Irene looked out into an empty church parking lot when the vehicle came to a stop. The passenger door opened, and once again she was staring down the barrel of a rifle. Fear squirmed in her gut like a throng of maggots.

“Get out.”

Irene unbuckled and slowly stepped out of the car, palms raised placatingly. After she was out, Merle shakily exited.

"Turn around."

Irene turned first, the chill in the air more noticeable from the sweat that clammed her skin. There was a soft click and the whisper of cloth. Moments later, a blindfold was placed over her eyes, and another surge of panic trembled through her. She took a deep breath to ground herself.

What will happen, will happen. Just keep calm.

Both of the girls were sternly led to another car, and guided into the back seat. There was a smell that Irene recognized and felt an instant pang of nostalgia - the smell of a new car. They hadn't had a new car since Monica was alive. She didn't want to conflate such a happy moment with her current terror. Too many good things had already been ripped away from her.

Slam.

The doors shut. Rustling and the sound of fabric against fabric resounded in her ears. A sawing sound was heard, followed by a distinctive click. Another slam. Jingling. Engine revving. Motion. They were on the move once more.

Irene could feel Merle shaking beside her. She reached out clumsily, searching for Merle's hand. Once they connected, she held on as a show of reassurance; but there was nothing she could think of to say.

At first Irene tried to keep track of each time the car turned, but it was hopeless. Tired and emotionally frayed, she lacked the focus to keep the directions straight. At each stop she wondered if they'd reached their destination, only for the car to crawl forward again. It wasn't until the hum of the engine terminated with the jingle of keys that she could be sure they were parked.

Irene gave Merle's hand another reassuring squeeze, and received one in turn. Clank. Slam. The front car door shut; he was out. Irene tensed and left go of Merle's hand, placing them in her lap. Footsteps clapped to her left. She straightened up, pulling away from the door instinctively., A rush of cool air reached Irene's cheek as the back door came open. There was barely time to react to the pressure on her left arm before she was aware of being yanked out of the vehicle, her shoulder popping from the unnecessary roughness. Gritting her teeth, she didn't make a sound. She needed to listen. She then heard Merle make a defiant noise followed by a shuffling sound.

Irene stood, blindfolded and heart pounding, waiting for whatever came next. It was getting painful left wondering what would happen, with all the dark possibilities swimming through her mind. She just wanted it over with.

A hand pressed on her back, pushing her forward. Irene walked carefully, feeling the ground before putting her foot down. There was a shift in the air as it became heavier and smelled of dust. Echoes of their footsteps could be heard as they were marched forward.

“Watch your step, we’re going down.”

Moments later there was a grunt and a loud, angry creak. Irene did not want to go down there, but to move her along she felt a pair of hands on her shoulder. Where was Merle?

“Keep walking."

Irene paused, groping around until her hand clasped around something smooth and cylindrical. It was at a declined angle and felt sturdy when she tried to wiggle it. Clinging onto the banister, she descended, testing each step.

Irene stopped when she felt a wooden door in front of her. Unsure what to do, she waited for instruction. She felt a hand on her shoulder and then a body briefly press against hers in passing. A slow creak heralded a burst of warm air, most noticeable against her cold cheeks. Her nostrils picked up a perfume-like fragrance, mixed with a smoky odor. Irene gasped and flailed her arms as she was pulled roughly inside. Once steady, she lifted her head, listening for more clues. Her ears rewarded her with the sound of a familiar voice; a voice that made her blood freeze.

“Who is this other girl?” Displeasure was evident.

“She was with the target. I figured you wouldn’t mind another neck to feed on. I did what you asked me, now I want my reward!” the captor insisted.

“Gabriel…” Irene muttered.

“Irene… do you know what’s going on?” Merle's voice brought a clash of mixed feelings with it. Relief that she and Merle had not been separated, but terrified of what Gabriel may do with an unwanted complication. It was evident Merle wasn't supposed to be here.

“Irene? Hmph. I thought the name Mina was fake,” Gabriel’s voice came. It plagued Irene’s ears, and she felt dirty just hearing him. Her blindfold was whipped off. Within moments her eyes adjusted, staring at Gabriel’s fair but stern face. His features became only more severe in the candlelight, and a halo seemed to gleam from around his golden hair.

“Gabriel…” Irene repeated, her voice spewing disgust.

“I heard you the first time," Gabriel patronised. He grabbed her chin in his bare fingers, forcing her head to turn to either side as he examined her neck. “What was that fool up to?”

“Sire, my reward?” the man repeated.

Gabriel's eyes narrowed as he glanced past Irene, his temple pulsing. “You will get your reward, but not from me. Go talk to Roan. He will give you the immortality that you crave, Matthew."

“Matthias! My new name will be Matthias."

Gabriel flared his nostrils and drew in a long breath. Without saying a word, Matthew muttered an apology and quickly left. The blonde vampire walked over and locked the door, then turned back to the pair of captives. Irene knelt down beside Merle and wrapped her arms around her.

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“Did you really think I wouldn't find you again?”

“Irene… what is going on?” Merle asked, her lower lip quivering.

“Shush Merle…”

Merle shakily lifted her hands, taking off her blindfold. She peered up at Gabriel’s tall form, her eyes wide and face pale. Gabriel grinned, showing his fangs. Merle let out a shriek and tried to crawl away, but Irene held her tight.

“He’s… he’s… this can’t be real!” Merle exclaimed.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Hm… so you never told your little friend."

Irene glared defiantly up at him. Gabriel was much stronger than her, but it was still daytime. If she could just get out, he could not follow her… but what about Matthew? How many people are working for the vampires for a shot at immortality?

“Leave her out of this!"

Gabriel rubbed his chin, looking beyond both of them girls. “Well, she knows about vampires now, so I can’t." Gabriel responded. "Bad luck for your friend, I'm afraid, as she's useless to me."

“Vampires…” Merle made a choking sound, as her face contorted into a grin so large it looked more like a grimace. Hysterical giggling erupted from her mouth. She slammed the ground, her body tossed with the throes of laughter. “Vampires…. Vampires… of course… it wasn't a joke was it? It's been vampires all along!” the hysterical teen babbled in between giggles. "It all makes sense now!"

“Get a hold of yourself!” Irene demanded, grabbing her friend's shoulders and giving her a shake. She looked fiercely up into dismissive, snowy eyes. “Enough of this! I told you to leave her out of this!”

“You are in no position to make demands,” Gabriel said calmly yet menacingly. “Come along, girl.” His voice dripped with derision.

Gabriel took Irene firmly by the arm. She pulled against him, but had as much luck resisting him as she did with Cyrus. She heard the laughing and muttering of her friend get fainter and fainter as she was pulled away.

The room Irene was led into was empty and colourless. A single, bare light bulb hung from the ceiling. Her toes curled and her mouth went suddenly dry when she saw manacles on the wall. She did not want to be bound again. Despite the futility, she tried with renewed vigor to twist free of her captor's hold. Unable to squirm free, she then resorted to digging her heels into the ground. These actions barely inconvenienced Gabriel, who nearly pulled her off her feet.

Rage and panic swelled up in Irene's chest. There was nothing she could do to prevent this, and nothing to save herself. Her precautions were just an illusion. She was never safe. All she could do was glare impotently at Gabriel, who remained unaffected.

Clink. Choonk.

The cold metal chafed at her wrists. Irene's eyes watered, but she refused to sniff or let a tear fall. Once she was secured to the wall, Gabriel bared a large, toothy grin at her, and she turned her face away from his putrid, metallic breath.

“Now tell me Irene, how DID you survive?” Gabriel poked her right where her knife wound had been. Cornered, and still feeling maddening defiance, she spat in his face. Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her, calmly taking a handkerchief out from his breast pocket and wiping away the saliva. “I have eternity to get an answer – you don’t.”

“What does it matter?”

Gabriel shook his head, clicking his tongue at her. “Little miss, as cliché as it is, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

“Answer me!"

Gabriel let out a low chuckle. He leaned in close to Irene, so all she could see were his pale eyes. “You don’t seem to appreciate the gravity of the situation."

“You’re right! I don’t appreciate it!”

With viperish celerity, a large hand was around Irene's throat, exerting just enough pressure to issue a warning. She swallowed hard and immediately regretted her defiance. Gabriel was not like Cyrus; she could see this in his cold eyes. He was in some other league of cruelty that Cyrus only licked the boots of.

“I was going to try and keep this civil, but I'm afraid I must remind you that this will go easier on you if you answer my questions,” Gabriel warned. Irene drew in a deep breath, rolling her eyes up.

“I woke up in the hospital, that's all I remember."

Gabriel released her neck and took a few steps back. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

"I told you! I don’t remember." Her words came out more panicked than she intended, and she cleared her throat.

“Well perhaps I can refresh your memory.” Gabriel reached up, covering her hand with his much larger palm. Keeping eye contact with her, his fingers curled around her hand and squeezed hard. Irene clenched her teeth and shut her eyes, letting out a long, ragged breath. She could feel her bones compressing under the might of his hand, and her knuckles grinding against each other. There was a distinct cracking sound and Irene let out a gasp of pain.

“I don’t remember!” Irene squealed. Gabriel wasn’t satisfied, and squeezed even harder. She bit her lip to keep herself from screaming. It didn't work. “YOU’D HAVE TO ASK CYRUS!”

“But he isn't here.” Gabriel released her hand. Irene let out a low groan, and it felt almost as if her hand were expanding and her fingers might tumble out. "You expect me to believe that you have no idea?"

“Yes!” Irene snapped. She blinked furiously to get the last of the tears out of her eyes.

“I watched him drain you dry. Although it was odd he'd bother to drag your body out with him.” Gabriel frowned, looking only mildly annoyed on the surface, but there was an undercurrent of menace in his voice. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "The rat has betrayed our secrets, as evident by the mistletoe hung about your house."

The tall vampire paced for a while, every once in a while glancing back at Irene. A crooked smile slowly sculpted itself onto his face. Gabriel pulled a knife out from beneath his long, black coat.

“I told you what I know!” Irene's focus on the knife was as sharp as the blade itself.

“It’s a pity that is all you know. I need to know what makes you so special. Cyrus never wasted his time on anyone unless they were very useful to him. He plays the buffoon, but make no mistake, he has raped and murdered countless victims when he tired of his clumsy seduction games." Irene's heart skipped a beat as a cold chill swept through her body. "There must be a reason you're still alive."

Irene watched the knife with wide eyes, not having time to react to Gabriel's words as the more imminent fear of that glinting blade presented itself. Gabriel grabbed one of her crushed fingers while she stifled a cry. Tugging her middle right finger, he sliced with a horizontal cut near the base. The sharp pain was intense. She clenched her teeth, breathing through her mouth. Gabriel wasn't done. He held her finger firmly and changed the angle of the blade. There was a grind, snapping noise and a brief peak of pain and ringing in her ears. She watched in horror as her finger came off. There was no holding it in, Irene let out a shriek. Almost as soon as she felt the pain, numbness followed; she barely felt the blood cascading down her hand. There was no use in trying to be the tough girl anymore. Irene broke out into sobs.

Gabriel took out his handkerchief again and wrapped the bloody finger in it. Surreal. Bile rose up in her throat, but all she managed were dry heaves between sobs.

“Ah yes, this should lure him out.” Gabriel tightly held the bloody bundle in his fist. He gave her a nonchalant wave as he headed out, leaving Irene to ponder upon what horrible torment awaited her next. She sagged, her arms bearing her full weight as the shackles held her up.

If the pain and fear weren't so pervasive, Irene might almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation. The punchline to this sordid joke was that Cyrus, an alleged rapist and confirmed murderer, might be her only hope.