantine pulled into the Hospital’s underground parking lot and shut off his car’s engine.
After Zacharia’s gruesome discovery, he’d driven around for a little longer, trying to clear his muddled thoughts.
All he’d achieved was to have some rather depressing realisations about the state of the world.
His upcoming date with Diana was the only thing that could lighten him up.
He still couldn’t grasp his pull to Diana, and he wasn’t questioning it anymore. He hoped she, too, had reached the same conclusion, and that she’d join him tonight.
A few days ago, he had purchased a dress for her, finding unexpected pleasure in the selection: a sleek black fabric with a dusting of silver, delicate straps, a cowl neckline, and a form-fitting design that reached the knee, with a sheer section running from mid-thigh to hem.
He’d bought presents for women before – a dress was a “thank you for the good fuck” or an invitation for one. Usually. But this time, it was different. He aimed for Diana to lower her defences – the ones that came with being a strong, independent, and aloof woman.
A woman should also be delicate, yielding, and alluring. And thoroughly cared for.
Constantine had sent the box earlier that day with a note, telling her he’d wait for her at 10 p.m. in the gym.
At two minutes to ten, he arrived, but Diana was nowhere to be seen. By seventeen minutes past, he was contemplating whether to call and check on her. Just then, the door opened, but it wasn’t Diana – it was Amelia, carrying the box with the dress and accessories.
“Diana asked me to give you this,” she said.
Constantine took the unused gift. There was a folded note on top of the box. He picked it up and opened it.
Everyone has an eye for beautiful things. But I can’t accept. Thank you. D.
At that moment, Constantine realised he had hoped for more than just seeing Diana in a dazzling new dress – and eventually out of it – tonight.
He’d thought that by putting her in the right mood, he could dissuade her from entering the Al-Hatib Tournament.
Then, he’d hoped to savour that light in her – the one that made him feel a little less twisted – for as long as he desired.
“She told me her flight is tonight at nine,” Amelia said.
Constantine glanced at his watch, though he already knew the time. “Did she mention if she’s flying private?”
“No. Just that she was on her way to the airport.”
Constantine opened the lid of the box and dumped its contents onto the floor: the dress, the lingerie, the shoes… but no gun. He exhaled, hoping she had found a way to keep the gun with her.
Amelia stared down at the pile on the floor. “It seemed to me that Diana wasn’t all that eager to go,” she said, lifting her gaze to him.
He gave her a crooked smile.
Diana had made the right choice. Whatever he would have done to her soul would have been far worse than anything she might face in the Al-Hatib Tournament.
***
Amelia’s fingers tried the hidden compartment beneath the bench while she pretended to admire the stars. Disappointment took root in her chest when she found it empty.
Had she really hoped that Ana would help Mikhail?
She closed her eyes and tuned inwards, declaring her desire to see through the Oracle’s eyes. What should I do to get Mikhail out of Prokaliya?
When no answer reached her, she stared back at the sky with a sigh. A soft thud came from her right, like a knock or a rhythmic beat. The air froze in Amelia’s lungs when she recognised what it was: a heartbeat. And it wasn’t her own.
In the shadows, she noticed a black silhouette.
“I can see you,” Amelia called out.
The figure stepped forward to reveal the tall, slender form of one of the hybrid twins who had guarded Amelia’s door during her stay on the nineteenth floor.
“Hi,” the twin said, dressed in her usual form-fitting leather suit. Her black hair was longer than Amelia remembered.
“Are you following me?”
The woman joined Amelia under the gazebo and sat across from her. “Stop staring at me with those white eyes. I’ll have nightmares for days.” She lifted her legs, stretching them out over the bench.
Amelia touched her forehead. Her eyes had changed colour? Was that why she’d been able to detect the twin in the shadows – because she’d been using her Oracle senses?
She shut them off.
“That’s better. Sorry about earlier. And no, I’m not following you. I was waiting for someone else.”
“You were expecting someone else at the gazebo?” Amelia’s heart quickened. Could it be the person who took notes to Ana?
The twin nodded.
No, that was ridiculous. Amelia had spent countless hours by the window, trying to catch the intermediary, with no success.
The twin glanced over her shoulder. “I guess they’re not coming. What are you doing out here so late?”
“Looking for inspiration,” Amelia said.
“For the prophecies?”
“Something like that.”
The twin laughed. Amelia hadn’t thought she was capable of anything other than delivering cold, hard stares.
“You know…” The twin’s eyes flicked to the guard post in the distance. “Because of you, I learned a valuable lesson. Remember when I was supposed to guard you, and you escaped right under my nose?”
“Of course, I remember. That night, I discovered wolves in the forest are not my best friends,” Amelia said.
The twin chuckled again. “Wolves are harmless if you approach them right.”
Yeah, right.
“What lesson did you learn from that night?”
The twin glanced one last time at the central post. “Don’t do a job the hard way if there’s an easier way. If I hadn’t relied on my heightened sense of smell and just used my two eyes”— she tapped two fingers to her face—“a mortal woman wouldn’t have turned me into a laughingstock.”
“I don’t understand?”
“My strongest power is my sense of smell. That night, I believed I’d be more likely to catch you by scent than by sight. But when you walked past me, smelling like a vampire, I didn’t even notice. If only I’d used my eyes…”
The twin raised her chin, giving Amelia an unreadable look that sent a chill down her spine. This woman was dangerous, regardless of her laughter and casual demeanour.
“I’m sorry if I got you into trouble…”
“Sorry?” The woman grinned, like a predator stirred up. “Because of you, I got into the greatest adventure of my life! I’ll tell you all about it someday.” She tapped Amelia’s thigh and stood up, her eyes fixed on the central guard post. “Nice chatting with you, Oracle. Later.”
Alone again, Amelia pondered their conversation. If the twin’s greatest strength was her sense of smell, what was Amelia’s? Her visions? She sighed.
Why wasn’t the Creator sending her a message about Mikhail? Why were her visions failing her?
Her mind began to work, not with divine knowledge, but with a practical thought: Work smarter, not harder.
What if she didn’t need a message? What if there was an easier way? Her pulse raced with excitement. It wasn’t the most brilliant idea, considering her past experiences, but it just might work.
She sprang to her feet. She had to try.
Returning to her room, she pulled out her phone and dialled Constantine. Pick up, pick up…
“Amelia?”
“You said you wanted to meet Presiyan and use the genetic test results as leverage—”
“That was before I found out the results were worthless.”
“Forget the genetics!” Amelia paced her room, excitement bubbling up. “I have a different idea.”