Dipped in honey and cradled low between two peaks, the sun was giving its last splendid display before tucking in for the evening. In its golden light, Irene stepped out of the social worker's car. Gloria's mannerisms left her feeling both uncomfortable and minorly perplexed. Nonetheless, Irene was focused on setting her plan into action. Her stomach fluttered. This could blow up in my face, but I am tired of doing nothing.

"Are you really sure you want to let these people into your home? Once you let them in, they take liberties," Gloria warned.

"I won't have any privacy at a safehouse, either," Irene muttered. She squinted at her front door. Some curiosity, some vengeance, and concern for loved ones had fuelled her resolve. Standing with her hand on the car door, she watched as a white sedan pulled up behind them.

"What did you want to show me?" Simmons asked as she stepped out of her vehicle. Irene tilted her head towards the front door. Marci hesitated, but then grabbed her cellphone. "I'm just updating Emmerson."

Gloria crossed her arms and arched her eyebrows, staring off into the distance. The briefcase was left in the car, but now she had a large purse slung across her shoulder.

"I guess it would be protocol to wait for him to arrive?" Irene asked, staring at the overcast sky. "It will be dark soon..."

"It is… but sometimes we need to be flexible for victims," Simmons responded, drawing her words out with some uncertainty. "Alright. Show me what you need to show me."

As Irene fought with the lock, the tension between the two women watching her was palpable. Am I doing the right thing? She shook off the thought. Agonizing over right and wrong no longer seemed relevant; she had little left to lose but her life. "I don't know if he is there… but he usually is…"

"Who?" Simmons asked, eyes wide and fingers splayed, hovering over her pocket.

"Irene, is there someone else living with you? It's not on any of our records." Gloria's hand disappeared into a side pocket of her purse.

"I should be dead. But I'm not. I'll show you why."

Simmons knitted her eyebrows together. Gloria's lips parted, her teeth briefly showing, before she closed it again. "Perhaps I should come back later when you've had a rest."

Irene shook her head adamantly."No!" She spat. "I am done resting and waiting. It's now or never. I need to do this."

Both of the women looked at each other, clearly unnerved. Gloria held her purse close. "Miss Locklyn..."

Irene held out her hand, exposing the stump that used to be a finger. "I've already lost this."

Gloria held out a hand in a placating manner. "Calm down Irene. You've had an ordeal. You're safe now, and there's no need for all of this urgency."

"But there is, and I'm not safe, nor am I crazy," Irene insisted vehemently.

"I never said that you were, Irene," Gloria's hand disappeared into her purse.

"Neither is Merle. Vampires are behind this." Irene fixed her eyes firmly on Marci. Bemusedly Marci gawked at her, then looked off to the side. Gloria's eyes widened and her eyebrows slowly spread up and away from her normally narrow eyes.

"I am sure there is some scientific explanation for what you've seen," Marci assured resolutely as she returned her gaze to rest on the agitated teenager. "But if there is someone threatening you, we need to know." She took her phone out of her pocket once again, flipping it open.

"Vampires... is this some new teen slang?" Gloria fanned her hand dismissively.

"Work with me. A vampire has been living in my basement. I need someone who understands biology and isn't a cop to help me get evidence."

"The man who has been living with you?" Marci asked, folding her arms and drawing back her chin, worry lines creasing her forehead. Irene nodded her head gravely. Marci Simmons looked around alertly, and Gloria held her purse protectively.

"Please follow me to the basement, but stay behind me," Irene instructed. Simmons began to follow Irene, but she stopped abruptly, staring at something on the floor. Irene followed her gaze to some blood she'd failed to clean.

"No. Irene. We should bring in an officer if there is any risk to your safety, or ours. We aren't trained to deal with dangerous situations," Gloria insisted.

"No. Officers swarming the place will make matters worse. He won't attack unless provoked, and if he sees me first, he will lower his guard. Please, trust me," Irene assured the women.

Both Marci and Gloria shook their heads.

"It's our job to protect you, not the other way around," Marci spoke up. "And I don't feel good about this."

"But aren't you curious? Curious about my hand? All the pieces will fall into place but we need to act fast." Irene glanced towards the westward sun, which was steadily sinking behind the mountainous horizon.

With a deliberate gait, Irene proceeded to the basement, not giving the women time to stop her. Gloria's heels clacked sharply on the foyer's linoleum behind her, and Marci's soft-sole loafers shuffled like a soft echo.

This was the first in a long time that Irene had descended her stairs with confidence. She glanced behind her, to make sure Marci was close behind. Taking in a deep breath to calm her nerves she swung the door open. She'd almost expected Cyrus to be standing there, waiting angrily. However, her path was clear. Irene put her hand behind her, reminding the other two women to stay back.

"Who're your friends, Irene?" came his voice. It didn't sound as playful as usual, which resulted in a flip-flop in Irene's gut. Cyrus stood beside the bed, his dark eyes bearing down on her.

"Cyrus, this has got to end now." Irene enunciated each word with clipped precision. She held up a hand to silence the two women before they could speak. Cyrus's eyes drifted over to Marci, then Gloria, and then his eyes shot back to Irene. She looked down just enough to avoid his gaze, focusing on his mouth and chin instead.

"Did you think that bringing…" he paused and gave the two women a second appraising look, "...authorities would help? My, my. You've brought these fine women to their doom. Shame on you, shame!" Cyrus wagged his finger with his usual theatrics.

Irene heard a click as Marci flipped open her cellphone. "Backup is on its way - don't move any closer," she commanded. Cyrus sighed and shook his head, bringing a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. Irene took a step back, spreading her arms out in front of Nurse Simmons.

"You'd have to go through me first, Cyrus."

"Stand down!" The words hissed in her ear, but Irene shook her head and didn't budge.

Cyrus slowly lowered his hand, eyebrows raised incredulously. "I save you from Gabriel and this is how you repay me? I thought you were just going to run. Why the change?"

At the mention of Gabriel, Marci's eyes narrowed, and she gave Irene a sharp questioning glance, which went unheeded.

"Merle's sanity is in question because no one believes vampires attacked her! All I want is evidence."

Cyrus scratched his cheek. He then looked at Marci, who was dialing on her phone.

"Evidence? I'll give you evidence!" Cyrus snapped, his tone sharp and menacing. There was barely a second between his dialogue ending, and Irene feeling an impact in her side, tossing her to the ground. She hit the ground hard, landing on her side, a shock storming through her arm and hips.

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CRASH!

Marci's cellphone hit the ground and shattered. Immediately followed a sharp bang, forcing Irene to cover her ears and shut her eyes. Her abduction came back to her with riveting vividness. She trembled on the floor, barely sensible of the commotion and clatter around her. It was too frightening to keep her eyes closed indefinitely and not know what was happening. Blackness peeled away; blood droplets on the floor grabbed her attention and churned her stomach in dread.

With trepidation, Irene lifted her head. Her attention first settled upon a larger pool of blood and two pairs of feet, facing each other. Her view followed up the legs until she saw the whole picture. Cyrus had Marci pinned against the wall, both were spattered with blood. However, he was not looking at his captive. Tracing his gaze, she saw Gloria aiming a gun.

Irene scrambled to her feet and leapt at Cyrus. "Stop!" Irene tugged at his arm desperately, but it was as immovable as ever. He turned his head to look at her, revealing a bullet hole in his cheek, just below his right eye.

"So this is what it takes to get you to flock to me… eh?" Cyrus said, his playful demeanor returning - and as per usual, during a most inappropriate situation. Irene ignored the remark and looked over at Gloria, whose hands were shaking, but her fingers remained on the trigger.

"Move!" Gloria shouted. Cyrus grabbed Marci's arm and swung her around, holding her from behind. His chin rested on her shoulder, blood dripping down onto Nurse Simmon's white coat. Marci bit her lip and took deep, albeit shaky, breaths as her eyes rolled and strained to see her attacker.

"Let her go!" Irene demanded.

Cyrus twisted Marci's arm further, wrenching back her shoulder at an unnatural angle. She grimaced and gasped. The vampire's grin was hideous as he looked between Irene and Gloria. Irene couldn't imagine how he could pull such expressions without wincing, staring at the deep, bloody wound in his cheek.

"Listen up, ladies. I'll spare your lives, but only under certain conditions," Cyrus proclaimed, bringing his face very close to Marci's neck. The nurse's neck became sinewy as it tensed, tears welled up in her eyes. "First off, there's no such thing as vampires."

Desperation lept into Irene's chest, and came out clear in her voice. "I need people to believe in vampires so they'll stop treating Merle as crazy!"

Cyrus dropped his smirk, turning to Irene. "Don't rush me, Peaches, I'll get to that." Gloria's arms lowered, but she did not put her weapon away. Cyrus continued, "I don't care how, but you'll come up with some cover story that will explain that her friend was duped, but is of sound mind." Neither woman spoke, each glaring at him. "Hey, am I talking to a wall?"

"No…" Marci's voice cracked. She had lost all of the colour in her normally tanned face.

"I should be dead, or at least disabled from these wounds, right?"

Marci gulped and nodded her head.

"So you can see I'm not to be trifled with." Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "Now, listen carefully. If Irene's friend gets thrown into a psych ward, she's as good as dead," he said through grit teeth.

"What do you mean?" Irene interrupted, sickly horror snaking through her insides.

"Psych wards are a vampire's candy shop."

Irene's arms dropped. "No…" she uttered, her lips barely moving.

Cyrus shoved Marci forward. She stumbled towards Gloria, who shuffled her gun to one hand, using the other to steady the falling nurse. Mrs. Evans glared at Cyrus, raising the gun again, now that he'd given up his leverage.

"You're a madman!" Gloria's voice shook with intensity. To Irene's bewilderment, Gloria's face embodied rage instead of fear.

"You had ulterior motives in coming here, didn't you?" Cyrus sneered.

Gloria shook her gun then pointed it at him. "He's a monster. You can't believe a word these creatures say!"

Irene had suspected something was off about Gloria, but had imagined she was in league with the vampires. But now she was seeing something different. She glanced at Cyrus, wondering. Do they know each other?

"You know what I am. So what is your game?" Cyrus asked calmly, despite the gun pointed at him.

"I..." Gloria worked her mouth, but was too angry to form words.

"Whoever or whatever you are..." Marci interjected, "...I won't let you get away with this!" Marci's injured arm hung at her side, but she braced herself for another fight, sticking close to Gloria.

"Let?" Cyrus rolled back his shoulders and puffed out his chest like a posturing cockerel. "You don't have a choice. With only one functional arm, do you really believe you have a chance against me?"

"I…" Marci stammered, her one good arm lowering slightly.

Gloria curled in her lips and fired another shot at Cyrus. This time he turned aside and it only grazed his arm.

Cyrus looked down at his torn sleeve and sighed. "...I've been going through so many shirts lately. And how are we going to explain the bullet holes to your father, Irene?"

Gloria screamed in rage and went to fire again. Irene braced herself for a loud bang, but only heard a click. The social worker screamed even louder, squeezing the trigger again. Marci grabbed her arm, forcing her to lower her weapon.

"STOP! It's jammed! You could get all of us hurt!" Marci snapped. Gloria began sobbing, her grip on the weapon loosened enough that Simmons was able to take it away from her and put the safety on.

"I'm sorry. I dragged you into this," Irene apologised.

Marci looked at Irene, her expression softening. "It's... you're a kid... this is...," Marci whispered, wincing again. "I don't know how to..." Marci trailed off. She turned her attention to Cyrus, her throat tensing as she swallowed.

Cyrus placed a hand over the wound in his chest, the other he perched on his hip. "Hey. I'm waiting for confirmation that you agree to my terms."

"Oh..." Marci tucked some loose frizzes of hair behind her ear before she sighed. "How can I accept these terms? Whatever you are, vampire or... something else..."

"What matters more? The truth, or saving lives? I mean, not just yours, but crazy gun lady's life as well?" Cyrus poked the bullet hole in his cheek, his finger tip disappearing into the wound. Irene quickly looked away in disgust, gritting her teeth to fight back the queasiness. "You can't kill me, but I certainly can kill you."

"I..." Marci looked at Gloria who was still sobbing on the floor. She then looked at Irene, who was rubbing her sore arm and hip, trying not to look at Cyrus.

"Just... give him what he wants..." Irene said tiredly, tasting bitter defeat along with sour bile.

"...Fine. I accept your terms."

Gloria looked up, eyes puffy. "I won't! I can't accept this!" She pointed a hand at Cyrus. "Vampires killed my husband! I know it was them! And you!" Gloria turned and pointed at Irene, who jerked her head back in bewilderment.

"What did I do?"

"You... you were supposed to be the bait to lure them out. And then... then I was going to have my revenge! My revenge!" Gloria wailed as she sank down further.

Cyrus raised his eyebrows, and looked down at Gloria. "With that pea shooter? Ha!"

Irene was overwhelmed with the emotion in the room. But even with that, she still had room for irritation with Cyrus, which she expressed with a punch to his uninjured arm. He didn't flinch. Gloria continued to heave and bawl, slamming her fist on the cold basement floor. Marci crouched down beside her, slinging an arm about her shoulders.

Seeing the raw and utter despair Gloria displayed was hard. Many mixed feelings whirled within. Anger at being used, yet sympathy with the obvious grief competed for the center stage in the drama play of Irene's heart. Watching from the wings was vindication, mollified by seeing an adult who believed in and hated vampires. And in the box seat, making a full critique, perched her guilt. This woman was in the throes of agony, and Irene had brought her into this situation. It could have been worse. If Gloria had used me to lure out one of Gabriel's men, we'd both be dead. Cyrus might actually let them live. Hope, the silent spectator, occupied the furthest back row.

"I will do as you say." Marci's voice interrupted Irene's thought. "I can't make sense of any of this, so what other choice do I have?"

"Good. Irene, why can't you be as obliging?" Cyrus cooed. Gloria's crying continued, reaching a new pitch of desperation. He rolled back his head and gave an exasperated sigh. Slowly he looked at Marci. "I have one more condition."

"What would that be?" Marci's voice snapping like a whip as she placed Gloria's gun into the purse.

Cyrus grinned. "Blood."

"Blood?" Marci echoed in dismay.

"Yes, yes, blood! Well, I really don't need to ask, but I thought I'd be polite. See, this crazy lady shot me and wasted my reserves, and I request compensation." Cyrus smiled at her pleasantly, twiddling his thumbs. He then tilted his head towards Irene. "I'd bite her, but she recently lost a bunch when a madman, who was not me, cut off her finger."

The sound of a car driving away roused Irene. Crouched in a corner, she wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. How strange. She looked at the blood spatter on the wall, the pools on the floor. I used to come down here to do laundry or wait out hot spells. Now it's... it's become a horror show.

The stillness gave Irene time to reflect. I've put so many people's lives in danger. And Merle... what will happen to Merle? What happened to Gloria? How long has she been carrying this vendetta? Will I end up like her? She felt like a malignant vacuum, sucking people into the nightmare she was living. Yet, even with others facing the same danger, she still felt utterly alone.

Swearing and shouting caused Irene to jump. Added into the mix was Silver's screaming. She heard the rapid thump of tiny feet on the floor above her, and the wobble of something, maybe a lamp, being disturbed. She braced herself for a crash but none came. Heavier footfall could be heard stomping down the steps and there were a few grunts. Is he in pain? What could hurt more than being shot three times?

Irene looked up as Cyrus entered, washed up and bandaged. She wondered why he needed the bandages. She doubted that vampires had to worry about infection, or bleeding to death. He was tossing a bullet into the air and catching it, occasionally wincing. On his face was an expression she'd never seen him wear; he looked disappointed.

"I thought you had more sense than to pull a stunt like that," Cyrus said in a very sober tone, his voice hoarse. Irene hugged her knees, looking away. He paused before squatting down next to her. "You aren't broken, are you? No indignant response, no angry backlash…"

"Leave me alone…"

Cyrus shook his head and sighed. Slowly he rose back to his feet. He stood there a moment, but then walked away without another word.