Page 29 of Hospital for Immortal Creatures

Mikhail’s invitation to join the Council had come as a surprise. At the time, the two of them had known each other for about a century and were good friends. Mikhail was one of the few who didn’t care about the necromancer’s dark blood. Time and time again, Constantine had warned his friend that the rest of the Council wouldn’t accept him, but Mikhail had been relentless. Whether through his tenacity or his zero tolerance for being told no, Mikhail had got his way – everyone had been forced to trust the necromancer among them.

That was why Constantine was now rushing to the Hospital after a single call from the manticore. Partly because he felt he owed it to Mikhail, and partly because he didn’t know where else to go.

Soon after he left the city vista behind, his SUV started climbing up the winding mountain road. Fifteen minutes later, he was in front of the Hospital’s iron gate. It parted to let him in, and he drove past the guards and towards the underground parking. A dark staircase led him to the first floor from where he travelled to the main hall.

Korovin waited for him, slumped in his chair at the far end of the table, where a closed wooden box sat on top. As soon as he walked in, Constantine detected the unpleasant stench emanating from it.

“I’ve got mail.” Mikhail pulled a decapitated head out of the box and rolled it across the table.

Constantine recognised her. “The witch.”

“Yes. She must have been killed right after the Council meeting last week.” Mikhail then proceeded to tell him all about the mysterious arrival of the box a few days ago.

When he was done, the necromancer shoved the head back into the box. “You want me to connect with her soul and figure out what happened?”

“Yes, I’m eager to know who could be strong enough to strike down a powerful witch like Kaliope, yet foolish enough to threaten me with such messages on the threshold of my own hospital.”

Mikhail’s tone was even, but Constantine knew him well. Under the calm façade, a storm of vengeance was brewing. In all the time he had known him, Constantine had never managed to comprehend why the manticore was so set on saving the immortal species. Were these wretches better than humans? Had they done something to deserve their immortality? Constantine was certain he hadn’t. But he wasn’t one to ask superfluous questions, so he stood in front of the box, disposed of his belt and watch, and placed them on the table.

As he focused on the task at hand, his clothes disintegrated into microscopic particles that revealed, just for a fleeting second, his sinewy body beneath. Despite not having the same bulging muscles as a manticore or a lycanthrope, he still possessed great power.

An unseen fire erupted next and melted his naked skin, then swallowed the tissues and organs of his body, leaving behind only Constantine’s skeleton. The two black wings that had emerged on his back remained hidden between his shoulder blades.

His sentience then ascended above the table and the pile of bones. Mikhail was sitting a few feet away and looking askance at the skeleton that would remain motionless until Constantine’s soul fed him with life once more.

He flew through the ceiling and kept going until he reached the tower. He rose further up, above the building, the mountain, and Earth’s bounds. Soon, the first flickering lights came into view – the souls of creatures that had recently passed and were still struggling to accept the inevitable end to their earthly existence. They crashed into each other as they soared through the void. Some of them would scuttle around for years, chasing and tormenting the living in useless attempts to regain a physical life. Constantine had always thought of them as newbies, naïve enough to believe that they could change the rules of the universe.

He had expected to find Kaliope’s soul among them, but he couldn’t sense her presence. Most curious…

Undeterred, he focused his senses again, extending his consciousness while also cloaking himself in a veil of energetic protection. Higher up, he went, until the quickly moving lights dwindled to slower greyish shadows.

A child-like voice called out to him. “Necromancer…”

“Get away, you evil demon!” a female hissed.

“What do you want from us, necromancer?”

This place was for the souls who awaited their rebirth or transformation to the next level, where they would dwell as shadows for a long, long time. As a young creature getting acquainted with his new powers, he had roamed among them often to observe. He might have found them fascinating, but they feared him because of his most coveted necromantic ability – the consummation of souls. He could devour someone’s soul, granting himself access to its most cherished memories and hidden desires, caging it into an eternal prison. A necromancer could either take a live creature’s soul on Earth or feed here, straight from the source.

As special as this gift was, it was also the heaviest of burdens. A memory wasn’t simply a memory. It came with emotions, often painful, horrible ones, that the necromancer himself needed to feel, in order to gain access. The more souls he consumed, the more memories intertwined. Life was complicated enough without adding that to the mix, so Constantine avoided taking creatures’ souls unless he had no other choice.

He scanned the space, ignoring the turmoil his presence had caused. She wasn’t there. The witch’s soul had either already reincarnated, or had gone higher up. The first option wasn’t likely, because immortal souls needed longer for rebirth.

Constantine reached out and grasped a stray shadow hovering in his vicinity.

“What do you want with me, necromancer?” she asked.

“Information.” Constantine tightened his grip around her. To his surprise, she didn’t try to escape. “You’re not afraid of me.”

She sighed. “I’ve been here for thousands of years. I’m not afraid of anything.”

She was one of the Forgotten – entities that for some unknown reason got stuck between the levels and neither reincarnated nor moved forward.

He released his hold on her. The Forgotten didn’t run. “You’ve been here a long time. Have you seen or heard the soul of a witch named Kaliope?”

“Hmm… Many souls pass through here…”

“She might have held her head in her hands,” Constantine added, as souls sometimes stayed in the shape they had died in.

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