Irene tossed and turned against her mental stress and emotional tension, like any other transition in life. Wrapped in her cocoon of bed sheets and a slimy layer of perspiration, Irene struggled with herself to emerge with grace, rather than to crawl out as some sort of monster. Nonetheless, such desires were not easily achieved, and they certainly were a trial when one is awoken to a twisted reality by the sound of sobbing.

Irene stirred, not immediately aware that the noise was a real human being instead of an echo from a nightmare. However, hearing shuffling and stamping feet, Irene shot straight up. This, she immediately decided, was not a wise move, as it seemed all of her organs threw themselves against the inner wall of her abdomen. Retching with a few dry heaves, Irene was effectively paralyzed while she heard the noise come closer. Once Irene had suppressed her viscera from fleeing her body prematurely, she shakily turned her head towards the door.

At that moment, a woman tumbled into the room. Bewildered eyes met a gaze of absolute terror. Time took a brief vacation as the two gazed at each other, each movement, each breath, and each sound passing in slow motion. The moment was glass, and promptly it was shattered by two tactless words.

"Dinner time."

Words were in short supply, as they usually were, for Irene to adequately express the dismay and disdain she felt towards a certain vampire. She looked beyond the trembling woman to Cyrus, who stood in the doorway. Irene's lips became a thin line against a pale face as she rose steadily to her feet.

"Do you think I can just… just…" Irene threw up her arms, causing the woman to flinch. Cyrus calmly walked into the room and nudged the crouched woman with his foot, causing her to quickly scramble out of his way. There was a dreadful click as he locked the door.

"I could coddle and bottle-feed you, but this is quicker. When you're hungry enough, you'll feed," Cyrus responded with a shrug.

Irene stared at the woman, who remained crouched and quivering. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, which contrasted sharply against the rest of her blanched face. Tears streamed messily down her cheeks and down her red nose.

"P-please don't hurt me; I'll do anything you say!" the woman croaked. Irene continued to stare at her in sullen silence. Her anger had burnt away quickly, and now she felt numb again. It wasn't long ago that Irene had drowned in the fear of being victimised and hunted. Looking at this unfortunate lady was like looking into a rear-view mirror. She was expected to kill the person she once was. Irene bared her fangs and slowly turned her gaze towards Cyrus. Unflappable as ever, he raised an eyebrow. Flappable, the woman shrieked in response to seeing Irene's fangs.

"None of your mind games…" Irene spoke low, from her throat.

Cyrus just tilted his head to the side, peering at her with his infuriating smug eyes. "Mind games? I don't know what… well, I suppose you have me there. Just drink the lady's blood and get it over with. Discoursing upon the moral dilemma will just waste time and make you cranky."

The woman shot a frightened glance at Cyrus. She stopped shaking, but her face expressed such hysterical shock that Irene was certain the woman would soon begin babbling in a desperate attempt to reason with the situation. It was either that or she would lock down completely.

"This is cruel! I can't kill someone so helpless and afraid! It wasn't long ago I was in her position!" Irene spat, trying to keep her voice low.

Cyrus waved his hand nonchalantly. "Just like you were; except you held it together," Cyrus pointed out, an old look of admiration lighting in his face.

Irene stared down at the woman, who had curled her knees to her chest and hid her face. "Just because she is showing fear doesn't make her deserve this. Hell, I don't deserve this," Irene's voice gradually drained of expression.

Cyrus walked over to the woman and squatted down, poking her, only to get flailed at. "Ah, come on, you'll have to get used to terrified victims. It will be a part of your existence."

Irene approached the both of them and also knelt down. She glared at Cyrus, and then looked back at the woman. She tried to summon softness and compassion, but she just felt empty instead. That emptiness left her with only hunger.

"I look at her and I see myself. I see Ashley, Katie, and Tina. I can't dehumanize myself; I can't be the monster I've been afraid of all this time," Irene intoned, staring hard at the woman. She believed what she was saying, but something in her felt so discordant. She almost doubted her own words, and that was more frightening.

"Please..." the woman whimpered. Despite being the topic of discussion, her pleas were ignored.

"You're just going to drink her blood. You're not going to torture her, are you?" Irene shook her head vehemently. "No, I didn't think so."

The woman dared to poke her head out of her arm nest and peer at the two vampires. The way the woman was staring at her made Irene uncomfortable. It was as if she did not see people, but just two mindless beasts.

"I'm not going to hurt her, and that is final," Irene said firmly to Cyrus. Then she turned to the woman, reaching out a hand with the palm up. Cyrus arched an eyebrow and backed up to get a better look at the interaction. Irene's hand was furiously slapped by the frightened woman. Irene withdrew her hand. "I'm not going to hurt you," Irene insisted.

The woman stared at her in cold fear. "Get away from me!" she said in a low shaky voice. Irene tried to maintain her patience. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the woman. "Get away you monsters! GET AWAY!" The woman threw her hands over her head and began to sob again.

"Listen!" Irene said sharply to break through the barrier of whimpers. "I am not a monster! I know what it's like to be a victim. I won't hurt you!" The woman didn't respond right away, continuing to sob. Irene frowned, and then finally shot a glance over at Cyrus. "What did you do to her?"

"What do you think? If I were just hunting for myself she'd be off in la-la land already."

Irene sighed, looking back at the woman, who had moved her hand slightly and was peering out at Irene. "He's terrible, I know. But I'm not like him. I won't hurt you," Irene repeated.

The woman stared at her for a moment, blinking away a few new tears. "W-why should I believe you? Y-your clothes are covered in blood…" Irene glanced down, realizing that she hadn't changed before climbing into bed, "…and your t-teeth! I saw them… they aren't human!"

"The blood is mine!" Irene exclaimed, beginning to become exasperated. The woman stared at her unconvinced.

"I don't believe you! You just want me to trust you! I won't! Get away, demon!" accused the woman as she pointed a shaky finger at Irene. Irene quickly sprang to her feet, causing the woman to withdraw. Irene looked down at the woman, then over at Cyrus who had his usual smug expression.

"Boy oh boy, now you know what it's like," Cyrus teased. "Try to help someone, and explain to them you have no intention of really hurting them, and they shut you down and scream nasty insults like 'monster' or 'demon'."

"But YOU have every intention of hurting her!" Irene countered, her voice rising a few pitches in her frustration.

"So? You don't. That's what matters. She doesn't trust you. Instead she sticks to a negative label, and treats you accordingly, unwilling to truly listen," Cyrus responded.

Irene perched her hands on her waist, glowering at Cyrus. "I thought you weren't going to gloat over this!" Irene reprimanded.

"Where did you get that silly idea? Even so, I'm not gloating. I'm sharing an experience with you. It's frustrating, isn't it?"

"YOU are frustrating. You-" Irene cut her sentence short with a sharp gasp. Her hand went to her stomach as a sharp reminder shot through her abdomen. A gnawing echo of pain followed. She got down on her knees, curling up and leaning forward, cradling her afflicted body. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the woman spring to action, lunging for the door. The attempt to flee was short lived, as it came to a sudden halt. The woman dangled, her toes just barely touching the ground as Cyrus held her up by the throat. Irene tried to say something, but a groan was all she could muster.

Cyrus glanced away from the woman's face to look at Irene. "You alright?" he asked. Irene shook her head. He looked back at the woman who struggled in his grip. "Irene, you have to learn that life is temporary, and it really doesn't matter whether a person dies from natural causes, in an accident, or by murder. They die no matter what you do, so you might as well feed while they're fresh," Cyrus explained while the woman gasped and flailed. He slowly lowered the victim so that her feet were flat against the ground. He furrowed his eyebrows, putting on a grim frown. "Brutality is necessary to survive." With that, he brought his other hand around to squeeze the back of her neck. Eventually her eyes rolled and she collapsed.

Irene stared at the woman, who now lay there so still and quiet, but her heart was beating. Irene could feel it. The slowed throbbing of another fleeting life was filling every cavity of her mind and body.

"You'll feel better once you drink, so do it," Cyrus said firmly. Irene sighed tiredly, crawling over to the woman. She was beaten, and Irene knew that even if she refused, Cyrus would kill the woman. The woman saw too much, and Cyrus probably was also feeling the thirst. Irene stared at her neck. Nope. Can't do it.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Cyrus caught Irene's gaze and knelt down, picking up a limp arm. "Drink from her wrist," Cyrus offered helpfully.

Irene reached over and took the hand. Am I really doing this? Irene stared at the exposed wrist. She slowly brought the it closer, shutting her eyes tight. She could not watch herself do it. The skin touched her lips. Irene shivered. Her mouth salivated and her stomach churned hungrily. Irene hesitated, then tore into the flesh, pulling it away to give her access to the life-giving blood inside. The warm liquid filled her mouth, and though the salty, metallic taste did not change, it suddenly tasted extremely satisfying. The warmth was soothing. Upon ingesting the woman's blood, the relief was almost immediate. There wasn't any use stopping now, and Irene sat there sucking more and more blood as the pulse became weak.

"Save some for me. Morning is almost here; I don't have time to hunt another," Cyrus complained.

Hearing words, Irene shot back to reality and tore herself away from the wrist, dropping the arm as if it were a poisonous snake. She stared at the gashes in the wrist, unable to believe it was her own teeth that caused them. Irene backed away, bewildered but satiated. Cyrus clicked his tongue and grabbed the wrist Irene had thrown down and licked it, until the wound closed up. Irene blinked a few times, even more baffled. Cyrus caught her expression and smiled as he scooped the woman into his lap, so that she was leaning against him.

"I don't need blood leaking from the end you bit while I try and squeeze what I can from her neck," Cyrus explained.

Irene was certain at any time before this she would have been disgusted. She still felt terrible that a woman had to die, but she didn't place the blame on herself. Feeling guilty was getting old.

Irene rose to her feet, looking down at her burnt and bloody clothes. She sighed, pulling at a bit of fabric and feeling it tear off with ease. "I'm going to go take a shower while it's still dark," Irene decided.

Cyrus, who had brought the unfortunate woman's neck to a comfortable height just glanced up at her. He nodded, before biting the woman's throat.

After Irene took her shower, she peered out a window to gauge how much time she had before the sun rose. There was a hint of light at the horizon, causing Irene to go about her business in a hurried fashion. She went into her room and took out the drawers that had her clothes, stacking them on top of each other. She lifted them with ease and brought them down to the basement. She did not see Cyrus, nor the woman down there. Assuming he was disposing of the body, Irene put the drawers down, then went back upstairs.

When Irene resurfaced, she was met by a growl. She turned to see Silver perched on a kitchen chair, back arched. All manner of spittle and hissing issued forth from the cat's open maw, teeth bared, and ears flat against her skull. "Silver! Don't you recognize me?" Irene asked, horrified at her pet's reaction. She looked at the door, hopeful that Cyrus was returning and the source of her cat's ire. But it remained shut. Irene then looked back at Silver, licking her lips. Slowly she approached, and Silver lowered her body, drawing her head back and squinting, letting out another warning growl from deep in her throat. "Silver?"

Irene looked around. The cat bowl was empty, but the water bowl wasn't. Without turning her back on her perturbed pet, Irene gave the yowling feline a wide berth as she scooted around the edge of the kitchen to where the cat food was kept. She got it down, all the while Silver protected her chair ferociously.

"See? I'm not bad. It's me, Irene." Irene knew her cat couldn't understand her words, but she kept hoping the sound of her voice would hold some meaning for her little tabby. Irene knelt down, filling up Silver's bowl. She then slowly backed away.

Silver licked her chops, catching up the drool that had been dripping out while she was screaming threats at Irene. She rose again, keeping her back arched, and tail twice its size. She circled around a few times on the chair, but did not let Irene leave her sight. Irene saw her little throat strain and pulse as she let out another growl, but it then ended in a whimper. Her ears lifted up a moment, then went flat again.

"Come on Silver. Don't you abandon me, too. You've been my one true ally in all of this!"

Her cat cautiously jumped down, but kept her back arched as she approached the food. If Irene wasn't so distressed at the rejection by her pet, she would have found the growling noises endearing. Silver picked up a mouthful of kibble, backed away a few paces under a chair, and then dropped them on the floor to eat at her leisure, never taking her eyes off of Irene. "Oh Silver..."

Irene admitted defeat. Sorrowful at yet another loss, Irene resumed her task of bringing down a few moveable items of furniture to make the basement more hospitable. She only managed to gather a card table, dining chair, and a nightstand. Her final act, before she felt too tired to continue, was to change Silver's neglected litter box. Although Silver would not let her near, she was going to take care of her the best she could.

Cyrus returned while Irene was arranging the various objects. He stood in the doorway watching her work with a smile. Irene was just finishing up when she told Cyrus, "It took you long enough. I could have used some help earlier."

"Ah, well, I barely got back in time. The sun will be up over those mountains any minute. Staging bodies isn't something one should rush," Cyrus responded coolly. Irene sighed, walking over to her bed, which she had moved from the center of the room against a wall.

"This will have to do for now…"

"I don’t know. This may have been a wasted effort. We might not be able to stay here." Cyrus said, watching as Irene picked up a pillow and fluffed it. "Besides, when the sun goes down again, I need to regroup and do a headcount. Heck, the others are probably wondering if I'm still kicking. Or, uh, in town at least. I'm sure there was a pool going around wagering at what point I'd run off," Cyrus added, giving a lopsided smile.

"I wouldn't doubt it. Why do they follow you if they all know you're a good for nothing, selfish, coward?" Irene asked casually, picking some lint off of her plaid pajama pants.

Cyrus responded with a low whistle. "Ouch, Irene, ouch." Irene glanced up at him with a neutral expression. "I guess because they know that I know Gabriel the most. Maybe it's also because most of them are just waiting to betray me when the opportunity strikes. I could care less, as long as Gabriel gets put in his place. Whether they trust, or even like me, they are there because they're afraid or angry with Gabriel," Cyrus explained. He grabbed the wicker-back chair Irene had brought down from the kitchen, and sat at the white and red card table.

"Maybe now I can help… I don't want Gabriel to victimize anyone ever again," Irene said. Cyrus yawned loudly, causing Irene to shoot him another one of her glares. She had gotten good at them since Cyrus had come into her life. "What?"

"Admit it, you want him to go down in flames because of what he did to you; none of this noble 'for the sake of others' crap. You may honestly not want it to happen to anyone else, but I doubt that's your main concern."

Irene rolled her head back, staring at the low ceiling for a moment. She then looked back at Cyrus. "Don't gloat, but you're right.' Cyrus smirked triumphantly, much to Irene's irritation. "But, my concern for others is a large part of it. It isn't an after-thought. I'm not like you, nor will I ever be."

"That's fine by me. I'm not asking you to be like me. Heck, I wouldn't like you if you were like me. All I ask is that you try to see things my way. It just might help you cope," Cyrus responded as he put his elbows on the table. "Anyway… it's going to be a long day. I'm too wound up to sleep. Don't suppose you got a deck of cards?"

Irene shook her head. "My only deck of cards was in the coffee shop..." Irene said with some regret. She could have used the distraction as well. Cyrus let out a noisy sigh. Irene glanced over at her collection of books. "You could always read a book."

"Naw… I've already read all of those, and they were all boring."

Irene shook her head at him, pitying him for believing that. But it wasn't going to stop her, and she ran her fingers along the spines of the books until she selected one.

Cyrus drummed his fingers impatiently. "You know, I expected you to start groaning and cringing again by now." Irene glanced over at him from her paperback. "In fact, usually new vampires only get enough relief to get back to sleep. You were up and about, moving things. Now you are sitting and calmly reading a book."

"So…?" Irene wasn't trying to be flippant; she truly was curious. However, since she was dealing with Cyrus, a bit of attitude could carry her a long way. Cyrus stood up and walked over to her, sitting on the foot of her bed. This annoyed Irene. She still didn't like it when he came that close.

"So, it's strange. Unusual," Cyrus suggested, trying to keep a calm, casual expression.

Irene sighed and put her book down, knowing that she wouldn't have the peace to enjoy it. "Maybe because I had special blood?"

Cyrus leaned closer to her, staring her in the face, carefully searching her. Irene leaned back as a result, until she could move no further. Cyrus's eyes seemed to grow darker, if that were physically possible. "No. I don't think so. It's familiar. Layla was the same way. She adapted very quickly," Cyrus said, his voice going flat. "There are so many parallels. You know, while Layla was mortal, she lost her twin sister. She had this wind-up key that belonged to her and she always kept it close. Didn't you have a sister who died?" Cyrus asked.

Irene's still-mortal heart thumped hard at the mention of her sister. "Yes, an older sister. She died of cancer." Tension rapidly piled into her body. She did not want to hear this, or have this conversation. She didn't want to talk about Monica. She wished Cyrus would withdraw, and stop asking questions.

"Heh…" Cyrus said, examining Irene's expression carefully. "Don't worry, I believe in coincidences. Still… it's odd," Cyrus put a hand along Irene's cheek. "Deep down, you're a strong girl, and you'll be alright once you get used to being a vampire," Cyrus said soothingly. Irene went stiff as his hand slid down her cheek, and continued along her neck. Perhaps his hand would have slid down to her shoulder, had it not snagged on a metal chain tucked under the collar of her long-sleeved pyjama top. Before Irene could say or do anything, he pulled the chain out from beneath her buttoned-up shirt, and held the key and pendant in his hand, a grim and perplexed expression on his face. "Where did you get this!?"

"I-"

Cyrus glared, repeating his question in a lower tone. Irene's eyes darted around everywhere but at him. What do I say? That it magically appeared in my pocket? Irene hesitated. Perhaps, she should say just that. "I don't know! It was in my pocket, so I put it on!"

Cyrus looked skeptical as he rubbed his thumb over the tiny brass key. "Things don't just magically appear in people's pockets," Cyrus forcefully yanked the chain off. It stung, and Irene instantly put a hand to the back of her neck. He stared at Irene for a long, silent moment, and then opened the locket, peering at the small portrait inside. "If I know anything, you are square. You wouldn't steal something then lie about it." Irene nodded eagerly. Cyrus knitted his dark eyebrows, slowly shifting his gaze from the small picture to Irene. "But I still know there's a better explanation than the one you're giving me."

"I can't give any better explanation. How can you expect me to? Everything is upside down, this world is a mess… everything is… I'm sorry, Cyrus, but there is nothing more I have to tell you!" Irene stumbled over her words with anxiety.

Cyrus regarded her silently for a moment. Finally he fiddled with the clasp, carefully fondling it as if to be sure it didn't break. Once getting it working he put the necklace around his own neck. "Someone is toying with me."

Irene was uncomfortable. She had a theory as to who that was, but could not fathom why. And she didn't want to agitate Cyrus any further at present. Cyrus paced a few times and then returned to the card table, pulling a chair around so that it's back faced Irene and he sat in it.

No doubt he is sulking.