Part Nineteen The Bell and the Vampire
The tape had barely slipped from Jonathan's shoulders when the sound of the front bell cut through the stillness of the shop. A crisp, deliberate chime that seemed louder than it should have been.
Humphrey paused, head lifting, then set the chalk aside. "A customer," he murmured, as though naming a storm on the horizon.
Together, they stepped back into the front room.
At first glance, the man standing there seemed carved from shadow and winter light: tall, immaculately dressed, his features sharp enough to cut. His skin bore the faint pallor that no rouge could disguise, his eyes a startling, crystalline blue. A vampire.
Jonathan stopped cold, breath shallow. The sight of him pressed some buried instinct — unease, or recognition he could not name.
Humphrey, however, moved swiftly into formality, voice steady though his glance betrayed a flicker of wariness.
"Master Roger," he greeted with a small bow. "You honor my shop. I have the suit ready for you."
The stranger inclined his head. His lips barely curved in what might have passed as courtesy. "Doctor Phelps will be pleased," he said, voice smooth, resonant.
Humphrey lifted the red suit from its mannequin, presenting it with both hands. Roger accepted it, his long fingers brushing the fabric with reverence. But it was not the suit he studied. His gaze slid, unhurried, to Jonathan.
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, the world narrowed to the quiet hum of the oil lamps, the faint scent of cedar and pressed wool, and that stare — cool, probing, unblinking. Jonathan felt as though the vampire could see beneath his skin, through the weight of his composure, down to the shadows he carried.
Humphrey cleared his throat. "This is young master Jonathan Hanns. You may recall his family—"
"A name," Roger said softly, still staring. "One does not forget the name Hanns."
The silence that followed was not long, but it felt endless. Then, with deliberate calm, Roger turned, the suit draped over his arm. The bell chimed again as he left, its sharp note cutting through the air like a blade.
Humphrey exhaled, forcing a laugh. "Do not trouble yourself, lad. Vampires always look as though they're measuring coffins. It's their way."
But Jonathan's chest remained tight, his palms damp.