Page 36 of The Vanishing
Chaos. It’s the first word that springs to mind the moment Cellina steps off the train that drops her into the concrete maze of Osaka station the following week. It’s Friday evening. She navigates the thick current of people, feeling as if she’s inside one of those intricate underground ant farms.
Following the signs toward Sakurabashi Gate, she weaves her way through, keeping with the intense flow of the crowd. From her peripheral vision, she observes the shiny allure of clean-looking, brightly lit convenience stores and souvenir shops filled with pretty objects: handmade bags patterned with vibrant Japanese textiles and colorful bento boxes neatly stacked under artificial cherry blossom trees.
Stepping out of the revolving doors, Cellina sucks in a breath. The air is balmy and hazy and smells of a city—exhaust fumes, cement high-rises, rubber and paved roads. Neon signs in both kanji she can’t read and English she can flash atop tall buildings. First impression: Osaka feels gritty. Busier and rougher around the edges than Kyoto and Okayama. The latter two cities are more like a charming, gentle aunt who bakes cookies while Osaka is a rowdy uncle who drinks too much.
Cellina stops, trying to discern Giovanni through the urban haze with her innate senses. A second later he’s there, his fingertips gentle as he touches her waist.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.” She smiles, happy to see a familiar face amidst the overwhelming foreignness of her surroundings. His suit looks black… or is it very dark blue? His shirt underneath reminds her of sangria and his tie is soft and satiny in a darker shade of the same color.
Cellina snickers. They match.It wasn’t intentional, of course, but she’s wearing her breezy navy blue jersey dress with fluttery sleeves and a plunge neckline. The train ride from Okayama is two hours, and she knew this particular dress would travel well and keep her comfortable in the summer humidity. Her strappy burnt-orange heels offer nothing as far as comfort, but they look amazing with the dress. She’ll deal with the consequences of prioritizing fashion over the general health and well-being of her feet later.
“The car is this way.” He nods his head to the right, stepping in the same direction. He flips his hand open in a casual gesture. Without thinking, she slides her palm into his, clasping his fingers as he guides her. The gentle contact makes something like electricity shimmer up her arm and to her chest. Her heart pulses and skips.
When they’re in the back seat of a black town car, she takes a deep breath. The space is a cool shelter compared with the frenetic heat and tenacity of the city outside.
“You look wonderful,” Giovanni says, focusing on her before looking down at his smartphone. The blue-white glow of the device illuminates his sculpted features in the dusky evening light.
“Thanks, you too.” And he smells wonderful. Clean, gingery and perfectly male. His purebred aura radiates from him, subtle but filling the vehicle. In a meager effort to distract herself, Cellina looks out the window, watching the bright lights, tall buildings and throngs of people zip by.
“This is nice.” He slips his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and focuses on her.
“What is?”
“Going to an aristocracy event together… sitting here.” He grins. “You not ignoring me.”
Cellina raises her eyebrow, haughty. “I was under the impression that we were ignoring each other.”
“Nope. I never ignored you. Not once.”
“You’re playing innocent now?” Cellina asks. “Like you didn’t tell me to go away and that you didn’t want to look at me ever again.”
“I regretted saying that the minute you walked away.”
Cellina frowns. “How was I supposed to know that? Why didn’t you say something?”
Giovanni shrugs. “Because you were ignoring me—stone cold. Like I didn’t even exist if we were in the same room together.”
“That’s my superpower. I was just doing what my realm leader told me to do.”
“Your superpower sucks.” Giovanni smirks, adjusting his back against the seat. “Is that what we are now, Lina? Realm leader and dutiful subject? You’re coming with me tonight as part of some aristocratic obligation?”
“No. I’m here because… I wanted to support you, and Haruka and Nino. Because I want the two of us to be friends like we used to be.”
Giovanni scoffs in the dim light. “There’s that word again.”
“What then, Giovanni? What do you want us to be?”
He turns his head to meet her gaze. The intensity behind his hazel-green irises makes Cellina inhale and sit up straighter. Her body temperature rises as the silence stretches on. His eyes flicker down, taking her in before he faces forward again. “What I want and what I can have are two very different things.”
“My lord, my lady, we’re here,” the driver announces.
She blows out a breath as Giovanni exits the car.What the hell does that mean?He’s a purebred vampire—realm leader over one of the most prosperous and dense communities of vampires in Europe. In general, he can have and do whatever he pleases, and no one can understand why Giovanni still hasn’t bonded after all this time. There are some rumors and speculations, but nobody knows the reason.
Wanting any moment of escape she could manage, Cellina had undone her shoes upon getting into the vehicle. She bends down, rushing to secure the ribbon on her left foot as Giovanni opens the car door.
“One second, please,” she says, finishing up the left foot and shifting her long legs out the door so she has more room to do the right shoe. Before she can bend down, Giovanni crouches in front of her, taking hold of her foot in his large hand and examining the shoe. Cellina shakes her head in protest. “I’ll do it—”
