Page 91 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts
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Amelia
Amelia shut herself in her room and flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. Mikhail’s voice drifted up from downstairs, calm and clear, as he conversed with Presiyan and the others. She couldn’t catch the words, but his tone alone was enough to keep her wide awake, alert to his presence.
When she finally gave up on sleep, she got out of bed and headed down the corridor, stopping in front of Alex’s door. “Do you happen to have a copy of Callan’s journal?” Amelia asked when the girl opened it.
The disappointment in Alex’s expression betrayed she’d been expecting someone else – or had beenhopingfor someone else. “Why?”
“I want to check something.”
Alex stepped aside to let Amelia in, then moved across the room to the only cabinet, where a precarious stack of books teetered on top. She started sifting through them.
“It must be hard for you… Korovin not remembering you.”
Amelia knew Alex’s observation wasn’t meant to offend or wound; the girl’s fascination with other people’s relationships had a clinical, almost academic edge. So she rested on the bed, muttering, “I’d be lying if I denied it.”
“You know, I don’t believe the ring is the reason. The brain is capable of erasing a painful memory – to protect itself, you know?” Alex lifted the stack, revealing a final book beneath it with a cover far too colourful to be Callan’s journal or its printed copy.
Amelia offered a bitter smile. The past few days, she’d replayed everything over and over again. Every moment between her and Mikhail, from the instant they’d met to the day he’d woken up with no memory of her. Their time together had been too good to be real. Someone like Mikhail falling in love with someone like her? It could only have been the result of magic. Yet, a part of her heart still clung to the hope of a happy ending with him. “So it’s possible he forgot me because… he suffered too much for me?”
“I like to think love is real, and not just something that exists between the pages of a book.” Alex pointed to the journal in her hands. The cover was that of a historical romance novel, featuring a woman with an exposed décolletage swooning into the embrace of a half-dressed man. At Amelia’s raised brows, she explained, “Here’s the journal. The last thing I need is Viktor finding out I read it every night.”
***
Mikhail
“At last, I was officially introduced to the woman for whom you were ready to kill me in Prokaliya,” Presiyan said with a grin.
Leaning against the wall, Mikhail studied the lycanthrope. His face still carried the power to make you repent for past and future sins, but his features now bore a new vitality. Was it Jasmina’s influence? “This infatuation has cost me dearly. I’ve endangered both the Oracle and the Hospital. It’s a miracle the Queen didn’t finish me off.”
Presiyan chuckled. “It’s a miracle, indeed, considering what an arrogant bastard you are. If you want my opinion, I liked you better when you were in love. There was a particular softness about you…”
“You mean when I was under a spell?”
“Under a spell, in love…” Presiyan waved a hand dismissively. “What does it matter, mate? The point is, you’d ditched that face of yours that screams ‘kitten killer’ and loosened up a bit. After all, tomorrow we might all be dead. Bloody hell, according to that ancient fellow’s tale, collecting the Sacreds could lead to a full-blown apocalypse on Earth. Do you really want to spend your final hours sulking? If I were you, I’d take Amelia somewhere nice and create memories worth several lifetimes.”
His words conjured unwelcome scenes in Mikhail’s imagination. He chased them away with a rough shake of his head. “I’m not sulking. More like figuring out how to stop this apocalypse. And I don’t have the face of a kitten killer.”
Presiyan raised an eyebrow. “Jasmina said you give her chills, and she’s seen more horrors than most.”
Mikhail appreciated the lycanthrope’s buoyant mood, yet he couldn’t share it, not with what awaited them the following evening. Encounters with witches always spelt trouble. “I’ve a bad feeling about tomorrow. Callan claims the Oracle will have the upper hand because the necklace will recognise her as its owner, but I’m sceptical.”
Presiyan nudged the large duffel bag at his feet towards Mikhail. “That’s why I’m relying on the advantage of lead.”
The manticore crouched to inspect its contents. Weapons. “The last witch I encountered had enchanted her coven against bullets. When Constantine fired, the bullet simply dropped to the ground,” Mikhail said, considering whether it would be wise to arm the Oracle for the upcoming meeting. He hadn’t even discussed her skills with weapons.
Presiyan crossed his arms. “The good news is, these bulletsareenchanted to counter cunning witches. I guarantee they won’t end up useless on the ground, no matter the magic we’re facing.”
Mikhail smirked. “I keep forgetting how conniving the Tribunal is. No wonder the entire world hates you.”
***
Amelia
‘She found my broken heart and cradled it in her magical hands, as carefully as one might care for a badly hurt bird. She wanted to heal me, even though she feared how easily she could destroy me. I had been close to death for a long time, certain that nothing in existence could save me. But I was very much mistaken in this. Violet had that power. Her amethyst-coloured eyes captivated me, but it was her natural magic that revived me.’
Amelia tried to find some meaning in what she’d just read. An idea hovered at the edge of her mind, but she couldn’t quite put it into words. Violet was clearly not Galia, but another woman in Callan’s life. The firstborn seemed rather prone to falling in love, still it wasn’t his romantic tendencies that troubled Amelia.
