Shimada House is quiet when Hanzo enters in the pink light of early morning. The brothers keep a skeleton staff. The fewer people who know the truth about them, the better. Hanzo closes the door behind him and leans against it, closing his eyes and exhaling shakily.

"Sir, do you require anything?" Reyes asks, stepping briskly into the hall. Hanzo opens his eyes and shakes his head. Reyes is the head of staff here, and Hanzo's trusted friend. He is a square, dangerous man with scars on his face from the fights he has been involved in against the undead enemy.

"Has Genji returned?"

Reyes frowns briefly. "Your brother is in his rooms. He is… not in a good way."

Hanzo sweeps his cloak off and hands it to Reyes, clapping him gratefully on the shoulder before ascending the wide staircase. His whole body aches. He was at a ball last night before all the drama, and he needs to sleep.

He stops before Genji's door, listening carefully. When he hears nothing, he knocks briskly and opens the door.

Genji's room is pitch black; huge black sheets are pinned up at the windows to save him from the sunlight. In the light cast in from the hallway, Hanzo can see the dark, slumped shape of his brother sitting cross-legged on the bed. He clutches a bottle of rum.

"Close the door, will you, brother?" Genji asks in a thick voice. "Even a little sun makes my skin burn."

Hanzo steps in and closes the door behind him, plunging them into darkness. For a moment, he cannot see anything, but his eyes adjust quickly these days, and he blinks at his brother. "Should you be drinking at this hour?" he asks mildly.

"What difference does it make?" Genji asks humourlessly. "It isn't like I can actually get drunk."

Hanzo sighs. "You can't punish yourself for-"

"I can and I will," Genji snaps. "Miss Ziegler is never going to heal well from that wound, and you know it. She was a beautiful young woman with a world of marriage prospects yesterday, and now she is…"

"Come, brother, don't be so ridiculous," Genji smiles, covering Hanzo's shoulder with his hand. "You will have a brilliant time."

They are standing in the hallway outside the ballroom, listening to the sounds of music and laughter from inside. They often come to these events just to maintain appearances, but Hanzo has never enjoyed them. As a theoretically eligible bachelor- if one looks past the vampire hunting, which is admittedly not common knowledge- he finds himself inundated with giggling chits the moment he enters a ballroom. Genji, as the younger brother and heir to no title, is more free to pass the time however, and with whomever, he pleases.

"Very well," Hanzo sighs.

They open the doors and enter. Dozens of pairs of eyes turn to them, and Hanzo cringes a little. He claps his brother on the back and heads for the drinks table, aware of hundreds of eyes burning into him.

He takes a lemonade and sips it crossly. A girl with a tumble of dark hair passes him with a blush and a giggle, and he sighs. For a moment he thinks of Jesse McCree.

His skin suddenly crawls on his neck, and he looks over to the shadows by the door to the terrace. A man stands in black, his eyes staring hungrily at the dancing. It is Wrexford, the vampire they have been tracking.

He is watching Genji dancing with a beautiful, yellow-haired debutante in a green dress. He is grinning down at her, his handsome face relaxed. She laughs prettily at something he says.

"You are correct. She will not heal. She is lucky to be alive." Hanzo's words are heavy. "But it is not your fault."

"Don't you see? If I had never danced with her… if I hadn't lost their trail…" Genji takes a long drink. "If your friend- McCree- hadn't been passing, she would have died before I arrived."

Hanzo's mind goes to Jesse, how pale and weak he had looked. A momentary flash of white rage grips him as he imagines Wrexford biting Jesse's throat.

"I killed Wrexford before managing to get any information out of him," Genji continues hopelessly. "I was furious."

"That's understandable." But problematic. Without a lead, the brothers are merely fumbling in the dark, fighting random vampires and trying to hold back the seemingly rising tide of monsters on the streets of London, without getting any closer to figuring out what is causing it.

There is a knock at the door behind them, and it opens to reveal Reyes. "We've just had word of the attack on Miss Ziegler, Sir."

"We had best send some flowers," Hanzo replies, and Reyes nods, turning to go.

"Wait- flowers?" Genji snaps. "Yesterday the poor woman will have had tokens and visits from dozens of men. Now, she will wake up to nothing but some flowers from disgusted well-wishers. We must visit her."

"It may have escaped your notice, but you can't leave the house during the day."

"You can," Genji says wildly. "Think about it- Lord Hanzo Shimada, an eligible bachelor by anyone's standards, visiting her. That's going to give her a boost. It will show other men that she is still desirable."

Hanzo frowns. "Why are you so invested in this?"

"I am a monster, and I am responsible." The words are sincere, but Hanzo suspects they are not the entire truth.

An hour later, desperately tired and longing for his bed, Hanzo climbs from his coach in front of the Ziegler's home. He knocks politely on the door, and it opens to reveal a young maid. He smiles at her and hands her his calling card.

"Very good, Lord Shimada, Sir. Allow me to show you to the parlour."

The house is small but well-presented. It is obvious to Hanzo that the Ziegler family, although not poor, are certainly not ridiculously wealthy. The parlour is pleasant, and he stands by the fireplace.

"Lord Shimada," a woman says behind him, and he turns to see Mrs Ziegler enter. He knows of her, and has seen her at several balls, although they have never spoken. She looks like her daughter, her yellow hair greying at the temples. Her eyes are pink from crying. "Can I help you?"

"I have come to offer my assistance, Mrs Ziegler. I received word of Miss Ziegler's injuries."

She sighs. "My poor Angela. She is… she is not doing well. She appears to have been attacked right outside our home."

"That is monstrous."

Mrs Ziegler nods sadly. "I did not realise you had ever been introduced to my daughter, Lord Shimada."

"Of course we have," Hanzo lies smoothly. "She is a delightful creature."

Mrs Ziegler starts to say something, then stops. "She is not well enough to receive visitors today, my lord, but you are welcome to visit her again tomorrow."

"I shall. Please convey my best wishes."

Jesse wakes up with a start. He sits up, his heart thundering in his chest, and for a moment he can't quite work out why it is the middle of the day and he is in his bed, not the office. The itching, burning pain on his neck quickly reminds him.

There is a loud knocking at the door, and Jesse wonders if this is what awoke him. He is shirtless, still wearing the trousers he wore yesterday. Shakily, he climbs from bed, reaching for his worn red robe, which he wraps around himself. Hesitating for a moment, he grabs a knife from his small kitchen area, and crosses to the door.

"Who is there?" he yells.

"It's Lena and Jamison, boss!" comes a female voice.

Jesse opens the door and stares out at his employees, who are standing bundled up in coats and scarves. Lena's eyes widen at the knife he is holding, and he lowers his arm automatically.

"Sorry- wasn't sure who was out there," he says.

"You often need to stab people who knock on your door?" Jamison asks mildly.

Jesse shakes his head, standing to the side to allow them to enter. Neither of them has been here before, and he watches them looking around curiously. He feels sick. He supposes he really did lose an awful lot of blood last night.

"What happened to your neck?" Lena asks, suddenly staring at him. "And your face?"

Jesse remembers the crushing blow which had sliced his face open, and fingers the crusty scratch curiously. "I got… attacked. On the way home last night. Nothing to worry about."

"You as well?" Jamison asks.

"As well?"

"Miss Angela Ziegler- the debutante. The whole city's abuzz with it. She got attacked outside her home. Her whole face is ruined. But- and this is really weird- whoever did it bandaged her face afterwards." Lena's eyes are glowing.

"That's why we came," Jamison adds. "You weren't in the office. We wanted to know if we should run the story."

Jesse's legs feel weak. He thinks about the young yellow-haired woman, how she had thrown herself at the vampire when it bit him. "Run it. But I want positives about the girl. Minimise this face-ruined aspect."

Lena exchanges a surprised look with Jamison. "If you say so, boss."

"I do say so," Jesse says. He sits down on his chair. "I… I might not be able to make it in today."

"I think that's probably wise," Jamison says. "You look bloody frightful."

"Thanks, Fawkes," Jesse returns, rolling his eyes.

"Do you need anything?" Lena asks, elbowing Jamison.

"No, thank you." What Jesse needs is to be able to forget the truth- the horrifying, dizzying truth- about the vampires living in London. He thinks for a moment of the thing's- Wrexford's- long fangs and empty black eyes, and shivers.

Lena and Jamison leave, and Jesse crosses back to bed, sinking onto it and lying back against the pillows. Jesse has never been a coward, particularly, but then again, nothing particularly frightening has ever really happened to him. He is very aware of the fact that he has to make a choice about what sort of man he intends to be.

He thinks of Hanzo Shimada, the man who started all this for Jesse. He shivers when he remembers the brief kiss Shimada gave him. There is clearly an attraction between them, but it is ridiculous to have hopes about such a thing; Shimada is a nobleman, and will be expected to marry a woman and produce an heir eventually. He is also devilishly handsome and apparently a dangerous vampire hunter: in summary, he is far too good for a scruffy, impoverished newspaper editor like Jesse McCree.

And yet… and yet,he has promised to return tonight.