The driver pulled the carriage under a tall, wide archway. He helped me out of the coach, put my luggage in front of the castle door, and drove away into the night. I was alone, standing next to a massive, stone door, which I now noticed had no bell or knocker.
Fear and doubt crept over me. Who were these people and what kind of place was I in? Other paralegals don’t have to go on overseas expeditions to help foreigners purchase London real estate. Paralegal! My bae Moesha would quickly correct me. I’m now a real lawyer. Just before I left London, I learned that I passed my bar exam. As a Black man, I was very proud of my achievement. This qualification was not only the culmination of many years of education and hard work, but also revenge against people who had doubted me and discriminated against me and my ancestors.
The sound of footsteps drew me out of my thoughts. A light came on underneath the door and I could hear the clanks of bolts being unlocked. The doors creaked open, as if they hadn’t been in use in years. In the doorway stood a tall, Black man in all black clothing. He spoke English with a strange accent.
“Welcome to my house,” he said.
He looked and sounded just like the driver. I wondered if they were the same person.
“Count Blackula?” I asked tentatively.
“I am Blackula,” he said, bowing. “Please, come in, brother. You must eat and rest.”
Blackula took both my hands in his. His gesture was one of friendship, but his hands felt very cold, like death.
He stepped out and carried my suitcases inside. I felt bad, as he was an older man, but he insisted.
“No, brother. You are my guest. My … servants are not available, so allow me make you comfortable myself.”
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Our footsteps echoed in the dark castle. Blackula led me up a wide, winding staircase, down a long corridor, up another staircase, and finally to my room. To my relief, the door opened to a cheery, well-lit room with a large bed, a fireplace burning with fresh logs, and a table with dinner laid out. All my fears went away.
“Your en suite bathroom is over there. After your long journey, I’m sure you’ll need to refresh yourself,” said the Count. “When you’re finished, we can have dinner together.”
I was very hungry, so I quickly did my toilet business and washed up. When I went back into my room, I found my host standing by the fireplace.
“I have already dined, so I won’t be joining you for dinner,” Blackula said. “But I am happy to have your company all the same, brother.”
I handed him a letter from my Black boss, Mr. Hawkins. He read it, then handed the letter back to me.
Dear Count Blackula,
Thank you for choosing Black London Homes for helping you legally purchase property in the United Black Kingdom. Regretfully, my health is poor due to chronic diabetes, and I am unable to travel. However, I’m happy to send Mr. Jamarcus Harker as my substitute. He is a young, energetic, and talented man. He is the epitome of Black excellence. He’ll attend to you and help you in any matters you desire.
Yours truly,
Abebe Hawkins
The count took off the cloche with a flourish and revealed spicy chicken tenders, biscuits, red beans, rice, and a salad. After I devoured the food, we sat by the fireplace with a glass of brandy, although he excused himself and said that he did not drink. We spoke at length about my journey and all the people that I had met.
Now that I had no distractions, I could finally observe his appearance. Although Count Blackula had dark skin, his skin still seemed pale and death-like. His white Afro grew abundantly on the top of his head, but not along the sides. His white eyebrows were bushy, almost a unibrow. His white mustache was wide and flared to tips by his cheeks. His both his ears and fingernails were pointed. But by far, his most prominent feature was his exceptionally sharp canine teeth, which protruded over his dark lips.
Blackula stood up and said, “You must be tired. I have business until afternoon, so feel free to sleep in as late as you want, brother.”
I looked toward the window and I noticed the first rays of dawn. The Count took my right hand in his right, then pulled me in an embrace with his left. His breath smelled rotten and I felt nauseous. Strangely, I felt a terrible sense of dread. I involuntarily shuddered. The Count noticed it and released me. He bowed and left. His grim smile showed more of his canine teeth.