Chapter IV

Like Silver to the Heart

N ewer covens based in densely populated metropolitan areas fascinated Jeremiah. The majority of which he'd become familiar with over time were housed in large manors, like the old Kraige Coven or Asker Coven, and while he knew there were a great many sheltered in ancient palaces and castles alike, high-rise covens were rather interesting.

Having manifested in the first floor lobby of the building, the sliding doors that faced the morning-lit street were inaccessible to anyone whose thumbprint wasn't authorized.

Polished and black from floor to ceiling, there were obvious security cameras positioned in all four corners, six elevators, and straight ahead was a lengthy hallway that stretched far into the building. With twenty-five floors, there were five living quarters on each. Luxurious and spacious, Jeremiah was sure passersby thought people who came from great washes of money called this place home, and while that wouldn't be an incorrect statement, it was the business practiced by the leader alone that really contributed to the lavish lifestyles that made it possible for coven-based immortals to live so extravagantly.

With Ha-yoon's apartment being the only one to take up an entire floor, Jeremiah stepped into a red-carpeted elevator and rode it to the top. He was curious and a bit thrilled to be here, as he'd gotten comfortable taking on different tasks assigned to him by his father.

He didn't think he'd ever want to become a coven leader someday, or have too much responsibility of his own, but standing alongside his father, helping in any ways he could and showing what growth he'd made through the seventy-some years he'd been alive made him feel accomplished.

That, and…it was also a distraction, a distraction from what he shook from his head before the names and faces could return to haunt him. Especially their voices.

The ding of the elevator sounded then and Jeremiah moved from the silence of the small chamber and into a short stretch of hall. A single red door was posed at the end, faux potted plants were set about as well as framed landscapes hanging from hooks bolted to the walls.

Before he could raise his fist to knock, the door came open and Ha-yoon gestured kindly for him to enter. She was a woman who'd aged well into her forties, but no one would be able to tell given her strong, youthful appearance. Her light sand skin was clear, cheeks touched with pink, lips shining from a clear layer of gloss, and her hair was cut straight to the top of her shoulders. Unabashedly stunning when she smiled warmly, Ha-yoon offered Jeremiah a small nod as he moved by.

The apartment itself had a minimalistic appeal to it, not quite Jeremiah's taste, but it was spotless and well-ordered. Gray and beige furnishings, more faux plants, and white, blackout drapes covered the entire east wall that would show the skyline if not for morning shining bright on the other side. What captured Jeremiah's attention most, however, was the young man seated on a low sofa in the open living room.

"Good morning, Jeremiah," Ha-yoon greeted in Korean, voice lethargic as she was very much exhausted. From the white robe pulled on around her, he figured she must have been woken up to deal with whatever it was that apparently required her attention. "I would like to apologize if I have disturbed you at this hour, but I thank you for coming so quickly. I would like to introduce you to Song Min-jae; my former leader's son."

She sluggishly moved toward the young man on her sofa and took a seat beside him. Appearing twenty-one at the very least, as that was when dhampir's stopped physically aging, Song Min-jae was comely with an athletic build, put together like a bold swimmer with a strong frame and long legs, feathery black hair that touched an inch past his shoulders. His face was pleasantly carved, incredibly sharp in his eyes and charming structure. There was indecision in his gaze, as if even he were unsure of how much he wanted to be here; like he was frightened but holding fast to his composure.

Removing his shoes at the entry, Jeremiah nodded to Min-jae, tucking his hands in his pockets as he strolled into the apartment. "Good morning," he said in their native tongue. He'd only recently become fluent in the language, making it the fourth one he knew alongside Spanish, French, and Japanese. "My father didn't have time to elaborate on the situation for me. Care to share?"

"In short," Ha-yoon said, eyes closed as she sat, "This was the only place Min-jae thought to come after returning home and his father was gone. Dae-jung had finally stepped away from the coven to settle down with his son and his wife. Aside from the strangeness surrounding his father's disappearance, it appears Min-jae here is…different from other dhampirs."

"How so?" Jeremiah asked.

From what he could feel, this young man very much felt like a dhampir. His aura was strong and obvious to anyone who could sense it. There was a strength to him, no matter if it was dormant, and the only other thing coupled with it was his anxiousness.

"I will be honest," Ha-yoon said, "While I was very close with Dae-jung through the years, last week was my first time hearing of him even having a wife and child." She looked at Min-jae then. "How old are you?"

Keeping his eyes on the floor, Min-jae said, "Twenty-seven," voice a tone deeper than Jeremiah was expecting.

"Right," Ha-yoon nodded. "Twenty-seven years of hiding his family from our world, hiding his son, and with that formed Min-jae's inability to get in touch with who and what he truly is. He is a dhampir, yes, but with his lack of knowledge in what he is, he might as well be a human with healing factors."

Jeremiah hummed in curiosity and neared the young man. There had never been a moment in his life when he wasn't aware of who and what he was. Dhampirs were born with strengths, cravings, abilities no human could ever simply have. Had Min-jae never wondered why he didn't feel pain, why his hearing was so great, could see like no other in the dark, and was inhumanly strong? How does a mother and father shield their son from those aspects of himself as if they were normal? Better yet…

Jeremiah lowered himself to a knee before Min-jae who finally looked his way. He was so composed, but yes, this was fear looking back at Jeremiah.

"You never knew your father was a vampire?" Jeremiah asked. "Have you known him all your life?"

Min-jae held his tongue. This person, Jeremiah, would be one of many he'd met in the last twenty-four hours, and his unease was up.

"The only vampires I knew were from western folklore," Min-jae said, and the dryness of his response gave off resentment. "I have lived in the rural countryside with my mother all my life."

"Not your father?"

"He came and went after some time," Min-jae added. "I was always told it was business. Years and years of business…"

"I see," Jeremiah stood again and rubbed a hand behind his hair. "And you can't sense him? Dhampirs are connected to their immortal parents through mind and blood. You can't feel him out in the world?"

As the topic of his father was a clear burden, Min-jae shrugged as if he wasn't sure how to answer or even if he wanted to. In a way, it seemed he was undecided about how he felt toward this man he called father anyways.

"Feeling him out in the world is the only way I always knew he was at least alive," Min-jae said. "Now, it's like he's dead or hiding from me. I just — I just want to know where he is for my mom's sake. She's afraid for him a lot more than I am."

Nodding his understanding, Jeremiah breathed a long exhale, still not quite connecting what his being here was supposed to bring. "Ha-yoon," he said, the name startling her from what sleep she nearly slipped into. "Where do I fit in with all this? While this is all very strange, why was I summoned here?"

Standing from the sofa, Ha-yoon rubbed her eyes sleepily and circled away from Min-jae, instead pacing beside the furnishing as if it would help in keeping her alert.

"As we all know," she said, "the death of an immortal parental figure can lead to disaster if their child becomes unhinged, for lack of a better word. History has shown what destruction can thrive at the fingertips of a dhampir, and the last thing our remaining elders would want is to put themselves up against a great danger if it can be helped, as they were the only ones strong enough to beat down the mentally lost dhampir of the past."

"I know the tale," Jeremiah moved his eyes from Ha-yoon to Min-jae. The guy didn't look as distressed as he should be with the current situation. Then again, it was probably for the best that he didn't have such a strong emotional connection to his father. If he were to lose himself in the grip of rage and rampage, neither did Jeremiah want for the elders, i.e., his father to have to put himself up against a dhampir.

Given that the dhampir felled by the elders in the past happened back in the 1620s, Jeremiah also figured it would be damn near impossible to keep the existence of immortals under wraps if a brawl to the death did take place. In this day and age, sure, there were mortals here and there around the world with ties to vampirekind, but all in all, existence as a whole was still shrouded in myth.

Ha-yoon said: "What your father wants for now, while Dae-jung's disappearance is investigated, is for you to keep tabs on Min-jae. "

A frustration showed in Min-jae. The idea of an investigation brought on the idea of long waits and the possibility of the situation not being taken seriously, and although he couldn't say his ties to his father were tight, it was the heartache Min-jae knew his mother was currently dealing with that wanted to urge things to hurry up. "How long is this going to take?" he demanded, the spike in his mood shifting.

Feeling every modicum of his itching nerves, Ha-yoon said, "Efforts will be dire once they get underway. Since you lived so far from any direct covens, and this is where Dae-jung was stationed to begin with, we will begin an investigation of our own once the sunsets."

Keeping his eyes on Min-jae as the young man circled away from them, Jeremiah focused in on his heart and the unconscious fluctuations of his aura. Not as complex compared to an ordinary vampire's, the aura of a dhampir merely spread wider, as if it called for the attention of those who could perceive it; Min-jae's was currently crowding the room in a more melancholic manner than agitated, which, while sad, was better than if he were enraged. Hunger and anger were two sensations that were already cause for alarm on their own but were still unsettling separately.

"Jeremiah," Ha-yoon called to him then. "Your father thinks you would do well in helping Min-jae get a better understanding of what he is. His strengths, his abilities, and he mentioned you obtain, in his words, a pleasantness about you that may also assist in keeping things calm."

"So, I am a mentor, of sorts?" Jeremiah couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry at this trust Demiesius stood by in terms of what kind of person he was.

Jeremiah liked to believe he was a rather stand-up guy, kind the majority of the time, naturally gentle in nature, defensive when it mattered, and he was a bit proud to understand Demiesius had seen those aspects of him through the years, in these years in which he now called himself an elder brother.

"I have assigned Min-jae and his mother to a vacant room on the second floor," Ha-yoon informed then. "I don't care where you go during the day, but once night falls again, I would at least like to know of his whereabouts. Now, if you two don't mind, I can hardly last another minute with my eyes open."

Hearing that as a request to leave, Jeremiah was reluctantly followed by Min-jae to the door where he stepped into his shoes again and into the hall. With his main objective being to essentially inform and oversee Min-jae's sensibilities, Jeremiah had to admit he didn't quite know where to start. Sure, he'd grown used to being a mentor to his brothers, even to Dominick's daughters through the years, as they were and had always been the only dhampirs he'd ever known, but tutoring a grown man…

This would be interesting.

Things were quiet as he trekked back to the elevator and they entered together. Min-jae's eyes were on the floor as they descended, seeming to be holding himself together with silence. He had every right to be distressed, and not being able to express that without drawing worry from those around him wasn't helping either.

When he was young and Hamilton was thought to have been dead for several years, Jeremiah remembered feeling more mournful than upset with Hamilton's absence. While the thought of death being what separated him from his dad was upsetting, he'd come to terms with being unable to do anything about it .

For Min-jae, even if his relationship with his father wasn't the strongest, it was his emotional attachment to his mother that could bring the depths of what he was to the surface. The combination of love and loss was by far the worst band waiting to snap, and without an agent to reel that pain back, Jeremiah could only envision the destruction bound to follow.

As the red painted doors on the second floor held a plaque with the name of the main occupant, there was only one at the very end without a name. The door was unlocked and when he and Min-jae stepped into the entry, the silence of it took away from the luxuriousness.

The place was already fully furnished, each piece covered with a white sheet to shield from dust and the ceiling was high; the open floorplan stretched through a living room, dining area, and past a large kitchen. In-wall shelves were empty of knickknacks and books, and the only things hung upon a wide wall behind the sofa were nails no longer in use.

Moving by Jeremiah, Min-jae stepped out of his shoes in the entry and placed them aside before entering further. "You don't have to stay," he said, his English coming in clear against his accent. "If the man from before was your father, he already told me of the dangers of losing control of my emotions. I mean no disrespect toward him, since I am sure he did not mean to offend me, but I am not a child. I can stay calm so long as everyone is making an effort to find my father." He stopped as if listening when turning his eyes to a walkway that led further into the apartment.

Jeremiah could hear the soft melody of a heartbeat coming from one of the two bedrooms, the calm, sleeping impression of a human being .

"My mom is here," Min-jae said. "She hasn't come out since we got here."

"I understand," Jeremiah nodded, joining Min-jae after putting his shoes beside the other young man's. A flicker from when he was young came to mind; the distance that had grown between him year after year. "And, yeah, that was my father. He means well even if he comes off as intense. I wouldn't be surprised if he took a special interest in you because you're also a dhampir. I have four younger brothers and this country is usually more heavily patrolled by another elder."

Strolling into the living room, Min-jae inspected the furnishings and pulled each sheet from them, revealing bland beige beneath. "I would have never expected a world like this to exist," he said, folding the materials and laying them atop a glass coffee table. "My mom used to tell me stories of Dokkaebi and the Gwishin, but I would have never thought vampires to be real."

"Does it scare you?" Jeremiah asked, and the topic of fear brought their eyes together. "Knowing how different you've been compared to everyone else?"

"I don't think so," Min-jae blinked and looked away. "Everything was so normal while I was growing up. I went to school in the city, studied for entrance exams and attended university."

Min-jae scoffed and rustled his hair, imagining it buzz cut like it'd been some years ago.

"I even did two years of military service prior to university," Min-jae went on. "I didn't plan on doing much other than helping around my village when I returned, but my mom insisted I go to school. There are large tea fields and the older people still work them. I took over for a lot of them, and my mom is one of the few nurses that worked in a clinic. We were so…ordinary, un til my father decided to come home. It was never really his home to begin with. Paying for things doesn't make up for time lost with your wife and son. I don't care if his duties to this world were important. We should have been more important to him than whoever else lives here."

Min-jae placed his hands on his hips and kept his eyes on the floor. It was like he was resisting bringing them up, and he suddenly turned from Jeremiah and swore in Korean under his breath.

While he was doing well keeping his composure, and his frustrations were being forced down, Jeremiah could see well enough that he was stressed.

"I don't understand why they had to hide everything from me," Min-jae added. "And for so long."

"Maybe the normality of your childhood," Jeremiah interjected, "despite your father's major absence, was their goal. I'm sure telling you sooner would have been nice, but they did what they thought was best at the time."

"Now what?" Min-jae asked, the question not quite meant for Jeremiah. He crossed the spacious apartment toward the white drapes covering a set of glass doors and threw them open. The sunrays beaming down on Seoul bathed the large space with natural light. There was a patio that stretched a short way and was walled off by a stone barrier and looked out over the street below.

Jeremiah joined Min-jae at the doors. "I know it won't take your mind off everything entirely," he said, "but why don't you and I gauge what you can do. If you didn't know before, you're incredibly strong, your hearing spans meters upon meters of distance at will, you have healing capabilities, and—."

"I knew those things already," Min-jae cut in. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound rude. I thought my lack of pain was abnormal, but that's a known condition even amongst regular humans. I never thought my strength was strange since I've never lifted cars or anything, but I did all the heavy lifting for my mom. I wish I could shut my hearing off sometimes, and I see well in the dark, but those things never piqued me as exceptionally different."

"Right," Jeremiah nodded a bit awkwardly. If there wasn't much of anything he could do for this guy, he didn't see a reason for him to stay. The last thing he wanted to be was a burden to someone who might want space. "With that," he went on, "I guess you don't necessarily need me here, and I'm sure you want to be alone so I'll get out of your hair."

"Wait!" Min-jae frantically looked to him, closing an unreasonably tight grip around Jeremiah's forearm, the constriction pressing around so firmly that a bruise from the clasp formed instantly.

Seeming stunned by his own reaction, Min-jae unhanded Jeremiah just as quickly and tore his gaze, dark brown eyes drifting across the polished floorboards. "Sorry," he said in a near whisper. "I…I don't know what came over me."

Jeremiah looked his arm over, the purplish imprint of Min-jae's fingers fading seconds later and the fairness of his skin returned. "It's fine," he assured. "I know Ha-yoon stated she is going to be looking into the disappearance of your father, but is there anything I can perhaps do for you?"

As Min-jae's aura settled again, he breathed out as his shoulders seemed to relax, Jeremiah unable to catch as the furrow of Min-jae's brow softened as if a worrisome whisper touched his ear. "How old are you?" the Korean dhampir questioned .

"I have been alive for seventy years," Jeremiah answered, feeling quite old and young at the same time.

In the eyes of the vampire world, he may as well still be in his youth regardless of being a fully developed person. What knowledge he'd obtained through the years could be compared to a dedicated scholar, but his experiences were nowhere near the centuries walked by others. In comparison to someone like his father and Dominick, Jeremiah felt like forever would go by before he could honestly say he could stand beside them as they could stand by each other. In that understanding, a sliver chipped its way across Jeremiah's heart as he remembered.

"In those seventy years," Min-jae said, "Has there ever been a time when you were alone?"

Alone.

It was such a loaded word.

Jeremiah looked to Min-jae and their eyes stayed together, Min-jae seeming to find his answer without needing Jeremiah to confess. It wasn't that it was impossible to give a response to such a question, but there was a mass of unease that lifted from the pit of Jeremiah's stomach at the mere mention of loneliness.

Of course, he knew what it was like to be alone.

"If there was ever anyone who has been consistent in my life," Min-jae said, eyes staying with Jeremiah's, "it would be my mom. She is my first memory. Her face was my first sight. Her voice was my first sound. Almost every day since I took my first breath, my mom has been at my side, but even with her being here, it's like this unexpected absence of my father has taken her away. She used to go days, weeks, without seeing him, but it's different now that there's no telling where he is. Even with me, she's alone, and I don't want her to know that feeling. "

Pursing his lips together, Jeremiah swallowed a lump caught in his throat and tried to shove down the inevitable return of his sorrows. This wasn't the time to sink into his own wallowing; the focus of this dilemma didn't concern him, but it was difficult not to step back and feel the bricks tethered to his ankles trying to sink him.

"What do you want from me?" Jeremiah asked then, hoping the question didn't come off as rude. The only thing that'd been expected of him was to help in Min-jae's understanding of himself, but given that he wasn't so ignorant, Jeremiah couldn't see what he could offer.

Seeming to notice this standoffishness, Min-jae shook his head and took a step back, turning from Jeremiah as he ventured toward the kitchen area. "Nothing," he said. "I don't know what I'm saying anyway. I'm thankful for the concern your father felt for us, but you can go home. So long as I know an effort is being made to bring my family back together, I'll just stay here and keep to myself."

Watching as Min-jae peered around the kitchen, opening empty cabinets, and inspecting the nearly dry refrigerator, Jeremiah weighed his options. Nothing was keeping him here and if Min-jae really did want to be alone, his being here might come off as intrusive. Sometimes people needed the space to process things.

But…

Jeremiah downed the uncertainty rising in his chest and entered the kitchen as well. He looked around, taking in how barren this entire apartment was. "Barely any food, no necessities, no nothing," he said. "Got any money?"

"Uh, no," Min-jae answered. "What's here was given to us. "

"Speaking of food," Jeremiah pondered, leaning with his back to the kitchen counter, "I'd consider myself very familiar with how difficult it is to get by without proper portions of food. When you were growing up, did you drink blood? For your nerves and aura to be so mild in nature, I'll assume, yes?"

"I don't know…" Min-jae said, a discomfort in his accent. "I've never felt what it's like to be starving."

"Then your parents probably added it to your food without you knowing. How's about this," Jeremiah stroked his chin in thought. "Instead of being cooped up here, how about you and I take a trip to my place? The sun is down where I'm from, and we can waste time until night falls here again."

"Okay," Min-jae agreed. "Give me a minute to speak with my mom."

Disappearing to the rear of the apartment, Min-jae entered the back bedroom, and Jeremiah couldn't help but listen to the whispers shared between mother and son.

"I'm going away for a little while," Min-jae said softly, switching back to his native tongue. His tone was gentle as he spoke; the love and respect he carried for his mother came forth in his words. "Once I get back, Ms. Choi promised to start looking for Father, okay? Mom?"

"You promise to come back?" Mrs. Song pleaded. Her name was Yeo, Song Yeo, and her voice was as weakened by sorrow as her spirits were from the absence of her husband. "Don't leave me, too, Min-jae."

"Mom, I would never. I promise I'll be back."

There was another desperate plea for his return before Min-jae appeared again, and they adorned their shoes once more. When they were ready to go, Min-jae grasped the knob to the front door as if to leave but stopped when Jeremiah closed a sudden hand around his upper arm.

"Hold on," Jeremiah instructed, and he held his hands out to take. "This will probably be a new experience for you. Do you know what ‘Shadow Mastering' is?"

"Shadow Mastering?" Min-jae shook his head.

"Yes," Jeremiah nodded, a smile coming to him in being able to teach something. "I don't know how much you and your father spoke once you found out he was a vampire, but did he state how long he's been alive?"

"He said he was born in 1760 before being raised in 1801." Min-jae looked as though he still couldn't quite fathom something as such being true. "For him to have come from the late stages of the Joseon Dynasty is…"

"Crazy?" Jeremiah found room to laugh. "That's almost nothing compared to how long my father has walked this Earth," he said. "But ‘Shadow Mastering' is a method of travel obtained by immortals who have lived beneath the night for at least four hundred years, but our kind are born with the ability. Take my hands."

There was a waver in Min-jae before doing so. Vampires, as he'd come to learn, weren't entirely cold to the touch, but certainly hadn't the warmth that accompanied a living, breathing human being with a steady heartbeat. He'd expected it to be the same for Jeremiah, to be somewhat lacking in life once their fingertips grazed, but an assurance hooked into him when their hands came together.

He was warm.

"In our veins," Jeremiah said, "there is a measure of darkness we can manipulate at will, and with enough understanding of it, of control over it, we are able to do rather remarkable things. Whether visible or not, mastering our inner shadows comes with the need to focus, remain calm, and simply be as in touch with it as you would be with anything that involves concentration. Now," Jeremiah breathed easy and let his mastering form as easily as it always had since the first time he'd utilized it perfectly.

A light gasp left Min-jae the moment a cloud of shadow rose at their feet, the tendrils of black circling around their shoes as they slinked up their legs. His grip on Jeremiah's hands tightened, and he met the other dhampir's two-toned eyes.

"It's alright," Jeremiah said, the calmness of his aura leveling out the stress filling the young man before him. "Mastering gives us the ability to return to any given place we've once stepped foot in so long as the destination is firmly planted in our mind. If how clearly we connect to it is lacking, a risk of being consumed and ultimately lost within our shadows is possible, but I promise that will not happen."

"I wish you hadn't told me that last part," Min-jae admitted, an uncomfortable chuckle leaving him.

Jeremiah's hold was calm and secure, their hands not letting up for a second as the shadows under his full control enclosed around them. "Relax," he said, "I won't let go."

In an instant, they vanished.