Winding through the night, Irene followed the unknown vampire. Her free hand rested awkwardly on her side, her cut griping at her anytime she turned or twisted her torso wrong. She'd felt worse, true, but right now it was taking the center stage of sensations, having no other wounds to contend with.

The vampire was very quiet. When passing through a better illuminated area, Irene got a better look but found him unremarkable in appearance. From his short cropped brown hair to t-shirt and jeans, he failed to stand out. He wasn't even particularly pale, having a ruddy complexion. If it hadn't been for his grip, she would not have known he was anything beyond human.

While walking down a small one-way street, the vampire halted. His face bespoke of a growing agitation and uncertainty. The overcast haze was beginning to part, and the odd star shone through. The moon still remained heavily veiled, its light barely able to penetrate.

"Crap… it's beginning to clear up. I knew I shouldn't have hunted so far from…" he muttered a few more things under his breath that Irene could not make out. She let out an uncertain gasp as she felt herself being hefted up on his shoulders in a fireman hold. Her following protests were shaken into warbles as the vampire broke into a sprint. Panicked by the acceleration, Irene clutched tightly to his shirt.

"W-Why are you running?" Irene managed to ask after catching her breath. No response.

Finally, they arrived at the back door of a coffee shop. He set her down gently, bending over to catch his breath in a narrow hallway. Irene was also catching hers, but glanced over at the man and his noisy ventilating.

"Is that really necessary? You're a vampire."

He stopped, looking up at her. "Of course... it is... if I've been running."

Irene raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. Of course, if movement gets their heart going, I suppose breathing would also be part of the package. But I've noticed Cyrus doesn't breathe when he isn't talking. Maybe it takes a while to master not breathing? She then looked back at the sky. "You haven't been a vampire long, have you?"

"You can tell?" There was no attempt to mask his astonishment.

Irene let herself relax a little. Somehow knowing that it wasn't long ago that he was human allowed her to ease some of her anxiety. "Your concern about moonlight tipped me off," she explained matter-of-factly.

"Uh..." The vampire looked uncomfortable, and was evidently tongue-tied.

"You're also not very pale"

"I guess not? Didn't think about it. How do you know so much about new vampires anyway" he asked in a hushed voice as he led her down a narrow hallway. There were doors to their left, and Irene could hear the clinking of glass and other noises of a kitchen from the other side of the wall.

"Knowledge was kind of forced on me," Irene said bitingly.

The vampire rolled a shoulder, then glanced at her with a lifted eyebrow. "It isn't right, you know. Normally, I should kill anyone who identifies me, but… I'm too new to risk any blunders. We'll see what the boss wants done with you."

Stairs creaked beneath their feet as they ascended to the second storey. Some of Irene's anxieties were beginning to subside. The place was too cosy to be one of Gabriel's dens. Only one other vampire has had access to her neck.

At the top of the stairs there was another door, and the vampire knocked on it. A voice was heard from the other side.

"Password."

"Babylon."

There was a metallic 'clunk' and the door swung open. Irene saw another hallway, and a pale sentry standing aside to allow the two to enter.

"Wait, Cody, what's with the girl? Supplies go in the basement, you should know that by now," the shabby, pale man said. He peered at Irene with a hungry look in his deep, hawk-like eyes, and then arched an eyebrow questioningly.

"She has the sign," Cody explained.

"So?"

"On her neck," Cody added.

The gruffer vampire glanced over at Irene. She was getting tired of having her chin grabbed and her head turned, and this other vampire was far from gentle.

"I see. Don't know anything about this. I'll take her, you get back out hunting - we need rations for all of us, you dimwit," the sentry sneered.

Cody scowled. "The sky cleared up! Send someone older!"

"Not my place to send anyone! Go find a replacement, or go hunting! Either way, get lost," snapped the cantankerous watchman. The door slammed shut, and Irene could hear Cody storm noisily down the stairs. The sentry let out an exasperated sigh, and then looked nastily at Irene.

"Come," he growled. Irene sighed uneasily and followed. She was going to ask about Cyrus and see what reaction she got, but she was muted by the overbearing surliness of this terrier faced man. While passing another pale man, the ornery vampire made a sharp whistle and a snap to get their attention, and then pointed to the door with his thumb. Wordlessly, the other vampire sidled past them and took over the sentry's post.

The two of them came to a door. The sentry rapped on it sharply, and then opened it without waiting for a response. "Boss!"

Irene instantly regretted peering over the man's shoulder into the room. The room itself was fine. It looked like a comfortably furnished office. It was the scene the sentry had opened into which had her looking away sharply.

"Unless it's an emergency, it can wait. I'm busy," spoke a very familiar voice. Sure enough, as were her suspicions, Cyrus was connected to all of this. She hadn't imagined him to be the actual leader, though - as she imagined he couldn't lead a fish to water.

As for being busy, Irene had a few chiding remarks in store, once she got over her embarrassment. She did not see Cyrus right away, but instead saw a woman's bare back, visible past the desk. The hand on the back of her neck was assumedly Cyrus's. Irene tried to move away, but her arm was grabbed by the sentry, yanking her into the room with him.

"Listen here you two-bit sewer squid," the sentry barked. "We have a breach!" This startled Irene a little, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking at her feet. However, a surreptitious smile spread across her lips at the sentry's accurate description of Cyrus.

"A what?" Cyrus exclaimed. Irene heard a moment of silence, that is, other than her own heartbeat, as her ears got suddenly very hot. She had a feeling she was not supposed to be there, and it made her uneasy. Still she kept her eyes down on her feet. There was nothing offensive or embarrassing about her shoes, unlike the profanity that Cyrus gasped. "How'd she get in here?"

Irene coughed, keeping her eyes pointedly on the floor. She heard the sound of clumsy shuffling and the rustle of cloth, and finally the sharp and distinct sound of a zipper. There was a feminine scoff somewhere in there, and the tapping of the sentry's foot.

"Ugh. I hardly call some skinny teenage girl a breach… why'd you bring her here and not just lock her in the cellar?" came the plaintive tones of a woman.

"I'm sure our comrade, Cyrus, here knows why," the sentry responded. "He seems to recognize the waif."

"Waif?" Irene parroted, rising her head to stare at the sentry. He just gave her a relentless glare, baring his fangs. Irene quickly looked back down at the carpet, deciding to notice what a lovely colour it was instead of getting offended. She learned not to cross vampires other than Cyrus after her dealings with Gabriel.

"Hey now, no need to be insulting the fairer sex. That's beneath even a crotchety old badger like yourself, Kenny," Cyrus said in his usual slick tone.

The sentry grumbled. "How many times do I have to tell you, you oily upstart, it's Kendrick, not Kenny, not Ken, not Rick, Ricky or Dick; it's Kendrick."

"C'mon King, is she really so important? I was just getting started…" moaned the female voice.

"Sorry Cyn, we'll finish this later..."

"I might not be in the mood later."

"Aw. Don't be like that. Anyway, you should be off getting information now that the sun is down anyway - hopefully you can get into the mood for that," Cyrus responded. Irene shifted her weight, hearing a frustrated huff from the woman, and she could almost feel a glare directed at her. Cyrus's voice chimed back in. "Kendrick, my good man, why don't you escort the lovely flower elsewhere. I need a moment alone with our little breach."

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"Come along Cynthia," came Kendrick's gruff voice. Irene heard a plaintive sigh, and saw two black leather boots come into her view. She slowly looked up the long pair of legs until she saw all of Cynthia, who thankfully had more clothes on. She was the perfect picture of a vampire dame. She had a creamy pale complexion, with full painted lips set in a square jaw, almond-shaped blue eyes, and long, glossy, jet-black hair hanging past her shoulders. Shapely eyebrows arched as Cynthia fixed Irene with a very cross expression. Kendrick put his hand on her back, and gave her a firm reminder to keep moving. Soon enough, both of them were out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Cyrus offered a relaxed smile. "Sorry about Kendickery's mannerisms."

Irene was already irritated. He could at least act embarrassed, rather than stand there with his shirt half undone.

"It's not Kendrick's manners I mind," Irene chided quietly. He laughed and walked over to his chair, plopping down. He leaned back, putting his feet up on his desk, gesturing towards a seat. Irene shook her head, preferring to stand.

"So, how did you end up in the Persian HQ," Cyrus asked pleasantly, lacing his fingers together and setting them on his stomach.

Irene stared at him blankly. "Persian HQ? What is all this?"

Cyrus laughed again. "Oh come on Irene, I expected a conservative girl like yourself to be a history buff. It's just a little joke." He kicked off of his desk to roll the chair back, and swung back forward, putting his feet on the ground. He now leaned forward, a keen eye on Irene. "Though I guess this is not really an empire, but just a gang of disgruntled vampires tired of Gabriel's tyranny."

"Empire?" Why was Irene not surprised at this self-aggrandizing escalation.

"Cyrus the Great? Persian Empire? Any of it ring a bell?" Squeakily, Cyrus rolled his chair closer to the desk so he could put his elbows on it. "Back to my question, how'd you get in here?"

Considering that there may be a long explanation forthcoming, Irene changed her mind and sat down. "A vampire named Cody brought me here. He was confused by a picture on my neck, but not as confused as I am."

"Oooh, yes, well, then it's a good thing I put that there - special pigment only some animals and vampires can see. It's a good thing it's fall, otherwise you might get moths and butterflies all over you. Don't worry, it will fade before spring." Cyrus picked up a paperweight and toyed with it. Irene continued to give a firm, yet imploring, look, encouraging him to continue. "You probably want to know when I got that on there without you noticing?"

"Yes."

"Aaah before I left, I gave you something to keep you asleep so you wouldn't feel anything. Don't give me that look, I didn't hurt you. I just left you with a survival tool. It worked, didn't it?"

"Cyrus you…" Irene groped for a word, but couldn't think of anything original. "You keep telling me to trust you, but you make it very difficult!"

"Now, now, no need to thank me. Anyway…" Cyrus opened a drawer and got something out. He walked around the desk to stand in front of her, one hand in his pocket. "…take off your shirt."

"What?" Irene got to her feet, looking up at him angrily. "You're… just… no!"

"Do it!" Cyrus said a little firmer, whipping his hand out from his pocket, and pressing a small blade to her jaw. Irene froze up. As much as a nuisance Cyrus had been, he'd never pulled a weapon on her. She glanced at the pocketknife, then back up at his ambiguous face.

There were many angry words in Irene's head. However, there were only confused feelings. She always had a horrible opinion of Cyrus, but whenever she was beginning to acclimatise to him, even begin to sympathise with him, he did something worse.

"I hate you…" Irene mumbled quietly as she whipped off her top, immediately wincing from a sting in her side. The cut had begun to scab, but fibers from her shirt had enmeshed in the dried blood. Irene quickly crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

"I know." Cyrus flipped the knife shut and put it in his pocket. His eyes darted to the small wound, and he slowly crouched down. Wordlessly, he reached into his other pocket, bringing out a cloth and a small hip flask. He tore off the cap with his teeth, and poured the strong smelling contents and dabbed around the cut. Irene knitted her eyebrows and clenched her teeth, glancing down at him. It stung.

"You could have just offered me the disinfectant!" At least, from the sting, she assumed it was disinfectant.

Cyrus chuckled. "Threatening you is a lot more fun. Now hold still and try not to swat at me."

Once he had cleared away most of the blood he leaned his face close to the jagged laceration. Irene cringed, feeling nauseated as the slimy sensation of Cyrus tongue glided across the cut. She tried to move away, but he was quick to bring an arm around her back and catch the opposing hip, holding her in place. But she felt an odd tremor in his hand, whereas before he'd always been so firm. As soon as he let go, she dashed away from him, thoroughly disgusted. She looked down at the cut, and saw it closing right before her eyes.

"It's not fun for me…" Irene murmured, glancing around for her shirt.

"Looking for this?" Cyrus asked playfully, wagging her shirt in front of her. Irene made a grab for it, only for him to jerk it out of her reach.

"Give it back!" Irene furiously demanded.

Cyrus put it behind his back. "Only if you kiss me." He puckered his lips.

"You're a pig!" Irene spat, stomping her foot.

"You know, I take that as a compliment. Not only are pigs highly intelligent, they can sustain orgasms for up to an hour," Cyrus reflected gleefully. Irene scrunched up her face and remained with her arms crossed over her bosom, scowling at him. He chuckled and tossed her back her shirt. Jumping to catch it, she hastily put it back on. She was too incensed to notice an itch by her collarbone.

"I was only playing. I want a genuine sign of affection from you, and that can't be bought," Cyrus responded as he walked back over to his chair. "Well, Irene, I guess I ought to escort you home."

"My home isn't safe," Irene explained glumly, remembering that she had nowhere else to go.

Cyrus tapped the desktop, a physical sign of agitation passing over his face. "I suppose that was inevitable." He picked up a pen and idly began to click it.

"I did call the cops, but I was interrupted. I'm not sure how much safety they can offer me, though," Irene murmured.

Cyrus 'hmmed' and leaned his head into the palm of his hand. "I might be able to help you there, Peaches. Or should I call you Breaches, now? Although I am hard at work, trying to get back at Gabriel." Cyrus stared beyond Irene.

"I noticed. You were definitely hard at work when I arrived."

Cyrus's eyes snapped back to Irene. "I work hard, I get to play hard. It's nice to be wanted," Cyrus responded with a plaintive sniff.

"Indeed. I don't know why you kept pursuing me when you had easier, prettier women ready to hop into your lap," Irene gibed.

"Cynthia isn't easy, I'm just really sexy," Cyrus proclaimed. "You're simply impossible."

"Glad you realized it…" Irene said slowly, slipping a little upon the thin ice of a backhanded compliment.

"Then why aren't you smiling?" Cyrus teased. "Just admit it, Irene, you're just a bit jealous."

"That's a very conceited assumption to make," Irene shrugged. "Well, you said yourself you're busy, so I am going to go look for a place to crash." She approached the door and tried to turn the knob. When it didn't turn, she tried pulling.

"It's locked, Irene," Cyrus informed her. Irene whipped around. "Our little chats almost always end in you storming off. Why don't you sit down? The perfect solution is right at your feet; you can stay here."

"It doesn't look all that accommodating," Irene muttered moodily as she walked back to one of the chairs and plunked down.

"No, I suppose not." Cyrus shrugged. "The building is old, but there's a decent enough suite up here."

"Like I said-"

"Yes, but where else will you go?" Cyrus asked pointedly.

"I don't know - but I can't stay here! It isn't any safer here than at my house," Irene protested.

"No, you're much safer here because I am here," Cyrus corrected.

"You aren't safe," Irene retorted, crossing one leg over her knee so she could rub her ankle, allowed to finally feel sore once the adrenaline waned.

"If you leave here, Gabriel will find you. You won't survive your next encounter with him. We-ll… he might leave you alive so he can revel in the damage he does to your body, mind, and soul." Cyrus paused dramatically. He then tapped his temple with his pen. "Stick with me, and you might live," he cautioned, letting his voice drop to almost a whisper.

"Cyrus, as far as I'm concerned, you are using Gabriel as an excuse to keep me close."

"Maybe. But I already warned you of the risks of trying to make it on your own somewhere else," Cyrus reminded. Irene drooped, thwarted by reality again. She couldn't pay for a hotel. Even with the emergency cash her father set aside, it wouldn't go far.

Irene hated it when Cyrus was right, because he was usually right about how bad things were. Gabriel was a more aggressive force. However, if Gabriel was Cyrus's only hold on her, then there was only one solution.

"Then I want to help get rid of Gabriel."

Cyrus blinked a few times, bewildered. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. This repeated a few times as he looked Irene over with an expression of incredulity. "You can't fight, you can't hunt, and I doubt you can acquire weapons for us. I'd send you out in the day to keep an eye on things, but you're a target and that makes for a horrible spy. The only thing you'd be good for in this conflict is bait or a snack bar." Cyrus walked around his desk, leaning against it. "If you want to help, then stay here and put my mind at rest."

"I can do more than sit around," Irene insisted defensively.

Cyrus shrugged his shoulders, hopping up to sit on his desk. "I have enough troubles as it is, and I don't need you storming off in a huff and getting yourself in danger. We're heavily out-matched."

Irene leaned forward, putting her elbow on her knee. "You aren't as alone as you think."

"What do you mean?"

Irene straightened up and smiled faintly. It was small, but it was still some mote of power she finally had over him. "There's another party pulling strings."

Cyrus continued to study Irene's face carefully, his eyebrows knitting together in perplexity. "Is that so? How did you come across this… discovery?"

"I won't say more than that. You'll just have to take it in good faith."

"Sorry if I don't put much faith in the words of someone who doesn't fully understand the dynamics at play. Perhaps if you share your source?"

"My source warned me that Gabriel was coming in time for me to flee," Irene recounted. Her mind flew to the mystery vampire that Amber spoke of. She felt there was something there that she should be making a connection to.

"Sounds like you have an angel on your side," Cyrus responded thoughtfully. He then got to his feet. "It still may be a trap."

"Maybe..." Irene responded, not giving away any more information. She rolled the information over in her mind as Cyrus shook his head.

"Meh." Cyrus waved his hand dismissively but his eyebrows were furrowed and his gaze distant and pensive. He walked over to the door, pulling out a key to unlock it. Irene got to her feet, limping over to the door. For once, she was eager to see the outcome, rather than dreading the future. "Let's get you settled in."

"Fine..."

Cyrus pointed to Irene. "By the way, your shirt is on backwards."