I got out of the car into the cool night air.

The eyepatch girl was out now too, and I could finally see her clearly. She was only a little shorter than I was, and she was wearing a short-sleeved white button up shirt with a plaid skirt so short there was hardly a point in even having it. Not that I was complaining.

The wavy haired man had disappeared inside the gate. If I was going to run, now would probably be the best time to do it. Then again, Hadria could probably kill me herself. With her sharp canines and the fact that her last name was ‘Acula’, she had to be a vampire.

Wait a minute. My eyes drifted back to the name plaque. Why the hell could I read this?

“It’s English…” I said. “Why is this in English?”

“Ing-lish?” Hadria held up a small compact mirror to her face, adjusting the purple bow in her hair. “You mean that weird writing? That’s daddy’s. I don’t know where he got it.”

Violetta leaned over to me. “What is it, Ryley?”

“That sign. It’s written in my language.”

“Wow…” Violetta got close to the plaque. “This is the writing people in your world use? It just looks like a bunch of lines…” Wasn’t all written language basically a bunch of lines?

Hadria closed her compact with a snap. “Totally! I had no idea it said anything. What’s the point of writing if you can’t even tell the letters apart?” I was losing brain cells just listening to the two of them.

Fucking damn it. It was a long shot, but this could be a clue to getting back to Earth. I needed to know why they had something like this. I guess that meant I was going in this house, not that I had much of a choice anyway.

A few moments of silence passed as we waited for the wavy haired man to return.

“I like your eyepatch,” Violetta said, completely sincere as always. “Is that the style with vampires right now?”

“Oh this?” Hadria gave a toothy smile, pointing at her covered eye. “I got stabbed in the eye in a street fight. It was pretty messed up. Did you know eyes are filled with clear goopy stuff? There was lots of blood too.” Well at least I wasn’t hungry for dinner anymore.

“O-Oh…” Violetta’s mouth scrunched up. “I… I see…”

Hadria leaned forward, one of her fangs slipping out from under her top lip. “Wanna see?”

“W-Would I?” Violetta stammered. As much as I didn’t want to see an empty eye socket, watching Violetta try to be polite almost made it worth it. Almost.

Just then, the huge gate creaked open and the asshole driver emerged. “The Count will see you now.”

“Oh, follow me you guys!” Hadria said, apparently canceling the eyepatch strip show. “I’ll show you to daddy’s office.”

Here went nothing. We followed behind her, the gate moaning as Nair closed it behind us. I looked up from the stone path that led to the house expecting to see some kind of old haunted castle, but it looked considerably more… Japanese. Uhh… What?

The two story mansion was made of wood, and it had paper sliding doors. The roof was slanted, covered in gray tiles. To the side of the house, I could see a meticulously maintained garden. Lavish was an understatement. The Count clearly had centipedes to burn.

That sounded… really weird.

Speaking of weird, had this style of architecture develop naturally in the demon world just like it had on Earth? Was this something unique to vampire culture? No sooner had this thought materialized in my head, a dozen men hurried out of the mansion’s front door, lining up along the path ahead of us.

“Welcome home, Young Mistress!” the men all yelled in unison. Like wavy-hair, they all wore black suits. Their faces were covered in scars, colorful tattoos poking out from the collars of their dress shirts.

So this was basically the vampire mafia. Why did anything surprise me anymore?

“Sup.” Hadria didn’t seem to pay much attention as she passed them.

I avoided eye contact with the men, not that it really mattered. They all had sunglasses on, and it was fucking nighttime. Fashion over function was a big deal in the ‘looking tough’ department.

Violetta latched onto my arm, lodging it firmly between her boobs. “I don’t want my blood sucked…” she whispered. The sucker becomes the suck-ee.

We reached the entrance and stepped inside the open door. It was well-lit, the artificial light warm and inviting. “You gotta take off your shoes,” Hadria said, kicking hers off her feet. “Mommy doesn’t like dirt being tracked it.” The two of us did as we were told and stepped up onto the perfectly polished hardwood floor.

We walked through the hallway in silence, Hadria at our front and Nair behind us. Finally, we stopped in front of a sliding door. Nair stepped in front of us and spoke. “Count. Mr. Ryley Allard and Ms. Violetta have arrived.”

A moment passed, and then the gruffest voice I had ever fucking heard came from the other side of the door. “Let them in.” Seriously, his voice made my throat hurt just hearing it. It was like the sound of a rusty door being forced open by a cat that was simultaneously hacking up a hairball. He must have smoked every day of his life since the moment he was born. It was that bad.

“About time,” Hadria groaned. She yanked the door open to reveal a modest office not too different from the king’s. “Why do you have to be so cautious all the time, daddy?”

“A cautious man is a long-lived one. After what happened yesterday, you should understand how important prudence is, Hadria.”

This must have been the Count. He sat behind a tidy desk. His hair was a deep gray, and it was slicked back. An old scar ran down his left cheek. Like the others outside, he was in a suit, but unlike the others, he was actually intimidating. His sharp eyes met with mine as we stepped into the room. That’s when I noticed the pistol sitting in front of him.

“Uhh… hi,” I choked out. Probably not the best way to greet a mafia boss.

“Mr. Allard, please relax.” His features softened a little. “You are a guest in my home. I treat my guests with nothing but respect.” Yeah, okay, but that didn’t change the fact that he had a fucking gun sitting on his desk.

“Here, sit down guys.” Hadria plopped down in a chair. We plopped down too. If I was going to die, at least I would be comfortable.

“Mr. Count Acula...” Violetta began.

“Please, call me Derr,” the Count said. “There’s no need to be so formal.”

Derr. As in… Derr Acula. Count Derr Fucking Acula. That was his name.

“Derr,” Violetta started again. “You have a very beautiful house!” What happened to the whole ‘I don’t want my blood sucked’ thing? She had the memory of a goldfish.

“Thank you. I had it made about 5 years ago,” the Count’s nails of chalkboard voice took on a slightly higher tone. “It doesn’t compare to the King’s castle, but my men did their best.”

“Oh yes, the castle’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Violetta clapped her hands together. “I visited it for the first time just a few days ago!” ‘Visited’ was an interesting word to pick when talking about being locked in the dungeon.

“Yes, it’s quite magnificent. I would have come to the trial today if I hadn’t already had prior engagements.” Jeez, they kissed the royal family’s asses even when they weren’t around.

“Speaking of trials,” I interrupted them. “It’s my understanding that you want to hold one.”

“Straight to the point. I don’t dislike that quality.” The count leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk, just inches away from his gun. “But as for the trial… I’d like to hold it here.”

“Here?” Violetta asked.

“That’s right. I’d rather not get Hooks involved in this.” This was the first time I’d heard someone refer to the king by his first name. “I’d like to keep this in the family, if you catch my drift.”

Yeah, that wasn’t how this stuff worked. Rigging bocce games aside, there was something seriously off here. Shady as fuck.

“I can take a look around,” I said. “But I’d like something in return.”

“Oh, rest assured, you’ll be paid for your services,” the Count said. “Five thousand large centipedes.” My favorite.

“Derr, if I can, uh, speak freely.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t need money. I need information.”

“Wow, so cool,” Violetta said under her breath. Yeah, I had always wanted to say that.

The Count smiled. “A man that values information over money is a long-lived one.” Uhh… that saying was almost identical to his last one. “What do you need to know?”

“It’s about the name plaque you have in front of your house,” I said. “I want to know about where you got it… and anything else you know related to it.”

He leaned back in his chair again, thankfully away from his gun. “Then that will be your payment.”

“Alright…” I wiped the sweat from my brow. “So what happened?”

The Count let out a deep sigh. “Last night we held an important ritual. In the middle of it we… had a bit of a problem, you see. One of my men…”

“Nimeni bit the big one.” Hadria rested her cheek on her hand. “He kicked the blood bucket. He went to the big coffin in the sky.” How many times did she intend on saying he was dead and did all of them have to be vampire themed?

Anyway.

“Do you have any suspects?” I asked.

“Yes…” the Count said. “Three. As much as it hurts me to think any of my men would do something like this… It has to be one of them.”

“Can you show me where it happened?”

“Yes, of course,” the Count’s voice rasped. “Hadria, tell your mother to meet us in the tea room.”

Hadria hopped up. “’Kay.”

Alright. I guess I was working overtime tonight.