The cards buzzed as Irene shuffled them, feeling each piece of cardboard slip past her fingers. Just as last time, her grip on them wavered and they began to shoot off in different directions. Frustrated, Irene gathered all of the cards up, picking up the ones which had tumbled to the floor. She counted up her deck and used the flat surface of the table to shape them into a neat stack, slipping the deck back into their box. Irene picked up the paper napkin and to-go coffee cup and walked over to the waste basket, dumping them in.

Irene had free rein of the apartment above the coffee shop, but it wasn't overly large. It consisted of a living area with a kitchenette, bathroom, and three bedrooms. However, one of the bedrooms had been converted into an office and the other into a sort of meeting room. The master bedroom was currently occupied by Cyrus, and for that reason, she was avoiding it. All windows were either boarded up, or had blackout curtains. To her disappointment, she could not find a laundry room.

The confinement was draining on Irene. She wanted to be outside and see the sun. She wanted to feel the chill in the air, breathe it in and feel it cool her throat and lungs, warm up, and then be expelled. To run and feel the heat of her heart pumping. But here she was, afraid because neither day nor night was safe. She was frustrated to be stuck on the bench while others worked to end Gabriel's regime. She didn't care about what the vampires were doing to each other. She just cared that Gabriel would no longer be targeting her.

Even if she could not go outside, Irene needed to be active. She began moving some of the furniture against the wall to give herself some space. It was clear no one had done a proper cleaning for some time, as a colony of dust bunnies had adopted the room as their home. Instead of the workout Irene had originally planned, she set out to find a broom and began sweeping the hardwood floor.

Irene wasn't sure when it started. She wasn't even aware that she was thinking, much less feeling. But one tear fell, and then another, landing upon her hand as she continued to compile an impressive dust pile. She stared at that dust pile, seeing it as a metaphor for the future she had been planning. She tenderly swept it onto the tray and brought it to the bin, and hesitated before dumping it in. And like that, her future was no more. After all of this, she doubted her father would let her go away to college. And Jordan, if he even survived, would not want her if he knew the truth. If her father's company failed and he lost the job, she'd likely have to get a low paying job to help pay the bills. Irene looked at her missing finger. And there was that. People learned to live with entire limbs removed, but Irene knew it took time. She wondered how long it would be before it stopped hurting.

Irene wiped away her tears and continued cleaning. The only way to move was forward. Resentment continued to fester in her breast at feeling like she was stuck on a rollercoaster, rather than moving at her own pace.

"Quite the domestic little miss," came that ever familiar voice. Irene gripped the broom handle hard. No. Don't engage. She continued to work, only looking up briefly to see Cyrus walk over to the mini fridge. She had pointedly not looked inside when she was exploring earlier. Now she saw Cyrus pull out a plastic pouch filled with red liquid. Blood, no doubt. He took a straw out of a drawer and stabbed it into the bag, sucking the contents out. Irene tried not to let the slurping irritated her when he got down to the end of his blood pack. "I see you've already grabbed some of your things," Cyrus said, glancing at a corner where she'd stashed her bags. "You could have brought them into the bedroom. I'm a heavy sleeper."

"Then why are you up? It's only noon," Irene said as she pulled excess hairs off of the broom bristles, dumping them into the garbage.

"Don't you ever get up for a midnight snack?" Cyrus asked.

"No, not really."

"Well, no, I guess a slim girl like yourself wouldn't. Not unless she threw-up right after," Cyrus said, walking over and tossing the empty bag in the trash. Irene wrinkled her nose.

"You're just going to toss that in the garbage? Without rinsing it first?"

"Whaaaaaat? Women toss their-"

"Nevermind!" Irene snapped slamming the garbage lid shut. Hopefully whatever Cyrus's plans were, they'd move along swiftly and she would not have to stay here much longer.

"Well I'm going to go back to bed. I need to be good and rested for tonight." Irene cocked her head to the side, a small ripple of relief passing through her at that news. She nodded to him and went to put the broom away. As she was walking she heard Cyrus voice chasing her. "If you ever need a break, feel free to come to bed." Even after last night, he was still at it. Once she heard the bedroom door shut, Irene smiled a rueful smile. As disgusted as she was with his behaviour, it was oddly reassuring. And that was as disturbing as it was comical.

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Life had been constant with the mix of relief and fear, and that evening was no exception. Irene feared the other vampires, that Cyrus may not be able to control them as well as he thought. But on the other hand, at least it was a break from the monotony. While she did not mind keeping her own company, she usually did so with a certain amount of personal freedom she currently lacked.

Cyrus was up a little before sunset, but he went immediately to his office and locked it. Which Irene was fine with. She had been puzzling over what to feed herself. She'd bought lunch from the coffee shop below, but their menu had very light fare and not quite satiating for an evening meal. Admittedly, it was tempting to just buy a tower of desserts, but she knew she wouldn't feel great after. And she didn't have space to burn off the excess energy.

To Irene's surprise, however, while she was sitting and looking through menus in the Yellow Pages, she smelled a savoury aroma. She looked up and Cody, the young vampire approached her with a plastic bag.

"Um, hello again," he said, putting it down. "I was told to pick you up some food. So... here's some Chinese. It should be enough for leftovers for tomorrow," he said, placing the bag on the table. Irene stared at it, drinking in the delicious smell.

"Thank you. Um... Cory was it?"

"Cody," Cody corrected. "I uh should... gosh that smells so good... I miss Chinese food. I should go," Cody blushed and quickly excused himself. He seemed so awkward and strange, and yet the night when he'd snagged her, sounded just as sinister and dangerous as one thought a vampire ought. She began to wonder how he became a vampire. She also wondered if he'd be a viable source of information.

"Wait!" Irene called out. Cody froze, looking almost as if she had stricken him. He looked over his shoulder, something sheepish on his face.

"Yes...?" He asked, a nervous glance towards the doorway.

"Please, come, talk," Irene invited, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Cody glanced at the exit, then at Irene, then at the exit again. "Why?" He seemed oddly afraid of her, and that really made her wonder.

"Why not?" Irene countered, tapping the table. It was strange to have someone behaving like that towards her.

"Look... I... I don't... I need to go feed, and Cyrus made it clear that if anyone but him bit you, he'd have our fangs." Despite his paleness, Irene saw a blush brighten the young vampire's cheeks and ears before he shuffled off.

It was worth a try. Irene shrugged and Irene eagerly opened the two take-out containers. To her surprised delight one had chop suey and the other deep fried prawns. Deep fried prawns were her favourite. Irene tried not to think about how any one of these vampires would know that.

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The meal made her think of her father and how he might react to her note. Perhaps she could phone the house and let him know she was alright? No. It would be too risky. Irene tried to focus on enjoying her meal.

As Irene was eating, she saw a few different vampires pass by the open archway which led into the hall. She recognized both Cynthia and Kendrick, but there were several individuals she didn't know. Some of them glanced briefly at her in passing, but most ignored her presence. Which suited her just fine. A few times she heard murmurs or raised voices, but could not pick out enough words to know what their plans were. She was curious, but not curious enough to try and eavesdrop.

As Irene was packing up her leftovers, she hesitated putting them in the fridge. She finally opened it, and saw a row of blood bags neatly stacked on the lower rack. If they were all tightly sealed, then it shouldn't be actually dangerous to store her leftovers in there. Still, it made her feel queasy. She placed them back in the plastic bag they came in, and put them in, closing the door quickly. She'd try not to think about it.

When Irene turned around, she saw Cyrus standing in the doorway. "We're heading out." Irene just nodded to him. He half turned, then paused, and looked over at her, his eyebrows drawn together. Something was clearly on his mind, and on the tip of his tongue. Cyrus had not previously displayed a pattern of inhibition when it came to speaking his mind. Against Irene's better judgment, it tickled her curiosity.

Before Cyrus spoke what was on his mind, Cynthia walked into the room. She gave Irene a cold stare, but then smiled down at Cyrus. She was tall, for a woman, and Cyrus was short, for a man. This made the disparity between them almost comical. She placed her hands on his shoulders close to his neck, fingers slipping under the collar of his shirt. "The sooner we go, the sooner we can celebrate."

"Right-o!" Cyrus said, his eyes lighting up. Whatever he had intended to say was unceremoniously abandoned and the two turned to leave, his hand on Cynthia's shapely posterior as they left. Irene rolled her eyes, unsure what Cynthia saw in Cyrus. But it wasn't any of her business. Nonetheless, such encouragement of Cyrus's boorish behaviour offended Irene.

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The lack of fresh air was causing Irene to feel sluggish. Exercise only helped a little. With everyone gone, she decided to sneak down and just step outside. It was not her plan to go far, just to open up the door and breathe in some of the cool night air. However, as Irene reached for the back door, Irene yelped as her arm was grabbed.

"He said you might try and sneak off," came a gravelly voice.

Irene turned and saw a pair of light brown, almost golden eyes glaring at her. "I..."

"Don't care," Kendrick cut her off as he swung her away from the door. She hit the wall of the corridor, her arm and shoulder jarred by the impact. "Get back upstairs."

Irene rubbed her arm. While Kendrick was taller than Cyrus, he was still just under the average height, but with a broad, squat build to make up for it. If there was one word to describe him, it would be solid. As such, Irene did not feel she would have much luck in defying him. "I just need some fresh air."

"Don't care," Kendrick repeated, inclining his chin and pointing to the stairs.

"I won't go anywhere, I'll stay back here, but could you please just open the door," Irene pleaded. Kendrick took a step towards her and she jumped back. He snorted at her, but then gave a shrug, opening the door but barring the exit. A burst of cool air flooded in, and Irene closed her eyes, breathing it in. It cleared her head nicely. But her sentry did not seem content to stand there indefinitely, and there was a woosh and a loud click as he shut the door again.

"Now git," Kendrick said, pointing again.

Irene did not wish to try this particular vampire's patience. However, she also wanted other sources besides Cyrus to clarify a few matters. She'd tried to talk to Cody, but he was too nervous. Kendrick was not.

"Kendrick, is it?" Kendrick did not nod or say anything. He slowly raised an eyebrow, as if questioning why she was still there. "Am I really safe here?"

To this Kendrick snorted. "No," Kendrick responded, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his faded jeans. "Especially if you don't do as you're told."

Irene was getting nowhere with him. She sighed and turned to leave, but just before she stepped onto the stairway, she paused, her hand on the banister. "Do you know what Cyrus has planned for me?"

"No," Kendrick responded.

Irene wanted answers, but she needed to figure out how. Irene rubbed her shoulder again. It ached. But she doubted Kendrick would seriously harm her. Perhaps she could push her luck just a little further. Irene looked at the door next to the stairs. They led down into a basement. Irene glanced at Kendrick, then she tried to open the door. It didn't budge. She glanced at the deadbolt, turning it. This got Kendrick's attention. "I wouldn't go down there."

Irene hesitated. She reasoned that if he was warning her, but not moving to stop her, it might not be worth her time. On the other hand, she needed to start somewhere. Irene curled in her lips and opened the door, peering down at the shady stairs. Prior mention of supplies in the cellar rattled through her recollection. As she descended, she got a whiff of a musky scent. It seemed vaguely familiar. The air got even stuffier as the smell got stronger. Earthy, yet grassy.... is that smoke? Irene opened the first door at the bottom, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room.

Irene wasn't sure what she was expecting. But now she realized why she recognized the smell. She immediately began fanning the air in front of her, her eyes watering. Through bleary eyes she saw a shabby looking man stretched out on a bed, staring at the ceiling. Sitting on the ground next to him, giggling, was a disheveled woman. She looked up when Irene entered, putting a joint to her lips and breathing in. Irene stood there, stunned. There were people hot boxing in the basement.

Irene's eye went to the woman's bare, freckled arm. Track marks. Marijuana wasn't the only vice of these two. The man on the bed languidly rolled over, one open eye lazily drifting to Irene before closing again. "You're new. Come for a nibble?"

Irene just stared as the woman tilted her head to the side, exposing her bruised neck. "Just promise you'll be gentle..." the woman cooed, and then laughed.

"No!" Irene stepped back into the small hallway at the bottom of the stairs. Irene hesitated as she considered whether she ought to leave these people or offer them help. They didn't look like they wanted help. However, she felt it was at least her duty to ask. "Do you need help? Most of the vampires are out..." Except Kendrick was still upstairs. Perhaps if she distracted him, they could get out.

"They'll be back," the woman said with a shrug. She scratched her scalp, her fingers running through her short, dirty blond hair. "They're, like, faster than fast." She lifted her hand, staring at it a moment in amazement. She waved her hand in front of the light, then looked back to Irene. "It's mighty sweet of you to ask, though! Come here, have a hug, you sweet darling thing."

Evidently they were too far gone to flee. Nonetheless, Irene was not going to forget this. "No thank you. I need to go now."

When Irene emerged from the basement, Kendrick was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. His arms were crossed and he looked her over closely. He grabbed her arm brusquely and began to march up the stairs. Irene had little choice but to move along. Cyrus was strong, but Kendrick looked like he could break her in two.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Kendrick threw her down. Irene hit the hardwood floor hard, a squeak erupting as her skin slid along the floor wax. She turned around to a sitting position and looked up at Kendrick. "Was that necessary?"

"No," came Kendrick's trademark response. He shrugged and turned to head back downstairs. How could she crack this nut? Irene bit her lip. This was going to be a long shot, and potentially risky.

"You're doing this for Layla, aren't you?"

That got a reaction. Kendrick stopped in his tracks. He remained still for a moment, facing away from her.

Pain. Irene's legs kicked as she struggled to breathe, her neck aching from the strain of her body's weight tugging at it, as Kendrick lifted her by her throat. He held her aloft, a weighty glare from his hawk-like eyes. Just as Irene was starting to see spots, Kendrick lowered her until her feet touched ground, providing immediate relief. His grip on her throat lessened. "Don't speak of things you don't understand, you brassy gimlet."

Irene fell back to the floor, gasping for air. She looked up at Kendrick, who looked down on her darkly. "Then help..." Irene's voice caught, a pain burning throughout her throat. She brought up a hand to her chest and coughed, then cleared her throat. She let out a brief moan to test her vocal cords before trying to speak again. "Help me understand. Why am I here?"

"Why would I know?" Kendrick snapped.

"Why else would he trust you to protect me?" Irene asked as she got to her feet.

"To prot-" Kendrick cut himself off sharply with a deep, throaty chuckle that made the back of Irene's skull tingle. She rubbed her neck uncomfortably and then patted the dust off of her pants. "You call that protecting you?" Kendrick asked, gesturing to her sore arm.

"You're keeping people out as well as keeping me in, aren't you?" Irene countered.

"Hmph. I've got better things to do than babysit an entitled chew toy."

"But that's the thing! He doesn't drink my blood." Irene insisted. Kendrick snorted, his broad, shapeless lips turning up in a cruel smirk, a knowing glint in his eye. Irene could tell that he knew more than he was letting on, and it frustrated her.

"He will." Kendrick turned and strode off. Irene called to him, but he lifted a hand, flicking his hand at her as he continued to sink down the stairs. Irene sighed and rubbed her sore neck. There was pain, but no gain. With nothing left to do, Irene slunk to the bedroom. She still had sheets to change, but once that was done, she was ready for a rest.