17

That night, Amelia vomited for a longer period than before. By the time her stomach calmed down, small drops of sweat glistened on her forehead and her muscles were trembling. The cold water she splashed on her face made her breaths shallow, but didn’t help her drowsiness.

Until now, she had considered those recurring periods of nausea as stress-induced, but she was starting to wonder if there was another reason behind them. She observed her sclerae in the mirror for yellowing. There was none. Her tongue’s colour appeared normal, and she didn’t feel any swollen lymph nodes across her body. She needed a blood test to assess her condition, but God help her if she allowed these doctor-creatures to check her out!

She would take care of her health once she was back in the real world.

If she ever got back…

That deal with Mikhail Korovin? She didn’t trust him.

What bothered her more, however, was the Oracle’s voice in her head. Mikhail had said he wasn’t sure if the Oracle had meant for him to save Amelia or another human altogether. All he’d had was an address. But given that same Oracle now spoke to her… It made Amelia wonder if she was actually the one meant to help the immortal creatures.

A sudden reflux forced her to rush to the toilet again. She threw up and felt better.

And then another memory hit her.

“I will build a hospital.” It was Mikhail, his eyes burning with emotion. He was wearing a grey suit, a black fitted coat, and a top hat.

The man before him laid down his own hat, the movement slow as if to give him time to deliberate over his next words. “What do you mean?”

“I have found the perfect spot. I can already see it – a beautiful small building, just a few storeys high…”

“Brother, have you lost your mind?” A smile spread across the tanned skin of his face. “Why the hell do you need a hospital?”

“Creatures are dying of wounds and illnesses, without receiving any proper treatment,” Mikhail said.

The graphite irises of the other man didn’t reflect his enthusiasm. “If you ask me, human hospitals are doing a good enough job.”

“Our presence in human hospitals is raising a lot of suspicion. Besides, we are not accustomed to being so close to mortals. The other day, a vampire in Staffordshire drained a doctor dry, and this after the doctor saved his life! Incidents like that are happening across the globe. Most don’t realise how dangerous this is. There are already stories circulating about bloodsuckers and humans turning into wolves.”

“And how are you going to force humans to work in this hospital of yours? You would have to tell them about the immortal world.” The man shook his dark head. “They would lose their wits.”

Mikhail smiled. “Viktor, my friend. It won’t be mortals who work in the hospital. We will.”

The man burst into laughter. “Now I am certain that you are kidding.”

“This is not a joke. The two of us will enter a training programme for doctors.”

“My goodness, you want us to catch tuberculosis or cholera while we’re working alongside those humans?” The man placed the hat back over his raven-black hair.

“Our bodies seem to be vulnerable to infectious diseases only if they are compromised by trauma or severe blood loss,” Mikhail said. “As long as we are not wounded, we should be completely safe.”

“We are different from humans. Let us imagine that we somehow manage to convince humans that we are just like them and become doctors. How are we supposed to apply our knowledge to healing immortal creatures?”

“I believe our anatomies are not significantly different from humans’. We are practically the same on the outside, why should we be any different within?”

“Mikhail, your hands are stained with blood. Who would ever come to you for help?”

“Whoever has no choice.”

Viktor’s expression changed, sobering with some realisation. “Whatever you do, you cannot bring back the dead.”

“I can either continue murdering… or try to do something good in their honour.”

The image of two men shimmered, then disappeared. Another took its place.

Mikhail was talking to a man in blue full-bottomed breeches and a green knee-length coat. He might have been younger, but the long moustache growing on his upper lip made him seem in his forties. A wide red belt was wrapped around his waist.

“What do you think?” the man asked in Turkish. Though Amelia didn’t speak a word of the language in real life, in this dream – memory? – she could understand him perfectly.

Behind him, she recognised the beginnings of what would become the Hospital. At least one hundred men were working on the building, their hustling and hammering echoing through the mountain.

“Excellent,” Mikhail replied, also in Turkish, and stared into the man’s eyes. They were purple, with spinning black discs around the edges. “I had no idea your hypnosis powers were this strong.”

The man toyed with his moustache and smiled. “I can call over the sultan, have him give your shoes a nice polish, all the while thinking that one of his harem girls is polishing his own bannister.”

“And you’re certain that none of these workers will remember a thing?”

“Positive.”

“And how am I to be sure that if something happens to you, the dome won’t shatter?”

The man bared immaculate teeth. “The dome that hides the building from human eyes and ears will fall only if you fail to pay the promised blood tribute.”

“Still…” Mikhail returned the smile. “If something were to happen to you?”

Amelia opened her eyes. She was leaning over the sink. In the mirror, her reflection stared back at her.

What the hell was going on?