The rushing of water was loud and invading. An old drain swilled pink lather, as the water oppressed the bubbles. Raw skin continued to rub against itself, chanting a mantra for cleanliness. More soap was oozed into a pair of eager hands, and they continued the cycle of cleansing. No matter how dirty the water got, no matter how tainted the soap became, not a single crimson stain was lifted from the chafed skin. The hands stopped for inspection. The fingers were bony and frail; the skin sagged, yet clung tightly against every contour of bursting blue veins. At every joint and knuckle the skin was knotted and swirled disgustingly. Suddenly, a ghastly gurgling erupted from the drain. Gunk sprayed up from the old pipes. After the first volley, thick red liquid spurted forth, drenching the hands.

Irene sat up quickly in her bed. Cold sweat clung to her body, and she quickly brought her hands up for examination. They were spotless and just as youthful as ever. Irene sighed and slowly rested her body back down, taking in deep breaths to calm herself. It was just a dream.

Irene gently rubbed her eyes, and then let her fingers travel to her temples. Soothingly massaging them, she tried to sort out her feelings. Had she really done it? She removed her hands from her head and looked at them again. Her mind began to try and justify what she had done. Thoughts, such as having no choice, that she was preventing a catastrophe, and that it was survival, kept springing to her mind. However, no matter how much she tried to make the guilt go away, it whispered 'murderer'.

It had been three days since then, and she had been unable to leave her house. Her father had asked her what was wrong, but she kept making excuses. Cyrus was pacified, and thus they were safe for the time being. However, Irene could scarcely believe what she had done. She chose her father's life over another human being. Just as Irene was about to close her eyes, she felt it. It was closer than usual. She slowly turned her head and saw a white, expressionless mask in the far corner of her room.

“What are you doing here, Cyrus?”

The smooth texture of the ghastly face slid into a wide grin before becoming serious and neutral again. “You made some rather... distressed sounds,” came his voice loftily through the darkness.

Irene drew the sheets tighter about herself. “So...?” Irene asked tiredly. The face grew closer and more defined, until fragments of moonlight highlighted his dark form.

"I came to make certain you were alright. I do need to protect the goods,” Cyrus said as he sat down at the foot of her bed.

“The goods?” Irene responded indignantly.

“No need to get defensive. Well, actually, do. Do get defensive. That's more like you." Cyrus sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. "You haven't been yourself. If this is because of guilt, let it go. That man had already given up on life,” Cyrus said, leaning closer to her. She shrank and bundled herself as tight as she could against the wall.

“It wasn’t my call!” Irene refuted.

“No, no Irene. You have a good head firmly on your shoulders, don't let it drift off into the clouds now. It was your call, and he was a logical choice." Cyrus said firmly. Then he chuckled quietly. "Granted, I didn’t need the high alcohol content in his blood. Just be glad he wasn't on narcotics." Irene shook her head and then sunk it into a nest of arms.

“His life wasn't hopeless; he could have cleaned up! But I took that all away,” Irene lamented. Cyrus shook his head.

“Oh stop this moaning!" a rare sound of vexation and contempt entered Cyrus's voice. He placed a hand over his chest. "I’m the one who killed him! I was too hungry to stop! You just brought him to me to protect you and yours." Irene swallowed hard, unsettled by Cyrus's change in demeanour. Cyrus crossed his arms. "Irene, you may think all lives are equal, but they aren’t! Some people have better lives, are better people, or have a better purpose, and that is that! Don't waste your energy on this ‘who am I to condemn them’ nonsense! People judge and condemn people every day! You aren’t set apart from them, Irene. You may be better, but you aren’t set apart!” Irene lifted her head and stared at him, her eyes burning.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried to justify what I did? The guilt just won’t go away…” Irene bemoaned. Cyrus threw out his hand and grabbed her arm, yanking her quickly from the corner and held her in front of him. She tried to get away, but his grip was granite, and soon his other hand had her other arm. He put his face very close to hers.

“Guilt feeds itself, peaches. If you feed it, it grows until it becomes a nasty little demon with horns and pitchfork! Don't let it. It may never go away, but you just need to show your guilt who is boss!" Cyrus straightened up, leaning back to give Irene some space to breathe, so to speak, but still held her arms firmly. "Now be that strong girl I admire, and suck it up!” Irene tried again to pull away, but there was no escaping his clutch. This was the way it had been since he had arrived. Why did she bother? Irene reluctantly looked into Cyrus’s dark eyes, as they stared into her with inexorable intensity.

“I guess…” Irene's tone was weighed down by exhaustion and uncertainty. She kept staring at his eyes, and watched as the skin on his cheekbones pushed up against his lower eyelids. She didn’t want to admit that he was right. Yet, she had come a long way and had come to cope with things, so why should she let this be the straw that broke the camel’s back? She hated to draw strength from him, but there was no one else there for her at the moment. Irene wondered why her father hadn't come to check on her. But, she was also relieved. She couldn't confide in him about any of this. “You made your point, Cyrus. Will you please let go, now?”

“Cute,” Cyrus responded, not loosening his grip, nor dropping his smile. Rather, it intensified. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. You said yourself, you had no use for people who mope and feel sorry for themselves. I'm glad you’re back.”

Irene opened her mouth to remind him to let go of her, but her words could not get past the two lips that pressed against her own. Irene’s entire body tensed up as her mind began to race so fast that it seemed as though a single thought could not be processed before being replaced. Irene was rendered dumb as she felt her body slowly leaning back, guided gently yet firmly by Cyrus, until her head rested upon her pillow. Irene wanted to resist, but he pulled away to gaze directly into her eyes. "Relax," Cyrus whispered. Immediately, the tension she felt in her arms and legs melted away. He smiled in evident delight, and his gaze dropped as he kissed her again. Irene felt trapped and distant from herself, as if she were standing across the room, watching with contempt. Contempt equally for Cyrus and herself. It wasn’t until she felt Cyrus’s hand slip up her shirt that she managed to break free and grab his wrist.

“Off.”

That single command fell onto silence and hesitance. Cyrus’s hesitance to stop, and Irene’s hesitance to slap him if he didn’t. Dejectedly, the vampire got up off of the bed and stood, looking down at her. Irene glared up at him, bringing the sheets up around herself protectively once more.

“Yes… you certainly are back to your old self…” Cyrus muttered.

“What were you thinking!? Can you not see that I don’t want you?” Irene exclaimed, hues of red tinting her sight.

“Jordan isn’t here, Irene,” Cyrus said ominously. Irene’s eyes widened momentarily, before they slowly slid to slivers.

“I never told you his name…” Irene said suspiciously. Cyrus leaned against her bedroom wall, only a vague outline of him showing against all the blackness.

“No, you didn’t. However, a certain Jordan Fisher is the only patient to be visited by Miss Irene Locklyn. It’s a shock to see how seldom you visit your boyfriend,” Cyrus added tauntingly. Irene responded with a frigid silence. However, this did not stop Cyrus from continuing once it was evident that Irene had nothing to say. “There's a cute little name that pops up even more than yours: Merle Crowe.”

Irene drew in a deep, long breath. “I see what you are trying to do. If I am entirely alone, if I push away my friends… then maybe I’d turn to you… you pathetic… thing.” Cyrus leaned forward, away from the wall, and stared down at her.

“Pathetic? I’m not the paranoid girl who can’t see what is right in front of her,” Cyrus retorted. Irene cocked an eyebrow up at him.

“It isn’t paranoia if someone is actually messing with you,” Irene responded coolly.

“Stop blinding yourself with your indignation and moral superiority, and be more grateful you didn’t wind up like those other girls." Irene still hadn't heard anything about the fates of Ashley or Katie, and she shuddered. "If you care to know, as I think it's very relevant, I can take what I want when I want and you can't stop me,” Cyrus pivoted on his heel and headed for the door.

Irene stared wide-eyed. Cyrus's words hung heavily about her mind. She had already felt the futility of her struggles against the vampire. She wanted to cry more than anything now. She had thought it many times, but he had finally had the audacity to voice the sickening truth. She was completely at his mercy; he could do anything to her. However, for the first time she stopped and thought, why hasn't he?

"Cyrus wait!" Cyrus had swung open the door, poised to slam it. He paused, turning to her, eyebrow cocked. "You could. So... why haven't you?"

Cyrus scoffed and shook his head, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Irene. You're a smart girl, so I'm shocked you haven't figured that out. Ah, well, you're young. I can forgive you." Cyrus turned to her fully, shutting the door behind him. "I don't want to hear you scream 'please stop' but to whisper, 'don't stop'. But you're just too damn frigid." Cyrus squinted a moment, glancing to her window. He looked oddly pensive for a moment.

"Then why... I know you did something to control my father. And I could feel you doing something to me." Cyrus quickly looked back at her, crossing his arms and turning away.

"Ah, that... you caught on to my little trick," Cyrus said sheepishly. A broken chuckle tried to materialize, but there were gaps in the mirth, leaving a hollow sound in its wake. "It's pretty neat. But..." Cyrus looked at Irene over his shoulder. "Ah, nevermind about that." Irene crossed her arms, staring at him critically, silently demanding an explanation. Cyrus shrugged his shoulders and turned fully back to Irene. "I thought if you relaxed enough to get a little taste, you might change your mind. Then we'd both be a lot less tense. Can you blame me for trying?"

"YES!" Irene nearly screamed. She then covered her mouth, afraid of waking her father. Even though she'd done nothing wrong, the idea of him seeing her now made her feel extremely uncomfortable. On the one hand, she wanted the protection of her father, on the other, she knew her father, like herself, was powerless against Cyrus. Cyrus opened her door, and leaned out into the hallway, watching silently for a moment or two. He then stepped back in, smiling pleasantly.

"We're good. Now where were we? Oh, right, discussing the elephant shaped romantic tension in the room."

"...Romantic tension? I'm tense because I'm honestly afraid you will... force yourself on me," Irene responded bluntly. Cyrus stroked his chin, peering at Irene.

"Right. I can understand how you'd feel that way. Especially after I pretty much threatened to. In retrospect, probably not the most suave move on my part." Cyrus shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I got a little carried away. Really, you can ignore half of what I say."

"Not just threatened. Attempted! Just because I couldn't fight back or say 'no' didn't make what you were trying to do any less... it was still... still..." Fluttering sensations erupted whenever Irene tried to say the word she was thinking.

"Rape is a four letter word," Cyrus filled in cheekily.

"It's nothing to be flippant about! Have you no shame?"

"No. I don't," Cyrus responded curtly. He walked back closer to Irene, and she drew her covers tighter about herself as if they could actually protect her. "But my lack of shame is the least of your worries. Gabriel, however, is a much greater threat. He revels in his depravity. You are fortunate he was lenient with you."

"I still don't know how I got out of... wait! Back up. You're trying to change the topic!" Irene glared at Cyrus who smiled at her sweetly. He brought his hands up under his chin, batting his eyes in mock innocence. Contempt bloomed anew in Irene and she did not hide it, a sneer riding up her lip. Seeing this, he just raised his eyebrows. Irene pointed at him. "You admitted you were trying to assault me."

"Assault is such a violent word." Cyrus sat at the foot on her bed and rested his elbows on his knees. Irene drew up her knees close to her chest. "Like I said, I was just helping you to relax. Then you told me to stop. I stopped. Don't I get bonus points for that?"

"NO!" Irene squeaked in exasperation. "Using vampire mind tricks is no different than drugging a drink!"

"Hmph. Your point?"

"My point is it is still a violation!" Irene hissed through grit teeth.

"Tch! Enough with the pious school girl routine. If you'd get over yourself, you'd realise there's nothing to fear or be ashamed of. We can either be at each other's throats," Cyrus smirked as his eyes drifted to her neck, prompting Irene to bring the sheet up again under her chin, "...or you could make this an opportunity to have some real fun. If it benefits us both, how is it a violation?"

"Because I don't want you! I don't need to justify myself more than that!" Irene's voice was getting higher pitched, but she was still trying to keep her volume low. She should scream. She knew she should scream. Anything to make him go away. But still she feared what Cyrus would do to her father if he were to try and defend her. The burden of the consequences of seeking help was crushing her as she gripped her sheets tight.

"Oh, I think I could change your mind." Cyrus raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, and crossed his arms.

"You can't make someone want you!"

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Oh, but I can, and I have." Cyrus said with an insolent shrug of his shoulders.

A few indignant noises erupted from Irene's throat. She could hardly fathom anyone could be so disgustingly conceited. Behaviours and sentiments like this portrayed in media were exaggerations, or so Irene had assumed. "They were probably faking it out of fear!"

"Maybe. Some just felt it was their societal or moral duty to resist, but deep down it's what they wanted. Enough women who resisted me at first ended up begging for more." Cyrus leaned back, crossing one leg over his knee and he peered at Irene with a crooked eyebrow.

"You are disgusting and delusional. Women don't want to hear about previous conquests."

"Speak for yourself. Besides, what would a girl know about what women want?" Cyrus asked dryly.

"Do you listen to yourself? If you think of me as a girl then what does that say about you? After what you've..."

Cyrus sat up straight, holding his hands up. "Oops." He interrupted. "I walked into that one. This is going nowhere. Let's just forget this whole mishap," Cyrus said, waving his hand in the air.

"Forget? I am not going to forget this, Cyrus." Irene was having a hard time controlling the exasperation in her voice, as she found his blunt and insensitive bantering distasteful at best, and mortifying at worst. But all she had were words. And even those did not seem to be making an impact. But at least if she kept him talking, kept prodding, she was beginning to flesh out her own boundaries.

"Suit yourself. Believe me or don't, but you can rest easy. I'm not in the mood to pull any more shenanigans tonight." Cyrus got to his feet. "Unless you want to hear about my valiant rescue of your grace from Gabriel's Lair of Horrors, trademark, then I think I'll go get a drink."

Irene remained with her knees up and her covers up around her neck. Why did Cyrus have to play these games with her? Just when she was hoping he'd leave her alone, he teased her with the information she'd been craving. Irene bit her lip, combating the conflicting desire to get away from Cyrus, and for the truth.

Irene's silence seemed to be interpreted as an invitation to stay, as Cyrus shut the door and sat on her floor, cross-legged. There was something almost bright and child-like in his countenance as he smiled and clapped his hands together. The effect, considering what had just happened before, was very disconcerting to Irene.

"Alright then! Where shall I begin? Oh yes. I suppose I will begin with my embarrassing abduction."

Irene broke out of her thoughts and scowled. "How about you begin by marching yourself out of here? I should never have stopped you from leaving in the first place!" The truth was not worth putting herself in continued danger. Cyrus had gone too far.

"Too bad, I'm already comfortable. It's story time now. You lost your chance to banish me."

"Did I ever have a choice to begin with?"

"Well, yes. But you need to learn not to hesitate, Peaches." Cyrus wiggled his tush where he sat and places his hands on his knees. "Ready?"

Irene remained curled up in her corner, still unsettled by Cyrus, and making every attempt to avoid eye contact with him yet remain watchful of the offensive scoundrel. She was tired, confused, and resigned to misery. She did want to know, and she hated him for it. Grudgingly, she said, "Go on."

"So there I was, standing on your porch, catching the eye of the pizza delivery lady. I offered her a 'tip', to which she seemed amenable. I lured her to some nearby bushes. Wonderful service, would recommend again." Irene scowled. "Because I'd been keeping myself well fed, I only needed a pint or two. She was light headed, of course, and I eased her into a more comfortable position to recover. Blackouts and memory lapses are a common enough side effect; I didn't worry about finishing her off to maintain my secret."

"Then why didn't you do the same to me and move on?" Irene asked.

"Because I needed somewhere to hide. Also, by the time I bit you, a short term black out wouldn't quite erase the mystery of the rapidly healing stranger. But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, the elephant-shaped romantic tension in the-"

Irene breathed in sharply at Cyrus's impertinence. "STOP!" Cyrus laughed. "Just get back to the story. How did Gabriel's men get you?"

"Ah yes. Funny thing. The door was locked when I tried to get back in. Curious, isn't it? I'm sure it was just an oversight on your part." Irene looked at him archly, then looked away. He snickered under his breath. "But I figured the night was young, so I might as well take a stroll. While I was having a pleasant moment to myself in the nearby woods, I was grabbed from behind. Louis is able to mask his presence, even from other vampires, so he's really good at getting the jump on people. Of course, I'm stronger than him. Trouble was, just as I was about to fight him off, he stuck a needle in my neck and then it was lights out."

"What, he got you with a tranq?"

"Hey now, before you get any ideas, drugs used to render a mortal unconscious won't work on vampires. Not even in stronger doses. This was a very special cocktail, and no, I won't tell you what it is." Cyrus rubbed his neck. "After the way I've treated you, I'm quite certain you'd take any opportunity to bring me down." Irene wasn't going to argue that. "Right. So. Thwarted by a locked door and a needle, I was brought to my dear brother, Gabriel."

Irene hadn't noticed that she'd dropped her guard a little. Her sheets were no longer pulled about her, and mirroring Cyrus, she was also sitting cross legged on her bed, listening. "Gabriel had some... words with me about my accusations. He's a proud man, and didn't take kindly to his clownish brother actually defying him. I was given one last opportunity to come to my senses and come back. Having some impulse control issues, I told him where he could stick it. I sometimes marvel at how I've stayed alive this long," Cyrus rubbed his chin and looked out the window. Despite the levity in his tone, Irene caught a flash of regret.

"You and Gabriel have referred to each other as brothers. Is that just because you belong to some sort of brotherhood or..." Irene inquired. Cyrus looked back at Irene.

"Oh. Hmmm. Well, sort of yes. Before he founded The Bloodened Hood, which is a lame name and I wanted to just be the Red Fangs, but apparently that was too similar to Red Scorpions and..." Irene crossed her arms, tapping her finger on her upper arm impatiently. Spotting this Cyrus smirked. "Right. We were a Brotherhood. But before that we were just brothers, he and I. My dam, the woman who created us, gave us her blood simultaneously. We began our lives as vampires together. And even when she was neutralized, we stuck with one another. We've got a long history that spans hundreds of years."

"For some reason I thought you were a fairly young vampire," Irene admitted. How could someone hundreds of years old be so obtuse?

"I've got a young soul."

"Do vampires have souls?"

"I don't know; it's just an expression, kid." Irene shuddered. It bothered her when he called her a girl or a kid, considering his overt sexualization of her. She slid back, bringing her sheets about her again. "Anyway, I was trying my brother's patience. And trust me, I'd been trying it for years. I guess he finally decided enough was enough. He hauled me off, let his underlings, who never liked me for some reason, beat and starve me. Which confused me. Gabriel couldn't seem to make up his mind whether he wanted me back or wanted me dead. Although when he interrogated me, I began to realize he thinks I either know or have something he wants, but I haven't the foggiest what that could be."

Irene's countenance darkened. This sounded very familiar. "He kept asking me questions, too. But he was... very vague as to what he was searching for."

Cyrus looked down at his lap. There was a stall in his story. He lifted his head again, his tone going softer. "I don't say this to people often but... I am truly sorry you got caught up in this," Cyrus confessed. Irene scoffed and looked away. How could he be sorry? She looked back at him, and his face was sober. Again, she tore her gaze from him, as it made her uncomfortable. "You really don't deserve any of this." Cyrus continued. Irene hugged herself. How dare he apologize now? It was simpler to hate him if he didn't show remorse. "I mean, you are a critically judgmental prude who will justifiably end up sad and alone, but you don't deserve..." Cyrus shook his head. Irene exhaled, realizing she'd been holding her breath. Oddly, his self-sabotage of what may have been a tender moment was comforting to her. It restored the status quo. "...This. Any of it."

Irene didn't deserve this. She knew that. But hearing it made her oddly apprehensive and she wanted to hide her face. Perhaps because it was coming from Cyrus. But his apology would not wash away his offenses against her. "Just... get on with the story."

"Fine, fine." Cyrus waved his hand in the air, banishing any sentimentality from the room. "My recollection gets a bit hazy, since eventually I lost cohesion. I became little more than a beast, as you saw." Irene closed her eyes and shuddered, her throat tightening as she recalled the terror she felt when she saw him. "All I do remember is coming to my senses, holding your limp body in my arms. I called out to you, but you were out cold. To be honest, then and there, I was tempted to keep feeding. You taste really, REALLY good, Irene."

Irene shuddered, bringing a hand up to her neck. "I don't want to hear that, Cyrus."

"Ahem. Right. I was crushed. I howled like a mad man and cradled you in my arms, knowing the only way to save you was love's true kiss..."

"Cyrus! Can you please just be serious?"

"Fine. I can try." Cyrus rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "In truth when I held you in my arms... I was angry. As much as I joke about being a beast, I am not a lowly animal and will NOT be treated like one by other vampires. I realized what was happening. Gabriel was feeding you to me, like some caged animal. It wasn't easy to do what I did next, but it was crucial. I regurgitated the blood I just drank back into you."

Irene's stomach lurched at the thought, and she gulped, trying to keep the bile from rising. "What did that..."

"It gave you time. But it weakened me. I licked your wound hurriedly, but didn't have time to let it close up completely. I continued the charade of savagery. When someone came in to remove me, I took the nails from my feet and shoved them into his eyes. I had to act fast before Gabriel got to me. I grabbed you, and I fled. I only barely escaped."

Irene had scooted to the edge of her bed by this point, leaning forward, wrapped up in the story. If it was true, it meant that Cyrus was capable of putting someone else's needs before his own. But why? Irene furrowed her eyebrows, and seeing this, Cyrus tilted his head.

"What?"

"Nothing. Go on."

Cyrus shrugged. "There isn't much more to tell. If I brought you to the hospital, there would have been too many questions. I had to hunt, so I stashed you in an abandoned building. Once I had fed, I stole some coats to cover our torn and bloody clothes, called a cab, pretended we were drunk, and brought you home."

Irene grimaced and put her hand over where the knife wound had been. Then she had a vague memory of waking up in her own bed, in clothes that didn't feel quite right. Once again, her thin eyebrows plunged down over her eyes, which darted side to side as she began searching her recollection. "If my father only got back that night... then... I must have woken up a few times to take care of myself, but I don't remember..."

"Ah, that's pretty normal."

"What happened to my bloody clothes?" Irene asked.

"I disposed of them. They were stained and torn," Cyrus responded with a shrug.

"And you just left me here?"

"Well... that wasn't the original plan. But there was something I needed to deal with rather urgently. It took longer than I thought and I had to take shelter from the sun; I couldn't make it back."

"Why didn't you just stay away? Why come back and plague me further? Why invent lies and pretend to be a tutor? What was with the card?" Irene asked, trying to put all the pieces together.

"Woah, now, slow down there. Okay. I didn't stay away because I like it here. Also, you are a delight to plague. The tutor thing seemed like a decent cover story. And yes the card had a meaning. I thought a clever girl like you would..."

"It's about Gabriel. He's still hunting us." Irene was quick to disperse the inference that she wasn't able to pick up on Cyrus coded message. She wasn't sure why she cared if Cyrus didn't think she was intelligent. But she did.

"Ah so you DID figure it out. Then why were you so eager to get rid of me? You do realize your father can't protect you from Gabriel, don't you?"

"Because you're the only reason Gabriel knows I exist! You're what he's after, not me!" Irene said angrily. "You said you were sorry I got involved in all this, well, if you are, then un-involve me!"

There was another silence between the two. Cyrus looked out the window, squinting, his profile illuminated by the delicate moonlight. "I wish I could, peaches. But it's too late now. Gabriel has caught your scent, and he's vexed with me. So that really sucks for both of us."

Irene looked down at her lap, thoughts whirling. There was a lot to process, from the nightmare that awoke her, to her guilt, to Cyrus making her feel completely helpless once again. And now, there was the present threat of someone as bad, if not worse, than Cyrus. How did her life come to this? All she did was try to be a good person. And now she was enmeshed in a situation that was slowly chipping away at her values. She gave Cyrus a side glance. How long before he stripped away everything she was proud of? She had a deep pride in her ability to control her emotions, while watching the other teenagers get lost in the forest, swinging from mood to mood like monkeys on vines. But he brought out intense rage she never knew she had. She held her head high because she was able to take care of herself and rely on no one, as far as a minor could rely on no one. Yet now she was depending on others constantly, and felt as though she was barely a contributing participant in her own life. And she believed she would never harm another person, no matter what. Yet faced with a threat to her family, she condemned a harmless drunk to a grizzly fate. She bit her lip to hold back tears. She did not want to give Cyrus the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"What... do we do, then?" Irene could find no solution. Yet another prize was taken away from her. She was proud of her ability to problem solve, but she was left feeling dull and incompetent.

"Right now? You get some sleep. Outwitting Gabriel won't be easy, so I need time to think," Cyrus said, jumping to his feet. "In the meantime, don't go out at night. Oh, and maybe think about hanging up some mistletoe!"

Irene huffed, as she was growing impatient with the one-track mind of this vampire. "Cyrus, seriously-"

"I am serious!" Cyrus interjected, placing his hands akimbo. "I said most popular media got it wrong. But they just got the plant wrong. Instead of garlic, stringing up mistletoe at entrances will keep vampires out. Or in. Don't ask me why. Keep in mind, though, that just because it keeps the vampire from traversing a portal, doesn't mean they can't throw something in. Or shoot through a window. Obviously, don't put any at the front door, because I need to be able to get in and out to keep you safe. I can't believe I'm suggesting this, but keep some over your window and bedroom door. It'll keep me out, but more importantly, keep other vampires out too."

Irene reflected on this new information. Her knee-jerk reaction was to believe this was some sort of prelude to mischief on Cyrus's part. On the other hand, if he was in earnest, a protection against vampires would be reassuring. Keeping him from her bedroom would at least help her sleep at night. But there was one problem. "I don't know where I'd get mistletoe. The only time I see it in stores is around Christmas, and even then, I think most of it is fake."

Cyrus shrugged. "Guess you'll have to figure that out." Irene sighed. But oddly, this gave her some measure of control back. She could finally do something to protect herself. As much as she hated to admit it, Cyrus had just given her hope. Hope which she had been in danger of losing. And yet, the very same man was the one who took it away to begin with. "Anyway, goodnight Irene."