He turned for the door and noticed a well-dressed man with short blonde hair, a mustache and neatly trimmed beard enter the restaurant. Yoshikaz remained standing but also focused. Time for the mental barriers.

A red-haired waitress escorted the blonde man to the table in the back. “Here is your party,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” the blonde man said. He turned to Yoshikaz and held out his hand in greeting. “I’m glad that you wanted to meet me…” He hesitated, not sure how to address the young Asian man.

“John,” Yoshikaz said as he shook the offered hand briefly. “I was not sure you would show, Mr. Kirchoff.” The two sat.

“John.” Kirchoff smiled. There was no pretense. When he agreed to meet for lunch in such a public place, Kirchoff was not expecting the hero’s real name. “I apologize for being late. So much business needed addressing upon my return from Hawaii. I’m sure you can understand.”

“I would imagine,” Yoshikaz said.

The waitress returned and took their drink orders.

“I am sure you have a lot to ask me about,” Kirchoff said.

“Perhaps you want to look at the menu first,” Yoshikaz suggested. “I have had time to decide while I was waiting.”

Kirchoff smiled. “Of course.” He opened the black bound menu and read.

Yoshikaz kept his eye on the man the entire time. From the mirror on the wall, he confirmed that Kirchoff had a reflection. So, he is not a pure vampire – just as I am not. Either that or something else prevents him from showing the usual indicators and suffering from afflictions like sunlight.

The waitress returned with the drinks – a ginger ale for Yoshikaz and a dry-martini for Kirchoff. “Are you gentlemen ready to order?”

Kirchoff put down the menu. “I will have the filet, medium rare, with the garlic mashed potatoes and the asparagus, please.”

Yoshikaz raised an eye brow. And the garlic too – interesting.

The waitress turned to him after writing down the first order on her pad. “And you, sir?”

“I will have salmon and rice,” Yoshikaz said. “Thank you.”

The waitress smiled, took the menus and left the table.

The two men sat silent for a moment.

Kirchoff took a sip of his martini, savoring the dry vermouth. “Tell me, John,” he finally said with emphasis on the name, “does the name David Corday mean anything to you?”

Yoshikaz shook his head. “It does not? Should it?”

Kirchoff took the napkin from his plate and placed it in his lap. “Corday is a physician by profession, a rather dedicated one from London until his fiancée was found dead one night. After that, the man became obsessed with finding her killer as one in love surely would. He travelled across Europe for months, pursuing the man responsible until he eventually found him. The killer was the infamous Count Dracula and the year was 1920.

“Corday let emotions get the better of him and got into a heated battle with the Count. But he was severely overmatched. The doctor ended up dead but, much to his surprise, rose again after three nights. The Count, you see, decided to curse Corday with the very thing he despised – the hunger that had led to the death of his fiancée. The Count thought it would drive Corday insane, but it instead focused the doctor’s anger more so. He killed the Count a few nights later and destroyed the body so that the Count could never return again.

“But the story does not end there.” Kirchoff paused in telling his tale for a moment to take another sip of his drink. Then he continued. “After that, Corday’s mind did unhinge. He began to create unrest among the vampire circles of Europe, breaking them down and reassembling them under his own authority. He took claim to the Count’s title and name, carrying on the legend to the point where he began to dress, talk and act as the original Count did.”

“Have you ever met this Corday?” Yoshikaz asked.

The waitress returned to the table. “Here is some bread while you wait for your lunch,” she said, placing the cloth-covered basket in the center of the table. She then left.

Kirchoff removed the cloth and took out one of the warm rolls and a pat of butter. He offered the basket to Yoshikaz who also took a roll. “I have,” Kirchoff said as he used his knife to butter the bread, “when I was younger and travelling across Europe.” He took a bite of the bread.

“And did Corday leave a lasting impression on you?” Yoshikaz asked as he sliced into the roll in his hand. He watched Kirchoff for a reaction.

The Romanian smiled. “Very astute of you,” he said. “Ever since that first encounter, I have been convinced that Corday would continue his chaotic ways if left unchecked. That is the very reason I have been searching for years for the Sword of Seimei. With it, I believe I can put an end to Corday’s operations.”

Yoshikaz filed this information away in his mind and prepared to launch into the questions that nagged at him. “What do you know about the one called Gratz? Why would he send attackers against me and my colleagues?”

Kirchoff leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice slightly. “I am familiar with Gratz, but he is not someone with whom I would choose to deal. In fact, I prefer to avoid him at all cost if possible. He suffers from extreme mood swings which can make him a very dangerous person to be around. Once he commits to something, he tends to not let up.”

“So, we should expect more from him?”

Kirchoff shoot his head. “I don’t think so. If you haven’t heard anything more from him beyond the first incident, he most likely will not be bothering your organization any further. If you do not seek him further, he will ignore you.”

The waitress returned with the two lunch plates. “Here you go,” she said as she placed the food in front of the two men. “Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re doing well, miss,” Kirchoff said. “Thank you.”

The woman smiled and departed.

Kirchoff picked up his fork and knife; he began to slice off a piece of the medium rare beef. “So, what happened to the attackers he sent after you and your friends?” He popped the piece of meat into his mouth.

Yoshikaz cut himself a piece of the salmon. “We did what we had to dispose of them. They were beyond saving.” He looked up at his lunch companion. “The same could be said for those you sent to the fundraiser.”

The Romanian took a taste of the fluffy white mashed potatoes. “I’m sorry that things got so out of control that night,” Kirchoff said. “That group was meant as a distraction so that I could speak to James Barthlett alone. I wanted to question him about the Sword and the possibility of its current whereabouts. I never expected anyone would get hurt. Luckily you and your friends were there to see to that.” He cut a piece of asparagus, drizzled with melted butter, and placed it in his mouth.

“So, it was not about the money?” Yoshikaz asked.

“Oh, John, of course not,” Kirchoff laughed. “Had they succeeded in getting away with any of the money, I would have ensured that every penny of it was returned – and then some. I am sure you’ve looked into my background. You know I have no need for that as I am quite wealthy myself. As far as I was concerned, it was just a distraction so I could gather some needed information. Nothing more.”

“There were innocents that got brought into the situation,” Yoshikaz pointed out. “A few homeless vagrants near the abandoned theatre and the young boy, for example.”

“I am sorry about that,” Kirchoff apologized. “What happened to them?”

“The boy was too far gone. The vagrants were turned over to some experts in the field with hopes to reverse the process, if it was not too late.”

Kirchoff sighed. “Perhaps it is best they did not have to suffer with a life style they did not have any say in choosing.”

Yoshikaz frowned. “Is that all you have to say about that? That seems awfully cold to me.”

Kirchoff shrugged. “I don’t know what more I can do. Clearly you don’t feel this is entirely my fault nor can you blame me for the actions of others. If you did, you would have had me arrested as an accessory.”

“I still could,” Yoshikaz said.

“As a foreign citizen, what most likely would happen is that I would be removed from the country.”

“Perhaps. But that still does not change my assessment of your coldness.”

“I am not the callous monster you paint me to be,” Kirchoff said. “Believe me; I understand what it is like to have something like this forced upon you. It was not my own choice to be subjected to it, but I was lucky. The ‘change’ did not affect me as it would most people. And any whom I have granted it to over the years had accepted it willingly. I respected the decision of those who refused it.

“You must remember that those like you and I have rights just as anyone else. Most would be content just to live out their own existence in peace. What I dislike is the prejudice of so many in the world against our kind. Or those like the Corday and the Count before him who abuse their powers, adding fuel to the fear and hatred.”

“I am not like you or them,” Yoshikaz said. “I never asked for this. But I must live with it and fight against the unnatural tendencies.”

“So, you do not appreciate the abilities you were granted?”

“I do not,” Yoshikaz said firmly. “I never asked for them. I never asked for my family and friends to be slaughtered before my eyes and for me to be somehow spared.”

Kirchoff paused from eating, putting down his fork. “I am sorry you feel that way. It does explain quite a bit. I assumed you were like me - special - one who was not affected in all aspects of the condition.”

“I never wanted this. I use the abilities I was given to help put an end to it.”

“So if you could reverse it…”

“I would,” Yoshikaz finished the other man’s sentence firmly.

“Did this happen to you in this country?”

Yoshikaz shook his head. “No, it happened in Japan where I was raised.”

Kirchoff nodded. “I admit I do not know great detail about those that roam Japan. If they were organized…”

“They appeared to be wild.”

“Ah. Even so, they might have had some form of connection to Szikaka. Do you know that name?”

Yoshikaz shook his head again.

Kirchoff continued. “I know that he was a powerful individual, like the Count, who had some connections to the early days of the Yakuza. I had heard speculation though that he might be dead. I could look into that if you would like.”

“No, thank you,” Yoshikaz said.

The two men continued to eat their lunch in silence for a minute or so.

Kirchoff finally said, “You have not asked me much about the Sword. Do you know of its origin?”

Yoshikaz shook his head. “I had heard some speculation but nothing concrete.”

“I can help you there,” Kirchoff said. “Four Asian wizards forged the Sword in the final year of the 13^th Century. A lesser demon named Tseraphh aided them in their ritual, giving the weapon the ability to draw forth the curse from those inflicted by it. But the demon placed a safeguard into the mix, to prevent the weapon from falling into the wrong hands. The only way to tap into the Sword’s power is through a talisman that only Tseraphh himself can grant. Each talisman is linked to its owner, thus making it impossible for someone to use another’s with the Sword.”

Yoshikaz frowned. “I did not know that aspect. Do you have a…?”

“I do,” Kirchoff said. “What would be the point seeking the Sword without one? Otherwise it is just a very old artifact one could display or sell for more than one purchased it.”

“How did you get one?”

Kirchoff said plainly, “I was killed.”

Yoshikaz blinked suddenly.

Kirchoff continued. “I died, went to Hell and met the demon directly. We talked and a deal was struck in exchange for the talisman and my return to life.” The Romanian rolled the olive around in his empty martini glass before popping it into his mouth. He chewed it for a moment and swallowed. “So the question to you is: are you willing to die yourself to continue your cause?”

Yoshikaz hesitated a moment. This was not something he had considered. “I do not…I need to consider all this information.”

Kirchoff leaned forward, lowering his voice. “If anyone could remove your unwanted ‘gifts’, the demon surely could. His magic is considerable. The only thing is that you have to go to him. He has no taste for this world and has not been back since the last foray when the Sword was created.”

Yoshikaz finished his ginger ale, wishing now he had ordered something stronger after all. There was a lot to be considered.

The waitress returned to the table. “Will there be anything else? Dessert perhaps?”

Kirchoff glanced at his watch. “I am afraid I do have another meeting before the day is out,” he said.

She smiled. “I’ll just leave this with you then.” She put the leather holder with the bill on the table.

Kirchoff reached for it before Yoshikaz could. “John, this one is on me,” he said. “I owe you that.” He pulled out his credit card and placed it into the holder. The waitress took it and left.

“Thank you for lunch,” Yoshikaz said, “and the conversation.”

“Of course,” Kirchoff said. He pulled a small business card from his wallet and handed it to the young Asian man. “Here, if you ever need my assistance I can be contacted through Sheeree Turner, my local secretary. If I am not in Baltimore, she may not know how to get to me directly. I always check in with her to keep up on my investments and such. Just let her know and I will get back to you.”

The hero took the card and put it into his jacket pocket. “If you need help facing Corday, the offer is there.”

“Thank you.” Kirchoff stood and shook Yoshikaz’s hand. “Good luck in whatever paths you decide to take.”

The hero turned and left the restaurant. I cannot tell the others about this, he thought, at least not right away. They would not understand the need for forging such a complicated alliance. Karishi knew, though, that if he kept contact with Kirchoff then he could keep track of the Sword. That was the important thing for him right now.