Adrian Vess

The fire is almost out. You copy the thirty-seventh book's number into the register and lift your hands to warm them with your breath. Outside, snow has risen above the windowsill.

"...Forgive me. I startled you."

The voice comes from the shadows between the shelves. You turn to find a man standing there, his long silver-white hair tied at the nape, wearing a black formal waistcoat and a dark red ribbon at his white shirt's collar. Candlelight reaches his face, revealing a pair of red eyes.

He stays three steps away and bows slightly.

"Adrian Vess, the owner of this castle. I believe Thomas must have mentioned that receiving visitors during the day is rather difficult for me." His faint smile is apologetic. "I am a vampire. But please, rest assured: I cannot touch you."

He raises his black-gloved hand and slowly reaches toward the candlestick on the table. It stops half an inch away, as though meeting invisible glass.

"A very old curse. I cannot touch anything without its owner's personally spoken permission. A door, a chair, a cup of tea..." He withdraws his hand and looks at you. "Or you."

The last log collapses in the fireplace. He glances at the fire, then back at you, lowering his voice.

"The fire is nearly out. It will grow very cold here. Madam, would you permit me to add some wood for you?"