Page 47 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts
Constantine shook his head. “It’ll trigger a commotion and hinder us further. Besides, there’s probably a backup generator.”
Against the wall, sealed containers marked with biohazard symbols were leaning. She’d expected as much – after all, this was the Queen’s laboratory, where she conducted experiments on the species’ regeneration. But those biological waste containers… What if shehaddone something to Mikhail? Amelia forced her emotions to steady. She needed to remain composed.
They advanced swiftly along the straight corridor, meeting no one. Perhaps the laboratory, like the city above, stirred at sunrise. Whatever the case, time was slipping away.
The corridor forked ahead, splitting into two passages. One was brightly illuminated; the other showed a faint glimmer of light at its entrance before fading into shadow. Amelia’s pulse quickened. Mikhail was nearby – she could feel it.
“This way,” she said, choosing the lit corridor and counting her steps in her head.
She paused at a random door, unsure why it called to her. Her hands trembled with impatience, her breath catching in her throat. She signalled Constantine to swipe the card, then, forgetting all caution, rushed inside.
Light from the corridor spilt into the room, illuminating Mikhail’s limp figure suspended at its centre. Metal chains bound his arms, and his knees pressed to the floor in a posture that spoke of both restraint and humiliation. His body was displayed as if to make an example out of him – bare except for a strange cord tightly wound around his chest. The Council’s tattoo, confirming his identity, stretched across his entire right forearm, disappearing beneath the thick cuff encircling his wrist.His head hung low between his shoulders, and matted hair fell over his face, obscuring all expression.
Amelia ran to him and brushed his hair aside. His sleeping expression showed no sign of tension. Despite his pale skin and hollow cheeks, he had no visible wounds, but…
Her blood turned to ice. Tubes pierced both sides of his neck. She grasped one between her fingers and faced Constantine as if he could explain. His clueless look spoke volumes.
She was about to rip the tubes from his veins, but something made her hesitate. Amelia followed them to a machine in the corner. It emitted the infernal hum she’d heard in her vision. What the hell was that device? She’d never seen anything like it in a hospital…
Her focus shifted to the cord around Mikhail’s chest. It must be constricting his breathing even further! She reached out to tear it apart—
Her hand froze mid-air. Mikhail wasn’t breathing. In her vision, he’d been breathing.
She touched his face again. It was still warm.
Her mind stalled.Could I really have lost him in just these few seconds?
“Step away from the manticore!” called a voice from behind.
20
Amelia
A reptilian in a lab coat was ordering them away from Mikhail. Constantine didn’t hesitate for a beat before knocking him unconscious with a single punch.
Amelia did not register the reptilian’s fall. Her pulse thudded in her ears, and her mind refused to accept the truth. Mikhail was dead. She’d failed him. She’d arrived too late.
Her gaze fixed on Constantine, seeking confirmation from him.
His eyes gleamed. “He’s alive, Amelia.”
It took a second for her to register it. Then, she spun around to Mikhail’s motionless body. His chest was now rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Before she could recover her own breath, Constantine reached for the cord wound across Mikhail’s body. Sparks burst from the contact point, flinging him two metres backwards. “What the hell?”
Amelia inched closer to the cord, a strange impulse drawing her towards it. Her fingers halted just short of touching it. She blinked, half-convinced her eyes were playing tricks on her. The threads of the cord shimmered, intertwining as if alive. “Do you…see that?”
Constantine staggered back to his feet. “See what?”
“The cord… It’salive.” She dared to skim it with her fingertip. No sparks. She might have imagined it, but the cordbrushedagainst her hand. “The cord is one of the Seven Sacreds!” She never would have guessed it if she’d seen itelsewhere. It appeared so ordinary, yet her connection to the Sacreds – what Gea had mentioned in her letter – flourished to life. “It must be the Shifting Net, meant for vampires. That’s why the witcher couldn’t move Mikhail through a portal… The cord is restraining him.”
And she wanted to set him free.
No sooner had she thought it than the cord slackened like a tamed snake releasing its prey. It sprang from Mikhail’s chest and coiled gently around her wrist instead, slipping under her sleeve like a creature seeking shelter.
Amelia shrugged off her coat and examined her arm. The pain she’d expected from the tight grip never came. The threads had shrunk and reformed into a delicate, decorative design – like a bracelet. Fine lines twisted into looping sigils and symmetrical curves, as if the Sacred had inscribed a living hieroglyph on her skin.
Guess that explains the ‘shifting’ part. It seems to repurpose itself.
