With gliding steps, Rena shifted her weight carefully from one foot to the other, trying to move as silently as possible as she approached an old house. Rigamarole stood alert, wagging his tail and occasionally sniffing the ground. Large chunks of the second storey had crumbled away, exposing the attic and several rooms. But somehow, the first level had remained mostly intact. The front door was bolted shut. Rena paused, glancing at a window. She heard the soft whimper of Rigamarole could be heard and he began digging by a nearby bush. Rena crept over to him. What was that? She pulled the brambles away, and saw below the entrance to a storm cellar. "Good boy," Rena whispered, scratching Rigamarole on the head. He leaned into the affection, and Rena gave him a hearty thump on his flank. "Now stay."
The sun was hot on her trail as Rena descended into the cellar, the sound of panting growing fainter behind her as she pulled the heavy doors shut again. There was the smell of fresh blood. She was in the right place. Rena tiptoed, hiking her cowl up over her nose as she approached a large pantry. She leaned her ear against it. She could hear it. Rhythmic breathing. In. Then out, shaking. Someone in distress. Rigamarole's nose had not led her astray.
Rena forced the pantry door open, and she was not surprised to see a young man curled up in the bottom, his ankles and wrists bound. He looked up, his eyes going wide as he shrunk away. His shoulder was bruised and bleeding. The smell. Yes. It looked as though he'd tried to force his way out. He inhaled sharply, but Rena put a finger to her lips. He held the breath in, uncertain and afraid. Slowly, he breathed out as Rena knelt down, snapping the thick ropes that bound him like tissue.
"Tha-" Gloved finger quickly went to the young man's lips. He gulped back his gratitude. Rena then gestured the way she came, the stairs leading out of the cellar. He nodded and quickly ran towards it, but then paused. He turned back around when he realised Rena was not following him. "There's no one else," he whispered in a hiss. "Get out while you can, before he returns!"
Rena shook her head. "The sun is rising. I'll be safe," Rena said. Safe? Hardly. She gripped the straps of the backpack she wore. "Just go."
The young man, whom Rena believed to be Jay, didn't need any further urging. Rena quickly closed herself in the pantry as the young man threw open the cellar doors. The early morning sun trickled in until the doors slammed shut behind him. She heard a startled yelp from the lad, followed by his rapid footsteps, which receded into the morning. He must have been startled by the appearance of a wolf waiting patiently outside.
Rena stepped out of the pantry, carefully walking around any beams of light that found its way through old cracks in the wood. She felt a wave of sickness and anxiety come over her at the very sight, remembering the pain it had brought her before. But Rena had a mission. The fact that there was a live captive reinforced her theory that she was dealing with a vampire, and not a nest of abominations.
Some steps appeared to lead up into the house. Rena shuffled silently through, searching for the likely sleeping vampire. She reached a bedroom with the windows boarded up. Laying in a bed, facing the wall, was a man as still as death. Her quarry, at last. Rena got out one of her cypress stakes and with sliding steps, approached, testing the floor before putting her full weight to avoid the worst of the creaking.
She finally stood over the vampire, taking a better look. There was a flash of something familiar in the man's light frame and dark hair, but Rena suppressed it. Gripping her stake in her right hand, she cautiously reached towards the vampire to gently roll him onto his back so she could get a better angle on his chest. Recognition stung and stunted her as she beheld his face, his hooked nose, his pointed chin, his smug lips. That hesitation was all it took for the vampire to awaken. Dark eyes came open, and seeing the stake above him, he quickly lept out of bed, tackling Rena to the ground.
The two bodies clattered onto the floor, rolling over another. A strong hand gripped her wrist, thumb digging in between the tendons, trying to force the release of the stake. The surprise had finally settled enough that Rena was able to gasp out his name. "Cyrus!?"
The sound of her voice had an immediate visceral effect on him. Although the adrenaline had already kicked his previously dormant heart into action, she could detect his heart racing to a different cadence now. Which meant, he likely could also tell hers was fluttering with anxiety. "Irene?"
Rena frowned under her cowl. Slowly, with her free hand, she lowered it, showing her face. Cyrus stared at her a moment or two gobsmacked. Perhaps it was all worth his reaction. Regrettably, Rena still had an oath to fulfil. And if she wanted to keep the Fisher clan beholden to their oaths, she needed to hold up her end of the contract.
Cyrus's look of surprise faded and he lowered his chin, a snarl snapping to his face as he looked at the stake. Pressure seized her throat as he barred it with a forearm. He stared into her eyes with piercing ferocity. Rena struggled and he slammed her harder into the ground. This was all too familiar.
Just as Rena was about to say something, her mouth was obstructed. No, it wasn't his hand. It was his lips. This was all too familiar as well. Rena squinted, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She tried to pull away, but his teeth caught hold of her lower lip, holding it firmly, but gently enough that his fangs did not break the skin. Rena winced and tensed.
The pressure at her throat lifted and Cyrus held her cheeks in his hands, his eyes closed. This was just the opening she needed. His chest pressed against hers, there was no opening to drive the stake, but perhaps she could get him from behind. Gripping the cypress wood firmly, she plunged it into his back, trying to reach his heart from behind. Contact with his lips broke as he flung his head back, his whole body going very rigid moments before collapsing into a limp bundle on the floor beside her, limbs splayed awkwardly, his cheek against the floor. Rena let out a sigh of relief.
Rena stood and tentatively nudged Cyrus with her foot. He didn't move. She grabbed her backpack, which had been dropped during the fight, and from it took out a hatchet. Something bigger would have been more ideal, but it's what she could carry. Rena fought the regret that was welling up in her by remembering the fear and the anger she often felt at Cyrus's hands. Rena placed the hatchet blade against the back of his neck to line it up. She then swung back, readying herself. Down the axe fell! CRUNCH! The expected splatter of blood did not erupt. Instead it was the crack of a wooden floor, and her hatchet was stuck. Cyrus had been pretending; her quarry rolled out of the way at the last second. He scrambled to his feet and shoved Rena hard. She lost the grip on her hatchet as she was forced back.
"What's the big idea, Irene? I mean for fu- OOF!" Rena lunged at him, catching him around the middle. A clatter of the stake getting knocked out of his ribs was momentarily followed by a thud as both of them went crashing to the floor. Rena was on top, pinning him with her thighs.
"You chose the wrong people to terrorise, Cyrus!" Rena warned.
"I didn't see your name on any of them!" Cyrus protested.
"This is serious!"
"I know! You staked me and tried to chop off my head! I'm going to have to take that personal!" Cyrus responded, trying to work his arms free. She pressed down on his elbow joint with her knee and he winced.
"I have a contract to fulfil," Rena intoned.
"Come on Irene, let's be civil about this. If I taught you anything, it's that there's always a way to squirm out of any obligation." Rena slammed her hands down on Cyrus chest, digging her fingernails in with frustration.
"I tried very hard not to learn any of your bad habits," Rena growled. Cyrus raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side.
"Well, if you are intent on killing me, Irene, could you first scoot back about... half a foot? I'd like to die a happy man."
SLAP! Cyrus's head wrenched to the side. For a moment she saw a deep rage flare up in his eyes... but he managed to chase it out with a loud bark of laughter. Rena sighed in defeat. She couldn't do it. She couldn't complete her mission. No matter how much she tried to summon her hatred, it melted away, dulled by the expanse of time. Rena sighed and stood up, Cyrus still howling with laughter on the floor. "You're insane."
"You may be right," Cyrus crooned between chuckles, whisking a tear out of his eye, his voice picking up a melody as he continued, "I may be crazy! Oh!" Rena glared at him. "But it just might be a-"
"Stop. No singing." Rena stood back, and Cyrus sprung up to his feet. He knelt down and picked up the stake, looking at the bloodied tip and shaking his head.
"Tch. Women. You love them, and they drive a stake through your heart. Or try," Cyrus lifted his gaze to study Rena. "It's good to see you, Irene. I just wish it was with less murderous intent."
"I can't say the same, Cyrus," Rena muttered, bending down and picking up her discarded hatchet, giving it a few experimental swings. Cyrus watched the motion guardedly, before looking down at the stake again.
"So. Irene. Still a virgin?"
"So. Cyrus. Still jumping little girls?" Irene countered.
"Woah, woah, woah now!" Cyrus protested. He twirled the stake and pointed it at Irene. "First off, they weren't little girls!"
"And second?" Rena arched an eyebrow, taking a step closer to Cyrus, hatchet still in her hand.
"Second?" Cyrus repeated, seeming distracted. Rena inclined her chin, accusation clear in her eyes. "Oh..." Cyrus trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders. He glanced aside in bemusement. "They were asking for it?"
In a fluid motion, Rena twirled the hatchet around and rammed the handle into Cyrus's groin. He crumpled forward, swearing and staggered back. Rena sneered. "You were asking for it."
Cyrus fell onto the bed, rolling to one side assuming the classic foetal position. "Yeah... yeah I was," he admitted in a high, strained voice as he waited for the shock and pain to subside. Rena set her hatchet down beside her backpack, feeling she had made her point quite succinctly. Cyrus uncurled as the pain ran its course and rolled onto his back. "You are still an enemy of fun, I see."
"I have nothing against harmless fun. But you don't care if lives are destroyed as long as you can gratify your own desires." Rena placed a hand to her chest. "I've worked too hard to overcome what you did to me to have you land in my lap now."
"Did to you? Layla created you, not me," Cyrus countered, raising his head and partially lifting himself up on his elbows, while the rest of his body remained recumbent.
"She would not have done that if not for your obsession and over-confidence." Rena crossed her arms, scowling at Cyrus.
"Ah, well that's in the past. Maybe we can start afresh?" Cyrus suggested, his dark eyes paradoxically brightening. "Being shipped across the globe might be a good time to embark on my own redemption arc."
"Unlikely." Rena picked up the hatchet again, pointing it towards Cyrus with conviction. "If you're serious, which you never are, fine. But if you get up to your old tricks, I will castrate you."
"Ha! Fair. Ah, Irene, how I have missed you. You were always holding me accountable." Cyrus leaned back, lacing his fingers on his stomach, and staring up.
"And it's exhausting. You need to learn to hold yourself accountable, Cyrus! You're older than me, could you please, for once, act like it?" Rena didn't know why she bothered reasoning with an incorrigible immortal such as Cyrus. Yet his response truly caught Rena off guard.
"Because if I did... I think... I'd fall apart."
There was a very heavy silence that followed. Rena felt extremely uncomfortable for a moment. Cyrus was a liar, she knew that much. He would say anything to get his way, anything to get a rise out of people. But she knew him. And there was a raw honesty in these words that made Rena squirm. It was intimate. And she didn't want that intimacy with him.
"Cyrus..." Rena said, as the mounting silence was getting too much for her.
"Ah ah ah! Zzzzip! Leave a tender moment alone!"
The irony wasn't lost on either of them.
Another long silence washed over them. In defeat, Rena fell back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. The two of them, side by side, neither looking at the other, laid in a dark room hiding from the sun. Rena felt as though she was once again a mortal girl, confused, trapped, and resentful. She was once again Irene, a name she now associated with weakness and the shame of being a victim.
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"I just want to be clear about something, Irene," Cyrus was the first to speak this time.
"What is that?" Rena anticipated another wise crack.
"After we defeated Gabriel, I never went back to his ways. That is... until the last few days. I've been lost." Rena listened to Cyrus's confession with some bewilderment. It was not within her power to absolve him and tell him to sin no more, even if she had been religious. Why then, would Cyrus tell her this?
"Cyrus... I was sent here to hunt the monster that has been killing the villagers. I know it was you. I also found the lad in the pantry and let him go." Rena looked over at Cyrus. "I hope that isn't a problem." She really hoped it was.
"Of course you did." Cyrus placed his hand over his face and sighed. "Some of that carnage was from being frenzied. I was staked and shoved in a crate and when I came to my senses I was back on this accursed continent. The guy in the pantry saw too much. I was trying to figure out what to do about him. Guess it's out of my hands now." Cyrus rolled over onto his stomach, looking over at Rena.
"Well I'm in a predicament. Either I kill you and complete my mission, and return with proof, or tomorrow I report my failure and be killed." Rena felt she ought to be concerned about this. But she never feared death on a cerebral level. Even so, whenever death was near, her instincts often took over, grasping for survival. An overwhelming dread would come over her, and she had a sense that whatever peace mortals may find in oblivion would not be available to her. She did not believe in hell, and yet when faced with the end, it seemed a certainty.
"Oh pssssh. Bring me along; I'll protect you," Cyrus assured, although she could see tension in his shoulder blades. He wasn't as calm as his false bravado was trying to convey.
"No. I do not wish to be protected, Cyrus. I was the one who chose to stake my life on this mission, and I live by my own strict rules. I cannot maintain my way of life without the support of the Fisher clan. And I do not wish to live any other life." Rena was assertive in her tone, levelling a steely gaze at Cyrus.
"Well then, what proof would you need? A corpse? Stake me, show me off, then revive me later," Cyrus insisted.
"That would be cheating."
"It'd be survival. When it comes down to it, you will want to live."
"I came close before. I can do it ag-" Although Rena had heightened reflexes, she was caught off guard when Cyrus rolled over and seized her shoulders. She could feel the firmness of his grasp, but it was to hold her, not to harm her. With a single, deliberate jerk he gave her shoulders a shake. She stared up at his assertive glare.
"Stop it! You will not die! We can fix this!" Cyrus said, and despite the thunder in his voice, Rena could detect a hint of desperation.
"What is there to fix?" Rena challenged. She felt his grip on her tighten, his thumb pressing into the dip in her shoulder. Cyrus brought his face closer, his hooked nose touching hers. Rena shut her eyes, not wanting to look into his.
"Everything," She could feel his breath on her face as he spoke. She then felt the pressure on her shoulders relax somewhat, but his hands remained there, the broad palms just resting, barely perceptible through her coat. "Everything is broken. The world, the sky, us. We're going to fix it. We need to fix it." He pressed down on her shoulder briefly as she felt his face move away. Rena slid her eyes open as he let go of her, and she watched as he sat beside her. "I'm not ready to roll over and die. I'm too pretty to die! And so are you."
"Maybe you aren't ready to go, but I am." Rena's words only earned a reproachful glare from Cyrus. "Layla convinced me not to squander her gift. So I agreed to a human lifespan. That is all. But I've exceeded that, because I'd built up a codependency between myself and Jordan's descendants." At the mention of Jordan, Rena could hear Cyrus scoff. "And now, they've decided I'm obsolete. I was given this last chance to prove my usefulness. I failed. So my contract with them has ended. My obligation to you and Layla is also over. I've lived a full life, which is more than anyone can ask for. And besides, I don't want to turn into a killer."
"But I am asking for more!" Cyrus countered petulantly. Rena sat up, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the dark haired vampire. "And besides, you almost killed me! Vampire lives matter, you know!"
"Hm. You want more? What are you willing to sacrifice for it?" Rena asked, resting her hands primly in her lap. Her composure was disconcerting and the silence that followed was telling. Rena was unruffled as she sat there and waited for the wheels to cease turning in his sprained mind, her own mental cogs well-oiled. The only safeguard she felt she had against the corruption of her vampiric powers was to tether it to contracts. As such, she was always willing to negotiate.
"Do you have something in mind?" Cyrus asked after seeming to give the question serious thought. A rarity in and of itself. Rena had been waiting for his usual impertinence. Although he had not exhibited it yet, she was sure it would soon follow.
"No."
Cyrus stared at Rena long and hard. "Alright. How about... for as long as you live I will not kill another mortal human," Rena's eyebrows raised. Cyrus continued, "I will not kill except for people infected with the White Plague or are an immediate threat to someone under my protection. Furthermore, this will not extend to deaths that are a result of a feeding frenzy."
Rena took a moment to consider Cyrus's proposal. Would extending her and his life be worth saving a handful of people? And if her contract with the Fishers ended, how would she feed herself? She swore to never drink blood that was not freely given. "It's a start. How shall we define an immediate threat?"
"Someone who is actively trying to kill or cause grievous bodily harm," Cyrus responded, giving a shrug. "Or are just very annoying."
"Scratch that last definition and I think we have something we can work with," Rena said, taking on a business-like tone. She lifted her chin, staring straight ahead as she laced her fingers together and rested them atop her knee. Cyrus did likewise, mimicking her body language, down to the knee crossed over the other. "Like I said, it's a start. But now tell me why not killing is a sacrifice on your part?"
Cyrus rubbed his chin, sighing out a long 'hmm' and following it up with a comical 'haaaaaaw', wearing such exaggerated expression of introspection that Rena found that old impatience she often felt with him lurking. No one could bring her in connection with the anger she used to feel like Cyrus. When he finally spoke, she braced herself for nonsense. "Well, being a predator, I need prey. And while I can nibble here, and nibble there without killing, that means more people know that I am, indeed, a vampire. And while I'm not as adverse to exposing myself.. heh heh, exposing... ahem, not adverse to revealing my true nature to mortals as many others, it still puts me in an awkward situation. Especially with the murderous mania everyone has for the infected. After all, they sent you, on pain of death, to kill me, assuming this was the work of an infected, right?" Rena nodded. Cyrus clapped his hands together. "So, the sacrifice is that I am putting myself increasingly at peril, and immense inconvenience, and would force myself to be constantly on the move. And you know I like to snuggle in and get comfy. I'm really just a big cuddle-bug."
"Big?" Rena parroted. Cyrus looked down at himself, then over at Rena.
"I may be vertically challenged, but I have a big p-"
"Don't finish that sentence!"
"...Personality! What did you think I was going to say?"
Eyebrows high, mouth taught, and nostrils flared, Rena was not impressed with the verbal bait and switch. Cyrus, however, was clearly pleased with himself as Rena would not voice the very word she thought was coming next.
"Moving on."
"Pervert."
"Moving on!" Rena repeated with added stress. She recomposed herself and stared coolly across the shabby room. "So to be absolutely clear, for the duration of my life, you will not directly, or indirectly, intentionally end the life of a mortal, unless that mortal is posing an immediate physical threat to the life or well being of of someone under your protection, or has been irreversibly transformed by the White Plague. Break this contract, and not only will I provide someone with the means to destroy me, I will first destroy you."
As Rena spoke, she noted a perceptible twitch of Cyrus's upper lip, a deepening of the nasolabial crease which suggested contempt and disgust. She could sense he was already baulking at any sort of stricture. His fingers tapped upon his knee, but he did not accept the terms readily. "I have my own conditions."
"I will hear them."
"You will not, I repeat, NOT end me or yourself with sunlight. Staking and beheading is the way to go, albeit it is more personal and messy for the person doing the deed." Rena nodded her head, but she could tell he had more to add, so she waited before voicing any agreement. "If there is a disagreement about someone I killed in order to protect another, I require that a third party weigh in. Someone we both can agree on." Rena arched an eyebrow. "Lastly, if you do kill me, kiss me first. On the lips. Tongue is optional." Rena's eyebrow dropped flat, weighing down her forehead in a deadpan stare.
"Alright. I accept your conditions-"
"What, even the last one?" Cyrus asked incredulously.
"Yes, even the last one." Cyrus's eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs, his black eyes going wide, before crescenting. "But I am adding a clause of my own onto that last one. If you want a farewell kiss, then the clause for killing to protect another does not apply to anyone in the Fisher clan." Immediately Cyrus's pleased expression fell off his face.
Cyrus began rubbing his hands as he peered at Rena. "You have stepped up your game since the last time we negotiated," Cyrus said, grinning in spite of himself. Rena smiled briefly, but then assumed her serious visage. "All the same, I grow weary of this. I accept your terms. I won't murder your precious fishmongers."
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Peter frowned deeply as he sat in the meeting hall. His hands were laced together and placed on the table, his gaze down and shoulders sagging from the burden of the bad news. Chief Fisher stood at the head of the solid table, looking at the assembled heads of each family within their clan.
"We have all been gathered here because we received word from overseas," Chief Fisher announced. There was a cascade of gasps and murmurs. Peter remained abjectly silent. "It was not good news. The Bleak has spread across the ocean. It seems the Old World has met a similar fate to us, with governments toppled and societies in ruin. Most disturbing is that the messenger told us that the Order of Chamrosh, whose mark protected us from True Vampires, is no more. It seems that the vampires are rising up."
A hush fell over everyone at the table. Then someone looked up, and spoke, and soon the questions began pouring out. "Can we trust this source? How do we know we are being told the truth?"
"What do we do now?"
"Is there no end in sight?"
"How shall we defend ourselves from the White Plague and Vampires?"
"Should we warn the rest of the Ward?"
"If this has happened far away, why tell us?"
"Who sent this message? How did they know who we were?"
"Enough! One at a time!" the Chief said, holding out his hands with the palms out in a gesture to stop and calm the voices. All eyes were on him, anticipating answers. All except Peter, who continued to stare at his clasped hands.
"We will take no dramatic action just yet. But there are things I will want to do in preparation. Basil?" A burly man who was more beard than face looked up, his tiny squinty eyes barely visible under his bushy eyebrows. "Greater priority is to be placed on maintaining our Cypress trees. Only Cypress stakes will stop a vampire. We need some timber; I will leave it to you to decide how many we can afford to cut."
"Leave it in my hands, Chief," growled the hairy tree farmer.
"Sierra and Bo, work out your differences to ensure we have more people training in martial arts and hunting." An unusually tall and broad shouldered woman smirked at a chubby man with slanted eyes and a deceptively young, round face.
"It shall be done," Sierra said smugly. The shorter fellow, Bo, worked his small mouth with a series of protesting syllables before any words formed.
"Chief! We need more people focusing on trades and sciences, not less! Most of our best engineers are getting old, and we haven't nearly enough in the upcoming generation to replace them! Not to mention our master carpenter lays on his deathbed with no clear successor!" Bo protested.
"Passing forward our knowledge won't do us any good if we are all dead. Like I said, work it out between the two of you so that even our skilled workers can pick up a weapon and defend themselves, if needs be," Chief Fisher said in a stern tone, his eyes shifting between Sierra and Bo. "And Sierra, make sure your hunters pick up a tool and help around the settlement every now and then. I've heard of them shirking other responsibilities, and I won't have it."
That last remark drained the smugness from Sierra. Where Sierra dropped it, Bo picked it up. The two continued to exchange bitter and contentious glares. Chief Fisher rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"We will inform the other Wards in due time. But we are still part of the Ward in very probationary terms. Something is in the works that I hope will cement our place among them. Until I see the outcome of that, we will keep the truth of Vampires to ourselves." For the first time, Peter looked up.
"This is a meeting Rena should have been part of," Peter griped. "We should never have broken ties with her." This caused an uncomfortable stir among those assembled. Some wore contempt, others shame.
"Rena was a parasite!" Sierra sneered.
"Rena was our Guardian!" Peter countered, frowning.
"And yet you came back. And where is she?" Sierra challenged. Peter frowned. He was sworn not to tell anyone that Rena was on a mission for them. He just lowered his head, a heavy sigh forced out of his tense lungs. "Exactly. You left her, too, so don't get high and mighty."
"That is enough. What is done is done," the Chief said, trying to redirect the flow of the conversation. "I would also like to convert one of our houses into a public house, until a proper one can be built. It is likely we will have hungry and tired travellers from the other settlements if all goes well. As head of housing, I entrust that to you, Juan."
"I'll see what I can do," a swarthy but aged man croaked. "I can even think of a few candidates to fill the role of publican."
Peter zoned out the rest of the meeting as it went to other domestic concerns. He felt strongly that he did the right thing by returning when he did. Although he was unsure if Rena could help them stem the tide of desolation that seemed to be coming their way, he felt she was their best chance. He wasn't religious, few people were this day and age. But he said a prayer to whatever entity might listen that Rena would quickly complete her mission and return to Fisham.