Irene paced, restless from a deep and insatiable yearning that she'd never experienced before. A clatter from the floor above broke her out of her stupor. Cognition lagged behind involuntary reflexes and inherent curiosity, prompting her to run up the stairs. Irene gripped the side of the doorframe when she saw Cyrus holding a bundle of clothes. Somewhere in that clutter was a person, she presumed.
Cyrus lifted his head and turned his attention to Irene. Donning his usual smirk, he nodded to the mess of scarf and overcoat in his arms. "Lookie what I found trying to break in," he crowed, ringing with self praise.
Irene squinted then widened her eyes. "Amber?"
There was a muffled, albeit feminine, noise in response. Cyrus's smile dropped and he looked down at his prized catch. He pulled down her hood and revealed the younger girl's panicked face.
"Amber, what are you doing here?"
"I have information!" Amber blurted out hastily, trembling visibly.
Irene could feel the girl's rapid heartbeat. It was distracting. She calmly approached, holding up a hand to signal Cyrus to hold back any hostility. "Go on."
Amber swallowed hard, struggling to speak. Irene shot a glance at Cyrus, and he loosened the hold on her, but his hands remained clutching her clothes.
"So you two know each other?" Cyrus leered at Amber, who shrank in response.
"She was the one who warned me Gabriel's men were coming," Irene informed, keeping her tone level and clear while trying to catch Cyrus's eye. His gaze remained focused on the girl, particularly her scarf.
"That's right - I'm not the enemy!" Amber bobbed her head desperately.
Irene arched an eyebrow. "I never said you weren't."
"B-but I.. I..." Amber halted her jittery speech as Cyrus whipped her scarf off of her. She blanched and tried to cover her neck. He grabbed her chin, and she looked upon him with pinpoint pupils.
"What have you got to hide, dearie?" Cyrus firmly placed his hand on her wrist. For a moment Amber was still and silent, other than the shudder of her chest. "No need to fuss. Let's have a look." With her eyes still fixed on him, her hand was moved by Cyrus's guiding grasp. The way they locked eyes, the way that Amber's breathing slowed, and the way her wrist fell limp in his grasp were all Irene's spies.
"Cyrus… stop," Irene couldn't bear to watch anymore. The trance broke as Cyrus shifted a glance to her, then back at Amber's neck.
"Aha. Vampire groupie, are you?" Cyrus shook his head. "Come to spy for Gabriel?"
"I… b-but I'm not…" Amber stuttered, unable to get her point across and instead broke off into incoherent fragments and misplaced articles.
Cyrus clicked his tongue and glanced over at Irene. "This is no surprise to you is it? Is she your little angel?" He looked back at Amber with a huff. "Irene, why do you, of all people, trust her? Is it because she seems so small and p-p-pathetic?"
"Enough!" Irene walked over to Amber, putting her hands on her bony shoulders and gently turned her away from Cyrus, breathing out a soothing 'hush'. She glared over her shoulder at him. He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows until they hid beneath his bangs.
"You are a wet blanket," Cyrus groused. Irene gave him her well-practiced stink-eye and returned her attention to Amber. He shrugged and lifted a hand. "Chill, I was just teasing about her being one of Gabriel's groupies. Gabriel wouldn't rely on a trembling doorstopper like her. He eats girls like her for breakfast… actually he wouldn't, he'd feed her to his dogs." Irene's glare sharpened to a scowl. He lifted his eyebrows. "What? Oh, right, yes, I know, I'm terrible, but is that new? Let's hear what the runt has to say."
"Well maybe she could get a word in edgewise if you didn't like the sound of your own voice!" Irene growled, baring her teeth. The squeak that followed did not even register as a human sound, but nonetheless Amber was the source.
"So it's true! How horrible!" Amber gasped, staring at Irene's mouth. She threw her glare at Amber, causing the terrified girl to flinch. Irene heard a 'snerk' from Cyrus and whipped her head back at him to transfix him in her flaring abhorrence.
"Well it wasn't me… wait. You know the vampire who did this, don't you?" Cyrus seized Amber again. He drew his face very close to hers, their noses mere millimeters from touching. Amber's eyes grew so large, and Cyrus' so narrow that juxtaposed, they both looked like caricatures.
Irene's hands intervened, pulling them apart. "That is enough, you two. Cyrus, give her some space. Amber, just buckle up and tell us what you need to tell us."
Cyrus gave Irene a long side glance, but then hesitantly released Amber. She scuttled out of reach, gasping for air which she'd withheld in pure terror.
"A-alright," Amber said, her throat flexing as she gulped down her evident fear. She took in a few more breaths to steady herself, her eyes darting side to side. "You will b-be safe here for a few more d-days. B-because of the attack, a lot of his guys are sticking close, so they won't b-be snooping around for a little b-bit."
"So we have a few nights to rest?" Irene asked hopefully. "That's a very small relief."
"I… I am not d-done!" Amber squeaked. Irene fell silent, and Cyrus, who had his mouth open to say something, shut it to listen. They waited impatiently, watching Amber's lips moving as she prepared the next message. "Gabriel…" she said, elongating the last two syllables as her eyes went to one side, "…is in an old animal feed factory that is d-down for reno…renation… for b-building more."
"You mean renovations," Cyrus corrected.
"Yeah, guess so. Anyway…" Amber continued, "…It's b-by some t-train t-tracks and a t-tunnel. He is, um, resting too. Next night you should attack, b-before he, uh, regroups."
Hopefulness dawned on Irene's gaunt face, "If we attack tomorrow, can we finally end this?"
Cyrus rolled both of his shoulders and cracked his neck. "It's probably a trap, but I'm optimistic. Let's charge in!"
Amber, trembling, reached for her scarf. Cyrus let it go, still observing her with a critical eye.
"All the same, some caution won't hurt." Cyrus rubbed his chin. "Itty-bitty, we'll keep you here for collateral."
Both girls exclaimed "What?" in unison, though their tones contrasted sharply.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
"No, that will not do!" protested Irene. "There isn't enough space!"
"Sunlight won't hurt her; she can sleep in your father's room."
"My father…" A hypothetical light flashed above Irene's head, her face stricken with worry. "He was supposed to be home already! I haven't heard from him!" She rushed to the phone but the line was dead. "What? No! Did they cut me off? Why weren't the bills paid!"
"Oh…" Amber peeped. "I… uh… forgot t-to say I also had a message ab-bout your father…"
"What?" Irene's voice cracked with urgency as she shook Amber's shoulders. "What about my father! TELL ME!"
"He's alright, d-don't worry!" Amber was shaken again and she hastily continued. "He's d-detained, and I guess someone, not my master, set him up, b-but for what I d-don't know and-and-and he'll be cleared when things settle d-d-d-down, so p-please stop shaking me," Amber babbled, eyeing Cyrus the whole time. Irene followed the younger teen's gaze and watched the short vampire suspiciously. He returned with an inscrutable expression.
"Would that person happen to be someone in this room?" Irene asked Amber while staring pointedly at Cyrus.
"I dunno," Amber squeaked. The two vampires continued to stare at each other. All fell silent, except for the creaking of the floor when Amer shifted her weight nervously.
After having enough, and neither saying anything, Irene threw her arms up in the air in frustration. "I'm going back to bed!" She promptly pivoted on her heel and stormed down to the basement.
Cyrus called after her, "Peaches, you-"
"Peaches doesn't fit so STOP IT!" Irene shot back from the bottom of the stairs. She grabbed her blanket and cocooned herself as she fumed. She was left in peace for all of eight minutes before Cyrus followed her into the basement.
"You need to stop storming off like that; nothing ever gets resolved when you do," Cyrus nagged.
"Nothing will get resolved as long as I'm angry," Irene retorted petulantly.
Cyrus cocked an eyebrow at her, but then continued forward. "Ahem! Your father is safer where he is. He'd be a likely target if he came back in the middle of this. Ever wonder why you never heard again about Merle?" Irene's face blanched, her attention successfully captured. He continued, "I recently learned that Gloria was suspended before she could do anything for your friend."
"What are you saying? Is Merle dead?" The words caused a strange sensation akin to fear, but tainted with a lack of shock. There was almost some new dimension to the word 'dead', but she didn't have the state of mind nor time to ponder upon it.
"Not yet. But the place she is at can only hold her for a week before she'll be brought back. She already blabbed about vampires. I don't imagine she'll make it home. Your father, however, is out of danger as long as he's out of town. You are in this deep, Irene," Cyrus cautioned, not bothering with any tenderness. However, to Irene's relief, he dispensed with the usual wisecracks.
"I see." Irene regarded Cyrus with a dull expression. "I didn't want to be a part of this. But that's all out of my control. Just let me focus on what I can fix."
Cyrus sat beside the bundled up teenage vampire. "That's right. Glad we agree on something," he laced his fingers together and let them rest in his lap.
"I'm tired all over, Cyrus." Irene said in a quiet, weary tone. "I feel weak, drained, empty, and lost. And I'm either numb or feeling too much. I want to protect my friends and family, but I don't think I can. Is this how you felt during your transition?"
Cyrus leaned his head back, a distant look to his usually keen eyes. "Oh… no… but my circumstances were different." Irene noticed him stroking his earring yet again, beginning to wonder about this particular idiosyncrasy. "I felt sick, but not really exhausted. I felt polluted. I simply left my caravan behind without looking back."
"Caravan? Polluted? Were you on a journey?"
"Not quite. I lived an itinerant lifestyle with people who took purity very seriously. Not the Christian concept of purity, mind." Cyrus shrugged. "They would not have accepted me. But that's neither here nor there. What is here, is a call to arms."
"One more question, if I may?"
"Shoot." Cyrus coughed. "Oh. Wait. Too soon?"
Irene stared at Cyrus for a moment or two. She cleared her throat and decided to let that comment drop. "Your earring. You touch it a lot. Does it have significance?"
"Do I? I never noticed," Cyrus fiddled with the small golden loop a little. "It was custom to wear an earring when a man's father died. Although when I pierced my ear it signified that my father was dead to me. That's all I'll say; we don't have time to get into the complexities and nuances here. Let's focus on Gabriel."
Irene wasn't entirely satisfied with the answer, as it prompted other questions. However, priorities needed to be maintained. "You're right; I want this to end. Gabriel must be stopped before I can focus on anything else." Irene's tone graduated from determined to acerbic.
"Great. I'll reach out to my contacts and arrange a rendezvous at the factory!" Cyrus sprang up and clapped with enthusiasm. Irene jumped from the sudden liveliness, and then drowned in her own horrors of what really would happen if she survived this upcoming battle. She was unsure what future lay ahead of her, or if she even wanted one.
----------------------------------------
Smog hung languidly as a sickly golden aura around the large malodorous structure. A large grey wall faced an empty lot with faded red lettering written across it, barely legible. A squeamish tide ebbed and flowed in Irene's turbulent gut. The cloying stench of damp grain and chemicals could not hide the smell of freshly shed blood. Her nostrils flared as her entire body shivered.
"Looks like we're a little late to the party, Breaches." Cyrus slipped through a narrow opening in the chain-linked fence. He knelt by a dark puddle, barely noticeable atop the tar stained asphalt. "It's strong blood… shed from another vampire."
"What are our chances of survival?" Irene asked in a sullen, distant tone. It was too smooth to be reproachful, and lacked the gloss of curiosity.
"No clue." Cyrus stared at the factory, then shrugged and turned back to his accomplice. "But that makes it all the more fun, now doesn't it?"
"No, it does not," Irene muttered and slipped past the fence. She folded her arms and let out a very long sigh, tucking her chin low and peering outward with a dubious expression. "This is your last chance to run with your tail between your legs, Cyrus."
"My tail is always between my legs - that's its natural state," he responded with his usual merriment. His eyes reflected an orange twinkle from the streetlights lining the sidewalk behind them. "I've come this far, and the stakes are a bit too high to just cash in right now."
"Simply because you'd be cashing in a deficit," Irene dryly responded. With a few steps she closed the short distance between them, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. It was an odd sort of picture in her perspective. She never imagined, not once, she'd be standing by him with such purpose.
"Well, this is it. Either my men took out some guards… or the guards took out my men." Cyrus stepped past the puddle, with Irene silently keeping to his shadow. He held up his hand, signaling for her to halt.
"What is it?"
Cyrus carefully peered around the corner.,"Sshhh listen…"
Irene held her breath and did as he instructed. Voices rode the thick air. She could not distinguish what they were saying, but the quality of the sound was unlike anything she'd heard. She knew it was very far away, and knew it was inaudible, and yet she could detect it. "I… can't make out what they are saying."
Cyrus held up a hand to silence her, and she held her breath again. She wondered how soon breathing would be optional. For the next few minutes her ears filled with rushing blood, pushing the delicate sound of distant conversation from her notice.
"Traitor… something about a traitor and a demonstration. Hmm…" Cyrus relayed before going very quiet again, cocking his head to the side as he listened. He narrowed his eyes. "Pathetic resistance… likely referring to my men. Gabriel is in there alright. Huh…" He pulled down the cloth that covered his mouth.
"What is it?"
"Executions. They must have rounded up my men." Cyrus glanced back over his shoulder and then back at Irene again. "I'm not turning back. I'm not going to tell you to either, but I won't begrudge you if you want to leave."
Irene balled her fists. "If I don't make this stand, I'm as good as dead. I'm not going to live with Damocles' sword. If I die, it will be on my terms."
Cyrus nodded and smiled before covering his lower face again. "Well, this is it. I make no promises that I won't bail if things get too grizzly, though."
"I wouldn't believe you if you did," Irene remarked. She waited while Cyrus peered around the truck again. "So are we going now?"
"Yes, on my lead. Guards are on the move, this is our chance."
"Alright, I'm ready." Those were Irene's words, but she felt a tingle in her legs and desire to flee. She curled her toes, pressing them into the cushioned soles of her sneakers. She was going to go through with this, no matter what.
Cyrus was still for a moment, but then he lifted his arm and gave a forward flick of his wrist. Immediately he was gone, speedily sneaking to the doorway. Irene was not far behind, albeit a little less stealthily. The old side door came closer and closer, and beyond it, a showdown.