7

Amelia was dreaming of flickering snowflakes falling on the ground and gathering in fluffy piles. She was lying atop one of those mounds, moving her arms up and down, and up, and down. Snow angels.

‘You’ll catch a cold,’ her mother would soon say.

‘No, Mommy, just a little more, please.’

The dream came to its inevitable end. She stretched, running her fingers through the pleasant fabric of the covers.

Memories rushed in like an avalanche crushing everything in its path. She leapt up, remembering where she was. Her wrists and ankles were free from the ropes, but she didn’t recognise her surroundings.

Beautiful colours in shades of purple covered the four walls and extended to the luxury sheets on the king-sized bed. The high ceiling made the space feel enormous. At the far end of the room, a couch and two armchairs surrounded a little wooden coffee table. Outside, tiny drops of rain danced on the bars of the three Venetian windows, creating a rhythmic melody.

Waves of panic raced up and down her spine. Her breaths became shallow and uneven, her gut twisted in a painful knot that pushed nausea up her throat, higher and higher…

She flew through the wooden door next to the bed, hoping that was what she thought it was, and found herself in a spacious bathroom decorated in the same shades of purple. A second after she knelt in front of the toilet, vomit erupted out of her in uncontrollable spasms. When it was over, she turned on the tap and splashed ice-cold water over her face.

Only after she was sure it was clean, did she dare to look in the mirror. Her reflection showed a tortured and tense complexion, red-rimmed eyes, and blonde hair falling over frail shoulders in a tangled mess.

For some unknown reason, her grandmother’s country house appeared in her mind. The room with the vast dining table, where they gathered during holidays, followed by the top floor with the two bedrooms. When she was very little, her parents would allow her to stay with her grandmother for days on end. Amelia loved the time she spent there, taken in as she’d been by her grandmother’s stories and her lullaby.

Almost in a whisper, she sang to her reflection.

Sleep, wind. Sleep, storm.

The little girl’s asleep and warm.

Wake her up when winter comes,

as every winter spring becomes.

After every night

there comes the light.

Wake her up when winter comes.

It seems as though the devil’s spawn,

But winter’s angel lives each dawn.

Wake her up when winter comes. 1

Tears burned her eyes with the last notes of the song. It was the same sensation from three years ago. She let them run free down her cheeks, as she remembered that damned evening when her grandmother had called her to announce the tragic death of her parents and brother. The old woman’s voice hadn’t even trembled as she’d talked about the loss of her only daughter, son-in-law, and grandson. Although she carried her grandmother’s name, Amelia had never had that strength, and she probably never would.

But the mere existence of the elderly woman, the simple knowledge that somewhere out there was a person who shared her blood and whom she could trust, was a great comfort.

At least it had been, until a year and a half ago, when her grandmother had passed away in her sleep. That was when the panic attacks, depression and appointments with psychologists had started. She had barely managed to pull herself out of the darkness with the help of her medical studies, her job at the hospital, and her morning miles-long runs.

And now, just as she’d gotten over the loss of her family, life was throwing her another hard punch. What the hell kind of luck was this? Kidnapped by accident. If she’d been some spectator, watching from the sideline, she’d mock her pitiful existence.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and opened the cabinet next to the sink with trembling hands. It was full of luxury brands of cosmetics, the type she’d never purchased for herself due to their sheer price. She picked up a small bottle that read, Body lotion with a delicate hint of pink roses . She hastened to return it to its place as if it was a vial of poison.

Back inside the room, she headed for the other door in sight. The damned thing couldn’t be more locked.

She was just giving it another try, when a vice-like tension gripped her skull, as if an invisible belt was tightened around her head. Amelia covered her ears with her hands, attempting to escape what sounded like a thousand buzzing bees approaching.

She looked around with frenzied eyes but spotted nothing, although the noise was even closer now. The room was suddenly spinning, forcing Amelia to lean on the back of the couch to keep her balance. Moments later, the tightening sensation disappeared as fast as it had come. The buzzing turned to whispers and, soon after, it also vanished.

“Hello, Amelia.” A woman’s voice disturbed the silence. Amelia scanned her surroundings, desperate to find the source. “Do not bother. You cannot see me. Yet.”

She darted towards the bathroom. Empty. Then, she checked under the bed. Nothing.

“The sooner you accept my existence, the easier it will be for you.”

She inspected the walls next – there had to be speakers hidden somewhere.

“I am sorry about the headache I caused you, but I had to ensure your undivided attention. Do not question my existence. I am a friend.”

Amelia froze in her tracks. I don’t have friends. And now I’ve clearly lost my sanity as well.

“Listen to me, Amelia. The roles are reversing.”

Amelia took a seat on the bed. She was losing her mind. A hundred per cent. There was no other plausible explanation for the voice in her head.

As if it had read her thoughts, the voice said, “I can connect with you telepathically. Remember one thing: never close your eyes when you must see.”

Auditory hallucinations are a sign of a mental disorder. It was possible that everything – the room, those men, the kidnapping – was some sort of twisted script, fabricated by her sick brain. For all she knew, she might have been back in her own bed, dreaming all of this.

“Senses lie. The eyes, never.” The voice was getting weaker.

This doesn’t even make any sense.

Amelia forced herself to remain calm and think.

Bad news? Something was very wrong with her.

Good news? She just needed to wait until they stuffed her with enough pills to cure her disturbed brain to a point where she would wake up and find herself in a straitjacket.

‘Patience, little seeker. Sometimes you just need to sit back and observe.’ Her grandmother used to say that. Amelia had never understood the meaning behind the saying, but this seemed like a suitable moment to remind herself of it.

***

A few hours later, the man who had introduced himself as Mikhail Korovin paid her a visit.

“Amelia… Well, it looks like you’re human.” His eyes travelled up and down her body inquiringly . Disapprovingly . “I suggest we start over. Do you have any connection to the Oracle?”

Amelia’s confusion caused her to frown at the mountain of a man. So, she’d heard him right the first time – he had called her human , and he was doing it again. As if it was something demeaning.

Her gaze crept over his black jeans and button-down shirt until it focused back on his face. His features struck her with their perfection. She held her breath at his approach, begging her knees to not weaken under the intensity of his stare. Her body reacted to his closeness in a way she didn’t appreciate.

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m not into humans,” he said.

Amelia frowned again. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

She braced herself. “Why do you keep calling me human?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “Aren’t you one?”

“I… yes, of course I am. Is that something bad?”

“Something bad? Hmm. Let’s just say some find you… cute. Me, personally, not so much.”

The way he said the word cute sent an unpleasant wave of goosebumps up her spine. And caused a weird warmth in her stomach. She needed to escape this crazy man and the strange influence he had on her as soon as possible.

“Sir, I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding. With all due respect… I believe you have the wrong human.” Amelia smiled. “And, clearly, you don’t have an affinity for humans, so why don’t you just let me go?”

He tilted his head to the side, seemingly considering her suggestion. A flicker of hope filled her.

“I promise, I won’t tell anyone anything. I’ll just pretend the kidnapping never happened.”

“Very well…” At his words, her hope grew from a flicker to a flame. “But there’s no way that’s going to happen.”

Just like that, any thought of escaping was doused with ice-cold water. “No, you don’t understand! You must have me confused with someone else. Someone to whom all of this would make complete sense.”

He crossed his arms. “Have you heard of the Oracle?”

God! He was starting it again. “No!”

“Do you know where you are?”

“I… A mountain?”

“Do you recognise what this building is?”

“No.”

“Has something strange ever happened to you?”

“Aside from being kidnapped by two gorillas, you mean?” She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Why couldn’t she have just said “No”?

Mikhail moved so fast, she didn’t see him coming. One moment he was a distance away, the next, his face was inches away from hers, his tall frame towering over her. “I’m no gorilla.”

Amelia fought the urge to step back. Then he did the weirdest thing. He leaned in and… sniffed her ? His own smell of masculinity and rain-bathed mountains reached her nostrils.

He backed away. “I cannot let you go before I find out what your connection to the Oracle is.”

She straightened up. “I don’t know this Oracle person! I’m not the one you’re looking for!”

“What have you heard about 144?”

“Nothing!”

“You don’t have any idea what happened then?”

“No!”

“How about what caused the Changes to the immortal world?”

“Immortal what now?”

“The world of immortals. I don’t believe for a second you haven’t heard of it.”

Immortal world… Dear Lord! The guy was a total nut job.

All right, so she’d have to employ her diplomacy skills. Otherwise, she risked forever being a madman’s prisoner.

“Listen…” She raised her palms in a sign of surrender. “As I told you, my name is Amelia Dragova and I don’t know anything about your world or your… Oracle person. Believe me, I’m of absolutely no use to you. I don’t have family or friends that could pay a ransom, either.”

Mikhail headed for one of the windows and stared through it with such focus that she might as well not have spoken. That did not deter Amelia in the slightest.

“I’m an ordinary human. My parents died three years ago.” She was blabbering, applying the talk-about-yourself technique in hopes it would spark some measure of mercy within him. “I live in a pathetic dump, which I barely manage to pay rent for, and I’m a medical student. I’ve always dreamed of being a surgeon…”

Amelia inspected his profile. He wasn’t older than thirty-five, but the tension in his face hinted he carried a burden far greater than his age alone could bring.

Just as she was bracing herself for another attempt at diplomacy, Mikhail started for the door.

Amelia couldn’t let him go without further persuading him to free her. “I believe you’re a good person! You saved me the other day from the moron with the Mercedes. Please, don’t keep me here against my will.”

Mikhail faced her. “You’re wrong. I’m not good. And I’m no person, either.” His voice was low and heavy. “Let me set things straight. Any attempt at an escape would be fruitless. The Oracle sent me to you and until I discover the reason behind that, you’re staying here.”

The drowsiness attempted to overcome her again. Then a ring interrupted the silence.

Mikhail took a small phone out of the front pocket of his jeans and declined the call, then settled his gaze on her once more. “Don’t fuck with me, Amelia. If you know something, you better speak now, so we save ourselves some time. When I say you’ll be thoroughly compensated for your assistance, I’m not exaggerating.”

“I don’t know anything, I swear.”

The ringing started again, but Mikhail turned it off once more. “I don’t believe that you’ve had anything to do with the Changes to our world, but if it turns out you have… I guarantee you’ll wish you were never even born.”

Exasperation filled her chest and overpowered her fear. Who the hell did this guy think he was, threatening her like that, without even knowing her?

“I hope you don’t mistake me for some brainless bloodsucker you can fuck around with,” he said.

Amelia stared at him. Bloodsucker? As in… sucking… blood ? “I definitely don’t think you suck—”

“Or an idiotic witcher, who you can play dumb with?”

At his words, Amelia pictured an old man with a long, pointy hat. “Not at all!”

Mikhail took a few steps towards her. “You know what separates me from the other species?”

Was she imagining things, or had his eyes changed colour? She could have sworn they were greenish-brown, but sometime in the last moments, they’d turned golden-brown.

“The difference between me and the rest of the species is that when I turn, I have no weakness.”

She raised an eyebrow, finally understanding what was going on. Turning, immortal creatures, bloodsuckers, witchers… This man was hallucinating. And she’d thought herself to be the schizophrenic earlier today! Thank you, Lord! Her prayers had been answered. She knew just how to deal with a situation such as this one. When facing someone who suffered from hallucinations, one had to pretend that one could also hear and see the images they did. So, she was going to play along.

“Impressive.” He gave a questioning look, so she added, “The turning, I mean.”

Mikhail squinted at her. “Have you ever seen a manticore turn?”

A manti-what?!

Never mind. Amelia was determined to play his game – and win. “No, but I would love for you to show me.”

First, she would make him turn , then she’d appear fascinated by his turning, and then she’d convince him to go outside and show everyone this magnificent sight. From her psychiatry rotation, she knew that individuals with psychotic tendencies often craved excessive admiration, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Mikhail Korovin fit the type.

“Please, I really want to see you turn.” She was speaking as if to a child, waiting for him to jump around in excitement, or whatever it was that someone turning into an imaginary mandragora would do.

He rubbed his chin. “You want to see me… turn?”

Amelia smiled her most encouraging smile. “Of course!”

“Humans usually ask for money, land and jewels when they want to work with us… I don’t think that me turning in front of you is a good idea.”

Well, she needed to provoke him. “Are you afraid that you’ll… embarrass yourself?”

His eyes sparkled like pure gold. “All right, have it your way. If that’s what will make you cooperate.”

A surge of panic crashed over her. Something wasn’t right. She swallowed, unsure if she should follow through on her initial plan.

There was no time to think, because a horrifying, animalistic screech rolled out of the man’s mouth, and forced her to step back. His body arched and the seams of his shirt stretched along his biceps and torso until…

Amelia held in her scream when his clothes ripped into shreds and scattered across the room. His phone and a set of keys soon joined them. Her hands shot up to protect her face from further flying projectiles, but she kept staring at the enlarging figure before her through the gaps between her fingers.

One, two, three, four…

Whatever was happening came to a halt. Amelia slapped a palm over her mouth as she surveyed the thing in front of her. It was around ten feet tall, and it definitely wasn’t human.

Before her stood a monster. Thick, dark-brown fur covered its bulging muscles and formed a mane around its animalistic face. Long black claws emerged from the tips of its hands and feet, and a thick black tail stuck out of the monster’s lower back, ending with a sharp spike. From the middle of the spine, a pair of giant black wings moved in synch with the swing of the tail.

Amelia raised her eyes all the way up to his face. Under the mane, above the muzzle with those teeth, two golden eyes stared back at her.

She opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.

1 Translated from Bulgarian by Besta Dimitrova.