Waiting For Sunrise

Irene panted heavily, her chest aching. No matter how much she breathed, she could not get enough air. But she was home. She'd thrown her door open and ran inside. The noise must have alerted her father, whose car she saw in the driveway.

"Irene, what's the matter? Are you okay?" her father asked as he approached from the kitchen. Irene shook her head and held up a finger, signaling for some time. Her father instead just helped her out of her coat while he waited for her to be able to speak.

"I'm... fine... just decided to run... a bit..." Irene responded. Her father hung her coat up, frowning with a mixture of disapproval and concern.

"Don't push yourself, Irene. I know you're young, but you're not invincible," Irene looked up at her father, nostrils flared. I know! I'm weak and fragile.... you don't need to remind me. If only you knew... Irene looked down. But she did not want her father to see how helpless she felt. Irene snorted, pressing her lips together, but eventually nodded. She wouldn't stay helpless. Oh no. She just needed to get some mistletoe.

"I'll try to remember that, Dad," came Irene's even response. Her father looked at her for an uncertain moment, but then just nodded.

"Anyway, dinner's on the stove," her father informed her. Relieved, and suddenly aware of how hungry she was, Irene went in to eat.

"That uh... Cyrus fellow..." her father began to say. Irene looked up, and then down at her bowl of macaroni surprise. "I just realized, I never see him eat. I know he said he works night shifts and he probably eats out but..."

"Yeah. Probably. Um... Dad... what do you really think of him?" It had been bothering Irene. Just how deeply did Cyrus's ability to influence her father run?

Mr. Locklyn shrugged as he finished a mouthful. "Hmm. I can't make up my mind about him. I believe he means well in his own way, but I don't think he's playing with a full deck," her father remarked, twirling a finger by his temple.

"That doesn't worry you?" Irene prodded a little further.

"Well, he seems protective of you, so I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I remember what you said about him, but I think all of us have gotten off on the wrong foot." Mr. Locklyn grabbed the salt, adding more to his bowl. "I'm willing to make a fresh opinion of him. Trouble is, I rarely see him, so that's not been easy."

"Ah. I see. Well maybe that's just as well," Irene murmured as she tried in vain to stab some peas with her fork, in an attempt to get equal parts ground beef, peas, and noodles.

"Which is why I'm thinking of inviting him to have dinner with us," Mr. Locklyn concluded. Irene's mouth hung open, fork hovering in front of her mouth. There was a clatter as she set it down, staring at him.

"I don't think that's a great idea. Neither of us are really good cooks," Irene said quickly. How would a dinner with Cyrus even work? Irene shuddered, but hid this with a quick drink of water.

"We can order something in. It's less about making the meal and more about pinning him down for a thorough interrogation from your old man." This statement was punctuated with a good natured chuckle, but there was also a slight growl in her father's voice.

"Mm. No thank you. I was part of an ambush dinner at the Fishers' recently and I wouldn't want to put anyone through that," Irene responded, trying to find any way to squirm out of this new plan of her father's.

"If you are really opposed to the idea, I guess I could just talk to him, man to man," Mr. Locklyn waved his cheese encrusted fork in the air, jabbing it in the direction of the basement. "He's a mystery, that one. And you know how I feel about mysteries."

"That the answer to a mystery is often anticlimactic?" Irene answered as she rolled some peas around in her bowl.

"Well, that and I don't like them in the house." Her father put down his fork and waved his hand. "I know, I know. I agreed to let him stay. He's already paid up this month's rent, and as long as he doesn't cause any grief, I guess I should leave him well alone. But this gang business has me on tenterhooks. I'm just hoping he was exaggerating the danger for some harmless mischief." The bowl clinked and squealed as he scraped the edges with his fork. Irene found herself grinding her teeth with each sharp sound. Noises like that didn't used to bother her, and the fact that they now did irritated her even more than the noise itself.

"I hope so too." Irene knew better. She hurried to finish up the last of her meal so she could leave the table. Her father looked up at the abruptness with which she stood and took her dishes away to rinse out.

"Everything okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah, just got some homework to catch up on." Irene said, taking his now empty bowl and stacking it with hers. Her father eyed her for a moment, but said nothing more than a quiet 'thanks'.

The next day at school Irene booked into the computer lab, searching for more information on mistletoe and where to purchase it. However, due to the invasive nature of mistletoe, getting it fresh locally wasn't easy. There were online retailers selling it, but not only was it expensive, but she did not have a credit card. Shipping times were also a problem.

Irene had one last resource to resort to, but it was grasping at straws. Not only was it a long shot, but relying on gossip was distasteful for her. Nonetheless, after school, the search would begin.

"Um... It's Joseph, right?"

Irene stood before another student, who was tall and slightly plump. Irene was tall for her age, but this teen towered above his peers, and was all the more awkward for it. He looked at her a bit perplexed by her approach, but smiled pleasantly, the glint of his braces catching her eye. He brushed his dark hair out of his brown eyes, fingernails painted black.

"That's me. What is it?" he asked in a disarming voice. She was a little surprised, having expected a more surly response.

Irene decided on a direct approach. "Do you practice witchcraft?"

Joseph laughed airily at this question, and to Iene's astonishment. He made an extravagant flair with his hands. "I pay homage to the Goddess, if that's what you mean. Why do you ask?" He asked with a warm twinkle in his eye.

"I've a bit of a... problem I am hoping you can help me with," Irene began. He brought a hand up to tap at his chin as he regarded her thoughtfully.

"If you are asking about curses, I don't do 'black magic'." Joseph implemented finger quotes as he spoke of magic. "Now, if you want some advice through a tarot reading, then I'd be happy to help," Joseph spread out his hands in a welcoming gesture.

"I'm not sure I want to know what the cards would say," Irene admitted. She believed tarot reading to be a hoax, but with vampires in the picture, now she wasn't so sure. Just as she couldn't be sure if this young man knew any actual magic. "Actually, I need help getting some plants required for a protection charm."

"Oh!" His hand went to his mouth as he looked her over with a bit more scrutiny. He then proceeded to play with a dark beaded bracelet on his wrist. "There does seem to be a dark shadow looming about you." Irene glanced down. Her first thought was that he only said that after she asked for protection. He saw no darkness, he just wanted to impress her. But she couldn' take chances, now could she? She lifted her eyes.

"I need mistletoe. Would you know where to get some?" Irene asked, trying to head off any attempt to get her to join some coven.

"Mistletoe?" he parroted while raising his fair eyebrows, which belied his natural hair colour. "That is an unusual request. Most people only think of it as a kissing plant." Joseph paused, seeming to think something over. "What's your name?"

"Irene."

"It's nice to meet you, Irene. Walk with me," he invited. Irene sighed, feeling she might be in for a longer conversation than she'd hoped. But she fell into step with the large-bodied school mate.

"You said you need mistletoe for a protection charm. I've never used it myself. I know that druids used it for fertility festivals." Joseph gave Irene a side glance. Irene just shook her head.

"Before you ask, no, I don't need it for that."

"To better help you, I need to know what it is you want protection from." Joseph continued.

Irene sighed. How would she explain this? She looked him over for a while, then focused straight ahead, to avoid collisions with other students. "Don't laugh. But... vampires." It was worth a shot.

"Vampires?" he responded. Despite her preface, he let out a soft laugh. "No, don't worry, I'm not laughing at you. I'm just laughing because it's refreshing to see someone take them seriously."

"What?" was Irene's immediate, unguarded response.

"I've had troubles with them." Joseph squinted. Irene's attention was wrapt as he spoke. "Psychic vampires, feeding off of negative energy. They make people miserable just so they have a feast, leaving us exhausted and off balance." Irene kept her face carefully neutral to shield against the disappointment she was feeling. But she would not get his help if she alienated him by calling his beliefs and ideas ludicrous. So she decided to just go along with it.

"Yes, there are some people in my life. Two, in particular. One always seems to bring out the anger in me, and I'm normally very calm. The other terrifies me and I don't feel safe around either of them. I'm tired all the time..." Irene said, appalled as she realized she was getting very good at bending the truth on the fly.

Joseph clapped his hands, his rings clinking, and he pointed at her. "Yes, exactly! That's just what psychic vampires can do. And the threat is real. If your positive energies are out of balance, it can bring on sickness and misfortune."

"My health has been in decline since these people came into my life," Irene confirmed.

"Aw, you poor thing." Irene grit her teeth at the patronizing response. Joseph continued walking, gesticulating often with his hands as he spoke. "I'm surprised you are asking for mistletoe instead of verbena or hawthorn. Those are more classic vampire wards. Well, and of course there's garlic, but most people can get that at a supermarket. It doesn't work, though. It's delicious of course."

"Verbena and hawthorn." Irene repeated, familiarizing herself with their names. "Would you know how to get those as well? Though I still want the mistletoe." Irene recalled some of what she'd read about mistletoe, trying to speak the young man's language. "Its place, hanging between heavens and the underworld, is very important to me."

Joseph put his hand on his cheek, again looking pleasantly surprised. "That's right! It can be a symbol of immortality. You're taking a daring new approach here, and I love it!"

"So, would you be able to get me mistletoe, or tell me where I can get some? And those other plants?" Irene asked, trying to keep the conversation focused on her own objective.

"Hmm, well I'm not sure about the mistletoe, but I can ask around in my circle. I have some hawthorn branches at home. And I know someone who absolutely swears by verbena, so she can probably tell me where to get some." Joseph rubbed his fingers together, evidently delighted.

This conversation had gone better than Irene thought it would. "I admit, I wasn't expecting you to be so..."

"Resourceful?"

"I was going to say obliging," Irene filled in.

"And I love that you'd say words like 'obliging'. It's like you poofed out of some old novel. It's a shame we hadn't talked before now." Joseph responded, looking down at her.

"We probably wouldn't have had anything to talk about before. This is all new territory for me. I'm a skeptic, but recently, I've been rethinking things." Irene wasn't entirely sure what it was about Joseph that made her feel like she could open up to him. Realizing this, she suddenly became somewhat discomforted, and she crossed her arms.

"Well it's been nice anyway. Do you have an e-mail addy?"

Irene paused, initially alarmed by the request. Of course, once he needed some way of contacting her. But Irene still felt wary of giving out contact information on such a brief acquaintance. Alas, it must be done if she wanted to get the information quickly. "Ah, yes, let me write it down. But I don't have a computer at home. My father says after seeing them all day at work he wants to come home and not see one at all," Irene found herself sharing as she dug around in her bag for a notebook and pen. She ripped out a page, folded it in half, then ripped it again. "If you could write yours, as well, so I can add you as a contact, that'd be appreciated."

"Of course!" Joseph said, taking the offered pen and notebook, scribbling down his information. Irene wrote hers and handed it over. He took it in a dainty fashion, despite his larger stature. "I'll keep in touch! And I'll say a prayer to the Goddess for you."

Irene didn't really have much faith in prayers. But for those who did, she understood it was kindly meant. Giving a tired half smile, she managed to say a "Thank you," that wasn't entirely insincere. All that remained was to wait, and stay on guard.