Waiting For Sunrise

Winding through the night, Irene followed the unknown vampire. Irene's free hand rested awkwardly on her side, where the cut still stung. She knew it wasn't deep, but it still smarted with every step. She'd felt worse, true, but right now it was taking the center stage of sensations, having no other wounds to contend with.

The vampire was very quiet. When passing through a better illuminated area, Irene got a better look but found him unremarkable in appearance. From his short cropped brown hair to t-shirt and jeans, he failed to stand out. He wasn't even particularly pale. If it hadn't been for his grip, she would not have known he was anything beyond human.

While walking down a small one-way street, the vampire halted. His face bespoke of a growing agitation and uncertainty. The night had been overcast, but even Irene could see that it was clearing up. To confirm this, the vampire snorted. "Crap… it's beginning to clear up. I knew I shouldn't have hunted so far from…" he muttered a few more things under his breath that Irene could not make out. Irene let out an uncertain gasp as she felt herself being hefted up on his shoulders in a fireman hold. Her following protests were shaken into warbles as the vampire broke into a sprint. Panicked by the acceleration, Irene clutched tightly to his shirt.

"W-Why are you running?" Irene managed to ask after catching her breath from being startled. No response. Knowing better than to needlessly pester a vampire, she didn't press the question further.

Finally, they arrived at the back door of a coffee shop. He set her down gently, bending over to catch his breath in a narrow hallway. Irene was also catching hers, but glanced over at the man and his noisy ventilating.

"Is that really necessary? You're a vampire."

He stopped, looking up at her, suddenly going quiet. "Habit," he responded sheepishly. Still he took a few deep breaths, placing a hand on his chest.

Irene raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "You haven't been a vampire long, have you?" she asked.

"You can tell?" There was no attempt to mask his astonishment.

Irene let herself relax a little. Somehow knowing that it wasn't long ago that he was human allowed her to ease some of her anxiety. "If it's still a habit to catch your breath, you haven't been a vampire long…" Irene responded matter-of-factly.

"I don't know about that. I still need to breathe to talk."

"Of course you do. But you won't die if you don't breathe, will you?" Irene asked.

"I don't know. Maybe not. It's not like I've tried to not breathe. How do you know so much, anyway?" he asked in a hushed voice as he led her down a narrow hallway. There were doors to their left, and Irene could hear the clinking of glass other noises of a kitchen from the other side of the wall.

"Knowledge was kind of forced on me," Irene said bitingly.

The vampire rolled a shoulder, then glanced at her with a lifted eyebrow. "It isn't right, you know. Normally, I should kill anyone who identifies me, but… I'm too new to risk any blunders. We'll see what the leader wants done with you."

Stairs creaked beneath their feet as they ascended to the second storey. Some of Irene's anxieties were beginning to subside. The place was too cosy, and a bit too shabby, to be one of Gabriel's dens. Only one other vampire has had access to her neck.

At the top of the stairs there was another door, and the vampire knocked on it. A voice was heard from the other side.

"Password," it demanded in a dry voice.

"Babylon."

There was a metallic 'clunk' and the door swung open. Irene saw another hallway, and a pale sentry standing aside to allow the two to enter.

"Wait, Cody, what's with the girl? Supplies go in the basement, you should know that by now," the wiry, pale man said. He peered at Irene with a hungry look in his deep, hawk-like eyes, and then arched an eyebrow questioningly.

"She has the sign," Cody explained.

"So?"

"On her neck," Cody added.

The gruffer vampire glanced over at Irene. Irene was getting tired of having her chin grabbed and her head turned, and this other vampire was far from gentle.

"I see. I wasn't informed of any girls with griffins on their neck. I'll take her, you get back out hunting - we need rations for all of us, you dimwit," the sentry sneered.

Cody scowled. "The sky cleared up! Send someone older!"

"Not my place to send anyone! Go find a replacement, or go hunting! Either way, get lost," snapped the cantankerous watchman. The door slammed shut, and Irene could hear Cody storm noisily down the stairs. The sentry let out an exasperated sigh, and then looked nastily at Irene.

"Come on girl, this way," he growled. Irene sighed uneasily and followed. She was going to ask about Cyrus and see what reaction she got, but she was muted by the overbearing surliness of this terrier faced man. While passing another vampire, the ornery vampire made a sharp whistle and a snap to get their attention, and then pointed to the door with his thumb. Wordlessly, the other vampire sidled past them and took over the sentry's post.

The two of them came to a door with the same stenciled griffin and sun on it. The sentry rapped on the door sharply, and then opened the door without waiting for a response. "Boss!"

Irene instantly regretted peering over the man's shoulder into the room. The room itself was fine. It looked like a comfortably furnished office. It was the scene the sentry had opened into.

"Unless it's an emergency, it can wait. I'm busy," spoke a very familiar voice. Sure enough, as were her suspicions, Cyrus was connected to all of this. She hadn't imagined him to be the actual leader, though - as she imagined he couldn't lead a fish to water.

As for being busy, Irene had a few chiding remarks in sotre, once she got over her embarrassment. She did not see Cyrus right away, but instead saw a woman's bare back, visible past the desk. The hand on the back of her neck was assumedly Cyrus's. Irene quickly turned away and took a step down the hallway, but her arm was grabbed by the sentry, yanking her into the room with him.

"Listen here you two-bit sewer squid," the sentry barked. "We have a breach!" This startled Irene a little, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking at her feet. However, a surreptitious smile spread across her lips at the sentry's accurate description of Cyrus.

"A what?" Cyrus exclaimed. Irene heard a moment of silence, that is, other than her own heartbeat, as her ears got suddenly very hot. She had a feeling she was not supposed to be there, and it made her uneasy. Still she kept her eyes down on her feet. There was nothing offensive or embarrassing about her shoes. Unlike the profanity that Cyrus gasped. "How'd she get in here?"

Irene coughed, keeping her eyes pointedly on the floor. She heard the sound of clumsy shuffling and the slither and rustle of cloth, and finally the sharp and distinct sound of a zipper. There was a feminine scoff somewhere in there, and the tapping of the sentry's foot.

"Ugh. I hardly call some skinny teenage girl a breach… why'd you bring her here and not just lock her in the cellar?" came the plaintive tones of a woman.

"I'm sure our comrade, Cyrus, here knows why," the sentry responded. "He seems to recognize the waif."

"Waif?" Irene parroted, rising her head to stare at the sentry. He just gave her a relentless glare, baring his fangs. Irene quickly looked back down at the carpet, deciding to notice what a lovely colour it was instead of getting offended.

"Hey now, no need to be insulting the fairer sex. That's beneath even a crotchety old badger like yourself, Kenny," Cyrus said in his usual slick tone. Irene heard the man next to her grumble.

"How many times do I have to tell you, you oily upstart, it's Kendrick, not Kenny, not Ken, not Rick or Ricky; it's Kendrick," he corrected irately.

"C'mon King, is she really so important? I was just getting started…" came the female voice again.

"Sorry Cyn, we'll finish this later. You should be off getting information now that the sun is down anyway," Cyrus responded. Irene shifted her weight, hearing a frustrated huff from the woman, and she could almost feel a glare directed at her. Irene did not want to start off making enemies of even more vampires. "Kendrick, my good man, why don't you escort the lovely flower elsewhere. I need a moment alone with our little breach."

"Come along Cynthia," came Kendrick's gruff voice. Irene heard a plaintive sigh, and saw two black leather boots come into her view. She slowly looked up the long pair of legs until she saw all of Cynthia, who had more clothes on. She was the perfect picture of a vampire dame. She had a creamy pale complexion, with full painted lips set in a square jaw, almond-shaped blue eyes, and long, glossy, jet-black hair hanging past her shoulders. Shapely eyebrows arched as Cynthia fixed Irene with a very cross expression. Kendrick put his hand on her back, and gave her a firm reminder to keep moving. Soon enough, both of them were out of the room, closing the door behind them.

"Sorry about Kendrick's mannerisms," Cyrus said with a relaxed smile.

Irene was already irritated. He could at least act embarrassed, rather than stand there with his shirt half undone.

"It's not Kendrick's manners I mind," Irene chided quietly. Cyrus laughed and walked over to his chair, plopping down. He leaned back, putting his feet up on his desk, gesturing towards a seat. Irene shook her head, preferring to stand.

"So, how did you end up in the Persian HQ," Cyrus asked pleasantly, lacing his fingers together and setting them on his stomach. Irene stared at him blankly.

"Persian HQ? What is all THIS?" Irene asked. Cyrus laughed again.

"Oh come on Irene, I expected a conservative girl like yourself to be a history buff. It's just a little joke," Cyrus kicked off of his desk to roll the chair back, and swung back forward, putting his feet on the ground. He now leaned forward, a keen eye on Irene. "Though I guess this is not really an empire, but just a gang of disgruntled vampires tired of Gabriel's tyranny."

"Empire?" Why was Irene not surprised at this self-aggrandizing escalation. "Did I interrupt? Or was there just something in your eye?"

"Ho ho ho, that's the lamest thing I've ever heard. No, my eyes are fine. We were definitely fooling around," Cyrus admitted blatantly, smiling in response to the aggravated noise that came out of Irene. Squeakily, Cyrus rolled his chair closer to the desk so he could put his elbows on it. "Back to my question, how'd you get in here?"

Considering that there may be a long explanation forthcoming, Irene changed her mind and sat down. "A vampire named Cody brought me here. He was confused by a little picture on my neck, but not as confused as I am."

"Oooh, yes, well, then it's a good thing I put that there. Don't worry, it will eventually fade," Cyrus responded. Irene continued to give a firm, yet imploring, look, encouraging him to continue. "You probably want to know when I got that on there without you noticing…" Cyrus wondered out loud. Irene nodded her head. "Aaah before I left, I gave you something to keep you asleep so you wouldn't feel anything. Don't give me that look, I didn't hurt you. I just left you with a survival tool. It worked, didn't it?"

"Cyrus you…" Irene groped for a word, but couldn't think of anything original.. "You keep telling me to trust you, but you make it VERY difficult!"

"Now, now, no need to thank me. Anyway…" Cyrus opened a drawer and got something out. He walked around the desk to stand in front of her, one hand in his pocket. "…take off your shirt."

"What?" Irene got to her feet, looking up at him angrily. "You're… just… no!"

"Do it!" Cyrus said a little firmer, whipping his hand out from his pocket, and pressing a small blade to her jaw. Irene froze up. She was having horrible luck with knives that day. Yet, as much as a nuisance Cyrus had been, he'd never pulled a weapon on her. She glanced at the pocketknife, then back up at Cyrus's ambiguous face.

There were many angry words in Irene's head. However, there were only confused feelings. She always had a horrible opinion of Cyrus, but whenever she was beginning to acclimatize to him, even start to think he might not be quite so dangerous, he did something worse.

"I hate you…" Irene mumbled quietly as she whipped off her top, immediately wincing from a sting in her side. The blood had begun to scab, but fibers from her shirt had enmeshed in the dried blood, and the sudden removal of her shirt had torn it back open. Irene quickly crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

"I know," Cyrus said quietly, as he flipped the knife shut and put it in his pocket. His eyes darted to the small wound, and he slowly crouched down. Wordlessly, he reached into his other pocket, bringing out a cloth and a small hip flask. He tore off the cap with his teeth, and poured the strong smelling contents and dabbed around the cut. Irene knitted her eyebrows and clenched her teeth, glancing down at him.

"If you wanted to see the cut, you could have said as much!" Irene said angrily.

Cyrus chuckled. "Threatening you is a lot more fun. Now hold still and try not to swat at me."

Once he had cleared away most of the dried blood he leaned his face close to it. Irene cringed, feeling nauseated as the slimy sensation of Cyrus tongue glided across the cut. She tried to move away, but Cyrus was quick to bring an arm around her back and catch the opposing hip, holding her in place. But she felt an odd tremor in his hand, whereas before he'd always been so firm. As soon as Cyrus let go and stood up, Irene dashed away from him, thoroughly disgusted. She looked down at the cut, and saw it closing right before her eyes.

"It's not fun for me…" Irene said, glancing around for her shirt.

"Looking for this?" Cyrus asked, wagging her shirt in front of her. Irene made a grab for it, only for him to jerk it out of her reach.

"No more games, give me back my shirt!" Irene furiously demanded.

Cyrus put it behind his back. "Only if you kiss me," Cyrus dickered playfully.

"You're a pig!" Irene spat, stomping her foot.

"You know, I take that as a compliment. Not only are pigs highly intelligent, they can sustain orgasms for up to an hour," Cyrus reflected gleefully. Irene scrunched up her face and remained with her arms crossed over her bosom, scowling at Cyrus. Cyrus chuckled and tossed her back her shirt. Irene caught it and hastily put it back on. She didn't even notice the itch above her collarbone caused by the tag.

"I was only playing. I want a genuine sign of affection from you, and that can't be bought," Cyrus responded as he walked back over to his chair. "Well, Irene, I guess I ought to escort you home."

"My home isn't safe. Gabriel knows where I live, and has his mortal lackeys looking for me. That is how I got the cut in the first place," Irene explained glumly, remembering that she had nowhere else to go. Cyrus tapped the desktop, a physical sign of agitation passing over his face.

"I suppose that was inevitable. He's good at selling people what they think they want," Cyrus responded. He picked up a pen and idly began to click it as he thought.

"I need to go find somewhere safe," Irene murmured.

Cyrus 'hmmed' and leaned his head into the palm of his hand. "I might be able to help you there, peaches. Or should I call you breaches, now? Although I am hard at work, trying to get back at Gabriel," Cyrus said, staring off beyond Irene.

"I noticed. You were definitely hard at work when I arrived."

Cyrus's eyes snapped back to Irene. "I work hard, I get to play hard. It's nice to be wanted," Cyrus responded with a plaintive sniff.

"Indeed. I don't know why you kept pursuing me when you had easier, prettier women ready to hop into your lap," Irene gibed.

"Cynthia isn't easy, I'm just really sexy," Cyrus proclaimed. "You're simply impossible."

"Glad you realized it…" Irene said slowly, slipping a little upon the thin ice of a backhanded compliment.

"Then why aren't you smiling?" Cyrus teased. "Just admit it, Irene, a small part of you that I managed to flatter is jealous."

"That's a very conceited assumption to make," Irene shrugged. "Well, you said yourself you're busy, so I am going to go look for a place to crash." Irene approached the door and tried to turn the knob. When it didn't turn, she tried pulling.

"It's locked, Irene," Cyrus informed her. Irene whipped around. "Our little chats almost always end in you storming off. Why don't you sit down? He perfect solution is right at your feet; you can stay here."

"It doesn't look all that accommodating," Irene said moodily as she walked back to one of the chairs and plunked down.

"No, I suppose not. The building is old, but there's a decent enough suite up here…" Cyrus shrugged.

"Like I said…" Irene began, only to get cut off by Cyrus.

"Yes, but where else will you go?" Cyrus asked pointedly.

"I don't know - but I can't stay here! It isn't any safer here than at my house," Irene protested.

"No, you're much safer here because I am here," Cyrus corrected.

"You aren't safe," Irene retorted, rubbing her knee. The constant tension and scuffles were beginning to tell their tale, even on her young body.

"If you leave here, I can't protect you, and Gabriel will find you. People don't usually escape his clutches, and even rarer is someone who has gotten free twice. You won't survive your next encounter with him. We-ll… he might leave you alive so he can revel in the damage he does to your body, mind, and soul." Cyrus paused dramatically. He then tapped his temple with his pen. "Stick with me, and you might live," Cyrus cautioned, letting his voice drop to almost a whisper.

"Cyrus, as far as I'm concerned, you are using Gabriel as an excuse to keep me close," Irene accused tiredly.

"Maybe. I may be exaggerating the extent of Gabriel's reach. You might be safe in a hotel somewhere. Maybe you'd best just leave town. But you don't have the street smarts to make it out there without any cash or a credit card, and I don't give out loans without some collateral," Cyrus reminded. Irene drooped, thwarted by reality again. She couldn't pay for a hotel, or transit out of town. Once she got out of town, she would have no place to go. She hated it when Cyrus was right, because he was usually right about how bad things were. Gabriel was more aggressive force. However, if Gabriel was Cyrus's only hold on her, then there was only one solution.

"I want to help get rid of Gabriel," Irene announced resolutely. Cyrus blinked a few times, bewildered. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. This repeated a few times as he looked Irene over with an expression of incredulity.

"You can't fight, you can't hunt, and I doubt you can acquire weapons for us. I'd send you out in the day to keep an eye on things… but you're a target - and that makes for a horrible spy. The only thing you'd be good for in this conflict is bait or a snack bar." Cyrus walked around his desk, leaning against it. "If you want to help, then stay here and put my mind at rest."

"I can do more than sit around," Irene insisted defensively.

Cyrus shrugged his shoulders, hopping up to sit on his desk. "At any rate, I have enough troubles as it is, and I don't need you storming off in a huff and getting yourself in danger. We're heavily out matched. If I knew you'd be safe, I'd send you on recruitment missions, since you are SUCH an inspiring, warm, people-person. However, being mortal, you'd get bitten before anyone would listen," Cyrus explained.

Irene leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. "You aren't as alone as you think," Irene said cryptically.

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

Irene straightened up and smiled faintly. It was small, but it was still some small bit of power she finally had over him. "You have a benefactor."

Cyrus continued to study Irene's face carefully, his eyebrows knitting together in perplexity. "Is that so? How did you come across this… discovery?"

"I won't say more than that. You'll just have to take it in good faith."

"You sure you aren't being fed false information as part of some trap?" Cyrus asked skeptically.

"I'll just say I had to save my source from one of Gabriel's goons. Said source later returned the favour," Irene recounted. Her mind flew to the mystery vampire that Amber spoke of. She felt there was something there that she should be making a connection to.

"Sounds like you have an angel on your side," Cyrus responded thoughtfully. He then got to his feet. "It still may be a trap."

"Maybe..." Irene responded, not giving away any more information. Irene rolled the information over in her mind as Cyrus shook his head. There was a female vampire with an interest in Cyrus and Irene's welfare. Or if not their welfare, at least their movements. Furthermore, it was a vampire who suffered being left in the sun to burn. The secretive nature was the most suspicious element. Amber never said how long she had been serving the vampire. The pieces were starting to fall into place.

"Enough," Cyrus said, seeming suddenly uneasy. He walked over to the door, pulling out a key to unlock it. Irene got to her feet, following Cyrus. For once, Irene was eager to see the outcome, rather than dreading the future. "Let's get you settled in - by the way, your shirt is on backwards..."