46

Amelia counted thirteen doors down the length of the corridor. Doors she had become well-acquainted with, after roaming about the emptied rooms over the last few days.

She couldn’t believe Mikhail had been so severe with her. He’ll change his mind , she’d thought, during the first twenty-four hours. As the clock had ticked on by, she’d begun to accept he would not be inclined to reconsider. He had already considered.

Whatever.

An all-too-familiar feeling of emptiness started creeping up. She wasn’t upset or mad at him. She was simply disappointed, but not with him. It was just the way it always ended for her – she lost everyone she allowed herself a little closeness with. Why would it be any different now? Because Mikhail was immortal and couldn’t be killed as easily in a car accident? He’d still shut her out the moment he could, blaming her for things that were so out of her control, it was laughable.

Well, to hell with Mikhail. To hell with his Hospital. As far as Amelia was concerned, she was done with both.

An unusual idea came to her. She sat on the edge of the bed, recalling how her dreams had come spontaneously to her at first, but then she’d managed to conjure them herself. What if the answer to escaping lay in one such dream?

I want to see! She wished to herself, unsure whether her choice of words would achieve the desired outcome.

To her surprise, the vision hit her within seconds.

“I’ll wait!” A woman called out over the rumbling of the storm.

The feeling of lightness was the happiest sensation she remembered. Her legs danced freely through the air. It wouldn’t be long before her whole body would join in, just as soon as Katherine let go of her hand.

And Katherine did.

At first, terror filled her heart. Then, the softness engulfing her reminded her of the kiss of a long-lost lover. Why had nobody ever told her that the road to death would be so pleasant?

Not yet.

Why not?

Not yet. Not yet. Not yet…

Not yet?

Fear crept up her skin, causing the hairs on her arms to stand up, and reaching all the way to her insides.

So, this would hurt like hell…

Amelia stared blindly at the white wall in front of her. She tottered to the bathroom, still a little dizzy, readying herself for the reflection she’d meet in the mirror. Oh, how she hated her face! It was scrawny, pale, defeated – and it brought her a twisted sort of satisfaction to sneer at it. If a glimmer of hope attempted to weave its way through, she found herself determined to suppress it. Yet she would also grasp onto it like a terminally ill patient would an experimental treatment.

She stood in front of the mirror, expecting to see the remnants of her last evisceration and congratulate herself on yet another failed experiment. But when she glanced at her reflection, she met someone who resembled her but looked… better. Her skin was radiant, with a little glow in her cheeks. Despite the uncomfortable fact that she hadn’t combed her hair in days, her golden locks fell in perfect ringlets, framing her face. And her eyes – that was where the change was most evident. The blue sparkled more intensely than ever, with newfound flames in the irises.

Amelia caught her cheek between her fingers and started pulling until it hurt. Had she gained weight? She pouted her lips, admiring their fullness. How was this possible?

The tiles in the bathroom spun, and the reflection in the mirror smeared. Amelia headed back into the room. Suddenly, everything went black.

She smiled for no apparent reason.

Falling… Falling… Her body was floating in the air. She wasn’t weightless, but could have been. She was finally going home. Soon, it would all be over.

When death is near, and pain reaches a certain threshold, a person’s consciousness shuts off as a self-protective measure. The reaction doesn’t prevent events from taking place or reaching their unfortunate conclusion, yet it blocks the mind from recognising the consequences. In such cases, the mind will then cease. The body could be burned to ashes, smashed to pieces by a concrete block, drowned in a flood, but it – the mind – would die without wasting adrenaline and struggling to answer questions of its potential survival. In the event the body somehow survives, the mind will thus retain no agonising memories of the life-threatening experience.

Which probably explained the counting.

Ten, nine…

Open your eyes and look down.

Six, five…

She did. Green fields and blue lakes were spread across the ground like little spots. A few seconds more.

Three, two, one.

She reached the ground.

Every bone in her body shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, blood spilling across the grass. She felt her organs tear. But her skin remained intact, keeping everything together.

She waited…and waited… There he was. His footsteps approached.

In the next moment, Amelia was standing beside them – the fallen figure on the ground and the approaching man – observing the scene as a stranger. She recognised Zacharia’s enormous figure immediately, his cold stare assessing the broken body before him. He knew who she was and what he was meant to do.

When Amelia regained her senses, Mikhail was in the room with her, leaning against the wall opposite the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was shuttered. “Another vision?” he said.

The euphoria of what she’d witnessed was too strong to cover up. Although she hadn’t been physically present, she’d fallen from a great height and had survived. No inhibitions – true fear of death, and pure, boundless pain. When the collision had taken place and a million pieces had disintegrated, all of her emotions had contorted. The pain had metamorphosed into pleasure, fear into sweet relief, and surrender into revival.

She got to her feet, studying Mikhail’s face. She would have believed the indifference in his countenance, had she not witnessed what lay underneath. He was not an indifferent man, as much as he tried to be. And not even his outburst from their last conversation could convince her of that.

“I’m sorry about the Oracle,” she said.

A muscle ticked in his jaw at her soft-spoken words, but otherwise, he showed no sign of hearing her. In an unyielding tone, he commanded, “I demand you write down absolutely everything you dream of, every vision or any other shape and form of information you receive, including what you saw just now. You’ll live in this room. I’ll bring you food and water. You will have no contact with anyone but me. I still don’t understand how these visions of yours work, but I hope that you won’t get in my way by hiding them any longer. I will solve this mystery once and for all, and I expect you to tell me everything going forward.” Mikhail moved towards her. His ice-cold finger traced her temple. “When I said there won’t be secrets between us anymore, I was dead serious.”

There was no tenderness in his touch. It was meant to display dominance.

But Amelia didn’t believe the act. “How long is this going to last?”

“Are you in a hurry to leave me, Amelia?” His finger ran down the curve of her neck. “But I had other plans… Especially after your little tease the other night.”

She refused to cower under his intent gaze. “So you’re no longer mad about me ‘influencing you,’ like you said last time?”

His finger froze in its movement, resting at the top of her collarbone. In a smooth tone, like a snake preparing to hypnotise its prey, he said, “Oh no, little beast. You can influence me all you like.”

She hated the mask he was putting on. The way he was taking a warm memory between them, and reducing it to nothing but imagined lies and betrayals. She’d meant every single act, every single kiss, but there was no way to make him understand – let alone believe her.

Grasping at straws, Amelia tried to shift the conversation. “Even if I’d told you about the visions, you couldn’t have saved the Oracle.”

Mikhail hummed, then squeezed her shoulder and drew her towards him. His closeness aroused her senses in a potent mix of fear and longing. Amelia raised her head, hoping to meet the familiar glimmer in his eyes, but only ice greeted her.

“This is a thing of the past that shall not be discussed anymore,” he said in an even tone. His gaze lingered on her lips and Amelia thought he might kiss her. “You decided your secrets weren’t worth sharing. I’m not mad. Besides”—he spun her around—“you’ll have plenty of opportunities to make it up to me.”

Amelia tried to step away, but Mikhail wrapped his strong arm around her waist and pulled her against him until her back pressed against his front. His body engulfed hers and evoked memories of their intimacy.

He leaned down and nuzzled her neck. “You’ve dreamt of me. You know what I do with traitors,” he whispered in her ear.

Amelia wanted to turn around and face him, but his grip was solid. “I’m no traitor,” she said.

“Not yet. You haven’t lived long enough. Now you know loss and suffering. It is only a matter of time before your actions become fuelled by hatred. And hatred births liars and traitors. Murderers – like me.” He pressed his body tighter against hers, letting her feel his arousal. “You’ll say you’re not capable of such things? That you’re innocent? We’re all born innocent; it’s only a matter of how long one’s innocence can last.”

Her heart raced. “I’m not Valeria, Mikhail. Don’t punish me for another’s sins.” Amelia gasped for air, shivering as his warm breath caressed her skin.

He released his hold on her torso just enough so she could breathe normally again. “Valeria was immortal. I was in love with her, I made plans for a future with her. You’re just a girl I wouldn’t give a second glance to if the circumstances were any different.” He placed his palm in the middle of her back and pushed her forward, forcing her to lean over. “Do not mistake my passion for something else, Amelia. This thing between us is only a primal instinct you provoked. Despite my warnings.”

Mikhail’s fingers moved up and down her spine, as if studying her vertebrae. His hand crept underneath the hem of her shirt, and she hated the warmth that spread through her.

He laughed, dark and bitter. “Do you know what Valeria’s last words were? ‘I’m sorry, I wish I could turn back time.’ I didn’t believe her then, and I don’t believe her now after two hundred years, either. Her actions were not the result of a single, reckless mistake. It was all a calculated, ruthless scheme to ruin me and everyone I cared for. Taking her life was one of the easiest decisions I ever made in my life.” He quit playing with her shirt and moved his hand to her right thigh. His fingers dug into the material of her pants.

“I’m not her…” Amelia whispered, even as she bowed her head, surrendering to his touch.

The fingers around her thigh relaxed. Seconds later, the hand on her waist released her, and an influx of air filled her lungs at her newfound freedom. She straightened and rotated to look Mikhail straight in the eye. His face was like marble, but a cavalcade of colours danced in his eyes.

“I’ve left you food and water in the other room. And a notebook to note down your visions – including the one you just had. Don’t forget, I always know if you’re hiding something. I knew the last time too, but, fool that I am, I underestimated you. However, I’m not making that mistake again. After all, a creature can only lie for as long as it’s allowed to do so. Isn’t that right?”

Amelia kept quiet. Until this point, she had believed that Mikhail had found a way to use the negative emotions – leftovers from his past traumas – as fuel for his life-saving mission. She had believed this with all her soul, despite having witnessed first-hand his unconventional methods. Even with her kidnapping and his ruthless demeanour, she had trusted that he was using his suffering to mould his hatred into something positive. In truth, it was probably what had drawn her to him more and more, with every day spent in his company.

At last, she faced the ugly reality. He hadn’t turned the darkness into light. His destructive emotions were very much still present, but hidden beneath the surface, concealed by his work at the Hospital. Yet their presence meant that at any hint of provocation from anyone, those same dark emotions would rise and take over him – as she had just seen.

Mikhail might be right, after all. Hatred birthed only liars, traitors and murderers, not anything good.

Amelia made her way to the window and stood, facing away from him. On the outside, she seemed calm, even though a storm was brewing inside her.

After a moment, the door closed behind him.