Page 57 of Hospital for Immortal Creatures

“Playing video games with Komitsky in the common room.”

“That vampire?”

“Yes. The same one you forbade from talking to me, yet you have absolutely nothing against his friendship with Grigor.” She lifted her chin, daring him to argue otherwise.

Viktor waved his hand as if he were swatting a fly. “The vampire doesn’t stare at your brother the way he stares at you.”

Her phone screen lit up again. “The new guy said he’ll come as soon as he heard you’ll be there.”

Her stomach churned with excitement. She needed to look better than ever.

“Have a good trip, Vik!” She went over to hug him. “I’ll go to bed early, so even if you do come back tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Viktor kissed her on the forehead. “See you tomorrow, sugarplum.”

Part II

20

The priest’s voice reverberated through the white stone walls of San Antonio’s Church, reaching from the altar to the rows of wooden benches flanked by colossal columns. Nestled between two such columns was a marble sculpture of the Virgin Mary, depicting her with her head bent and her hands brought together in prayer. The benches were filled with pious churchgoers who listened intently to the sermon. The crucified Jesus Christ statue towered over them, protected on either side by angels.

Constantine didn’t believe in religion, but sometimes he needed the church’s energy. Most people came to worship with pure hearts and open souls, and often above them soared the spirits of their deceased relatives. They gave him hope that selflessness still found its place in a world corrupted by materialism.

The priest’s endless words had a calming effect on him. Silent tears ran down the face of the woman to his right. Above her hovered the spirit of a young man who wished to move on, but was still tethered to this realm because she couldn’t find the strength to move on without him. Constantine closed his eyes and his mind soared with the church music.

When it was all over, and he was walking towards the exit of the church, the woman was once more in his periphery. Let him go and be free, he could have told her. Instead, he drifted away. Most people weren’t ready for freedom.

The walls of San Antonio loomed behind him when he headed down the narrow streets of Rione Monti. On either side above him were trulli – houses with conical roofs and symbols for evil protection, typical for the old town of Alberobello. At this time of the year, the chill was still pleasant, and the tourists were fewer than usual. His attire of shabby jeans, a T-shirt that read I ♥ Rome, a baseball cap, black sunglasses, and a backpack thrown across his shoulders was, therefore, fitting.

He feigned interest in the various magnets displayed on a metal spinning platform in front of a souvenir shop. After casually inspecting all of them, he moved to another display of cheap trinkets that were supposed to be precious jewels. A couple of girls to his left were also admiring them. One of them noticed him and smiled.

He continued towards the heart of the shop, inside a typical Italian trullo, strolled past an exhibition of Chinese products presented to the tourists as Italian goods, and halted in front of a shelf with rag dolls. He glanced out through the nearby window to the other side of the street. Five trulli with five separate conical rooftops merged into one big area, in the centre of which stood a visibly larger and taller trullo with white walls, an ordinary wooden door, and a few small windows. From this distance, Constantine could only spot the red curtains and some movement here and there. Big green letters above the front door read, The Witch – Bar and Diner – All creatures are welcome.

At that moment, the door to The Witch allowed a few tourists in. Over the last few days, witches had been coming in and out non-stop, and last night it had been a fucking witch congregation. At least a couple dozen of them had arrived at various times throughout the night, one by one or in small groups. To Constantine’s amazement, many humans had also joined the witch party.

He had been here yesterday as well, a few trulli down the street, seated at a wooden table in front of an ice cream shop. He had ordered coffee and ice cream as he had observed the slow and steady overflow of mortals and immortals in The Witch. When the waitress had informed him that the ice cream shop was closing up for the day, he had pointed to The Witch and asked if it was a nightclub.

“Yes. Friday night, they hold karaoke night. It’s the most famous bar in town,” she’d said. “You should visit. Where are you from?”

“Russia.”

“Have a good stay in Italy!”

He would. Irene hadn’t sent him chasing shadows, after all. The Witch was where she’d said it would be and was brimming with witches.

Last night, back at his hotel, Constantine had done a little googling. Karaoke, drinks, theme nights, belly dancing, crystal balls, Tarot cards – the Witch offered a lot of entertainment. The bar was described as ‘interesting and impressive,’ ‘an excellent spot with exquisite service,’ and ‘the best place,’ according to Tripadvisor. It was popular for its exotic atmosphere and attracted its fair share of varied clientele. Not that Constantine was surprised. Witches were resourceful creatures. They had their way of surviving among mortals and immortals alike, being open and secretive at the same time. With this place, they had established their own safe haven in Alberobello, where they could openly be themselves and pass their supernatural abilities as tourist attractions.

While he observed the witch club, Constantine knew the one he sought – the one able to create portals – was in there. The magic radiating out of that place was unmistakable, seductive, welcoming. For some reason, he thought that maybe she could sense him, too, and was expecting him. Or perhaps she was afraid of the necromancer hovering around…looking at rag dolls.

Maybe she was mocking him.

Constantine was old. Very old. Not many creatures survived over the years and carried the knowledge of the past into the present. And his experience was whispering…

This isn’t going as planned.

“You need help, sir?” A chubby woman with enormous glasses spoke to him in English from behind the counter. “These are traditional Italian dolls with traditional Italian clothes.”

The store had suddenly emptied.

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