On the ornate tray brought into the room by the servant, an array of refreshments awaited, from various delicacies to a decanter of wine. With a dismissive gesture, Sir Ferdinand Lazarus signaled for the servant to leave.

“You’ll find a glass of wine refreshing after your walk, Mr. Bennett, and you too, Mr. O’Hara. I must apologize for forgetting your name.”

“O’Hara,” he replied.

“Ah, O’Hara. Please, help yourself,” Lazarus said cordially.

“Aren’t you indulging, sir?” Henry inquired.

“I adhere to a strict regimen,” Lazarus explained. “Simple fare suffices, and I’ve grown accustomed to prolonged periods without indulgence.”

“He’s abstaining from food and drink,” Henry muttered, a touch distractedly.

“Will you sell me the Hall?” Lazarus asked directly.

Henry’s gaze returned to Lazarus’ face, where he noticed an unmistakable resemblance to the portrait in Flora’s chamber. What cemented the resemblance was a faint scar on Lazarus’ forehead, more pronounced than in the painting. The realization hit Henry like a wave, a sickening feeling washing over him as he recognized the telltale signs of a creature he had only heard of in whispered tales – a vampire.

“You’re not having any wine,” Lazarus observed. “Most young men would readily partake. Please, help yourself.”

“I cannot,” Henry declined firmly.

Standing up, Henry turned to O’Hara. “Shall we leave?”

“If you wish,” O’Hara agreed, rising.

“But you haven’t given me an answer about the Hall,” Lazarus reminded, a charming smile playing on his lips.

“I need time to consider,” Henry replied. “But I have a condition. You must agree to one of mine.”

“Name it,” Lazarus urged.

“That you never intrude upon my family.”

“That’s rather unkind,” Lazarus mused. “I hear you have a delightful sister, young and lovely. I must admit, I had hoped to make her acquaintance.”

“Your presence would bring only sorrow and madness,” Henry interjected sharply.

“Am I so dreadful?” Lazarus feigned innocence.

“No, but—” Henry halted as O’Hara intervened.

“Remember where you are, Henry,” O’Hara cautioned. “Let’s not provoke unnecessary conflict.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“True, true,” Henry acquiesced. “Forgive me. We will consider your offer and inform you. Rest assured, your desire to acquire the Hall will likely be met.”

“I eagerly await your decision,” Lazarus replied with a faint smile. “And should I be the new owner, I extend an open invitation for any of your family to visit at any time.”

Henry’s words cut through the air like a chilling wind. “A visit to the tomb would be far more desirable. Farewell, sir.”

“Adieu,” Lazarus replied with a graceful bow, his expression taking on an eerie peculiarity that sent a shiver down Henry’s spine. As they left the house, Henry remained silent, his mind swirling with bewilderment and horror.

“O’Hara,” he finally spoke, his voice strained, “it would be an act of mercy for someone to end my life.”

“To end your life?” O’Hara echoed, alarmed.

“Yes, for I fear madness will claim me otherwise.”

“Compose yourself,” O’Hara urged.

“Lazarus is a vampire,” Henry blurted out, his tone frantic. “He is the fiend who visited Flora in the dead of night, draining her life away. I cannot doubt it now. Oh, God, I wish lightning would strike me down, for I cannot bear the reality of such horrors.”

“Henry, calm yourself,” O’Hara urged, trying to steady his friend’s frantic thoughts.

“He must be destroyed,” Henry continued, his eyes wild with desperation. “It is a duty to rid the world of such evil. He must be killed, burnt, his ashes scattered to the winds.”

“Hush, Henry. These words are dangerous,” O’Hara cautioned, looking around nervously.

“I care not,” Henry replied, his voice rising. “He is a vampire, a creature of darkness.”

“Think, Henry. Killing him may lead to consequences we cannot foresee.”

“But he took Flora!” Henry exclaimed, anguish in his voice.

“And we must consider the repercussions of our actions,” O’Hara reasoned. “Vampires are said to create more of their kind by attacking the living.”

“I had forgotten Flora,” Henry whispered, anguish etched on his face.

“We must protect those we love,” O’Hara said firmly. “Live for them, Henry. Fight against the darkness that threatens to consume us all.”

“I will try,” Henry replied, a determination flickering in his eyes. “For Flora, for all of us.”

“My dear Henry Bennett, though I am not aged, my experience grants me insight into the ways of the world. Allow me to share a prophecy born of that experience,” O’Hara began, his tone grave yet tinged with urgency. “I foresee Charles Holland recoiling in horror at the mere idea of a vampire’s presence near Flora, enough to hinder their union.”

“Hold, O’Hara. I must disagree,” Henry interjected, his voice filled with conviction. “Charles is a man of integrity, steadfast in his love for Flora.”

“Experience speaks louder than words,” O’Hara insisted, a shadow of concern clouding his features. “I hope my foresight proves wrong, but time will tell.”

“You doubt Charles unjustly,” Henry rebutted, his frustration evident. “Your skepticism would wound any friendship.”

“It pains me to cause distress, especially to you,” O’Hara admitted somberly. “I speak with sincerity, though it may sting.”

“No offense taken,” Henry reassured him, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Forgive my agitation; my mind is in turmoil. O’Hara, I am at the brink of madness.”

“Compose yourself, Henry. Consider the implications of this encounter,” O’Hara advised, his tone soothing yet firm.

“You are right. Our actions must be deliberate,” Henry agreed, attempting to regain composure.

“I suggest discretion regarding this matter at home,” O’Hara suggested cautiously. “Revealing suspicions may only complicate matters.”

“I shall keep silent,” Henry affirmed. “Should Sir Ferdinand Lazarus dare intrude again, he will face dire consequences.”

“Let us hope such a confrontation never arises,” O’Hara said. “But if it does, prudence must guide our actions.”

“Agreed,” Henry replied, his resolve firm. “For now, we must maintain appearances, even as our hearts ache.”

As they arrived at the hall, Henry prepared himself for the difficult act of concealing his turmoil from his family.