Asao moves toward the house, his boisterous laughter echoing in the night. “Remind me to kiss Nino next time he comes over.”
Haruka’s concentration falters, just long enough for the five vampires to drop a foot in the air from where he holds them. He quickly catches them again and shakes his head, decidedly pushing the phrase “Kiss Nino” from his mind. He looks up at Gael. Haruka has left all of their conscious minds untouched, so although they cannot move or speak, they can hear and comprehend.
“Is this book so significant to you?” he asks. “That you would attempt to attack me twice?”
Haruka removes one hand from his pocket and raises his arm. He spreads his fingers toward Gael’s chest, specifically lifting his hold on the first-gen’s lungs, diaphragm, vocal chords and mouth so that he can speak.
Gael’s smile is sinister—eerie as he stares down at Haruka. “Me dê isto, old blood. Agora.”
“Não dou. O que você faria com isso?” Haruka frowns. No. What would you do with the book? Gael only snarls in frustration. Aggravated, Haruka flicks his fingers. Gael screams a bloodcurdling sound and both of his legs are now limp and dangling—cleanly broken in five places.
“Answer me,” Haruka says. The large first-gen whimpers pathetically, like a wounded animal. Haruka rolls his eyes. “Ridiculous.” Depending on the quality of blood he receives, Gael will be completely healed within a month or two.
Without warning, a powerful flash of cool energy registers in Haruka’s consciousness, his nature telling him that another, unfamiliar purebred vampire is now present. The scent of something heavy and earthy like sage floods his senses. His eyes wide, Haruka turns, hastily scanning the woods. The moment he catches a glimpse of a black figure standing between the trees, it’s gone. Disintegrated, as if he’d only seen a shadow. Gael’s voice is suddenly loud, panicked and crying out in the silence.
“Não! Por favor—”
Haruka draws back, watching as Gael slowly evaporates before his eyes. His body rolls like a dense fog within his subjugation, gradually vanishing into thin air. Then there’s nothing. As if he never existed.
The purebred presence has also disappeared, and Haruka is left standing with his four hostages. He is still, his mind spinning wildly, trying to discern what’s just happened. Who was that? Where the hell did they come from? There are no other purebreds besides himself and Nino in all of England. But suddenly, there is. And the vampire had manipulative control over their energy—in the same way that Haruka can wield his essence, but fundamentally different.
He blinks, his concentration broken by the sound of sirens cutting through the cold night.
Focusing on the remaining four vampires in front of him, he quickly moves and flicks his fingers through the air, precisely manipulating his energy to break bones and snap ligaments and tendons. The vampires’ screams are muffled, and since they are lower ranked than their evaporated leader, their legs will inevitably take much longer to heal.
Haruka breathes in, willing the heavy outpour of his aura back into his body. He twists it deep within himself and back into a knot, letting the four males fall and hit the cement driveway. Hard. Now their whines echo loudly through the trees.
He frowns at the sight of them, but he is deeply unsettled. It had only been a blip in time—the moment not even lasting ten seconds. He’s never crossed paths with another vampire who could wield their energy so powerfully and precisely.
Gael has vanished again, but this time against his will.
The distant flash of police headlights coming up the long drive brings Haruka’s attention to the present. He turns, sticking his cold hands into his pockets as he heads toward the house. Without speaking, Asao brushes past him, confidently moving forward to direct and manage the clean-up contingent.
Eighteen
Nino looks at his watch. 2:28 p.m. He moves from behind the bar and to the opposite side, then sits atop one of the oak stools. His employees did an amazing job cleaning the previous night, so he doesn’t need to do much before opening the bar.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and unlocks the home screen. “Let’s see if she picks up.”
Scotch & Amaretto opens at 3:00 p.m. on Fridays. It’s not busy until about 5:00 p.m., and by then one of his two employees will have arrived for their shift. Shalini is human and typically starts the earlier shifts. Mariana is vampiric in nature but low level. Because of her sun aversions, she always closes, but she’s exceptionally smart about the business. She’s been with Nino from the beginning, and the bar is successful in part because of her shrewd insight on the local market. Nino is seriously considering asking Mariana if she wants to become part owner.
He hits speed dial and brings the phone to his ear. After three rings, the line is picked up.
“Hello dear,” Cellina says warmly.
“Ciao bella. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Only a few minutes,” Cellina says. “I have to finish writing this damn acquisition proposal before I leave in two weeks.”
“Oh, for that artist you don’t like, right?” says Nino. She complained about it a few weeks earlier. Nino knows business and economics like the back of his hand, and he considers himself to be pretty well read. But art is not his forte.
“Right,” she sighs. “For one, this artist was my director’s choice. I don’t even think the artist’s style matches the feel of our other exhibits. And two, his shit paintings are borderline cultural appropriation of African Masquerade. Why would you ask your Black intern to write a proposal to acquire this garbage?”
“Because people are ignorant?” Nino says flatly, sympathizing. “Lina, you have less than two months before your internship is done, and you already have interviews for those jobs in Milan and Greece. You got this.”
“I know, I know,” she breathes. “But I’m a fucking century-old vampire. I know my modern art history. I was there, for God’s sake. Why do I have to jump through these ridiculous bureaucratic hoops? Whatever—thanks for letting me vent. What’s up?”
Nino rolls his shoulders. “When I feed from you… I know since it’s from your hand the impact isn’t very strong, but I pour good feelings into you, yeah?”
“Yeah…”
“Okay… You’ve always made it clear that you don’t want anything from me, but have you ever wanted more? Have you ever wanted me to please you more intentionally when I feed—”
“No,” she says plainly. “Where is this coming from?”
His body tenses. He leans against the bar with his elbows, dropping his head. “Haruka finally fed from my neck last weekend.”
“That’s good,” Cellina says brightly. “You’ve graduated.”
“Yeah, but…” Nino exhales. Just thinking about what he’d felt when Haruka fed sends a rush of heat down his navel and to his groin. “It felt intense—like my insides were on fire. My eyes even alighted, Lina. It was insane.”
“Ah. So you’re trying to figure out if that’s normal, since he’s the first person you’ve ever offered yourself to?” She can’t see him, but Nino nods, running his palm down his face from the stress. She goes on in his silence. “Did you want him to pull your aura?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“Having someone feed to emotionally please you is a very intimate thing. For you purebreds it’s basically a form of sex. If someone pulls your aura, it leaves you vulnerable and exposed. If you trust him enough to do that to you and instinctively crave that from him… maybe deep down, you see him as much more than a friend, Nino.”
Nino groans, rubbing his hand down his face again. “I can’t. This is not what I wanted to hear.”
