Some countries and cities are more populated with ranked vampires than others—depending on whether or not purebreds live there. The whole of Italy is a hot spot, along with Paris, Rio de Janeiro, Los Angeles, Hong Kong, New York, Auckland and recently Western Japan.
My home, jolly old England, is a complete dead zone. It’s one of the few countries that have no purebreds at all, and nobody knows why. It’s an unsolved mystery in vampire culture. I studied vampire health and medicine in a place with hardly any vampires. My friend Cyrus said I was ridiculous—like a fireman living in a city of igloos.
Moving to Japan has been an entirely different story. Fucking brilliant. The only downside is the weird anxiety I’ve had since arriving. I don’t understand why, but it grips me sometimes, especially if I’m around a high-leveler. Mentally and emotionally, I felt well prepared for this incredible opportunity. I’ve been wanting something like this since I was a teenager. But physically, I don’t know. Seems like my body is still adjusting?
“I heard a rumor that Haru-sama and Nino-sama came to this hospital.” Yukiko blinks, her eyes wide. “Is it true? Did they sit in this chair? Oooh my God—”
“We never disclose information about who visits or doesn’t visit our hospital.” She’d have kittens if she knew that yes, Haruka has sat in that exact seat, and also that he and his mate will be here again tomorrow. Those two…
There’s a row of pamphlets for different resources on the windowsill behind my desk. I grab one, but before I hand it to her, I take a pen from my desk and mark a star. “Look up this website in particular. There are a lot of communities listed here so you can talk to more teens and young adults with your similar circumstance. When I see you next week for your scheduled feeding, I hope to hear that you’ve at least reached out to one?”
She takes the glossy pamphlet from my hand and stands, awkwardly tugging on her thick checked skirt. “Yeah… alright.”
“And maybe take a break from social media and vampire fan sites?”
Yukiko lifts her chin. “They’re not fan sites. Hisaki-chan and Harunino are my people.”
She’s looking at me, so I can’t roll my eyes. But they are not her people. I’ve never met Hisaki-chan, but Haruka and Nino are in an entirely different league—an entirely different plane of existence. All ranked vampires are. Like kings and queens living behind a thick glass wall, unfettered by things like poverty and disease, racism, homophobia and the general hideousness that the mixing of human genetics often produces. Meanwhile, all of us humans are just standing here with our ugly faces pressed against the glass, breath steaming up the surface as we stare, wishing we could cross to the other side.
It’s not possible.
I stand up from my desk. “See you next week, Yukiko.” She bows in that hasty, flippant teenager way that reads more “Fuck you” than “Thank you, honorable and wise doctor who provides blood for me that is not from a dog.”
Just as she walks out the door, an alarm sounds, and I realize it’s my mobile. “Shit…” I’m already running late. I wonder if he’s actually expecting dinner from me? I am not cooking.
Recently, a first-gen vampire named Junichi has been skulking around my office and insisting that we have dinner together. I met him by chance at Haruka and Nino’s estate when I did a house visit to check on Nino’s progress and drop off some books that his mate asked for. Even then, Junichi was eying me and blatantly flirting. It totally caught me off guard.
I don’t know what the hell he’s playing at or what he wants—calling me “beautiful.” That’s a stretch. Only my mum has ever said that about me, and I’m pretty certain that she was losing her grip on reality at the time.
Typically I get “weird” or “cute.” Sometimes, if I’m lucky, the backhanded double-word score: “weirdly cute.” One of my classmates in the medical program at Oxford said I was hot. That was nice. My friend Cyrus called me handsome once when he was rat-arsed. He denied it the next day and told me I look like something from that silly American Broadway show Cats—that I didn’t even need makeup and I could walk right onto the stage. Tosser.
A quick fuck at my place and then I’ll send the first-gen on his way. Truthfully, this happens to me often. Vampires get curious about me, and I have no idea why. It’s only ever been low-levelers, though. Never a ranked one like this. Not that I’ve come across many, until recently. Until Japan.
These high-bred vamps make my insides feel twisty and bizarre, as if my stomach is tying itself into knots. Especially this one I’m meeting tonight. He’s fit, though—leggy with jet-black eyes and dark curly hair. His skin is lovely and brown and reminds me of peanut butter. He speaks Japanese fluently, but he must be part something else?
Cyrus is brown, too, but with red undertones (Junichi’s undertones are more golden). Cy’s family is originally from Delhi in India. He says pricks who don’t like people with brown skin are just jealous deep down. He and I disagree about a lot of things, but on that point, we are perfectly aligned.
The routine goes like this: the lower vamps come around to sniff and poke at me. If I’m up for it, we have sex. Sometimes they bite me. Then they move on like I was a shiny red apple rotten on the inside, telling me I taste awful. I told myself I wouldn’t do this anymore after moving to Japan—that I wouldn’t let them bat me around like a ball of wool. But I always know what I’m getting myself into. And I do enjoy it sometimes.
After packing up my desk, pushing the chair in and grabbing my rucksack, I check my watch. 6:05 p.m. Maybe I’ll pick something up from the grocer, then stop by the corner shop for lube and condoms as well. Vampires are fussy about condoms, but that’s where I draw a hard line. Your body might regenerate, but mine doesn’t.
Two
Jae
It’s 6:50 p.m. by the time I’m showered and hastily pulling ready-made meals from a grocery bag. I run my hand through my damp hair, the waves there slick and heavy. My hair looks better wet, I think. Calmer. If I don’t keep it trimmed low, I look like a bloody lion.
Or a character from Cats, apparently.
My mobile buzzes against the counter. Walking over to it, I see Cy on the screen. Speak of the devil. I honestly cannot deal with him right now, so I let it ring through to voicemail.
I’m nervous. That feeling like heartburn is settled in the center of my chest and my hands are shaky. I know Junichi won’t hurt me. Ranked vampires don’t actually do that. People who think so are either ignorant or watch too many films.
The truth is, Yukiko is right. Ranked vamps are otherworldly. They’re much more emotionally sophisticated, cultured and genetically evolved than humans. And their eyes are always bright and focused. But at the same time blank. Curious? When Nino and Haruka are sitting across from me, their eyes are like an owl’s and they keep their heads perfectly still, barely even blinking. It’s both eerie and mesmerizing.
Junichi has black eyes—like pools of inky liquid. He’s unreadable until he smiles with his full lips, and then his irises are playful and expressive. All three of them make my stomach feel weird. Sora, too. She’s my nurse assistant at the hospital—first-gen, like Junichi, which means she’s one generation removed from purebred status but still part of the elite group.
The majority of my intimate experiences have been with lower-level vamps—vampires very far removed from their purebred lineage. So much so that they read more human than vampire. In England, they just gravitated toward me, I guess, like hipsters to a basement record shop or a pretentiously eclectic café. One of them was a proper hipster. Blonde dreadlocks, ripped jeans and earplugs. She was decent at kissing, but my flat always smelled like weed after she left. The second time we slept together she bit me, said I tasted like turpentine and left. Never saw her again… which is fine, really.
The doorbell rings and I jump, startled. I take a deep breath—where the hell are my glasses? I find them on the counter near my phone and slide them on, then move toward the front door. Grabbing the handle, I pause and roll my shoulders. Why am I doing this? Knowing he can’t possibly want anything tangible or real with me…
If I’m honest, maybe it’s just nice to be with someone, sometimes? I do well on my own, and I know how to take care of myself. I have for a very long time now. Admitting that I get lonely at times sounds pathetic, right? Nobody wants to acknowledge that, but there it is.
I unlock and pull the door. It’s sunset. The weather is still warm although it’s late September. Junichi is standing there, all legs and backed by an orange-purple skyline. He grins, charming as ever. He’s holding… a bouquet of flowers. Bird-of-paradise?
“Hello, Doctor Jae.”
“God.”
“No. Junichi, remember?”
“Flowers?”
“As a thank you for having dinner with me.” He blinks his onyx eyes. “I noticed the painting on the wall in your office. I thought you might like them?”
My eyes scan his body, and he’s wearing a clean white summery shirt, but it’s fashionable with short sleeves and no collar. His trousers are dark and tapered at his ankles—perfectly tailored to his long legs. Bright yellow trainers. His facial hair is neatly trimmed and short, and he’s wearing an expensive-looking watch. Made of wood? Christ. Everything about him is luxurious but effortless. I don’t understand why he’s standing on my doorstep.
“Doctor Jae?”
