Nino nods obediently, sensing his brother’s palpable bitterness and knowing better than to challenge it.

Twenty-One

Haruka travels across land and sea to reach Italy. He marvels—not because of the geography (although it is indeed impressive). If someone had told him three months ago that he would acquire a genuine friend and purebred source, and that he’d willingly leave the comfort of his home to travel and see that person… he would have rather made a sizable investment in goggles for flying pigs—which would have been the more believable option.

Life has surprised him. Just when he thought he understood the cruelties of the world—the greed, injustices and hopelessness therein—the universe has thrown him a curve ball and he’s taken it directly in the gut. In the best possible way, of course.

When he arrives in Milan and to Nino’s family estate, the morning weather is cold and breezy, but bright under a perfectly clear sky. The grounds of the Bianchi compound are a sight to behold—cypress tree–lined paths lightly dusted with snow, neatly squared hedges and brownstone villas standing in perfect harmony with their natural surroundings.

Haruka is greeted by Nino and his brother when he arrives at the main house of the estate. Giovanni is older but still young. He’s at least three inches taller, his build muscular with broad shoulders. He wears a sharply tailored heather-gray suit and a black shirt underneath. No tie. The raindrop shape of his eyes is similar to his younger brother’s, but Giovanni’s irises are more hazel and with flecks of green instead of Nino’s pure, golden amber. He has a clean but rugged, very masculine essence to his countenance—a designer warrior.

The two brothers guide Haruka down a vaulted hallway beautifully lined with sand-colored brick and shiny terracotta flooring. They step inside a warm botanical sun-room off the back of the main house. The room is cylindrical with a domed ceiling. Glass walls offer an almost three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the wintery garden and surrounding brush outside.

Giovanni settles in a chair directly across from Haruka at the intimate table centered in the room. “It’s an honor to have you visiting with us. Do you speak Italian? Or should we continue in English? Unfortunately, my Japanese is severely out of practice.”

“Thank you for the kind welcome,” Haruka says politely. “Italian is fine.”

Giovanni gives a short nod of approval. “Gradite uno spritz o un bicchiere di vino mentre aspettiamo?”

Would you like some appetizers or a glass of wine while we’re waiting? Haruka nods. “Sì, certo, per me uno Spritz va bene. Dividiamo un tagliere di salumi e formaggi?”

Giovanni smiles, impressed as a maidservant appears in the doorway and moves toward them. “Maria Laura, cocktails and appetizers, please.”

“Haruka can speak and read a ton of languages.” Nino beams, looking at Haruka fondly with his warm eyes. “He has Gilgamesh in its original Akkadian form, and a whole section of books in his library written in Hebrew and Latin. He also has an Armenian version of the Bible.”

“The Bible, huh?” Giovanni smirks. Haruka rubs his palms against his thighs. He is accustomed to perpetual remarks about his appearance—he’s even developed canned responses for efficiently deflecting the comments. Being praised on his actual skill and effort is something new.

“I enjoy languages, philosophies and cultures,” Haruka says, returning Nino’s smile. “It aids me with my research and cultural record-keeping.”

“Nino told me that your realm is in western Japan,” Giovanni says. “Considering you live in England, who is currently overseeing your community?”

“Presently… another local purebred is assisting the members of my aristocracy,” Haruka admits. Although Asao tells him the situation is far from ideal and Haruka’s presence is greatly missed.

The maidservant reappears and places a colorful board of grapes, meat and cheese on the table—mortadella, prosciutto and sliced salami. Taleggio and parmesan along with a simple bruschetta topped with diced peppers and a sampling of olives. A second servant appears with their cocktails.

Giovanni picks up his glass and brings it to his lips. “Interesting. And how long have you left your realm with this substitute purebred?”

“It has been nearly seventy years,” Haruka says, feeling shamed. Yes, he has experienced something unimaginably painful, and yes, the stress and humiliation of it nearly broke him. Nearly killed him. But there is no true reason for him to have stayed away from his home this long. If he must identify a reason, maybe it’s apathy?

Life handed him lemons. Instead of making lemonade, he packed his suitcase and left the fruit rotting on the counter.

“What have you been doing in the meantime?” Giovanni asks.

“I have traveled to many places, visiting various aristocracies across Japan, North America and Europe. I spent a large portion of the sixties and seventies traveling to America… a personal indulgence in jazz music…”

Giovanni raises his thick eyebrow. “Do you feel that’s wise? To leave your realm unoccupied for so long? What if the vampires there resent you? Especially in this increasingly tumultuous environment?”

“The things happening in Brazil have nothing to do with the rest of us,” Nino chimes in. “Not really, anyway.”

“Wrong,” Giovanni says flatly. “The things happening in Brazil have a ripple effect across our entire culture. Tensions are rising and it’s shifting everyone’s focus to the alleged purebred population crisis.”

“Alleged…” Haruka pipes up. “Do you not feel the population is truly at risk? That we have been misled somehow?”

Giovanni sits back in his seat, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I don’t question that the Vanishing was a real thing that happened, and it definitely reduced our population. But it’s impossible to take a true census of purebred vampires, because a lot of us are still unregistered. Not everyone in our population subscribes to human policies and government, especially purebreds of old blood or age. So yes, I think this widespread panic is premature. Why should we give so much attention to a human-released census? There could be other factors we’re not considering.”

“I share your sentiments,” Haruka says, appreciating Giovanni’s pragmatic point of view. Now that Haruka has privately experienced a vampire vanishing before his eyes in conjunction with an unexplained purebred, he thinks there might be even more to consider.

When there’s a light knock against the door to the sun-room, Haruka turns. A maidservant is standing in the doorway with another vampire beside her. A beautiful, young female vampire.

The maidservant gives a polite bow as she speaks. “My lords, Cellina De Luca has arrived.” The new guest moves toward the table. Nino and Giovanni stand. Haruka follows their lead. He intentionally breathes in to discern her scent.

She is first-generation, but the purebred half of her bloodline registers as clean and old in nature. She smells of magnolias and has smooth, warm brown skin that reminds Haruka of hot cocoa. Her dark auburn hair sits in heavy curls against her shoulders. Her eyes are the most haunting shade of gray.

Nino walks forward and when he reaches her, he picks her up by her waist in a tight embrace. She wraps her arms around his shoulders. When they finish their very warm greeting, Nino holds her hand as he turns toward Haruka.

“Haruka, this is Cellina, my source. Cellina, this is Haruka Hirano.” Nino beams as if this moment is long-awaited. The excitement radiating from him is palpable. Cellina smiles sweetly and offers a polite bow.

“Your grace—”

“Just Haruka—please.”

“Hi, Haruka. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“It is nice to meet you, too.” He returns her bow, slightly taken aback but hiding it. Her shape is that of an hourglass, and she is stylish and stunning. Nino has casually mentioned Cellina in passing, and Haruka knows that she is his source. But they seem… extremely close. “Cellina, may I ask, what is your age?”

She smooths her hair away from her shoulder as she considers. “Oh God. I think I’ll be one hundred and twenty-one in June? And you’re one hundred and one, right? Nino told me.”

“I am,” Haruka verifies. “One hundred and two in April.” She has the upper hand in this meeting. Clearly, she’s been told more about Haruka than he has been informed about her.

“How was your trip to Milan?” Cellina asks brightly. “You just got in today, right?”

“I did. It was an uneventful trip, thank you,” Haruka says, his eyes flickering down. Nino keeps a firm grasp on Cellina’s hand while she speaks, and a small shift occurs in his mind.

It’s a distinct feeling. A hollow discontent. As if he has quietly been considering himself the knight on a chess board, but in reality, he is just a rook.

Again.

“You’re not going to greet me?” Giovanni’s heavy voice carries across the table. They all look at him, but Cellina’s smiling face falls flat. The air in the room is suddenly stiff.

“My apologies, your grace.” She nods, but with unmistakable contention.

Giovanni narrows his hazel eyes. “Don’t do that. I don’t like that.”

“Is that an official order?” She frowns. “How am I supposed to know what you like? I’m just doing what you want—”

“I never wanted this with you—whatever the hell this is.”

There is an uncomfortable pause as Giovanni stares hard at Cellina, like time itself is standing still and Haruka is caught in a deep chasm he cannot even begin to understand.