The Vanishing by Karla Nikole

Twenty-Eight

Nino marvels as they fly in the small commuter plane, the Arabian Sea magnificent and vivid beneath them in their descent toward Socotra Island. The coastline is the most striking gradient of blue, turquoise and green he’s ever seen. It reminds him of a precious gemstone hidden deep within a cave: raw malachite or fluorite.

The jagged cliffs loom in the backdrop, imposing. Immovable like strict barriers—titans drawn up from the earth and reaching toward the sky. They make him feel insignificant. His one hundred and fourteen years as a creature of this earth are nothing next to the millennia and fortitude of these mountains.

After twenty hours of travel, they land in Hadibu to meet Detective Cuevas. She and her third-gen deputy, Marcus, are their escort from the airport, driving them in an old white minibus toward the town they’ll be staying in before traveling to Lajos’s house in the mountains.

Within a few weeks, the detective had discovered the location, but it was abandoned. Not a single purebred could be found—in the house, or within the mud-brick village Nino had seen in the distance. Knowing that purebreds have a sharp sense of awareness, the detective asked that Nino and Haruka join them in Socotra to assist in the case.

The ride into town is rough, dusty and jostling against the road. Nino doesn’t bother looking over at his house cat of a mate, afraid of what he might see: eyes like daggers that read “I had to leave the comfort of my library for this? A nauseating ride in a toy bus?”

It’s basically what he’s thinking. Lately, when Haruka is displeased, his thoughts resonate loud in Nino’s head, whether he wants them to or not. Something about them sharing mind space for the past two months and while Nino’s tongue was regenerating has made communicating this way easier than ever before. Whether this is good or bad, Nino isn’t certain.

“Another monsoon is rolling in,” Detective Cuevas shouts over the noise of the road, the loud hum of the vehicle’s engine. “We’ll wait it out tonight, then take a helicopter tomorrow when the weather clears.”

The deputy turns a corner a little harder than necessary, making Nino grip the metal bar above him, but not before slamming into Haruka’s shoulder.

“Sorry about that.” Marcus raises a hand from the steering wheel.

Now, he does look over at his mate. Haruka is healthy again. After a few weeks of intentional TLC under Nino’s supervision (which included a series of homecooked meals, some pretty intense sexual encounters and, consequently, several nights of deep sleep), the dark circles are gone, his features elegant and glowing once more.

Also, his hair is short—the shortest Nino has ever seen it. He’d gotten it cut just before leaving. The young, lounging ukiyo-e feudal lord is gone, replaced by an intellectual university student who takes his research too seriously.

At present, Haruka’s expression is dead serious. His eyes are clenched shut. Nino shifts his gaze ahead. “How long is the helicopter ride to get to Lajos’s house?” he asks.

“About an hour,” the detective yells. “It’s deep in the Hajhir mountains. We can’t drive there. Any other method would take days of travel.”

God help me.

Nino blinks toward his mate. Sorry, Haru…

“This is it,” Detective Cuevas announces.

The vehicle slows, still bumping along the wide path that weaves through the village. Nino looks out the window. The sun is low with thick gray clouds hovering in the west.

Their surroundings are stark—colorless except for the singular spectrum of beige to dirt brown. The occasional pastel green of an awning. Hadibu is like a small town born in the middle of a desert wilderness. Most of the structures are packed together, flat and low. Some are dirty and partially destroyed, others are intact but with rock debris or litter scattered along the gravel in front of them. Clothes, blankets and household wares adorn the entrance of one structure they pass. Another, a small herd of goats.

The van stops in front of a squat square house with a large crack in the stone steps leading to the entrance.

“Your accommodations for the evening, my lords.” Detective Cuevas turns, smirking at them from the front passenger seat. Having traveled light, they grab their respective bags and head inside. The stone construction of the outside continues within the interior. It’s a single room with no pictures or decorations, only the most basic necessities: a twin-sized bed with a quilt, a wash basin, a chair. A naked light bulb hangs overhead, and a door in the back corner leads to a narrow bathroom with a toilet and shower.

“At least there’s hot water?” the detective says. She lifts her chin, snide. “There’s a kind of crappy hotel down the road, but they had a pipe burst yesterday, so this is the best we’ve got under short notice. You rich, upper-crust purebreds probably aren’t used to dumpy places like this. My apologies for your discomfort.”

Haruka is bent and rummaging through his bag against the bed, but he stands straight, eyeing the detective. “Why do you insult these people’s way of living in your attempt to mock us?”

The detective scoffs. “Please. You know what I mean—”

“I do not. Our accommodations are modest but adequate. The people of this town may live a different lifestyle than ours, but your judgment is insensitive.”

“Seriously?” she pushes back. “You’re going to stand here and act like their lifestyles are just ‘different’ from yours? You live in a beautiful, sprawling estate in one of the wealthiest countries in the world and want for nothing—living life happy dappy. Meanwhile, these people are penniless, starving and living in squalor.”

“What is your intent behind this declaration?” Haruka asks. “What should we do?”

The detective starts, frowning. “I—I don’t know… donate or something.”

“We do. To numerous causes. What else?”

“Look. I know you can’t just swoop in and save a whole country, alright? I’m just saying that these people are probably suffering. It’s not just about ‘lifestyles.’”

“In my experience, misery and suffering exist in many forms, and contentment can be found in the humblest of circumstances. I feel that the true danger lies in making shallow comparisons and broad assumptions.”

She turns toward the door, sneering. “Right. I guess I haven’t lived long enough yet in my meager second-gen life to reach such high levels of enlightenment. I’ll be back in the morning, my lords.” She offers a shallow bow, then leaves.

“What the hell is her problem?” Nino frowns. “Why is she so bitter toward us? Should I tell her that even though I lived in a fancy house, I was being abused? That my mom died when I was eight and my entire community ostracized me—like I was a stain on society? Is my suffering invalid because I grew up in a ‘sprawling estate’?”

“Ignore her. Whatever issue she has, it is within herself.” When Haruka sits on the bed, it squeaks in a loud whine. He stretches his hand out, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

Understanding, Nino walks toward him. He meets the gesture, sliding his palm within his mate’s and moving to stand in between Haruka’s gaped legs. Outside, the wind is already howling, gaining momentum all around them like loud whispers.

Nino takes a deep breath, then sighs. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Are you uncomfortable? Being so close to your place of captivity?”

“Not really… The detective made me feel anxious just now, but I’m alright. Shit… I’m looking forward to taking you back to Milan and then Trentino after we’re done here. I think we’re way overdue for some peace.”

Haruka brings the back of Nino’s hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss against his knuckles. “Let’s concentrate and work together tomorrow so that we can leave as soon as possible? I do not wish to bear the brunt of her misplaced resentment for any longer than necessary.”

“Sounds good,” Nino breathes. He looks past his mate and at the narrow bed. “I call big spoon tonight.”

* * *

The bird’s-eyeview of the ocean is now replaced with mountains—rolling and cavernous as far as Nino can see. Sharp peaks and low valleys covered with dirt and dust. Dragon’s Blood trees stretch upward with their inverted roots and vegetation grows wild but sparse between cracks and cliffs. When Lajos’s house comes into view, Nino’s heart pounds. His pulse beats in his ears over the loud chop of the helicopter’s propeller.

A large white Victorian-style house stands atop the mountain—completely out of place in this vast, alien wilderness. The design is two-story and asymmetrical with rounded rooftops and towers. Somehow, the drama of its appearance emphasizes the odd juxtaposition of its location, like a nun at a basement rave who is also wearing a sequined habit.

As the helicopter draws closer in its descent, the house is in serious decay: chipped paint and damaged shutters. The roof is dilapidated, even caved in over one small section toward the back. There’s no movement anywhere out here. No vampires, people or animals. Just the large, misplaced house in ruins.

They touch down on a generous spread of flat rock beneath the house. The helicopter operator remains seated while the detective, Marcus, Haruka and Nino make their exit. When Nino steps onto the mountain, he shivers. The temperature is low from the altitude, much lower than in the village where they stayed overnight.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Detective Cuevas chides as Nino bristles from the chill. “I’m surprised you purebreds even get cold.”

“We are not infallible,” Haruka says coolly, his hands tucked within the pockets of his long wool navy blue coat. “If you prick us, do we not bleed for five seconds?”

The detective snorts. “Funny.”

“How are we supposed to get up there?” Nino asks, rubbing his hands together before sticking them in the pockets of his hooded bomber jacket. His unease is low grade but threatening to boil. The sooner they start moving, the better.

“There’s a path around the side with steps leading up to the front. The house is in pretty bad shape, so we should be careful. Follow me, please.” Both the detective and her deputy are wearing large red backpacks, which they adjust and grip as they move forward, leading the way.

Rocks crunch and slide underneath their feet. The path climbs higher and higher, the wind picking up and whipping everyone’s hair and coats as they move. This trail has been manually carved out, because soon, they’re walking through a stone corridor with towering walls on either side of them. Nino likens the sensation to being in a wind tunnel, the sound of it loud as it rushes past his ears. When the breeze quiets, he looks over his shoulder at Haruka.

Do you feel this?

Haruka flicks his irises up to meet his gaze, resolute. Yes. There are other purebreds here.

The wind sweeps violently again, making Nino swallow hard. But where? I can feel the hum of their energy, but it’s almost… muffled?

“Look.”

Both Nino and Haruka pause. The tunnel opens to a wide cliff with the landscape below stretching on for miles, seemingly endless.

Detective Cuevas points toward the west. “You can see the mud-brick houses in the distance. We went down there before, but like I told you when I called, it was deserted—not a singular vampire in sight. Very eerie and dank. No electricity or plumbing or anything. It felt like something out of the Stone Ages.”

A winding trail of jagged steps looms before them. Detective Cuevas leads the ascent. “Almost there, gentlemen.”

Nino moves forward, but his chest is strained. This place is isolated—far away from anyone or anything familiar—and the strangeness of it weighs heavy in his mind. It’s as if they’ve come to the very ends of the earth, and the realization unsettles him.

What the hell was I thinking? What if the helicopter stops running and we’re stuck here… What if there’s something waiting for us in the house? What will we—

Haruka steps up beside him, crawling his fingers into Nino’s pocket to remove and grasp his hand. We’ll be fine. This will be over soon.

He inhales a deep breath and blows it out, taking comfort in the warmth and surety of Haruka’s hand gripping his own.

When the house stands before them, it appears even more derelict up close. The glass is missing from some windows and cracked like a spider’s web in others. The ones that are intact are dirty: filmy with dried mud, dust and raindrop stains.

“How did he get this house all the way out here?” Marcus asks.

“I don’t know, but it looks like he couldn’t afford the upkeep after it was built,” Detective Cuevas observes. “It’s damn near ready to be demolished.”

When they’re at the front door and on the rickety wooden porch, Detective Cuevas grabs the knob. She pushes, but it doesn’t budge. “Weird… this was open when we came before.” She turns to her deputy. “Did you lock this?”

“I don’t know how the heck I would do that without a key…”

She narrows her eyes. “Strange.”

“If I may?” Haruka asks, stepping forward.

“Of course.” The detective shifts aside, watching as Haruka’s eyes glow to life. He places his fingertips against the tarnished brass plate of the keyhole. Nino can sense his mate’s energy moving and interacting with the lock, examining it to understand its inner workings. A moment later there’s a loud click. Haruka wraps his long fingers around the knob, then pushes the door open, effortless.

“Very nice,” Detective Cuevas remarks. “I also could have had my deputy break it down.”

“We all have our methods.”

“I suppose so,” she says, stepping past him and into the house. “Sorry about yesterday, by the way… going off the fucking rails like that. Lajos is still refusing to feed, but he’s improved enough to where he can shout xenophobic bullshit about ranked vampires in broken speech patterns all day and night. Maybe I’ve let him get to me. Didn’t mean to take it out on you—and of course I know that money doesn’t equal happiness.”

“Apology accepted.” Haruka grins. “Although, you should know that most purebred wealth is tied up in very old property and land ownership. We do not have money to burn.”

Detective Cuevas reaches up to scratch her curly head. “I had no idea. You know, Lajos… That old nutcase is belittling and refusing first-gen blood. By all accounts, first-gen vampire blood is good for your average purebred. He won’t even acknowledge me when I try to talk to him—like I’m a peasant.”

“Not all purebreds hold such immoral and dogmatic views,” Haruka offers.

“Right… I get it.”

The inside of the house is somber and drab—dusky from the overcast light outdoors. With every step, the floors creak and whine, protesting all movement.

When they reach an empty drawing room covered in faded gold velvet damask wallpaper, the detective turns to them. “Alright, does either of you sense anything?”

“Yeah.” Nino nods. “From the second we landed.”

“Okay… so speak up about it, maybe?”

“The source is uncertain,” says Haruka. “The purebreds here have not vanished a second time, as you had suggested. Their energy is present, but the sensation is very weak… similar to a low frequency.”

Nino paces the large and dirty ornate rug with his hands in his jacket pockets. Inside the house feels even colder than outside. “It feels blocked by something—like a wall or a barrier. We can’t tell where it’s centered.”

“Well, already, it was worth bringing you here. My deputy and I couldn’t sense squat. Shall we split up? Roam the house a bit and see if you can get some clarification?”

They agree. The detective and Marcus head upstairs while Nino and Haruka remain on the ground floor. They wander through the drawing room, down a dark, narrow hallway, and end up in a large kitchen space.

As with the rest of the house, it’s cold here, darkened from the partly cloudy sky outside. The white appliances are like props from the 1950s and are backed by mint-green tiling on the walls. Haruka tries a light switch upon entering, but it doesn’t work.

“This is so confusing.” Nino wanders past a large island counter in the center of the room and toward a small window. “I feel the hum of purebred energy, but… it isn’t sharp like the normal sensation.” Despite the setting, the view through the glass is breathtaking. The mountain range meets a blueish-orange skyline filled with stormy clouds.

“Stand still,” Haruka says. Nino turns to meet his gaze, but then does as instructed. Unmoving and with their eyes locked, the gentle reverberation of energy Nino feels pulses. It swells, not all around him like it usually would—free-flowing through the air. No. The hum is… moving up through the soles of his feet, triggering his awareness as if the purebreds are somehow part of the earth. Or in the earth.

Nino’s eyes widen as he inhales. “They’re underground—”

“Someone is coming.”

They both turn their heads toward a wooden door at the opposite end of the kitchen. It looks like the opening to a pantry or closet, but a dim pulse of purebred energy is growing and closing in from behind it. Haruka moves closer to stand at Nino’s side, never taking his eyes off the closed door. The silence of the room is palpable, so when the door slowly creaks open, Nino’s spine stiffens and his eyes alight.

The door bangs open wide and a thick stream of yellow-green light darts out and straight toward them. Nino conjures the sphere of his aura to cover them just as the light makes contact and ricochets off the surface, hitting and shattering the glass window at his side. In the same moment, the crimson haze of his mate’s essence unfurls, stretching out toward the darkened door like a thick viper. It grabs hold of something—someone—because the room is immediately filled with a blood-curdling scream. Torturous and loud, it overwhelms Nino’s senses. He slams his palms to his ears as he maintains the protective bubble around them.

Haruka’s energy draws inward, carrying with it a frozen figure from the shadowed door. He’s floating, arms and legs straight. His eyes are wide as he screams.

When he’s closer, Nino recognizes him as the one-eared purebred from his captivity. Lajos’s sidekick is thin, disheveled and horrified. His clothes are soiled and ragged. Nino turns to his mate, focusing through the ruckus. What are you doing to him?

Nothing. I am just holding him still!

Try letting him go—

He attacked us, unprovoked.

I know, but he can’t do anything if I hold this shape.

Nodding, Haruka unwraps his aura from the male’s body, making him stumble onto the floor. They both stare at him from behind Nino’s sunset-colored shield. The vampire stops screaming. He looks up at them in an uncertain moment, terror planted on his face. But then he scrambles, tripping and running back toward the darkened doorway from which he came.