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The red lettering on the invitation—mixed with gold dust—contained blood.
Not the blood of animals like cats or dogs.
Human blood.
The discovery made Henry fall into deeper silence.
Normally, invitations to Hollywood banquets or parties always came with a clear reason or theme.
A celebration banquet.
A birthday party.
An Oscar campaign dinner.
Whether it was a masquerade ball or a costume party, the theme would always be clearly stated in the invitation.
Just by reading the card, you could usually tell what the event was about—and what kind of clothing you were expected to wear. Even if there was no written invitation, the person extending the invite would explain these details verbally.
But an invitation that only listed time and place, with nothing else—
Unless the recipient was very close to the host—
Was considered extremely rude.
Mystery might seem intriguing, but for wealthy people afraid of death, deliberate secrecy felt like a threat.
For people accustomed to controlling everything, surprise and fright were practically the same thing.
Under normal circumstances, Henry would have tossed such a strange invitation straight into the trash.
He almost did.
But just before throwing it away, he paused.
Then lifted the card to his nose and sniffed again.
If it were merely human blood, he would have discarded it.
But his superhuman sense of smell detected something else.
The blood came from more than one person.
Since it wasn't processed medical plasma but fresh blood directly drawn from bodies, it still carried biological signatures—cholesterol levels, blood sugar markers, subtle health traits.
Henry could distinguish at least ten different individuals.
Whether those people were alive or dead was unknown.
But they had certainly been bled.
---
Groups obsessed with blood were rarely respectable religions.
Often they weren't even ordinary humans.
A word immediately surfaced in Henry's mind.
A group.
A nuisance in the Marvel universe that was difficult to classify.
Vampires.
People often assumed vampires were weak—fodder any superhero could bully.
With the right equipment, even ordinary humans could kill them.
But vampires had one enormous advantage.
They were a network.
Killing one or two meant nothing.
Destroying a nest or two barely mattered.
In Henry's evaluation, vampires ranked just below mutants and Skrulls as a persistent nuisance.
Like cockroaches.
If you saw one, there were probably thirty hiding nearby.
No matter how many you killed, they never seemed to disappear.
And in Marvel's version, killing a vampire sire didn't automatically destroy all their descendants.
---
So the question became:
Should he go?
Or not?
Another characteristic of vampires was their ability to infiltrate power structures.
Money.
Beauty.
Health—albeit a distorted version of it.
All were easily obtained for creatures pulled from myth into reality.
Hollywood's darker corners were the perfect hunting grounds.
Thinking of that, Henry realized he had to go.
Even if he himself wasn't afraid, he had to consider Charlize Theron.
Burying his head in the sand and pretending the threat didn't exist would be foolish.
Since someone had already targeted him, understanding their strength, organization, and background was necessary.
Of course, the rules he knew about vampires came mostly from fantasy.
Those rules might not apply here.
Who knew?
Maybe vampires from outside Marvel had wandered into this universe.
After all, vampire stories had been wildly popular in American media for decades.
And the Continental Hotel system already existed here—something not originally from Marvel.
If the visitors happened to be the Morlun family…
Then it might be time to start packing.
That clan hunted animal totems across the multiverse and counted Spider-Man among their enemies.
Henry had no interest in crossing paths with them.
Whether he could defeat them wasn't the issue.
The problem was the trouble they brought.
---
But there was another possibility.
Cooperation.
The stage was Hollywood.
There was no irreconcilable hatred between them yet.
In business, profit determined alliances and enemies—not ideology, skin color, or even species.
Henry reminded himself not to repeat past mistakes.
He had already reflected on his earlier prejudices toward mutants and superheroes.
Perhaps—
Just perhaps—
This time he might meet a reasonable, even benevolent vampire.
The thought made him snort.
Even he didn't quite believe it.
---
He slid the invitation back into its envelope and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
Henry had only just arrived at the office, but he was already preparing to leave again.
Passing through the outer office, he saw his secretary—a chubby Black woman—watering a cactus.
Since Henry had joined Stark Pictures, this was the sixth succulent plant she'd owned.
The previous ones had all died from overwatering.
Average lifespan: about two months.
"Yulian," Henry called.
"Yes, Mr. Brown."
The girl quickly set down the watering can and straightened herself.
"No need to be nervous," Henry said casually. "I just wanted to tell you I'll be out today. If anything comes up, leave it in a memo. If it's urgent, call my mobile."
"Understood, Mr. Brown."
---
Soon afterward, Henry drove to a place he hadn't visited in a while.
The Continental Hotel.
Inside the hotel's café, the man he was looking for sat in his usual seat.
The aging gunman nearing retirement.
Charlie Fisher.
"Mind if I sit?" Henry asked.
Charlie didn't object.
He was drinking coffee laced with whiskey.
Henry placed a Continental gold coin on the table and signaled the waitress nearby.
"An espresso, please."
Charlie sighed.
"I thought you'd never come back here again," the old assassin said. "Shame, really. You had a chance to leave all this behind."
Henry shrugged.
"I thought once I stepped back into the sunlight, I could leave this world behind too."
He placed the envelope on the table.
"But then I ran into something unfamiliar."
He turned the wax seal upward so Charlie could see the crest.
"I came to ask for advice."
The seasoned gunman glanced down.
His eyelids twitched.
Then his brow furrowed.
"They found you already?"
Henry smiled faintly.
"So you people do know about them."
He leaned back in his chair.
"I thought once I walked into the sunlight there would be no shadows."
He tapped the envelope.
"Turns out even glamorous Hollywood has places your kind can reach."
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