Chapter 1

Chapter 1

West Hollywood, CA

May 22, 2023

Summer never stayed away long from Southern California. The noonday sun of late spring radiated warmth on Los Angeles like a soothing caress. The oppressive heat of late August had not yet arrived, and conversations about the current weather, which were only slightly less frequent than conversations about traffic, invariably contained the word perfect.

A delivery truck marked only with biohazard and medical waste warnings turned off Sunset Boulevard and headed into the Hollywood Hills, straining at the steep grade of the ascent. Half a dozen turns on the maze-like roads brought it to a stately yet subtle home. The stone and brick house was elegant in its simplicity, evoking a classic design and timeless architecture. The grey of the stone called to mind a European castle, but the style was somewhat less grand. It stood in stark contrast to the conspicuous ostentatiousness of some of the surrounding homes, which sported bright paint jobs, copious landscaping, or walls made of shimmering glass. This house, though well-maintained, could have been built three centuries ago somewhere in England or Germany. It was the home of someone who was very wealthy but didn’t want to advertise the fact.

The delivery truck pulled off the narrow road into the long driveway, where it parked. The Latino man who emerged from the driver’s side was handsome but nondescript, much like the house he had come to. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and his so-navy-blue-it-was-almost-black jumpsuit contained no identifying logos or name patch. Behind dark sunglasses, his eyes scanned the area. It couldn’t really be called a neighborhood, but there were a few houses within line of sight and the occasional dog walker on the road. Checking for witnesses was more of a habit than a necessity. He removed a portable cooler from the back of the van and—always keeping one hand free, just in case—moved towards the front door.

The man listened at the door for a moment before looking over the locking mechanism. There was no doorknob, no keyhole, no buttons. There was only a simple touchpad. The technology was in stark contrast to the rest of the home. He tentatively touched its surface and a virtual keypad appeared, silently asking for a code to be entered. He touched the series of numbers his contact had given him, and with an affirmative blink of green, the sound of a thick deadbolt could be heard retracting within the heavy oak, unlocking the door, which automatically swung open a few inches, allowing access.

With a final glance at the outside world, which was still clear, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him with a heavy thud and the low whir of the deadbolt re-engaging.

The difference in light from the brightness outside to the dim interior was extreme. Even after taking off his sunglasses, the man’s brindle eyes took fifteen long seconds to acclimate to the gloom. The interior of the house was meticulously appointed. The stone floors seemed to suck any excess heat from the room, and the still, cool air tingled against his skin. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries lit by track lighting recessed into the ceiling, so that the illumination seemed to originate from nowhere. What furniture there was looked rarely used and placed as much for aesthetic value as practical use. There were a few pieces of art on the walls and a handful of sculptures on short columns. It all looked very, very expensive.

The man crept further into the home, careful to make as little noise as possible. He heard almost no sound. There was virtually no traffic on the high road that the house was on, and the city was far enough away to be little more than muffled white noise. The thick stone walls dampened any but the loudest disturbances. Yet he didn’t hear the figure creep up behind him until a low voice growled menacingly behind his right ear.

“You should know better than to sneak around someone’s house in the dark.”

The man felt a breath on the nape of his neck, but it wasn’t normal, like when a lover hugs you from behind. It was warmer; a hot breeze tickling the fine hairs above his shirt collar. He tried to force his senses to attune to the figure that had managed to sneak up on him and spoke carefully, holding himself as still as one of the statues he’d glimpsed. “The door was open.”

“The door was locked,” the figure growled. “With a very expensive high-tech security system.”

“I mean the door was open after I unlocked it … and opened it.” The man could almost feel the being behind him. He had a sense of its size and weight, but still thought the best course of action was to remain still. He felt a bit like a deer who knows it’s been seen by a hunter but can’t overcome the instinct to freeze.

“You don’t seem very scared to have been discovered.”

The voice was now almost a whisper and came from so close to the man’s right ear that he couldn’t help a shiver running from the top of his head all the way to his toes. He’d had absolutely no sense of movement at all. “Should I be?”

“I would think so. This is the home of a vampire, after all…” The low voice now growled in the interloper’s left ear, again with no sense whatsoever of movement behind his head, and then another sound… something that could be fangs sliding into place.

“Rahhhhr.”

The visitor contemplated his next words carefully. “I don’t think … vampires actually go ‘rahhhhr’, do they?”

The breath left his neck. There was no relief, however. The voice now seemed to come from everywhere, even from inside his own skull.

“How many vampires do you know?” it said.

Neat trick, the man thought. “Just one that I’m aware of. And he never went ‘rahhhhr’.”

There was a silent pause. It could have been the prefatory moment before a predator strikes its prey, but instead, the voice took on a slightly timid quality. “And ‘rahhhhr’ isn’t scary?”

The man shifted, turning to glance at the owner of the house, who by all appearances looked like a handsome, if nondescript, thirty-something man, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. “Okay, well, now it’s just getting kinda weird. Can I put this down?” The man indicated the cooler he was carrying. “It’s heavy. Not all humans are super strong like you.”

The vampire sighed, his menacing pose relaxing. “In the kitchen.”

The man moved to the kitchen, which was also spotless, and put the cooler on the counter. “You’re not sulking, are you?”

“Vampires don’t sulk, Rafaél.” The suddenly non-sinister vampire followed to the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe. Not helping, but not not helping.

“Now I know you’re sulking, Joseph. You only call me Rafaél when you’re upset. What is it? Are you lonely? Why aren’t you asleep?” He checked his wristwatch, an analogue number that had once belonged to his birth father. “It’s after noon.”

“Rafi. No, I’m not lonely, and just wasn’t tired.” Joseph shifted his weight so that his back was against the doorjamb. He liked feeling the solidness of the house, and the subtle vibrations in the stone. “I was just playing around a bit. You were creeping in so quietly I thought I’d have a bit of fun.”

Rafaél opened the cooler, and dry ice smoke spilled over the side, rolling its way along the floor until it evaporated into invisibility. He reached into the smoke and moved the cooler’s contents into the refrigerator: bags of crimson blood, each with a label that identified the blood type, plasma percentage, and the source—Tetractys Blood Supply.

“I was creeping because I didn’t want to disturb you in the middle of the day.” Then, softer, “I’m not exactly the age to play games with you anymore.”

Joseph’s head had been against the doorway and his dark blue eyes had been tracing the grain of the wood. It was some old oak or maple, stained dark like an espresso coffee bean and polished to a shine. He sniffed as his nose picked up the scent of blood and turned his head towards his friend. He put out a hand, snapping his fingers in a toss-me-one way. “Pssh, you’re barely sixty. I’m almost five hundred and still going strong.”

“Could have fooled me,” Rafaél admonished and paused to look at the vampire he had known for over half a century. He lobbed Joseph the bag he had been about to put in the fridge. “I mean, really, you live like a hermit, trapped in this house all the time. Who else besides me have you talked to in the last week?”

“I’ll have you know I had a spirited discussion with Cardinal Filoni about the nature of love and sex.” Joseph lifted the bag to his nose and inhaled, savoring the scent that was escaping even through the plastic vessel. “On Zoom.”

Rafaél lifted his hands as if to say, See what I mean? What kind of life is that?

The blue-eyed vampire changed the subject. “Oh, hey, what do you think of the new lock, by the way?”

Rafaél turned to finish loading the blood bags into the fridge. He cautiously lifted a bag to his own nose, steeling himself for the metallic odor, but barely smelled the sterile plastic, let alone its contents. He spared a thought to marvel at Joseph’s olfactory sense. “Oh yes, it looks very expensive and high tech,” he teased, “Did you feel that you were in need of heightened security?”

“It’s the twenty-first century. Security is everything these days. Plus, the guy in the infomercial was cute.”

“There it is. You really need to get out. Tonight. Go out.”

“It’s Tuesday. Nothing happens on Tuesday.”

“It’s summer. There’s plenty going on and you know it. Get your sulky butt out there and interact with some people. Dance, meet a guy, hook up. Or whatever kids who are the age you look do these days.”

“Fine, jeez, stop. You know, I remember when I was the one telling you to go out and make friends.”

“When I was nine. I’m taking a ginger ale.”

“They’re for you, go ahead. Are you going back to the office?”

“I have to, yeah. We just launched the summer blood drive. We’ve got fifteen trucks working six days a week through August. Means long days for the big boss.”

“Mmm … Tasty.”

“Oh, knock it off. You can’t be scary sounding when you’re drinking donated blood instead of feeding on people.”

“You are just no fun, big boss.”

“Ha. I guess I deserved that.” Rafaél downed the rest of the bottle of ginger ale and stifled a burp. “Okay, gotta run. Anything else you need before I go?”

“Nope. You go save the world. I’m good.”

Rafaél made his way back to the front door, his soft-soled dress shoes thumping quietly on the stone floors. He paused at the door and turned back to the vampire who looked thirty years his junior. “Joseph. Seriously. Go out. Please?”

“I will.”

Rafaél made a face that suggested that he didn’t believe him. Joseph chuckled at the idea that he was now being told what to do by this older man who was a kid a seemingly short time ago. “I promise. Go!”

Rafaél laughed back as he opened the door, which automatically unlocked as he grasped the inside handle. “Good. I expect a complete report.” He paused, considering the implications of his directive. “Well, maybe not complete. Don’t need to hear all the naughty bits. Have fun, J, make good decisions!” The heavy oak door swung shut with a weighty thump, and the locking mechanism re-engaged. Kaaaa-chunk.

Joseph stood in the gloom for a moment and thought about how much had changed since he’d found a nine-year-old orphan wandering the streets back in the mid-’60s. He felt a familiar mix of emotions. A surge of pride at the man Rafaél had become, now the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar biotech company, mingled with a cloud of sorrow, with the recollection of his ward’s mortality. With a sigh, Joseph shook his head and consciously dropped his shoulders, which had tensed. They did that. He smiled again, remembering Rafi’s final order on the way out, then turned and walked to the bedroom and into the walk-in closet.

Tonight, he was going out.