"Open the gates," announced a man watching from the castle's main office. From afar he could see the cars approaching, and he knew who was in the first one, his favorite and dearest son, Michael. The other in the back, he wasn't sure, perhaps, Michael's guards.
The castle steward, Daikon, nodded and ordered for the gates to be opened quickly. Then he turned his gaze again to the tall, fearsome man in front of him.
"Sir, it is said that the young master has captured Mr. Hart," his voice was flat as if he were an emotionless machine. "He has brought him for you."
Lord Tark grinned, although his face was no longer the same as in the past, young and charming, he was still a handsome and elegant man, with that strange sophistication that only the noblest vampires could show.
With hair still black, with few silver locks on the sides, crimson eyes, and a pale complexion, the man looked down from the top of his castle.
