Dappled along the green lawn were traces of golden sunbeams, yet none of them seemed to fall on Irene's house, as if a permanent shade were cast upon it. She stood at the start of her driveway, her heart pounding.
I shouldn't have told Jordan anything. What have I done?
Irene sought respite, but it would not be found at home. She inhaled deeply, filling her nostrils with the drowsy, warm atmosphere of cedar in the late afternoon. Despite the taint Cyrus had left on her home, this smell still filled her with comfort. After buoying herself with the calming aroma, she entered.
Sunset approached; Cyrus would soon rise. He might already be awake. Irene balanced between stealth and haste as best she could. This meant sliding across the linoleum of her kitchen in her socks, and speed shuffling to her room.
Irene scooted to her closet, careful not to disturb the jangly metal hangers as she searched for her old duffel bag. Once secured, she stuffed it with a few changes of clothes. She looked at the door, expecting Cyrus to burst through at any minute. Nothing there. Movement in her peripheral vision caused her to jump, putting a hand to her chest. Something was emerging from under her bed.
"Oh... Silver..." Irene whispered as her pet stretched and then proceeded to lick off the dust bunnies clinging to her fur. "Were you hiding from the bad man?"
Silver stared at her master with her limpid, emerald eyes. Guilt immediately sent Irene's stomach into somersaults. She could not bring her cat with her; Merle's family rented and weren't allowed pets. It was disquieting to leave her furry companion behind. But there wasn't time to think of another solution. After giving her cat a few pets she whispered, "Goodbye. Stay safe."
Next, Irene tip-toed to the bathroom, quickly gathering a few toiletries. Rap-tap-tap. Reflexively she shut and locked the bathroom door. Waiting for her heart to settle, she listened intently. Scratching continued against the backdrop of a howling gale. Oh it's just the old fir tree scratching against the window.
Irene's nerves were shot. There were a few other things she wanted, but she didn't dare spend another moment inside the house. She flew out of the bathroom, hastily put on her shoes, and left.
Every step of Irene's journey to her friend's house was strenuous due to the burden of her worries. Everything that was certain and concrete was crumbling.
What other supernatural beings are real?
Irene avoided looking at anyone who passed her by, keeping her gaze straight ahead like a horse with blinders. Ghosts in the old buildings? Werewolves in the forest? She spared a glance at a nearby copse of trees that separated two large properties. The wind was causing them to shake and sway with a liveliness that disconcerted her. Losing her cool, she ran the rest of the way to the bus stop.
When Irene stepped off the bus, she saw a patrol car parked down the street. Shivers shot through her spine. What if law and government have vampires among them, working to keep their secret? How else could they stay under the radar in this day and age? Thoughts and possibilities swirled through her mind like the eddies of leaves that danced at her ankles. She switched her bag to her other shoulder and continued her trek to Merle's house.
“Irene? What are you doing here this time of day?” Merle’s voice broke through her mental overgrowth. Irene stopped in front of Merle’s porch. The friend who puberty forgot was leaning against an old wooden pillar, holding up a bubble wand and letting the wind create iridescent orbs.
Irene glanced down, and then cautiously looked into her round eyes. “I’m sorry about before, I know you were only trying to help.”
Merle put away her bottle of bubble solution and walked to the porch steps. “You look really pale, Irene. Have you been crying?”
“I… I’m just tired,” Irene lied reflexively and tried to look away.
Merle forward, bringing her face close to inspect her friend closely. “You HAVE been crying! Irene, why won’t you talk to me?”
Irene was taken aback that Merle even noticed. Words clamoured to the bottleneck of her mind, but none managed to squeeze out her mouth. Even when urged to come inside, she just stood there, dumb and lame. Her friend took her by the shoulders and guided her inside.
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The two girls sat across from each other at an old card table, bubbly glasses of ginger ale set before them. Irene stared down at her clasped hands.
"I visited Jordan today."
Merle nodded her head, an exaggerated look of sympathy on her round face. "How is he?" she asked after some hesitation.
"Bad. He had a really scary fit. Before that he talked about getting married." Irene looked away when she saw Merle's eyes go wide. "I don't think he's accepting how serious his condition is. The injury, the craniotomy, the meningitis he got after..." she shook her head. Tears threatened to return to her face. Quickly, she raised her glass to her mouth, feeling the fizz tickle her lip and nose.
"Man... I'm so sorry. I thought he was on the mend." Merle's bony shoulders raised as she slumped like a reprimanded puppy.
If Irene's thoughts were not so troubled, she would have found her friend's exaggerated expression comical. She reached across the table. Seeing this, Merle perked up and took hold of her hand, giving it an enthusiastic squeeze. "I don't want to be alone right now. Can I stay here for a few nights?"
Merle shook her head. "No problem!" Then she went from shaking to nodding. "Of course you can! Mom will be working late, but I don't think she'll mind! She likes you," the redhead chirped with dizzying alacrity. "Looks like you came prepared," she added, tilting her head to the duffel bag.
"Ah, yeah. I didn't mean to assume, but it was just simpler to have this all ready," Irene muttered, her hand hovering protectively over her overnight bag.
"I'll go get the sleeping bag out! Looks like we'll have a movie night after all!"
Irene rolled back her shoulders and sighed, trying on a smile. "That'd be nice." Seeing Merle flutter with excitement, she decided to feed into it. "Got any snacks?"
"You betcha! I always have popcorn ready. Oooh! I splurged on some new flavour shakers. We can try them together!"
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When Merle wasn't chattering away or the two of them weren't lounging on the couch watching movies, Irene was helping with some of the chores. It was the least she could do for being allowed to stay. And there was a lot of tidying to do in that house. Irene didn't consider herself overly domestic, but Merle was a disaster and Mrs. Crowe worked two jobs.
"Come on, let's get these dishes done so your mother doesn't have to worry about them when she gets home," Irene urged as she gathered up two greasy bowls.
"Oh... but I'm so full I can barely move!" Merle slumped in her chair, patting her stomach, trying her best to stick it out.
"It'll be over in no time. I can quiz you on social studies while we work. I had Mr. Boggs last year and remember his curriculum pretty well." Irene smiled as she turned on the warm water. "I bet he started with Hudson Bay and North West Company, right?"
Merle's shapeless eyebrows rose incredulously. "Well, yeah, but that won't make the dishes go any faster! Studying is such a slog, adding it to chores is a double slog!"
"Oh, I don't know. I think in order to stop from learning, you'll get the dishes done pretty quickly!" She looked over her shoulder at her friend with a half smile.
"Oh yeah? Okay then," Merle waggled her eyebrows and grinned impishly. She grabbed a spoon and flipped it over, running it under the tap so that the water sprayed out in all directions.
Irene gasped and jumped back from the warm water, staring down at the wet splatter across her shirt, ending where she had been leaning against the counter. Irritation flared up, but Irene quickly suppressed it. She knew this was just play, and no one was trying to hurt her. But her nerves were still frayed, it was hard to not feel some residual anger. Heaving a heavy sigh, she grabbed the dish towel from the oven handle. "Well you just made a bigger mess."
Merle giggled, but then pulled the dish soap out from under the sink. "Well, aren't you going to quiz me?"
Grunting softly, the more serious of the two girls mopped up the water as she thought. "Alright, in the summer of 1816, what was the largest conflict between the rivaling companies?"
A clatter of dishes was heard as Merle piled as many of them into the sink as she could. "You couldn't start me off with something easier? How did you even remember the date to just pull it out of thin air like that?"
Irene stood up and shook out the dampened dish towel. "It just came to me." Naturally, Irene would start out on a question surrounding violence. "Asking you something you already know won't help you learn."
Merle grumbled as the foam rose higher and higher. "Um. Uh. Battle of... Twelve... Oaks?"
Irene cleared her throat, then twisted up the towel. "Almost. The Battle of Seven Oaks."
"Eh, close enough!" Nonplussed, the Crowe girl began scrubbing the first stack of dishes.
Taking up the job of rinsing and drying, the Locklyn girl positioned herself at the second sink, towel draped over her elbow. "I don't think close enough will matter when Mr. Boggs marks his next pop quiz."
"Well Mr. Boggs isn't here! This is a Boggs-free zone!" Merle crowed, flicking some bubbles into the air. Irene turned her head away to protect her eyes, bits of foam getting into her hair. She then put down the dish she had been drying, twisted the towel, and whipped it at her mess-making friend. Even as Merle squawked in indignation and shock, Irene felt a strong sense of catharsis at being able to fight back, even if it was with soap and linens.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The dishes did eventually get done, and miraculously nothing broke. But the two teens were quite tired at the end. Whereas two sets of hands usually could speed things up, in this case it took twice as long, as they frequently splashed, nudged, and flicked each other.
In the stillness of post-chore recovery, images of Jordan struggling for breath nagged at her, disturbing her attempt at relaxing. Furthermore, tension seized her gut whenever the phone rang, reminding her she had not yet called the police.
Irene stared at the fragments of moonlight on the ceiling, her friend's deep breathing next to her. She's asleep already? Merle wasn't even changed out of her clothes, sprawled face down on her bed, one leg hanging over the edge. Irene sat up and adjusted the pillow she borrowed, then unzipped the sleeping bag she'd been lying on. Running away isn't solving anything. But I just can't go back. I can't go forward either. I'm stuck. What do I do? Nothing tonight, I guess. Best get some sleep, too.
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"That's the last of the bedding taken down!" Irene announced, hefting up a filled laundry basket and balancing it on her hip. It was already Monday evening. It was a surprise to Mrs. Crowe that she stayed over on a school night, but she didn't forbid it. Irene suspected it was because more chores were getting done.
"You can just drop it inside the front door! Good thing you reminded me, the forecast tomorrow said rain." Merle's voice came from inside a little shed.
"Alright." Irene plopped the basket on the ground, then nudged it to the side with a foot so it wouldn't obstruct the door or any foot traffic. She then came back outside curious as to what her friend was getting up to. It's a little late to start mowing the lawn.
"Aha! I still have them!" Emerging victorious, Merle came out holding two Badminton rackets. They were dusty and might have once been blue, but most of the paint had flecked off, leaving them with a mottled appearance.
"Do you have a net, too?" Irene asked, marveling at the find.
"No, had to throw it out a few years ago. But the clothesline should work just fine! Come on, let's have some fun before it gets too dark!"
Smiling, Irene eagerly accepted one of the offered rackets and walked to the other side of the makeshift 'net'. After staying in and watching so many movies, a chance at some outdoor sports was just the ticket Irene craved to shake off the gnawing tension that haunted her.
"I'll serve first!" Up went the shuttlecock. It crested and silhouetted against the descending sun, seeming to hang a moment, before coming down and getting hit with a satisfying thwack, arcing over the line towards Irene. She launched forward, swinging her racket, feeling the drag as she brought the head to the falling bird, feeling the impact. There was an immediate burst of dopamine at that first rebound.
The two girls continued playing for a while. At first Irene tried to keep score and adhere to the rules, but Merle kept nipping away at structure until it just became a free-for-all of volleys. Either way, it was fun, which was desperately needed.
"Hoo, let's take a break," Merle suggested, the golden sunset enhancing the vibrant colour of her hair.
"Let's," Irene agreed, walking over to pick up her jacket which lay draped over the porch bannister.
"Irene, there's something more than just Jordan bothering you, isn't there?"
The light that had re-entered her psyche was strangled by this question. She became aware, once more, of the thoughts laying in ambush, much like the heavy clouds gripping the mountains, preparing themselves to launch at the dying sun.
"Perhaps." Irene wrapped her jacket closely around her to fight off the chill in the air. "Maybe we should go in."
"But the sunsets are so pretty this time of year. Besides, I'm ready to go another round or two. Come on, before the light's completely gone." Her friend tossed up the shuttlecock and caught it.
Irene shuddered again. Sunset terrified her, despite its beauty. All the same, she squinted at the enshrouded mountains in the horizon, unable to see the peaks, which had been dusted white like delicate confections. She drew in the smoky, pine-filled scent and went back to her position, readying her racket.
Merle served. After a few hits back and forth, the shuttle pinged off of the rim and fell to the ground. She leaned over to pick it up. "So what's bothering you, Irene? You didn't fight with Jordan, did you? I mean you mentioned he talked about getting married, and well, that's pretty big." She balanced the birdie on the head of her racket. "You're only seventeen."
"No, we didn't fight. And marriage? Really, that's just his fear talking," Irene sighed as the sun grew a deep amber colour, with pink hued clouds encircling it as a rosy vignette. How many more sunsets would Jordan make it through?
"So you don't think he really means it?" It was back to the game, the shuttlecock bashed into flight yet again.
"Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't." Irene lunged, hitting the birdie back. "But that's not a decision anyone should make in a situation like this." The sun caught her eye and despite her squinting, she failed to track the shuttle's trip back to her side. Merle hooted boisterously as Irene picked up the fallen bird. For a while they were both silent as they knocked the bedraggled shuttlecock back and forth. Clouds rapidly encroached, blotting out the sun.
Picking up the conversation from where it had dropped off, Merle airily remarked, "I wish there was a guy who wanted to marry me. Though I'd probably tell him no, because I don't want to get tied down too young either. But it'd still be nice to be wanted."
"Don't be in a rush." With the light diffused, it was getting harder to see, but neither girl was ready to go inside. "Your time will come." Clack. The birdie bounced off the shaft, but before it hit the ground Irene crouched and got a second hit in, barely looping it over the clothesline.
Merle had to run forward, nearly up to the line, to whack it back. "Easy for you to say! You're at last half pretty," she pouted, rubbing her goosebump-riddled arm with her free hand.
"Gee, thanks." Irene laughed as she back-handed the birdie over. "I always liked your red hair, Merle."
Merle frowned, running her hand through the chaotic red curls as she stared at the synthetic feathers in the grass. "Why? I look like a clown." She leaned down, but then halted and turned her head, squinting. She stood up straight, empty handed and continued to stare at something behind Irene.
“Irene! So here you are!” a familiar voice called. Ice ensnared Irene as her back went rigid at the mere timber of his voice. She looked behind herself quickly, seeing a man in black strolling towards them, carrying an umbrella. Then she looked up at the moody clouds - not a drop was falling.
“Irene, who is that?” Merle asked, straightening up but gripping her racket in both hands. Irene's arms flew to her chest, folding amongst themselves and hugging herself. Can vampires come out on cloudy days? In the Fraser Valley, it was almost always overcast.
Cyrus peered over her shoulder. Irene held back a gasp at his sudden closeness. “Ah, you must be Irene’s friend, yes?”
Merle's eyebrows furrowed fiercely and she stood firm, glaring. “And who are you?" She pointed her racket at Cyrus. "I know ALL of Irene's friends, and you aren't one of them."
The vampire put out his hand to Merle, his wrist brushing against Irene’s arm. Instantly she stepped aside to get away from him. “Come come, no need for hostility. My name is Cyrus, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Merle stared at him long and hard, but then reluctantly bowed under the clothes line and approached. Instead of a handshake he placed a dainty kiss upon her outstretched hand. She stammered and blushed, then shot a questioning glance at her friend. Irene returned it with a tired and uncomfortable look. Merle licked her lips and withdrew her hand.
Cyrus slung his other arm around Irene, pulling her in close to him. “Come, it's about time you returned home. Silver misses you." Irene dropped her racket. Is that a threat? Did he hurt my cat? She pulled away to pick it up, but he halted her and stooped down to grab it himself. "Now then, we should get going before it gets any later. The night brings out the worst sorts, wouldn't you agree?”
Heart racing and nostrils flared, Irene pushed her fury down. How dare he act so familiar with me in front of my friend. And mentioning Silver... Unsure how to respond without making a scene, she stared dumbly at the vampire.
After a silent interval, Cyrus withdrew his arm from around her shoulders, passing her back her racket. “Ah, for shame! I interrupted your girl-talk. I’ll wait for you down the lane and then escort you to the bus stop when you are done.” He then looked at Merle again. "I'm not surprised Irene never mentioned me. She compartmentalises a bit too well, don't you agree?" He winked and walked off with his smooth, animal grace, twirling his umbrella as he went.
Merle’s eyes were fixed on him intently. The pink hues remained on her freckled cheeks as she turned to Irene. “What… what was all that about? Why didn’t you say anything about him before?”
“Merle… I… he… Merle… oh…” Irene stuttered. Merle continued to prod her with her large, explorative eyes. She hugged herself again and looked down. “Merle,” she began to say more assertively, “Don't look at me like that! I couldn't talk about Cyrus.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know how to explain. Look… Merle… you just wouldn't understand.” Irene rubbed the back of her neck uneasily.
Merle squinted at Irene for a moment or two. “He said Silver missed you - how does he know your cat!? Has he been staying with you? With your father away?” Merle's eyes bulged in exasperation and confusion. "Tell me he's a cousin or something!"
“NO!" Irene blurted in dismay before she could think better of it. Letting Merle think he was a relative might not be a bad thing for the time being. But it was too late for that.
"Then who is Cyrus?" Merle waved her racket in the air.
A very dangerous man. Except Irene could not tell her this. Merle would probably try and beat him with her badminton racket. She also knew Merle and Jordan talked to each other, so she had to keep her story straight. "I helped him out... and he's got nowhere to go and is in the country illegally and it's very complicated. I've got myself into a mess."
"But why didn't you tell me? My mother could probably help!" Merle marched towards the porch, snatching Irene's racket as she passed. "She should be home soon! We can tell her!"
"I'm not sure involving your mother is a good idea. She's already on thin ice with the Ministry." Irene folded her arms and followed. "Come on, neither of us like getting the authorities involved."
Merle tossed the rackets and birdie down on the porch, a storm brewing on her face. "It ain't right to be alone with some guy." She then looked back at Cyrus who twirled his umbrella to a chipper tune he was whistling. "It's more than that, isn't it? He seemed really... hands on with you. And you don't like being touched by anyone but Jordan."
"Are you implying I am cheating?" Irene could not keep the indignation she felt out of her voice. "No way, he's - he's much too old!"
"Oh come on, Irene! I could see you with an older guy. You always act like you are so grown up! Lately you seem like you've outgrown me, so why not Jordan too?"
Mortification silenced Irene's higher faculties, leaving only defensiveness. "I came to you for help, didn't I? My mistake!"
Irene charged into the front door. She expected Merle to follow and peck away at her with justification for her insults. But she was left alone to pack her things. She sighed as she zipped up her bag, realising she was being rash. As hurt as she was, an accusation was a trifling affair when hung in the balance. With her duffel bag thrown over her shoulder, she skulked back out to apologise.
Irene swung the front door open. "Sorry, Merle. I..." She stared as she saw Cyrus and Merle both standing on the porch, talking. Their discussion turned to silence the moment they saw Irene return.
"You better go home," Merle said coldly.
"What did he tell you?" Irene demanded, looking between the two.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Her friend shook her head, and pushed past Irene to pull the front door open. "Just go."
SLAM.
Irene swallowed hard and then glared at Cyrus, who just raised his eyebrows questioningly, as if to say 'what did I do?'.
"Well Irene, we best be off."