The Vanishing by Karla Nikole

Fourteen

Haruka hates the smell of hospitals. He is sensitive to odors, and the barrage of human blood and harsh cleaning products gives him a headache. He sits beside Nino on the bed. The benefit of this is twofold—he is closer in proximity to his mate, and the unique scent of Nino helps to drown out the other distasteful scents surrounding him.

Nino is out cold, lying on his back and tucked underneath the sheets with his chest rising and falling. The doctor said he needs much sleep as part of his recovery. Haruka slides and tangles his fingers into the coppery length atop his head. It is soft but weighted down from days of being unwashed.

There is a thick dusting of coppery-golden hair tracing his jawline, chin and upper lip. Nino hates his facial hair and shaves it clean every day, but Haruka smiles, looking down at him. He likes it. His husband looks like a youthful, gingery lumberjack. He needs some flannel.

The door to the hospital room slides open and Giovanni is there. Stylish in a dark trench coat over his dress shirt and slacks, he has just arrived from managing Nino’s business dealings in Osaka. Cellina and Asao sit together at a small table off to the side near an open window. His manservant is teaching her how to play karuta.

“What’s the prognosis?” Giovanni walks to the opposite side of the bed, looking down at his sleeping brother.

“He is underfed.” Haruka sighs. “His ribs are damaged and his tongue is missing.”

Giovanni flickers his hazel-green eyes over to him, frowning. “What was that last part?”

“Lajos vanished his tongue and assaulted him.” Haruka shakes his head, resentment churning thick within his heart. If he even sees Lajos again, he will strangle him and put an end to his repulsive life. Period.

“What a fucking maniac—What purpose did any of that serve?” The green behind Giovanni’s eyes flashes a little brighter. He takes a deep breath and runs his palm down his face. “Has he been awake enough to tell you anything?”

“No. Earlier, he opened his eyes for about five seconds, but only said ‘Hi’ to me with his inner voice and smiled before falling asleep again.”

“Well, that’s a good sign, I guess. What happened to the old man?”

“He disappeared again,” Haruka grumbles. The situation is unnerving. A callous, malevolent creature is roaming free and with full knowledge of their location. He can appear at will and without warning, capable of vanishing either or both of them at any time of the day or night.

Stress pounds between Haruka’s ears—the utter lack of control within this circumstance creates stiff tension all throughout his body. How can he ever go on as he was? Blasé and wildly unprepared for a sudden attack. Lazy and overconfident in his ability. Nothing will ever be the same. From this day forward, he’ll do whatever it takes to protect his mate.

“This old creep’s ability is terrifying,” Cellina professes. “You ancient-blooded vamps and your bizarre powers… To use his ability like this in the modern age is crazy. If Haruka decided to bend other vampires to his will, who could realistically stop him?”

Asao laughs, boisterous. “He’s waaay too introverted for that.”

Haruka nods in agreement. “From a personal standpoint, that sounds like a nightmare.”

Nino rouses underneath Haruka’s palm, opening his eyes with heavy lids. He looks exhausted—still too pale. He stretches his body and flinches from the pain. Giovanni steps closer, frowning. “Why does his mouth look full like that? Because his tongue is gone?”

“No,” Haruka says. He slides his hand down Nino’s face, then presses his thumb against his soft lips. Nino opens, letting him slip it inside to drag his top lip up. Sharp white teeth gleam, protruding from his mate’s gums. “His incisors won’t retract because he was close to being starved and needed to feed. The doctor said his body should adjust to the IV drip of my blood within twenty-four hours. They will return to normal soon.”

Stepping forward, Giovanni places a large hand atop Nino’s head. “You can’t walk around with your fangs hanging out, kiddo. It’s uncivilized. What will the neighbors think?”

Nino snorts in a faint sound, but then it escalates into violent coughing and choking. Haruka lifts, anxious as he places both of his hands against Nino’s cheeks. “Breathe, my love. Open your mouth.”

Obedient, Nino opens his fanged mouth and draws in a deep breath, his chest heaving up and down. He repeats this action until his body relaxes and he regains control. Haruka frowns, snapping his head toward Giovanni. “Don’t make him laugh!”

Giovanni shrugs, grinning. “It’s better to keep our spirits up.”

While still holding his face with one palm, Haruka leans down and caresses his nose against Nino’s fuzzy cheek. “Welcome home.”

Nino’s voice is groggy in his mind, soft. Thanks… I missed you. It was painful.

“I missed you. You’re safe now.”

I know.

“I will never let this happen again. Where did he take you?”

I… don’t know. Somewhere with desert mountains… and an old house. Ladislao was there.

“Almeida? From Rio de Janeiro?”

Nino smirks, lazy. Tesoro, what other Ladislao is there?

“Of course.” Haruka leans in once more, kissing the tip of his nose. “Who did this to you?”

His mate gasps in a deep yawn, his lids growing heavier and his eyes like narrow slits. Lajos… just before he brought me back… Nino’s eyes are shut, his breathing shallow. Haruka caresses his thumb against the bristly hair of his cheek, lulling him to sleep.

“What did he say?” Giovanni asks.

“That he was in an old house somewhere surrounded by desert and mountains. Ladislao was there.”

“Almeida? From Brazil?”

Haruka glares. “Did you not just hear me say that?”

“I couldn’t hear his responses!”

“So including Nino,” Cellina says thoughtfully, “that’s twovampires we know for sure Lajos is responsible for vanishing.”

“Are you telling me that a singular vampire is responsible for the Vanishing?” Giovanni asks. “That this one crazy-ass old man pulled off the greatest upset of our culture’s history?”

The silence in the room is stiff as they look at each other. Haruka glances down, taking Nino’s limp hand into his own and entwining their fingers. Despite being asleep, Nino grips his palm.

Cellina stands from the table and stretches her arms over her head. The moment she moves, Giovanni’s gaze follows her like a hawk eyeing its prey. She rolls her shoulders underneath her hooded sweatshirt. “I need coffee if we’re going to unpack the aristocracy’s greatest mysteries. How many am I bringing back?”

“I would like a cup,” Haruka says. “Thank you, Cellina.”

“Me too… please,” Giovanni admits.

Asao stands from the table as well. “I’ll go with you. I need to move around.” Giovanni’s head turns, scanning her as she saunters toward the door. Cellina is a beautiful female with smooth, cinnamon-brown skin and thick, curly hair. Even dressed in casual clothes and with her curls stacked and messy atop her head, an undeniable allure and confidence radiates from her.

When she’s gone, Giovanni relaxes his shoulders as if he’d been waiting for something—a fight? When it doesn’t come, he exhales and moves to take the place she’d occupied at the table. He looks down at the playing cards there and pokes them with his fingers.

“Did you think she would refuse to get you coffee?” Haruka asks. Nino’s eyes are closed. He’s sleeping again.

“Maybe,” Giovanni says, turning his head to glance out the bright window. “I have to go home in a month to take care of some things, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Asao has secured a source for Cellina. Would you like him to arrange one for yourself? We are more than happy to accommodate you.”

“No. I’m alright.”

Haruka turns to face Giovanni. He is not one to push, but having a second starving Bianchi within his household is undesirable. “Giovanni, you should not go a month without feeding.”

His brother-in-law’s gaze shifts toward him. “I’m feeding. I have bags.”

“Bags?” Haruka cringes. “Why would you choose to feed this way?” Haruka has fed from bags in his past, when he was avoiding intimacy and being indebted to other vampires. It had served the intended purpose, but the practice was abysmal. Stale. Feeding fresh from the warmth of a living, breathing creature—especially one that you love… There is nothing better. Nothing.

Giovanni folds his arms. He stares down at the karuta cards atop the table for a long minute. Just as Haruka opens his mouth again, Giovanni speaks. “I don’t choose to feed this way. I have to, to help keep our father alive. I’m my father’s source, so my feeding source impacts his well-being. It’s too risky to feed from just anyone.”

Haruka’s mouth is still open as Giovanni’s confession sinks in. He blinks and closes it, processing. “This… this is how your father survives without his mate?”

“Yes. My blood is a combination of my father’s and mother’s blood. The biology he receives from me helps to nourish the part of him that suffers from the loss of my mother. He doesn’t feed directly though. We’re not complete fucking weirdos.”

Unbelievable… Haruka stares out the window, considering. When his mother died, there had been talk. He wasn’t supposed to be listening, but he’d been eavesdropping, as children do. He’d noticed his father, Hayato, getting weaker, day by day. So Haruka had taken to quietly following him around. Just to be near him and watch over him, knowing that their time together was finite.

In a hushed conversation, Asao had asked if Hayato might try feeding from Haruka. He’d refused. It was the first and singular time he’d seen his father display anger toward Asao. Haruka still remembers his words as if it were yesterday…

I will not sacrifice my son’s entire life to cling to some deficient, hapless version of my own.

Given the opportunity, Haruka would have done anything to save his father—to keep him alive and with him. Even if it meant a questionable quality of life for both of them. His father made his choice, gifting Haruka with free will and loneliness in exchange.

Giovanni’s father, Domenico, made a different choice.

“You cannot feed of your own free will?” Haruka asks, refocusing on Giovanni. “And you cannot form a bond?”

Haruka waits, the silence stretching out between them before Giovanni answers.

“Nope.”

Familiar voices approach the closed door. Giovanni looks up at him, serious. “You don’t repeat any of this.”

“Does Nino know about this?”

Giovanni scoffs. “Of course he knows.”

“Cellina?”

“No.”

The door slides open and Asao walks in first with a tray full of coffee cups. Cellina follows behind. Giovanni stands from the seat, says “Thanks” as he takes a cup from Asao’s tray, then moves toward the armchair in the opposite corner of the room. He sips the coffee, but his eyes keep darting over to Cellina.