Page 52 of Hospital for Immortal Creatures

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?

18

The crowds of tourists, entranced by the magic of the Orient, scuttled away at the sight of him. So did the obtrusive salesmen and the locals rambling around for their weekly shopping. The Grand Istanbul Bazaar was an enormous labyrinth of towering corridors and twisting arched ceilings, littered on both sides with stands and shops with various merchandise. From salt to leopard blood and hair from a deity, with the right connections and knowledge, everything was attainable.

Constantine wasn’t trying to avoid attention, quite the opposite. With his Prada suit and Tom Brown sunglasses, heads turned his way – in part because he didn’t belong there, but also because he was naturally good at making people feel uncomfortable. Besides, he was counting on the one he sought to notice him and crawl out of hiding.

Whoever that was, they had better hurry up because the narrow streets were a living hell for his senses. The air was thick with the scents of hundreds of herbs and spices, mixed with sweat and a thousand other human and non-human smells. And so many colours, bright and attractive, that nearly blinded him.

Nonetheless, some immortals chose to spend their days in such places. The Grand Bazaar was an infamous witch’s haunt, where easy spells brought easy money from tourists. Humans who weren’t into witchcraft could fall for other sorts of charms. Pickpocketing an unfortunate soul or two, while witches enchanted them with tales and bare skin, wasn’t uncommon, either.

As he roamed past stalls with silver and gold trinkets, a strange feeling crept over him—someone was watching him. It wasn’t the curious stares or the glances charged with sexual tension. This was different from what he had come for today. It felt like something else entirely, as if someone were hunting him. And somehow, he knew that whoever it was wouldn’t reveal themselves just yet.

Oh, Constantine enjoyed these games, but not when he was the target. A quick scan of the space would give him all the information about his stalker. He just needed a place to hide his skeleton for thirty seconds.

“You lost, handsome?” someone asked in a thick British accent.

He turned towards the speaker. She had a black shawl tied around her hair, with long dark curls escaping from underneath and cascading down her figure. Her yellow dress, with a waist belt, accentuated her alluring curves, as seductive as her sweet smile.

Constantine’s gaze dropped to the cleavage of her dress, which revealed more than it concealed. Nestled above it was a silver medallion shaped like a two-headed snake. “I’m searching for something,” he said, changing to Bulgarian.

“Often what you seek is also seeking you.” Fire burned in her dark eyes. “So long as you’re doing it right.”

He stepped closer. “Have you heard of any portals seeking me out recently?”

“Oh, yes! We have that in pure gold!” She raised her voice for everyone to hear, then turned to him with a stern expression. “Come with me!”

She grabbed him by the hand and dragged him down the corridor. They snuck into a small shop with a glass display case. Constantine scanned the inside of the shop, quickly noticing another witch in a corner trying to sell a pair of enormous silver earrings to a young woman. They’d been enhanced with magic, the witch explained, as she dangled them in the woman’s intrigued face. Magic for love. The moment the love of her life would see her with these earrings, he would immediately recognise her. Only in euros, of course. Just fifty. Yes, a little expensive, but completely worth it, since she’d find the man who would bring her much more than that.

“But I’m married!” The woman exclaimed, glancing towards Constantine.

Just as he disappeared into a small dark room with his witch, he heard the other one offer the woman earrings enchanted with magic for better sex. Then they were alone in what turned out to be a storage room, where shelves overflowed with boxes of jewels.

Leaning against one of the shelves, the witch inspected him closely. “Who are you?”

“My name is Dimitris. I’m just your regular vampire. Construction contractor, mainly doing business with the mortal world.” He gazed at her across the room.

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