14

The surgical unit occupied both wings of the ninth floor, with twenty operating rooms in constant use.As head of the department, Vladislav Nyavolski took pleasure in monitoring his subordinates up close. He was always present to lecture anyone who messed up, especially those he deemed less experienced among his staff, and occasionally others as well. His tone was often far from pleasant, but every bit of knowledge or criticism he imparted was for the good of the medical practice. And, unlike most of the creatures who strolled up and down the corridors only so they could have a place to live and feel protected, he valued his job from the bottom of his heart.

Vladislav ordered the medical textbooks and magazines in a neat pile on his desk, wiped his computer monitor, blew off an invisible dust bunny from the keyboard, fished out a blue ballpoint pen from his wooden pencil holder and made changes to the schedule for the surgeons.

Many creatures still lived as they would in mediaeval times, but not him. Vladislav was in step with everything new, regardless of its creator and it didn’t bother him to work with human inventions.

A faint knock on the door distracted him. “Come in.”

A witch who worked in some department or other stepped into his office. “Doctor Nyavolski, I apologise for interrupting, but something urgent came up and I need to leave early today. I spoke to Michelle. She’ll cover my shift.” The witch stared at the floor, shifting her feet. “Again, I apologise.”

Vladislav wondered why the hell she thought it necessary to bother him with such insignificant matters. On the other hand, she was pretty, addressed him as doctor , which very few creatures deemed mandatory in this hospital, and she’d apologised several times.

“That’s all right, dear. Go.” He dismissed her with a hand gesture.

Over two hundred years ago, when Mikhail Korovin had offered him a position at the Hospital, Vladislav was nothing more than a useless vampire without any direction or purpose in life. He used to spend his days traversing the streets in search of lonesome people whose blood he could feast on. Sometimes he had taken part in arranged fights against lycanthropes and other creatures. Everybody thought he’d have no chance and yet, more often than not, he’d walk out as the winner, leaving the audience astounded. He might not have had the strength of a wolf, but he had the aggression of a tiger.

But in the operating room – his OR – he found his peace. His work as a doctor channelled his enormous energy towards something worthwhile. His planned workflow, the disciplined team and the immaculate performance were all things he cherished. Keeping on top of the strict schedule was Vladislav’s daily motivation.

His other reason for waking up was his wife, Helena. Sometimes her nudging was a gentle push, but other times it felt more like a kick in the nuts. And there were those moments – like this morning – when the motivation had come in the form of a kiss and a pair of nimble hands busying themselves with his enormous erection. Oh, he was well known for his gifts. No wonder people said that he was indecently endowed in more than one way.

Nostalgia for the good old bachelor days stirred, but the image of Helena, with her velvety skin and fire-red hair, quickly sobered him up. That very same hair would spread across his face and chest while she rode him at a heavenly pace, and when it was all over, she’d rest her naked body against his and fall asleep, leaving the red flames to engulf and nearly suffocate him. That memory alone was enough to erase all others.

He didn’t miss the olden days one bit, he realised, like he always did when he thought about his past. He had long ago had his share.

Just as he was finishing the schedule, his work phone buzzed again.

“Yes.” Annoyance filtered through his voice.

“Doctor Nyavolski”—the feeble tone belonged to a youngster who had been recently hired—“the orderly fainted in the middle of the room. What should I do? She’s not waking up!”

“What?”

“Fourth floor. West Wing. I’m on call and was just finishing up with a patient. He bled, I called the orderly and she fainted at the sight of the blood. What do I do? Should I ask for help?” The boy was breathless by the end of his speech.

“Resuscitate her!” Vladislav barked.

“No, she doesn’t need that, more like she’s sleepy…”

“Then slap her across the face!” With that, Vladislav hung up. If he had to deal with every insignificant problem in this hospital, he’d never get to finish anything worthwhile.

He glanced at his watch. The patient must be ready by now. He left his office and headed to the OR.

The unlucky bastard in question had arrived in a private jet from France hours earlier. Someone had impaled him with a wooden stake, four inches of which were sticking out of his back. This was a frequent occurrence, as there was a common misconception among other creatures that piercing a vampire with a wooden stake would kill them. Few realised that any kind of weapon could kill a vampire, so long as it tore through a vital organ. And so long as Vladislav didn’t interfere.

A few hours ago, when the vampire’s girlfriend had called from France to arrange his admission to the Hospital, she’d received specific instructions to stabilise the stake with bandages. The vampire’s body, albeit with slowed regenerative abilities, could survive around twenty-four hours with such trauma before dying. Despite that small bonus, the accompanying pain was enough to dissuade most creatures from postponing treatment. Upon his patient’s arrival, Vladislav had ordered painkillers, sedation and intubation, and then the patient was taken to the OR.

Vladislav was snapped of his recollection when Nora, one of his pupils who was improving by the second, caught up with him in the hallway.

Before she could open her mouth, Vladislav beat her to it. “Not now, Nora. I’m needed in the OR.”

“But, Doctor, I just have a quick question! It’s important.”

Vladislav slowed his pace, giving her the chance to walk with him and talk. “Downstairs, in reception, we got a manticore with a bike accident. Light head injury, trimalleolar fracture, fluid in the stomach. What do I do?”

Vladislav halted. “You wanna know what to do.”

She nodded.

“You know the three oak trees that you can see through the window in the common room of the surgical ward?” he asked.

She blinked at him, a slight frown creasing her brow.

“You know them?” he insisted.

“Yes… yes?”

“Well, go down and hang yourself on one of them.”

She gaped. “But…”

“ Admit him, damn it!” Vladislav yelled, resuming his stride down the corridor. “You admit him, run all the tests, then go in and operate!”

“I know, but… won’t you check on him first?”

“To give you my blessing? Scram !”

Helena liked to say he was too irritable. Too hasty.

Not true. Everyone else was slow and disoriented.

As soon as he set foot in the OR, he started issuing orders. “Knife!” He cut open the vampire’s stomach from the chest to the pelvis in a swift motion. “Don’t just stand there! Retract!”

The last order was meant for one of his two assistants – a young lycanthrope who was seeing such an injury for the first time. The boy was sweating, barely holding himself together, but Vladislav remained unyielding.

“Don’t pull so hard, damn it!” Vladislav moved the intestines carefully, tracing the stake’s path. The insides of vampires were very similar to human ones. The only difference was they seemed paler, almost like they were paralysed. “Nothing interesting. The idiot will only lose his spleen.” He ligated the blood vessels and muttered, “Remove the stake.”

After the two assistants had taken out the wooden rod, Vladislav separated the spleen and scanned the abdominal cavity for other possible injuries. He pulled the colon down and froze.

“What the fuck is this?” Right where the large intestine twisted at a nearly ninety-degree angle, something strange, grey and hard was protruding from the wall like a mushroom. “Fucking hell!”

One of the assistants leaned over to inspect. “Doc, what is that?”

Vladislav pointed to him. “You! Get me Viktor Volk, immediately . I don’t care if he’s sleeping or screwing a whore, bring him here! Got it?”

“Y-y-yes, sir.” The assistant rushed out the door.

“Fucking shit! Fucked up stuff!” Vladislav kept yelling out profanities as he peered closer to inspect the intestine.

***

The lab was unusually quiet in the absence of the twins. Viktor had grown so accustomed to their bickering that the place seemed desolate without them. They were young creatures and still needed rest, unlike him, so they left him when night set in. He, meanwhile, could last a week with no more than four hours of sleep. At least when they were gone, he worked in peace, without having to answer their questions.

Who was he kidding? He loved giving them answers. Viktor always had another story or lesson to pass on. Every day, they would learn something new – Alex, a little more than her brother.

She would often barge into the lab yelling, ‘ Vik, guess what I learnt today!’ Then she’d tell him stories he had heard dozens of times during his one thousand one hundred and thirteen years on this earth. But had it not been for the twins and their work together on the creation of a cure for the slowed regeneration of immortals, Viktor would have probably jumped off the roof of the building by now without accepting any medical assistance.

The witcher he had been trying to cure these past couple of weeks had left this world yesterday. His body was cremated a few hours later, as was the standard practice with the death of any immortal.

Viktor headed for the shelf on the wall. On top of it, ordered in neat lines like soldiers, were his thick black notebooks, all identical except for the writing on the spine. He pulled out the one labelled WITCHES and opened it to the page where he’d last written. Below his old writing, he added: THE WITCH SPECIES DOES NOT TOLERATE WOLFSBANE IN HIGH DOSES!

Under the note, he wrote every detail of the witcher’s treatment, including the attempts with standard, double and triple doses of wolfsbane, the ensuing complications, and the cause of death – blood poisoning. He finished the entry with the date and his name, and returned the journal on the shelf.

The lab door burst open, and Alex rushed in, followed by some youngster Viktor didn’t recognise. “Vik, they need you in the OR!”

Whatever was happening had got the girl way too excited. He noticed the messy hair and the legs of her pyjamas stuffed in a hurry into a pair of rubber boots.

“What’s going on?”

Alex pointed to the boy. “That’s Nicolas, he’s working as a surgeon. He was knocking at your door so loud it woke me up five doors over! He said the head of the surgical ward asked for you. It sounds urgent.”

“Yes, sir.” Nicolas nodded. “Doctor Nyavolski needs you in the OR.”

“What happened?” Viktor was already at the door.

“We were performing surgery on a vampire who was stabbed with a stake, and discovered a strange formation on his large intestine.”

“What?” Alex followed them, eyes round like saucers.

Viktor stopped in his tracks. “Alex, go back to your room.”

“No, Vik! I want to come with you… please?”

He hesitated for a beat, then turned and resumed walking without saying a word. Alex took that as an invitation to join in.

She turned to Nicolas. “So, what was it you found?”

“Honestly, no clue. The doc started yelling and swearing out of the blue…”

“You’re new, right?” Alex asked as they were waiting for the lift.

“Just arrived from the Czech Republic a couple of days ago. How long have you been here?”

“Well…” She played with her hair. “Many years.”

“Really? How many?” The boy’s eyes glimmered with interest. Something Viktor also noticed.

“Let’s leave the chit-chat for later,” he interrupted. He didn’t know this boy and didn’t trust him.

They reached the OR in complete silence and found Vladislav swearing like a madman, hovering over the wide-open abdominal cavity on the operating table.

Viktor approached without putting on sterile clothing. “What’s going on?”

“Fucked up stuff, Vik. I’m telling you.” Vladislav grabbed the intestine. “See, what the hell do you think that is?”

Viktor leaned in closer over the protruding grey form on the outside wall of the colon.

“What’s that thing?” Alex had snuck in behind them to have a look herself.

Viktor gaped. “Is this… what I think it is?”

“I think so, damn it. That’s why I wanted you here. To confirm that it’s not a trick of the light or something…”

“I’ve seen things like this years ago. Back when we…”

“When we were practising on humans!”

“What is this, Vik?” Alex asked, her tone a tad impatient.

“It’s a carcinoma.”

“What do you mean? We don’t get cancer.”

“Well, I haven’t been cursing non-stop this past half hour just ‘cause I like it!”

Vladislav swore again.