Page 12 of Hospital for Immortal Creatures
Vladislav clicked his tongue. “Maybe she didn’t in the past…”
Mikhail waved his hand in dismissal. “She must have a weak spot for humans. She sent me to rescue a woman from some douchebag. Then she didn’t know why I had to do it.”
Platinum gave out a loud sigh. “She definitely does. Once, she tasked me with a rescue mission to save some kids from a train incident. She said if I didn’t, my hair would turn white.”
Kaliope pointed a finger at the nymph. “Your hair is white, Platinum.”
“It’s platinum!”
A lightbulb went off in Viktor’s head. If the Oracle was forcing encounters between mortals and immortals, maybe she was trying to unite them? He considered it for a while, but by the end of the meeting, sometime past midnight, Viktor had already given up on the idea of such a union. Sure, the seventh species – humans – had long been present within the Hospital walls. Kidnapping doctors was a thing of the past, but there were still humans who lived and worked there, and it was considered normal. An elderly urologist worked hand-in-hand with Hospital surgeons. There was a female microbiologist. And Mr. L, an eighty-something-year-old internist, was still reluctant to accept that he could not become immortal. There were others, too. But while they all had ended up in the building for one reason or another and were living in harmony with the six immortal species, this was only possible because they followed a single rule – never leave the premises.
***
A phone call woke Mikhail from his somnolence. He grabbed his phone with one hand, while his other was already busy tugging on a pair of pants. Nobody ever called him just to chat.
“Mikhail, come quick to the Oracle’s room!” It was Sonya.
A minute later, he barged into the room, where Sonya, the healer, and a vampire in a chambermaid uniform whose name he couldn’t quite recall, hovered over the wheelchair. The Oracle’s petite figure rested in the chair, her eyes closed and her face pale. The blanket that was always tossed over her legs covered her entire body now, from neck to toe. Her lips looked blue under the moonlight.
Mikhail placed a finger on her wrist but couldn’t find a pulse, just the ice-cold sweat that was breaking through her skin. “Oracle!”
She didn’t react to his shout.
“The chambermaid found her like this when she came for her usual routine.” Sonya’s eyes were wide with fear. “I didn’t know what to do! Should I move her or…”
Mikhail scanned the room for something he could use but saw nothing, so he lifted the Oracle in his arms, covered her body in the blanket, and rushed down the corridor.
She was not dying on him!
He burst through the reception doors and placed her body on a free bed. “It’s the Oracle. She’s in shock.”
The two on-call nurses rushed to aid. At the other end of the room, the healer on shift was sewing a young child’s head, while another one was removing a bullet from a vampire’s shoulder.
Vladislav Nyavolski entered through the front doors. “I have a lycanthrope incoming with multiple stab wounds to the chest. Prepare him and send him up,” he ordered without addressing anyone in particular.
Nobody paid attention to him, because all four physicians had gathered around the Oracle.
Mikhail’s gaze met Vladislav’s. The vampire scanned the room, quickly took stock of the situation, and yelled, “Put on the oxygen mask! Tie her to the monitor! Give me your stethoscope, Rein! Didn’t you place the catheter in, Toyle? Damn it! Turn it on already! Fuck!”
Mikhail stepped back. The Oracle had been living in the building for sixty years. Once every decade, he would visit her with the same question, and every time, the answer was the same. ‘Come back in ten years.’ This time, the answer had been different. She had sent him on a mission to resolve a seemingly inane dispute.
And yet, someone had discerned a deeper meaning in the Oracle’s words.
He didn’t ponder long before he summoned Zacharia. The hybrid arrived a few minutes later. His cold blue eyes inspected the room and froze when they landed on the Oracle’s unconscious body, hooked to the machines.
‘Free will, manticore. That is something that must never be taken away from a creature.’
Mikhail made sure that nobody could overhear him when he turned to Zacharia. “I need a favour.”
5
Amelia wiggled out of the purple scrubs worn by nurses in the surgical wing and changed into her own clothes. Clutching her coat and bag with one hand, she stopped in front of the crooked mirror in the women’s changing room. Her face was as dreadful as her hair. It was a typical sight after working a night shift, along with the dark circles under her eyes, a pale complexion, and a worn-out appearance. And yet, her job was the only thing that gave her purpose.
Saving lives was an adrenaline rush for many, but few could smile for a desperate man, listen to their story, or have the honour of accompanying them to their last breath. Many feared death, but Amelia found beauty in its way of making one sit back and accept their fate. It was a moment of true salvation, such as she often wished to have received herself. Her mother, father, brother, grandmother… all of them had been saved, but her. She was cursed to live.
Amelia could understand those who suffered alone in their illness, despite being surrounded by relatives. She, too, existed alongside people, yet felt like she was the only one in the world.
“Tough night?” Dr. Petrovsky, a urologist, caught up with her by the exit. He was just a few years older than her, with a boyish smile, single, and a newly appointed specialist. He had a crush on Amelia and although she would laugh at his jokes, that was all there would ever be between them. He was a little too extroverted for her taste; a little too…plain. “I know a real nice place with dimmed lights, good music and cheap wine,” he said.