Page 101 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts
Before leaving, the Queen gave a final order: “Guards, shoot them both if they cause any trouble.”
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Amelia
The crowns of ancient trees formed a dense canopy, their leaves so tightly interwoven that only a stray moonbeam now and then pierced through to light the car’s interior. Amelia avoided looking at Mikhail, though he sat mere inches from her on the back seat. In truth, a chasm wider than the physical distance lay between them.
Yet, when the moonlight graced his profile, she couldn’t help but steal a glance. His elbow rested against the window, his tattooed arm supporting the sharp line of his jaw. Shadows from the past seemed to carve themselves into his refined features, emphasising the taut muscles of his face.
“Turn right,” Callan said from the front passenger seat.
Viktor steered the Volvo onto a narrow, unlit road. Amelia’s unease grew, a knot of tension tightening in her stomach. They were close. The plan was straightforward. She, Mikhail, and Viktor would approach the witch, while Presiyan, Jasmina, and Callan stayed back, ready to intervene if necessary. The others followed in a second vehicle, armed for war, not diplomacy. That was why Mikhail had insisted on postponing the retrieval of the necklace until tonight. It wasn’t for the cover of darkness, but because he’d been expecting his Tribunal comrades – and their arsenal.
The headlights illuminated a sign she recognised from her vision: ‘Byala Voda.’ They pulled over so Callan could switch to the second car, and then Viktor, Amelia, and Mikhail drove through the village. Most of the houses were well-maintainedbut vacant, the eerie stillness evoking a graveyard.
They passed a small chapel nestled at the foot of a hill, where another street began its steep ascent. Houses clung to the slope like mushrooms sprouting from the earth, dotted along the incline. The closer they drew, the stronger the necklace’s pull became. Amelia needed no further confirmation – it was in the last house on the hill’s summit. Even before they parked beside a yard brimming with vegetables and flowers, a cold certainty settled in her chest: this was the place. The house itself was picturesque, with a neat, tiled roof and a single glowing window.
Amelia’s heart leapt with anticipation, and anxiety tightened her muscles. If things went wrong, they could unleash utter carnage.
Mikhail seemed to read her hesitation. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back,” he said. Then, gesturing over his shoulder, he added, “And if things go sideways, Presiyan’s right there, and he’s deadlier than some countries’ entire armies. He’ll turn the witch into a sieve before she considers raising a finger against you.”
Amelia nodded, though a familiar ache stirred within her. If circumstances were different, she might have told Mikhail that it wasn’t the witch she feared most, but war. Yet the man beside her wasn’t her partner. He was the leader of the Council. His words were intended to sharpen her into a weapon, not soothe her nerves.
Victor caught up with them. “Relax. Let me break the ice before we get to the heart of it.”
The lycanthrope led the way to the house. Amelia followed, walking past the flowers someone had cared for and nurtured with love and attention.Someonethey might kill for the necklace... Her steps faltered.
“What is it?” Mikhail fell into step with her. In the moonlight, his golden eyes glimmered, the ghostly outline of the lion hovering around him.
Amelia spread her arms. “This garden… someone tends to it.”
He loomed over her, forcing her to tilt her chin up. “When the Queen disrupted regeneration, did she consider how many creatures she’d harm – ones who tend gardens, animals, and others?”
Amelia shook her head. “Since when do you weigh your actions against the Queen’s atrocities?”
Mikhail’s nostrils flared. “That witch was aware of her actions when she took the necklace. She’s not a saint, despite being an excellent gardener. I’m sure she’s committed her fair share of sins.”
Amelia sighed.
He placed his hands on her shoulders with an almost gentle touch. His expression held no softness, however. “You’re the Oracle and, according to Gea’s letter, a witch. Either act like it or crawl back into your corner and wait for someone to take your head. And trust me, theywill. Maybe it’ll be the Queen, maybe someone else, but when it happens, neither your concern for gardens nor your little eye trick will save you.”
Amelia said nothing, though she was tempted to argue. She knew better than to argue withthisMikhail.
Instead, she checked the pocket of her black anorak. Callan’s watch was cold under her fingers. The other pocket concealed the small gun Mikhail had given her before they’d set out.
“Let’s go,” she said.
They were only metres from the house when the door creaked open. Amelia straightened, bracing herself for someone to appear.
As the wind tousled her hair, the door creaked again, widening just enough to let out a sliver of light. Amelia glanced at the two men. Mikhail advanced with quiet, measured steps, carefully nudging the door open to reveal a narrow, murkycorridor. Several closed doors lined the hallway, and at the far end, a staircase ascended into shadow. Against one wall stood an empty coat rack.
A shiver ran down Amelia’s spine just as her heightened Oracle vision caught a glint on the floor. At the bottom of the stairs lay a golden object, barely visible in the dim light.
Renenutet’s Necklace.
Amelia’s heart raced. A yearning spread through her entire being, overpowering any rational thought that might have held her back. Ignoring Mikhail’s and Viktor’s warnings, she sprinted towards the necklace.
She knelt and wrapped her fingers around the jewel. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mikhail standing beside her. She wanted to share her joy with him, but reminded herself that he was no longer hers.
