“My apologies, your grace,” Asao says stiffly. “Do you want me to stay here with you while you sleep?”
Haruka shifts his head against the pillow, his body and mind rapidly shutting down for the night. He has overexerted himself. “You don’t have to.”
“Need I remind you that the vampires of the Oxford realm are nocturnal?”
Perfectly still, Haruka opens his eyes. Blinking. Considering.
“That being said,” Asao goes on, “everyone will be awake while you are sleeping.”
Haruka turns to meet his manservant’s eyes. There is a distinct moment of pause before Asao grins and points. “I’ll sleep on that couch in the corner.”
“If you think it is best,” Haruka says, closing his eyes with a grin. “I will not argue with you.”
Three
Using his innate powers takes a heavy toll on Haruka, so he sleeps late into the next day. By the time he wakes up, gets dressed and wanders into the dining room in search of table food, it is late afternoon.
Practically everyone in the duke’s estate is asleep due to the nocturnal mandate. The house is eerily quiet. Full of sleeping, old-fashioned vampires, Haruka ponders. Like a crypt. Only a skeleton crew of attendants oblige Haruka and his manservant with a late lunch before his departure.
When they’re done, Asao stands from the table with a look of conviction set in his square jaw. “Let’s get the hell out of here before these weirdoes wake up.” Haruka agrees wholeheartedly. Soon after, they quietly leave the Duke of Oxford’s home.
They reach London at sunset. Haruka stares blankly out the window as they drive, watching the orange-and-pink gradient of the early evening sky.
“Is your awareness of this purebred growing stronger as we get closer?” Asao asks from the driver’s seat. “I hope this address is right.”
“Mm. The duke says that his business is located in Camden Lock. That information corresponds with my innate sense of him.”
“He owns a bar, right?”
“Yes.”
Asao sighs. “Alright. We’ll have to walk when we get near that area. I don’t think I can drive down the market streets.”
Haruka rubs his palm down his face. Walking in a public area filled with a myriad of humans on a frigid winter night. God help me.
It’s dark when they finally arrive at Camden Lock. They navigate the narrow cobblestoned streets and alleyways, eventually standing in front of a bar with an illuminated sign. It shines brightly in white, like a second moon against the deep indigo sky. It reads Scotch & Amaretto in relaxed cursive script.
Haruka reaches out to pull the bar door open, but pauses at the sound of his manservant’s voice. “Now… what if this purebred is some kind of crazy pervert and attacks you?”
Standing straight, Haruka genuinely considers the possibility. He can handle a lower-ranked vampire in his weakened state. Another purebred, or even a particularly strong first-generation would be much more challenging. “Most purebreds have exceptional control over their natures, and my primal aura is enclosed. I doubt he would wish to create havoc within his place of business.”
“True.” Asao nods. “I’m suddenly reminded of that one very pushy purebred we met in Montreal. Remember that? What year was that, eighty-three?”
Haruka remembers. He wishes he didn’t. He’s met more than his share of pushy, selfish and entitled vampires. “Why are you reminding me of that right now?”
“It’s better to be prepared.”
Again. Not helping. Haruka tugs the heavy wooden door open (a little harder than necessary).
When he steps inside, he’s immediately tense. The luscious smell of the purebred consumes him. The aroma is clean, woodsy and with a hint of something spiced—mahogany but somehow intermingled with cinnamon. The lighting is low, and in combination with the smell, the intimate space feels perfectly warm and inviting.
He glances around, taking in the refined details of the bar. Several tall oak tables with high stools are thoughtfully placed throughout the main floor. Jewel-toned, orb-shaped candle holders sit in the center of each table, creating soft flickers of light throughout the room. The stone walls are adorned with burning lanterns and sconces, giving the overall impression of a romantic, very trendy Renaissance castle basement… if such a juxtaposition can exist.
Even with all these wonderful elements for the eyes to behold, the farthest wall from the entrance is clearly the focal point of the room.
A full bar glows softly in the darkness. The wall is filled with multi-colored bottles of alcohol, interspersed once more with bright candle holders and other curious, antique-looking artifacts. Haruka likens the wall to an apothecary’s pantry filled with exotic potions and mysterious elixirs.
The bar hosts a comfortable crowd of people for a weekday night. Naturally, they have all stopped and are now staring at him. Haruka sighs. To hell with a discreet entrance.
He scans the length of the bar. Empty. The purebred is nowhere in sight but Haruka can feel his energy. He is definitely here.
“He smells nice,” Asao says brightly, standing behind Haruka. “I’ll stay by the door?”
“Fine.”
Haruka walks forward, ignoring the blatant stares as he skillfully moves his tall body between the tables to follow the narrow path to the bar. As he approaches the counter, a male ducks out from behind a heavy velvet curtain covering a doorframe on the opposite side of the bar. Their eyes meet. Haruka stops dead. The purebred pauses as well—rigid as he stares.
The knot of Haruka’s enclosed aura pulses in his core. It’s subtle, but it independently shifts as if to untie itself from the forced hold. His nature has never done this before. It’s bizarre. Surprised, he almost takes a step back and away from the vampire gawking at him.
With his pulse racing, he inhales a deep breath to gather himself and walks forward again. His action sets the creature behind the bar into motion, and he too cautiously shifts closer to the counter between them. Before Haruka can introduce himself, the purebred speaks.
“Hi… It’s Haruka, right? Haruka Hirano?”
Haruka pauses again, blinking. “How… Why do you know my name?”
“I think every vampire in the UK knows who you are. You’re pretty famous. I had no idea you were this young though.” He shifts his golden-amber eyes to the side, then runs his fingers into his thick hair—coppery-brown in color and styled in a modern trim with wavy length in the top. His honeyed skin practically glows under the soft lighting of the bar.
