Page 9 of The Arrival
Junichi stands straight, frowning. “Ren is here?”
“Yes, he’s out back—you can’t miss him with those colossal wings. We couldn’t even get him through the front door. Such a mess. Anywho…” She turns, lithe and graceful as she gestures toward the hallway behind her. “Cocktails are being served in the garden and there are appetizers in the main hall. Please, enjoy yourselves, my gracious lords.” She offers a bow before whisking off to the side to greet another guest, her full skirt sweeping and her arms like a ballerina’s.
“Drinks?” Junichi asks.
“Please,” Nino says. “I need something to take the edge off.”
“I’m going to inspect the ballroom,” Asao says, still holding his pipe to his lips. “I sense that there are games afoot.”
“I sense the woman who owns that izakaya that you drag me to every Friday night lately,” Junichi counters. “I thought you needed to help Sydney in the kitchen?” Sydney, one of the young vampires they rescued from Socotra, is now a permanent resident within Nino and Haru’s home. Acclimating Sydney to modern society was rough in the beginning, but lately, he’s been cultivating his interest in cuisine and making a name for himself within their local aristocracy.
“All shall reveal itself in due course.” Sticking the pipe between his lips, Asao precedes them down the hall. Junichi fans his cape out so that it moves stylishly as he walks behind Asao. Nino rolls his eyes and Haruka laughs as they link arms and trail behind.
The back garden is strewn with more intricately carved jack-o’-lanterns, glittering purple lights and even black pillars serving as cocktail tables. Each table holds a cluster of blood-red candles in the center—the flames flickering and the wax carelessly dripping onto the surface. The pool in the center of the snug space has also been treated so that the still water appears scarlet.
Immediately, Nino and Haruka are pulled into an inevitable cyclone of greetings, compliments and genial conversations. Tonight’s event is informal, so, much to Nino’s relief, most of the vampires they encounter keep the conversations lighthearted and free of official aristocracy affairs. No questions about the imposed tax rates, unwarranted suggestions for improving the refugee program or requests for Nino’s advice on how to deal with some personal business issue.
“So, when can we expect the little one within your clan?” The vampire in front of him is older and wears a black cape with a high collar that curves around his ears. His dark hair is slicked back, his face painted white, and an intentional drizzle of fake blood trails from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. “I heard that there’s a human doctor launching a surrogacy program in Himeji, and that you and Haruka are the first clients. How excellent. How long will it take to find a find proper match for you? Are you excited to become a father? I, for one, am thrilled that the Hirano line will finally prosper. I feel strongly that Master Hayato would be pleased.”
Nino has no idea how this creature knows about their private business. He also doesn’t know why this vampire is dressed like a vampire. “I’m a cliché!” he’d said, to which Haruka had thrown Nino a quick but distinct sideways glance before being dragged off by Hana. Nino has been left on his own to deal with this creature’s barrage of questions.
“I—We don’t know about the timing yet.” Nino inhales deep. He hasn’t even had his drink and this vampire is only heightening his stress.
“Yamaguchi-san, may I borrow his grace?” Junichi comes up from behind, his fingers lightly touching Nino’s elbow. “There are some things we need to discuss.”
“Oh, yes, yes. Of course.” Yamaguchi-san grins, his fangs forcefully exposed to emphasize his costume.
Nino bows as they head toward a stone bench just beside the pool, where Haruka is already sitting. As Nino approaches, he frowns at his mate. “You abandoned me.”
“I did not. Hana wanted to show me her latest acquisition—a book of historic ensembles by George Wither. First edition. I am not inclined toward fashion history, but it is an impressive procurement on her part. The condition of the manuscript was stunning. Very well preserved.”
“Fine. Then why not come back for me once you were finished?” Nino holds his hand out, and despite the confused furrow in his brow, Haruka takes it. He urges his mate to stand. “Yamaguchi is the worst.” Nino sits, taking his spot on the bench. Haruka understands and settles himself down against his thighs.
“I sent Jun,” he reasons, making himself comfortable against his lap. “If I had returned for you, then we’d both be trapped in an intrusive conversation.”
“And I don’t mind,” Jun says, sitting on the short bench beside them. “Just keep me away from Ren—Nino, your drink is behind you. I got you an old-fashioned.”
“Thank God.” Nino twists to his side and sees the drink sitting on the low pillar just behind his mate’s back. He brings it to his mouth, careful to avoid spilling it.
“You haven’t greeted Ren yet?” Haruka’s eyes are wide. “What are you waiting for?”
Junichi brings his own drink to his mouth. “Hell to freeze over.”
“Will you tell Ren about Doctor Jae’s residing with you for the short term?” Haruka asks.
“No. It’s none of his business.”
Haruka sighs, his back straight as Nino looks up at him. He drapes his free arm against his mate’s lower back and hip, cradling him. The weight of Haruka offers Nino an odd contentment, or solidity, maybe, that he can’t quite explain. He smiles to himself.
“I do understand the disdain that you hold for Ren as your source,” Haruka explains. “And I am not playing devil’s advocate, but it is unquestionably his business that you as his source will be housing and feeding another vampire.”
Nino turns his head toward the walkway leading up to their bench. He speaks around the glass rim at his lips. “Hell is frozen…”
Ren’s traditional robe is jet black and perfectly fitted to his tall frame as he strides. Two enormous, glistening dark wings are attached to his back, and his long hair is bone straight, cascading over his left shoulder and down to his waist. He draws closer and the light warms him. His face, chest and hands have been painted cherry red.
“Wow…” Nino blinks, staring up at him.
Ren’s expression is flat as he lifts his chin. “Nino.Haruka.”
