An hour later I met with the client and learnt that I would be filming a rising young starlet who was starring in a Norwegian youth series. She was present at the meeting and I must say she made a good impression on me. Most importantly, she was photogenic, which certainly made me happy. The customer of the shooting – a rich boyfriend of the young actress, did not take away from me an admiring look, and his protégé – jealous. But he was not my type, so, having negotiated the details of the shoot and the fee, I went to the hotel. Changing into a sexy silver dress, I hailed a taxi and spent the night at the club. Arriving at the hotel at five o'clock in the morning, dancing and satisfied, I didn't leave the room until after dark. The guy I'd brought with me was pushed out the door. I didn't even know his name – I just invited him into my room and he followed me like a faithful dog.

At ten o'clock in the evening the filming took place. Successfully. Both the photographer and the model knew what they were doing.

At four in the morning I flew to Prague, having bought a large flat on Aker Brygge, one of the most popular and expensive neighbourhoods in the city.

And why not?

I remember my birthdays when I was a child: every year I saw the same faces, ageless, beautiful, perfect. The faces of my now grown-up brothers, my parents, my cousins and cousins, and everyone else who had anything to do with the Mroczek clan. And so it was until I turned fifteen: then I urged them not to have these boring meetings. When I turned thirty-five, and the sun gave out my first wrinkles, I forbade my family even to mention that I was growing older. But, what a relief! A vampire's shell never ages or fades, but always remains dazzling.

My parents still hold the record in our society for the number of children born in marriage. Vampire families don't usually have more than two children. Like the Morgans. Gregory Morgan is the only one. Oh, and Fredrik, of course. My parents did their best to raise five children. Two sons and three daughters. And now, thanks to Mariszka, we are related to the Morgan clan, and my parents have a new fledgling to warm their hearts – a long-awaited grandson. I was aware of the fact that our mother selfishly hoped to keep Misha at home, but the clever girl showed character and fled to another's nest. Not Mroczek anymore. Misha Haraldson. Sounds good.

For some time now, my parents have been hinting to my older brother Martin that "it's time for you to get serious and think about your personal life". Fortunately, Martin has always been rich in excuses and declared that "fate will find him without his interference". Love his humour.

Vampire fate always finds us on its own. Even if we desperately hope to keep her away from us even a mile away. She can be a blessing. Oh, then the vampire is happy forever, for he loves the one who loves him. Mutuality. But in many cases, fate simply mocks, throws an immortal leech into our hearts, sucking our blood just as we drink it from a person's veins. Love is a disgusting thing.

***

– Martin! I didn't expect it! – I exclaimed happily when I saw my brother waiting for me at the exit of the terminal at Prague airport.

Martin stood leaning against the counter of a closed ticket office and looked at me with a smile. And I walked towards him with a smile. Soon we hugged, kissed, he took from me my big wheeled suitcase in which I had brought my best camera and presents for my nephew and Misha, we got into the car and went straight to the Morgan Castle. For everyone else, except Mariszka, of course, my appearance in the clan circle is already a gift. And maybe this righteous woman missed me? Eight years. I don't remember for what reason, but I missed Cedric's first two birthdays. Probably because of the anticipation of boredom.

– Where are you staying? – I asked as we briefly updated each other on the latest news of our lives. Briefly, because we regularly skype-called once or twice a month, substituting "blood" for "wine" and "killed" for "met". So when Martin would say, "Yesterday I met an Irish businessman and drank some wonderful Irish wine with him," I knew that yesterday he had killed an Irishman and drank his blood. How entertaining it was to cipher our conversations about hunting!

The last time I spoke to Martin was before the Oslo shoot, and I didn't have to listen long to hear about how he'd managed to have fun in those six days. But I did share with him my short trip to Oslo, emphasising that despite the gypsies and beggars, I had fallen in love with the city and bought a flat there. If he wants, he can use it whenever he wants. Martin grinned and said he'd think about my offer.

– Like everyone else. Mariszka and Markus have it, – he answered my question. – Misha and Fredrik are also at the castle. Everyone is here, waiting for you.

– That's nice," I said sarcastically, imagining how I'd have to hug everyone. – And your parents?

– They flew in yesterday.

– I'm not surprised.

– Brandon's at the castle, too.

A sigh of surprise escaped my chest.

– Brandon? – I asked, raising my eyebrows mockingly. – Since when did he become Mroczek?

– He's Markus's best friend," Martin shrugged.

– Yes, and he refused to be Cedric's godfather! – I reminded him.

Mariszka insisted that her son be baptised in the Catholic Church. The godmother was, of course, Misha (my name wasn't even mentioned in the discussion), and Brandon was to be the godfather. But he refused, saying that his lifestyle made him unworthy of such an honourable title.

An unworthy lifestyle. He sleeps with mortal women. So, by his reckoning, I am unworthy. Narrow-minded bastard.

– He had a reason, and frankly, I agree with his decision not to be Cedric's godfather," Martin said.

– Yes, it was his ever-serious and withdrawn Uncle Cedric! – I giggled.

But the thought of Brandon Grayson being there in the castle right now, of seeing him, filled me with nervous abandon.

Mariszka's wedding. The guests. Fun. Brandon.

– Are you okay? – I heard Martin's voice, forcing me back to reality.

I blinked, pushing away the painful memories.

– I'm always fine, Martin," I replied calmly, hiding the storm that was now ripping through my chest. – I was just thinking. So what about Brandon? Still single?

– He's in love, but he prefers to be alone. Too bad he doesn't have hunting parties on his estate anymore. Damn, that was fun.

– Wait! Wait! Is Brandon in love? – That news took me by surprise.

Who knew? He's in love! I think the ground shook with that news.

Brandon. That horrible vampire. I thought there was no room for love. He's all about cruelty and lust.

– Amazing, isn't it? – Martin gave a short laugh. – When Fredrik told me that, I didn't believe it. But Markus confirmed it. You know Brandon – he considers this feeling a weakness and prefers not to discuss the subject. Not with anyone. Not even Markus.

– Yeah, that's understandable, but who is she? – I had to find out her name. I should know her name.

But I knew for sure it wasn't me.

– And that's the big mystery. Nobody knows who the conqueror is. He never once said her name.

– There's no way nobody knows who she is! I'm sure Markus is well aware of that! – I said sarcastically.

I was annoyed: such news, but no one could tell me what kind of woman had captivated Brandon! Which vampire? There are hundreds of them! Which one of them has the bastard's heart now? And does she want it, that black, dirty heart?

– You're wrong, Markus doesn't know, that's for sure. The only thing we know is that the lady does not reciprocate him," Martin said in a serious tone.