Page 13 of The Vanishing
Standing from the couch, Haruka gently releases Nino’s hand. This stranger has come into his home, insulted his mate, offended his manservant and challenged the moral foundation upon which Haruka stands. Now, he expresses blatant xenophobia toward ranked vampires. Their introductions are finished.
“I do not share in your ideals, nor do I believe I can help you achieve any of your goals. I am sorry that you have wasted your time. I ask that you leave our realm.”
Lajos doesn’t move. He looks up, blinking his cold eyes as if Haruka hasn’t said a word. “I have an associate that tells me you own an interesting collection of research surrounding vampiric bonds. Is this the case?”
“I have asked that you leave our home,” Haruka says, unblinking, as Nino stands up beside him. Lajos breathes a laugh.
“Young male,” he says, his smile fading, “I do not take kindly to refusals. Perhaps I am spoiled in my old age, but it is not something I am… accustomed to.”
“Then I am grateful to assist in your personal development.” Haruka nods. “Take your leave. Now.”
Lajos stares. The arrogant smile disappears from his wrinkled mouth and his irises flicker back and forth between the two of them. He sighs, eyes closed as he shifts a white-gloved hand up to the center of his forehead to massage with his fingers. “You are quite strong-minded, and thus will take some convincing. I see that now.”
He opens his eyes and they’re glowing bright, milky white. He flicks his fingers toward them in a lazy motion. Haruka draws back at the odd gesture, but nothing happens.
“Haru—”
Haruka whips his head around, meeting Nino’s panic-stricken face. He doesn’t understand at first, but when he looks down, Nino’s body is dissolving from the bottom up. Haruka tenses at the sight of his form misting before his eyes. Panicked, he reaches out to wrap his arms around him, but there is nothing to hold on to. Nino is gone. He’d been standing there warm and solid one moment, but the next, vanished.
Something like a gaping hole opens in Haruka’s gut, as if he’s been shot through with a cannon ball. He grabs his stomach from the emptiness and pain. The hollow misery. It isn’t as if Nino is dead. He can still sense that he’s alive. But he’s too far away, somewhere indiscernible and beyond Haruka’s reach.
His mind burns hot—a thundercloud of rage, confusion and despair gripping him all at once. His eyes alight as he looks at the old vampire sitting on his couch. Haruka releases the heavy weight of his aura with force, thrusting it toward Lajos to subjugate him in totality. He wraps his energy around the decrepit vampire, lifting him from his seated position and tightening the grip of his energy like a large snake suffocating its prey.
But his mental hold on the creature flickers, like something solid within his grip has turned into sand and slips through his fingers. Lajos dissolves in Haruka’s grasp, the form of his body rolling and turning into misty nothingness. He is gone.
“I’ve seen your power, young male.”
Haruka looks up, and Lajos is standing in the doorway, calm and with his white eyes glowing like headlights. A sound just beside Haruka shifts his attention. He watches as the cane Lajos walked in with dissolves, then reappears in his hand.
“You are an exceptional creature.” Lajos smirks. “But I have lived for centuries and you cannot hold me. You will not be breaking my limbs today—”
“Return him NOW—”
“Ido not take orders, young male. I give them. You will calm down and politely reconsider my request. Shall we try again in a few days?”
Haruka opens his mouth to speak, but Lajos dissolves. Gone again. The room is silent save for the heavy rainfall outside.
Despair crashes down on Haruka’s psyche—violent and painful. Hopeless. An hour ago, his world had been perfect: safe and insulated with the warmth of profound love and security. Now, the world has turned on its head and Nino is gone. Vanished. The gaping hole Haruka feels in his core intensifies, the searing agony and hollowness of it instigating the blind anger flooding his mind.
He curses, and the pressure of his aura explodes from his body. There is a loud boom and the sound of glass breaking. The lights in the room flicker, then die. He drops to his knees from the pain radiating in his body. He gasps, desperate for air as he sits, shrouded in complete darkness.
Six
Across the ocean, it’s a beautiful morning in Milan. The weather is sunny and mild, and thankfully dry enough to where Cellina is confident that she won’t have any surprise hair malfunctions halfway through the day (namely frizz—the cruel and silent aggressor).
She stares at the large, flat calendar covering her desk. It’s almost time to leave for her lunch appointment with the new artist she’s pursuing. She looks over to her left. The nude, six-inch strappy pumps that she wore into the office lie discarded against the ornate rug covering the marble floor. She sighs. “High heel bullshit.”
One day, when she’s the sole proprietor of her own small art gallery, she’ll never wear high heels. After she’s played the game, made the connections and established her name as a credible force in the art world, she’ll wear sexy leggings and bright sneakers to work every day. Anyone who takes issue can kindly fuck off.
Her phone rings, disrupting her fantasy of soft hooded sweatshirts and strappy sports bras. Cellina leans forward, glancing at the screen. Giovanni. “Why?” She frowns. He never calls her. Ever—despite knowing each other and being connected their entire lives. Because their fathers were best friends, she spent the bulk of her childhood with the Bianchi siblings. While Cellina adores and has a long history of looking after the younger brother, Nino, Giovanni is… a different circumstance entirely. Complicated.
“Yes?” Cellina answers. Their communications with each other aren’t cordial. Not since she was a teenager, anyway. If he’s calling, there’s a reason. May as well cut to the chase.
“Come to the house,” he barks in his husky voice. That’s part of the problem with Giovanni. Too male and overflowing with testosterone. Too proud and bullheaded, using his entitled purebred authority to order people around.
“What? Right now?”
“Yes, please,” he says. Silence.
