But before I could fully appreciate the entryway, the man herded me through a hall and into a cosy parlor. A roaring orange fire commanded attention at the far wall. High-backed chairs with silk cushions were scattered around the room and the walls were papered in pine green. A snooker set was discreetly placed behind a couch, and cabinets of books, globes, and assorted curiosities framed high casement windows. My father, a collector of books and fine objects, would have loved this room, and my chest tightened at the realisation that I would surpass my own father in life experience.

‘Cigar?’ he offered, pulling out a box.

‘No thank you, sir,’ I said. The cigars were the finest quality, made from my home state’s tobacco. At one time, I would have been more than happy to accept. But even the sound of a bird’s beak scraping against bark almost overwhelmed my heightened senses; the thought of sucking in clouds of black smoke was unbearable.

‘Hmmm. Doesn’t partake.’ He raised a craggy eyebrow doubtfully. ‘You’ll not bow out on some spirits, I hope?’

‘No, sir. Thank you, sir.’

The proper words came out of my mouth even as I paced back and forth.

‘That’s my boy.’ He prepared my drink, an apricotcoloured liquid poured out of a cut crystal decanter.

‘So you found my daughter in the park,’ he said, offering me the brandy. I couldn’t help holding the sparkling glass up to the light. It would have been beautiful even without my vampire senses, scattering every stray beam like iridescent dragonflies.

I nodded at my host and took a small sip, sitting down when he motioned to a leather chair. The warm, pungent spirit poured over my tongue, both comforting me and making me feel strangely uneasy at the same time.