The Vanishing by Karla Nikole
Nine
The rooms in which Cellina and Giovanni are staying share the same veranda. After she’s unpacked her things, Cellina slides the paper door open and ventures outside. Sitting down on the hardwood with her legs folded, she breathes the clean, damp air, watching the rain fall over the bamboo-lined garden.
It’s dusk. The sky is theatrical—a mix of pink sunset hues and dark-slate rain clouds. Romantic but dreary. Hopeful? She can hear Giovanni pacing back and forth in his room through the thin door, his footfalls heavy against the traditional flooring. He’s on the phone, barking in his “King of the Realm” way.
Staring blankly at the rain-soaked landscape, she loses track of time. When the paper door to Giovanni’s room slides open, she looks over her shoulder. He’s carrying a large leather-bound planner and his smartphone as he sits beside her, his long legs hanging over the edge of the veranda. She shivers. The temperature has dropped.
“Are you cold?” he asks, watching her.
Cellina shakes her head. “I’m alright.”
He nods. “Asao gave me their schedules. I’ve only glanced at them, but I should probably take Nino’s clients while you manage Haruka’s responsibilities. They seem more suited to your expertise, but let me know what you prefer.”
He opens the tawny leather planner between them, and Cellina scans the pages in silence as Giovanni pounds out text messages on his phone. She reads, but is discreet in lifting her eyes to check his profile. A shadow graces his strong jaw. Giovanni hasn’t worn a beard since last year. He’s due for a shave. His expression is displeased as he stares into the glow of his phone. He’s sitting right beside her, but as always, he feels miles away—like a beautiful husk of the warm, protective vampire she’d once known.
After reading through the planner and considering, Cellina sets her shoulders back. “I agree with you. I’ll take over Haruka’s responsibilities. I don’t have the Japanese to negotiate detailed business contracts, but I think I can get by with social visits and planning some events. This Latin translation project will have to wait, but I’ll still go meet the family and let them know Haruka hasn’t dropped their request.”
“Alright.” Giovanni blows out a breath, still typing and focused on his phone. “I’ll pick up everything on Nino’s end. In about a month I have to go back home. Let’s reassess the plan around that time.”
“Sounds good.” Cellina sighs. “Is there anything else we can do? Haruka seems like he’s about to shatter.”
“We’re here,” Giovanni says, looking up at her with empathetic eyes. “All we can do is be together. Haruka has already turned over every book in his library, and I’ve been as discreet as possible in reaching out to my contacts… Father is a mix between distraught and murderous. But we have to wait. This creature… Lajos will bring Nino back. He has to if he wants the damn book.”
But what if he hurts him? What if he’s suffering?Cellina wants to ask, but Giovanni doesn’t have the answers. No one does. Stressing out won’t help anything. “Right,” she says, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “We should talk to Asao about securing high-level sources, depending on how long we need to stay?”
Giovanni shakes his head, shifting his attention back down to his phone. “I don’t need that. You should ask him for yourself though.”
“Um, you can’t go a month without feeding.”
He looks at her, smirking with his thick lips. “I didn’t know you cared.”
She frowns. “Like you give a single fuck about whether or notI care.”
“Oh, I give a fuck. Several. You can’t even imagine the fucks I give.”
“Now that I agree with. So, what then? Are you planning on bar-hopping to find your next source? I know that’s your secret thing—sleeping around and sampling the local goods.”
Giovanni scoffs. “That was a long time ago. Over a hundred years ago. I was eighteen. Are you going to hold that over my head forever? I can’t ever live that down?”
“You can do whatever you want. It has nothing to do with me—”
“It has everything to do with you. And all I wanted was for you to fucking look at me. To acknowledge me.”
His heavy voice echoes through the silence of the rainy garden. Cellina blinks. “What? What the hell are you talking about? You told me—”
“I know what I said, alright? But I—”
There’s a knock at Giovanni’s door. He turns, and Cellina hears Asao’s voice from inside. “I have the table set for dinner.”
Giovanni stands, abrupt, then bends to pick up the large planner between them. Cellina gets up, dusting her leggings off as she glances over at him. He avoids her gaze and walks back into his room.
They move toward the kitchen in weighted silence. Cellina is worried about her missing friend and the emotional state of his husband. Now isn’t the time to dance with old skeletons from her and Giovanni’s closet. That is the absolute last thing she needs right now.
