Page 146 of Hospital for Immortal Creatures

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.”

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