![]() Hazel had talked of little else for the past few months: her lofty goal of developing a new, updated guidebook on anatomy and basic household treatments with her own illustrations. "Ay, your treatise." Iona rolled her eyes and bit into a piece of toast. "These hours are only until I finish my treatise. "Who else is going to keep you fed when you're working late in the night?" "And,” Iona said, “I'll work at the house as long as I well like, Miss.” She hadn't even had the child yet, and she was already addressing Hazel like she was a mother, never mind the fact that they were all but the same age. Come out with full sets of hair and full sets of teeth,” Iona said, depositing herself at the table in the chair next to Hazel and letting out an oof. "Charles says all the babes in his family are hearty types. I’m delivering this child, so you’ll do what I say now.” "And I'm not going to want you working at Hawthornden much longer, do you hear me? Bed rest soon, especially if the little darling continues to grow at the rate he's been doing so far. How many months you say I have to go now?" And to think I'm going to get even bigger. "Already the size of a shoulder of mutton. "It's this blasted belly," Iona said, rubbing it absent-mindedly. "No, no, I'll get it!" Hazel said, seeing Iona begin to reach down to pick it up. Mercifully, it spun and settled, unbroken. "Hmm?" Iona said, spinning around, knocking a sugar bowl to the floor. She was five months along now - Hazel made sure to force her to undergo regular examinations and consultations - but still Iona didn't seem aware of the damage she could cause walking through close quarters. Hazel pulled her plate of toast from the table, rescuing it from where Iona's belly almost knocked it to the floor. And in the past few months, she had been very, very busy. A mere instant, the time it would take to recoil or stifle a gasp, might meant the difference between life and death. ![]() She no longer had time for fear or horror at blood or decay: working as a surgeon meant every second mattered more than the last. When she woke up, Hazel was thinking of the stitches she would have selected to reattach it to a hand. One night, she had dreamt of a single index finger, with bone visible at the knuckles, still dripping blood, pulling itself toward her like an inchworm. ![]() Hazel’s nightmares didn’t scare her any longer. ![]() Her lady’s maid Iona never had need to rush in with a cool cloth and soothing cup of tea. She never talked or shouted in her sleep. She never woke up from her dreams panting or crying out, with sweat dampening the hair to her forehead. A pinkie finger that looked like it had never belonged to him in the first place. Beecham’s fingers, the way they had looked when the famed surgeon pulled off his leather gloves for her at the Anatomists’ Society to reveal the truth of what he hid beneath: swollen digits, some purple-and-black, sewed onto his hand.įingers that had fallen off and been reattached. Sometimes the fingers weren’t attached to any hands at all: sometimes they were like living things, set on a flat table, twitching like insect legs. ![]() Boney, spindly fingers, with knuckles knobbed like walnuts and gray-green flesh peeling off in thin strips. Malicious forces are at work in the monarchy, and they are very interested in living forever."īefore you run to preorder the sequel and start an Anatomy re-read, don’t miss out on the exclusive excerpt below. When he hears that Beecham has died, he immediately goes to London to find out how he achieved it-and reunites with Hazel once again.Īs their search for the immortality cure entangles them more and more with the British court, Hazel and Jack realize that a life together is not the only thing at stake. He’s been traveling across the Atlantic, hoarding any information that could cure his immortality and let him spend a normal life with Hazel. Meanwhile, Jack Currer has been trying to find a way to die. Soon Hazel is dragged into the glamor and romance of a court where everyone has something to hide, especially the ladies of the princess’s close circle, who never seem to stay hurt for long… When saving a life leads to her arrest, Hazel seems doomed to rot in prison until a message intervenes: Hazel has been specifically requested to be the personal physician of Princess Charlotte, the sickly daughter of King George IV. All she can really do is run her free clinic, helping people and maintaining Hawthornden Castle as it starts to decay around her. She doesn’t even know if Jack is alive or dead. She’s half-convinced the events of the year before-the immortality, Beecham’s vial-were a figment of her imagination. Play icon The triangle icon that indicates to play "Immortality: A Love Story is the eagerly-anticipated sequel to Dana Schwartz's #1 bestselling gothic romance, Anatomy: A Love Story. ![]()
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