"Vampires?" Tom leaned in, confused, and asked in a low voice, "London still has vampires?"
"I thought you'd know how to tell them apart after we ran into that vampire in Diagon Alley last time." Nelson tilted his head and said softly, "Look closely at his eyes and neck—"
"Mr. Wizard, please don't treat me as a teaching aid—and it seems you haven't learned the lesson well enough either. Vampires have hearing far superior to wizards, so do be sure to remember that." Troka pushed open the bar's trapdoor and walked out, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt as he loosened his neck and shoulders. "We aren't magical beasts. Vampires are merely people who became somewhat special because we were harmed. Although we don't have the right to wield wands, we are still people equal to you."
"We didn't come here to discuss human rights with you." Tom took an impatient step forward, blocking Nelson behind him. "Or are you planning to stand up for him?"
"No, no, no." Troka waved his hand, then said to Nelson, "Mr. Wizard, since you know about vampires, you should know how we reproduce too, shouldn't you? So was it really wise for you to barge in so openly?"
The moment he finished, the waiters and bartenders who had been scattered around the tavern gathered at his side. They grinned mockingly at the two isolated boys, their open mouths lined with interlocking fangs, their dark-red pupils giving off a chilling gleam.
"I still have to say it," Troka said as offense and defense reversed, his expression turning lazy as well. He curled his lip. "This is why children shouldn't come to places like this."
"We didn't kick the door." Nelson frowned, as though this was an extremely important matter. He looked toward