The following morning, sunlight pours in through the guest bedroom window like soft lamplight—yellow and with a distinctly hazy quality. Nino lies perfectly still in bed, blinking with his back against the fluffy down bedding. He calmly assesses his surroundings in the tidy room.
He is in another purebred vampire’s house.
For the next three days, he’ll be researching the process of bonding.
Then, he’ll travel to East Sussex to oversee an archaic ritual at Hertsmonceux Castle.
“What the living hell am I doing? Whose life is this?”
Nino takes a deep breath, inhaling the rosy, subtle scent of his new purebred acquaintance. Haruka’s essence saturates every space of his home, which is comfortably nestled between a thick forest at the front of the estate and a wide, open moor at the back. The exterior is comprised of gray stone and white trimmings. It looks like something from a wholesome Christmas fable. Except the halls aren’t decked and there’s no mistletoe.
He doesn’t know how all of this will work out, but he’s here. No turning back. His brother was right. Nino left home with the intention to grow and become more independent, and a perfect (albeit weird) opportunity is staring him in the face. He needs to make the most of it. He will.
Nino gets out of bed, dresses casually in jeans and a warm sweater then heads downstairs. He needs coffee. After being blessed by Asao with a cup, he carries it back upstairs to find Haruka already in the library.
Asao had given Nino a brief tour when he’d arrived yesterday evening, but seeing the impressive space in the daylight is vastly different. The rest of Haruka’s house is cozy and fairly modest, but the library is much more extravagant.
It’s filled with natural light and the walls are lined with dark-oak bookshelves crammed with literature. One area features a cushioned bay window that overlooks the open expanse of the moor. The ceiling is high with warm, modern light fixtures and there’s a black, spiraled iron staircase leading up to a second floor full of books.
Once upstairs, a path lined with the same decorative iron railing wraps around the perimeter of the hollow room. For a touch of character, white candlesticks are mounted in antique-looking sconces strategically placed along the bookshelves.
Haruka is sitting at a handsome cherrywood desk. A wall of colorful, weathered book spines is perfectly arranged behind him. His cable-knit sweater is deep burgundy. When he looks up at Nino, the color reveals subtle flecks of red in his rich brown irises.
“Good morning,” Haruka says.
“Hi.” Nino moves toward him, feeling tense. Their conversation during dinner the previous night was surprisingly easy. They talked about everything from current events in the news to their favorite musicians. Haruka had gone on at some length about classic jazz, particularly John Coltrane and Red Garland.
The reality of being in a stranger’s house still creates a jumbled mess of nerves in Nino’s stomach—like he’s stumbling along blindly in unknown territory or a dark room. At any moment he could easily fall flat on his face.
“Did you sleep well?” Haruka asks.
“I did, thank you. The bed was soft and the room is nice. Everything in your home is so clean and organized.”
“That I cannot take credit for.” Haruka smiles, a certain warmth in his expression. “Asao is the instigator of any tidiness you observe. Left to my own devices, perhaps things would be more… spontaneous.”
Nino laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Is ‘spontaneous’ a euphemism for being messy?”
Haruka grins as he stands from his desk. “To each his own. Do you desire breakfast?”
“No, coffee is good. I’m fine.”
The stately purebred moves toward a small, beautifully crafted live-edge coffee table near a sofa in the middle of the library. There is a thick manuscript bound in tawny leather on the table’s surface.
“If you need something, please do not hesitate to let me or Asao know,” Haruka says, standing beside the table. “I am grateful that you have decided to join me in this antiquated endeavor. So I truly wish for you to feel at ease while staying here.”
“You don’t need to say thank you… I should be apologizing to you. It’s something I should help with anyway. I’m sorry I initially refused. That was selfish of me.”
“Tabula rasa.” Haruka bends to pick up the oversized manuscript. “The slate is clean. This reference guide will help prepare you for the ceremony.”
After quickly placing his coffee cup on the table, Nino takes the reference from Haruka’s grasp. It’s heavy and stuffed to the brim with yellowed pages. Nino moves around the low table to plop himself down on the soft couch. Once settled, he runs his fingers across the embossed leather. The material is cool and smooth underneath his fingertips.
Lore and Lust
Hirano Hatakemori | Hirano Hayato | Hirano Haruka
Evidence and analysis of vampiric bonding.
Cases collected starting Kennin 1201, March 22 to Shōwa 1973, December 23.
“Lore and Lust?” Nino reads. He looks up at Haruka from the couch. The purebred is seated back at his desk. “A little tongue in cheek for an ancient vampiric reference book, no?”
Haruka shuffles papers atop his desk. “Not so ancient. I finished compiling it in the 1980s. And the title is my father’s doing. He was… indisputably coquettish.”
“Wait—you wrote this?”
“With research primarily compiled by my grandfather and father, yes. I simply summarized, typed and organized the material.”
“Incredible.” Nino blinks. “So… it sounds like your dad was fairly good humored and playful. Like father like son?”
“Not particularly,” says Haruka, keeping his eyes on his papers as he begins writing.
“Don’t let him fool you.”
Nino whips his head toward the doorway and Asao is standing there. He walks into the library carrying a bamboo tray with a black lacquer tea set on top. He moves closer and Nino can see that the inside of each cup is coated in bright gold. Intricate pink cherry blossoms are painted on the outsides.
“Haruka definitely has his mother’s calmer, more patient demeanor,” Asao goes on, setting the tray down on the small table directly in front of Nino. “But his eyes and that sultry, ‘come-hither’ nature of his are all Hayato, if he’d ever let it out—”
“Asao—urusai. Damatte kudasai. Sonna no iranai.” Haruka’s frown is focused on his manservant as he switches to his native tongue. But his gaze isn’t angry, more like pleading.
Please stop talking. Nobody needs that. Nino’s smile broadens as he translates Haruka’s admonition in his mind. He’s wildly intrigued by this sudden, candid turn in their conversation.
“So Haruka’s aura is like his father’s?” Nino asks, keeping in English. “My mother’s vampiric essence was dominant in my parents’ coupling, although my brother and I physically favor our father.”
“Right.” Asao nods. “Your mother was Japanese. Do you speak and read it fluently?”
“I can speak it fluently, but reading is hard.” Nino sighs. He probably should have practiced more growing up. He probably should have done a lot of things in his life.
Asao raises his eyebrow, coyly looking toward the desk. He switches to Japanese. “Maybe Haruka could give you some tips while you’re with us? Have some tutoring sessions?”
Haruka instantly lifts his head, frowning yet again at his manservant but speaking in English this time. “He is not here to take Japanese lessons from me. He needs to review the reference—and I have to finish this arduous contract to finalize the confirmation. If we need something, I’ll call you.”
Nino bites his lip to hide his smile. Clearly, this is Haruka’s euphemism for “get the hell out.” Asao winks at Nino in a knowing way as he turns and moves toward the door.
“I hear you, your grace,” Asao says, openly grinning. “Nino, would you like me to bring a pot of coffee in lieu of tea?”
“No, this is perfect. Thank you very much.”
“Of course. Such a polite young purebred you are… Maybe you should be the one giving lessons.”
Haruka’s nose is upturned as he watches the older vampire leave the room. Once he disappears through the doorframe, Haruka drops his expression, studiously focusing on the papers in front of him as if nothing happened. Nino stifles a laugh. What an interesting guy…
Opening the leather manuscript cover, Nino skims over the table of contents and other technical notes. He starts reading the first major section.
Article I. Blood
The foundation of all vampiric bonds is consensual, mutual blood exchange through feeding. Both beings must feed intimately from each other, i.e., direct consumption of blood from flesh. Location of consumption is inconsequential. Blood cannot be consumed indirectly or without consent, e.g. violence, force, medical extraction, etc.
Cases of empirical data collected: 11,203
Compilation summary: Shōwa 1973, December 23
Section 1. Ashikaga Tomoyoshi, Matsunaga Chiyo | Purebred | Nagoya, Japan: Successful bond activation after two months of mutual, consensual feeding as confirmed by Hirano Hatakemori, Chosokabe Morihiro, et. al. Genkyū 1205, February 27.
Nino curiously reads through each account. It’s interesting, but many of the entries are similar. His eyes start glazing over from reading so many archaic Japanese names. He shakes his head to rouse himself.
The library is silent. Bright sunlight warms the space, quietly marking the subtle shift from morning to afternoon. With his hot cup of tea in hand, Nino feels surprisingly peaceful, occasionally stealing a quick glance across the room at Haruka. The enigmatic purebred is focused on writing the confirmation contract at his desk. Aside from the occasional shuffle of papers, he doesn’t make a sound.
Section 5,495. Tanaka Miya, Aisha Patel | First-Generation, Purebred | Tokyo, Japan | Successful bond activation after six months of mutual, consensual feeding as confirmed by Devya Khatri, Nakagawa Rei, et. al. Taishō 1912, October 1.
“Hm.” Nino tilts his head, hesitantly breaking the long-established silence of the room. “Based on this reference book, you get a firm sense of when Japan started integrating with vampires from other countries. That’s pretty neat.”
“All of my grandfather’s entries through the year 1523 are from those vampires of Japanese descent,” Haruka says, his eyes cast down as he writes. “My father’s entries are much more diverse. He also traveled abroad for a short time and collected accounts from various mated couples internationally. He seemed to have a genuine passion for this research.”
Despite himself, Nino chuckles. “Or maybe he just liked watching?”
Haruka abruptly stops writing and looks up at him, his brown eyes flat. “May I emphasize that not all accounts in the book are first-hand.”
“I’m sorry, I honestly just meant that as a joke—not funny. Sorry.” Nino scratches his head and returns his gaze to the book, flipping further along in the section. Stupid, Nino. Nice job, you ass.
“No apology is necessary,” Haruka assures him, offering a little smile. “Later, the research becomes undeniably… detailed? Even I questioned my father’s motives at times. It is valuable information—though inelegant.”
Grateful for the reassurance, a subtle warmth slowly fills Nino’s chest. “Do you have first-hand accounts written in here?” he asks.
Haruka sighs and sits back in his chair. He stares vacantly across the room. “Only one. Afterward, I discontinued the practice of formal confirmations under my realm. I firmly believe that vampires should bond privately and at their own discretion. Not in a fishbowl.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Nino says, scanning another entry. “I wonder what that was like back then? Even though our culture is non-discriminate about race and gender, humans during that time definitely were—still are. How did those vampires manage? Especially couplings of the same gender.”
Haruka folds his arms, his brow furrowed. “I imagine it was extremely difficult. Our presence as creatures genetically contrasted with humans was a myth until the 1800s—something only expressed among humans as folklore or through the hysterics of an escaped victim. Our existence was still hidden at that time, let alone the added, complex layers of race and sexuality.”
“Sounds like hell. I’m grateful to be born in this era where we can be free.”
“I echo your sentiments,” Haruka says. “But many humans still face these challenges in certain geographic areas, although they have made undeniable progress as a race overall.”
Nino flips another page, then exhales a frustrated sigh. He can’t hold it in any longer. “Haruka… can I ask you a question?”
Haruka pauses, guarded in his expression as he returns Nino’s gaze. “Yes?”
“Wouldn’t it have been more convenient to arrange this information by chronological order, and then by each couple’s bloodline rank?”
Haruka blinks. “What?”
Standing, Nino walks to meet him at his desk, book in hand. He lowers the manuscript to Haruka’s field of vision. “If I wanted to know data for all purebred couples—meaning a purebred mating with a purebred, versus a first-gen coupling or a third-gen coupling—it’d be impossible to tell with the way you have this set up. How can I know for certain if the success rate among first-gen couples is any better than between a first-gen and purebred couple? What if someone asked a question about a particular mated couple in a time span? It’d take forever to find them this way.”
In Nino’s analytical mind, it makes the most sense: organize the information in one overarching way, then another within it to create even more specific, streamlined results.
Haruka’s confused expression slowly morphs into one of indignation. When his eyebrow dramatically arches up his forehead, Nino instinctively takes a step back.
“Are you criticizing forty years’ worth of detailed work, organization and translation?” Haruka asks, his gaze steady and his deep voice eerily calm.
Nino opens his mouth, then shuts it. He moves toward the couch and tries again. “No, I was just… It was an observation.”
“Both my grandfather’s and father’s research were in Japanese, so I had the added task of translating it into English so that it could be understood by a larger audience if necessary. Ultimately, I decided not to have it reprinted due to the sensitive nature of the information. I apologize that it does not meet your organizational and analytical standards.”
Nino runs his palm down his face. Why am I so stupid? Hesitant, he looks up from beneath his lashes, wondering if Haruka might show him grace yet again. “Do you want me flogged and thrown in the dungeon?”
Haruka unexpectedly breathes a laugh as he shakes his head. “No. This offense would have you thrown in the stocks.”
Nino grins. “With raggedy peasants hurling tomatoes at my head?”
“Potatoes.”
“Ouch.”
“Your suggestion is valid.” Haruka draws his long body up from the desk, stretching his arms. “Albeit dilatory. Shall we break for lunch?”
“Sure. As long as there are no potatoes involved.”