Cyrus was up a little before sunset, but he went immediately to his office and locked it. Irene didn't mind. She was preoccupied with figuring out 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 who had brought her in, 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 placed the bag on the table.
Irene stared at it, drinking in the delicious smell. "Thank you. Um... Cory was it?"
"Cody," he corrected. "I uh should... gosh that smells so good... I miss Chinese food." He stared at the bag, looking momentarily dazed. "I should go." Cody blushed and quickly excused himself.
Irene wondered if he'd be a viable source of information, as nervous and inexperienced as he was. "Wait!"
Cody froze, looking almost as if she had stricken him. He looked over his shoulder, a sheepish expression forming. "Yes...?" He gave 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?"
"Why not?" Irene countered, tapping the table.
"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 ruddiness, Irene saw a blush brighten the young vampire's cheeks and ears as he whispered, "I'm in enough trouble with him as it is," before he shuffled off.
It was worth a try. But what could he have done to get him in trouble with Cyrus? Irene shrugged and eagerly opened the two take-out containers. To her surprise and delight one had chop suey and the other deep fried prawns. Deep fried prawns were her favourite. Cyrus never ate with us. How did he know? Or was it a lucky guess?
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.
The apartment was a veritable hub of vampire activity. She recognized both Cynthia and Kendrick come and go, but there were several individuals she didn't know. Some of them glanced briefly at her in passing, but most ignored her presence. This 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. Certainly nothing worth getting caught eavesdropping for.
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 should be safe to store her leftovers. Still, it made her queasy. She placed the takeout containers back in the plastic bag they came in, and put them in the fridge, closing the door quickly.
When Irene turned around, she saw Cyrus standing in the doorway. "We're heading out." She nodded blandly. 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.
With a fanfare of squeaky leather, Cynthia strode into the room. She gave Irene a cold stare, but then smiled down at Cyrus. The disparity between her and Cyrus's heights was almost comical. With a nymphis grin, she slipped her delicate fingers under the collar of his shirt. "The sooner we go, the sooner we can celebrate."
"Right-o!" Cyrus's eyes lit 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 him. But it wasn't any of her business. Nonetheless, such encouragement of Cyrus's boorish behaviour was offensive.
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Irene flopped on the couch in the common area. She had finished doing a series of stretches and some steps to try and keep herself alert. But a swampy, sluggish feeling persisted. Being forbidden to so much as crack a window open was leaving the cooped-up teenager feeling less than fresh, and no amount of showering would fix that.
As far as Irene could tell, the shop below was closed, and the suite was empty. Erring on the side of caution nonetheless, she tiptoed down the stairs into a dark hallway. 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 she reached for the back door, her arm was grabbed. Irene let out a startled gasp.
"He said you might try and sneak off," came a gravelly voice.
Irene spun around 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 getting past 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 sharp step towards her and she jumped back. He snorted, but then gave a shrug, opening the door but barring the exit lest she try and dash out. A burst of cool air flooded in, and Irene closed her eyes, breathing it deeply. Clarity sharpened her mental faculties. 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 ordered, pointing again.
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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. This particular vampire was not.
"Kendrick, is it?" Irene asked. 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 hooked 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."
Irene wanted answers, but she needed to figure out how to obtain them. She rubbed her aching shoulder. It was doubtful that 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. After a quick glance to the gruff guard, she tried to open the door. It didn't budge. She examined the deadbolt, then turned 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. She 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 Irene 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? She opened the first door at the bottom, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room.
Irene wasn't sure what she was expecting, but what she saw, and smelled, was certainly not it. That smell... is that pot? She immediately began fanning the air in front of her. 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 the snooping teenager entered, putting a joint to her lips and breathing in. Irene stood there, stunned.
Irene's eye went to the woman's bare, freckled arm. Track marks. Marijuana wasn't her only vice. 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?" The woman tilted her head to the side, exposing her bruised neck. "Just promise you'll be gentle..." she cooed, and then laughed.
"No!" Irene stepped back into the small hallway. She glanced back at the stairs, wanting to leave and not think about the people down here. However, fleeing didn't feel right with her. She had to make up for how she'd treated Robin. Irene exhaled slowly and stepped back into the room. "Do you need help? Most of the vampires are 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. And with Kendrick on sentry duty, she imagined they wouldn't have any hope of getting away in their current state. "No thank you."
"Your loss... she gives nice hugs..." yawned the man drearily. He laced his fingers together and set them on his stomach.
"You're okay being kept in a basement to be fed on?" Irene could not contain her incredulity.
"It's like, I eat meat, right? And the meat, well, the meat ate meat, and that meat, it ate grass. I like grass too... ha ha ha!" The woman went from scratching her scalp to her blotchy arm. "So because I eat, I need to be eaten. Except I don't hafta die. It's like, I'm a cow, and I'm being milked. I don't even feel it anymore. And they bring me steak. Steak! And all the grass I want." She smiled and lifted the joint. "Want some?"
"Uh... no. I don't like smoking. Makes me cough," Irene answered, waving her hand in front of her nose.
"Oooooooh! Yeah, don't want to be coughing. It's cool. Each to our own, you know? And..." she rolled her head to one side, looking over her shoulder at the man on the bed. "What was I saying?"
The man on the bed shrugged without opening his eyes.
"Did you come here willingly?"
"Uh..." the woman scratched her head again. "Yes and no. I didn't come here willingly. I don't think." Her smile brightened and she gave a series of animated shrugs with her shoulders. "But I did go with the V-man willingly. Yeah. I get all... tweaked up, but then I need a nice toke to bring me down again. I don't, like, remember coming here. But that's normal."
"How long have you been here?"
"Days," the man answered.
"Something like that, except, longer. I was here first. Don't mind him." The stoned woman snorted. "He made a contribution right before they left. But you know, blood, hey, it's in you to give. Did I mention I get to eat steak? My mother always tried to make me eat fruits and salads. But I always just wanted a nice juicy steak, or a sloppy cheeseburger. Oh man, I really want cheeseburgers now. You don't happen to have any, do you?"
"Uh... no." And she was not going to give up her deep fried prawns to feed an addict's munchies, either. Irene frowned. "I need to go."
"Okay, Strawberry Shortcake! See you around!"
Irene shut the door and shook her head. She could not imagine how people could let themselves be chattel. She bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. Similar thoughts about Robin hounded her. She wanted to just forget everything sometimes, and maybe falling into drugs or drink could bring that much needed relief. Still, she couldn't stomach the idea that anyone would trade their freedom for steak and drugs.
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 marched 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 ground, 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.
Irene bit her lip. This was going to be a long shot, and potentially risky. "You're doing this for Layla, aren't you?"
Kendrick stopped in his tracks. He remained still for a moment, facing away from her. But then with movement her brain barely processed, he spun around and advanced.
Pain. Irene's legs kicked as she struggled to breathe, her neck aching from the strain of her body's weight tugging at it. Kendrick held her aloft by the neck, a weighty glare from his hawk-like eyes. Just as she 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..." her voice snagged, a pain burning throughout her throat. She brought up a hand to her chest and coughed. After testing her larynx out with a brief moan, she tried again to speak. "Help me understand. Why am I here?"
"Why would I know?"
"Why else would he trust you to protect me?" Irene rose shakily.
"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?"
"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."
Kendrick snorted, his broad, shapeless lips turning up in a cruel smirk, a knowing glint in his eye. Irene could tell that he knew a lot more than he'd willingly share, and it frustrated her.
"He will." Kendrick turned and strode off.
"Wait!"
The gruff vampire lifted a hand, flicking his hand at her as he continued to sink down the stairs. She sighed and rubbed her sore neck. There was pain, but no gain. With nothing left to do, she slunk to the bedroom. There were still sheets to change, and now she had to do it with a headache.