Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Sirens wailed outside of the Cozee Coffee Shop, as the large fire engines raced up to the street in front. The fire had spread to neighboring stores and offices due to the lack of space between commercial buildings downtown. Naturally, a crowd of curious civilians formed outside, their awe overpowering their common sense; if they aren't a part of the solution, they are a part of the problem. Orders and shouts were called out, as the area was secured, and the crowd pushed back, away from the dangerous buildings. However, one dark clad figure managed to get past their watchful eyes, and ran around to the back entrance.

The stairs were falling apart, and debris tumbled down into a sticky mess of hair. However, even with the danger presented, the steps were taken two or three at a time. Crackling was the only noise that filled the ruined hallway. Even after a few desperate calls, no sound was returned but the snap and hiss of the ravenous flames. Although the floor threatened to collapse, feet pounded across it recklessly. Vehement banging soon joined the loud bursts and pops of the blaze, until a door was reduced to a flurry of splinters. A pair of stinging eyes scanned the room hurriedly.

"IRENE!"

At the call of her name, Irene's eyes thrust open. Her consciousness and coherent thought lagged behind, trailing cautiously back into being. There were no thoughts in her mind as she looked down at herself. Where there weren't soot marked on her shirt, there were dark red stains around a small hole in her shirt. Her eyes trailed down at the floor, where blood had stained the wood, and then the heat had caused it to bubble up, creating a sickening display. She heard feet rushing towards her, and she lifted her dry eyes.

"Cyrus," her throat burned as she spoke, but the fact that she spoke almost surprised her. "I'm alive."

Cyrus paused a moment, staring down at her, as though, for once, he was surprised by this as well. He hesitated, before kneeling down, and sliding his arms beneath her to lift her up. Irene watched as his eyebrows drew together in an expression she often hadn't seen. Something was troubling him, and for once, he avoided eye contact. "No time to talk, we need to get out of here before this room collapses… or we get found by emergency response, and have a LOT of questions to answer…"

"I saw…" Irene began, uncertainty in her voice.

"Shush," Cyrus said as he carried her over to a window. He threw back the curtains, tore down the sheet, and began to tear away at the wood planks. Finally when he's made a large enough hole, he forced the door open. He glanced behind him, where some beams came tearing down only a few feet away. Irene looked out the window.

"We're jumping?" Irene asked, quickly wrapping her arms around Cyrus' neck tightly.

"Yeah, I can hear them coming…" Cyrus said. Irene blinked. She could hear them too… calling out for any survivors. Cyrus crawled onto the window pain, crouching uncomfortably because of the awkward body he held. Irene suddenly realized that, except when she spoke, she felt no pain. She didn't feel weary, or bruised, or sick, or choked. She also felt the cold air rushing up at her as Cyrus leapt down from the window, but no thrill or fear. She barely felt jarred when Cyrus landed on the pavement in a side alley. Irene frowned. Something was wrong.

"We need to get far away first, then we can talk…" Cyrus said, looking around. He stepped into the shadows for a moment, as if expecting someone else to come lurking about. When he felt he was safe, he set Irene down on her feet, but kept a hand around her wrist. "You're well enough to run," he said, as he stooped down, and grabbed a back with his other hand. He slung it around his shoulder and peered both ways down the alley.

"…I was shot and left in a burning building…" Irene said flatly. Cyrus gave her a very brief smile.

"Do you NOT feel well enough to run?" Cyrus asked. Irene looked down at her legs, and shifted her weight experimentally.

"I…"

"Precisely! Let's get going!" Cyrus said, and jerked her into a gallop with him. Although Irene could feel the ground every time her feet struck it, she felt no pressure of the impact or the weight of her body as she ran. She'd never felt this sort of weightlessness without dizziness accompanying it. Irene's thoughts drifted to the face she saw moments before losing consciousness, or, as she had thought it was, dying. She'd lost consciousness a few times, accompanied with extreme pain and stress, but that last time felt different. It felt so final. Why then… was she running through these streets with Cyrus? That face… was it real, or an apparition? The skin was pale, and yet, somehow looked bronzy. The hair was so back and coarse, and the eyes were dark and piercing. It had to be her, but was she real?

Cyrus began to slow down, until he and Irene were finally brought to a stop. He turned to look at her. "How about we head to your place… it should be safe for tonight… and all of tomorrow as well."

"If it isn't burnt down too…" Irene responded dismally. Cyrus clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Still a pessimist…" Cyrus muttered, glancing off into the distance. He slowly approached a car parked out on the curb, peering in the window. Irene frowned. She felt she had every right to be pessimistic, all things considered. Cyrus kneeled by the car door to the driver's seat, and dug something out of his pocket.

"…What are you doing?" Irene asked.

"Stealing a car. What does it look like?" Cyrus responded as he jammed a wire down the crevice by the window. Irene leaned against the hood of the car, watching him work at it for a moment. However, she lost interest fairly quickly and glanced around. She heard a pop and the door swung open. "The other door is unlocked; get in."

Irene walked over and got in. She didn't condone being part of a car theft, but her state of mind left her apathetic towards her usual high strung standards. All she wanted was to figure out what had happened this time, and why she felt the way she did. As her mind trailed back to it, her stomach began to church unpleasantly, and Irene let out a groan. Cyrus glanced over from fiddling with some wires. "You alright?"

"I suddenly feel… very nauseated…" Irene said, her voice more of a whimper than she would have liked. She gently rubbed her hand over the upset organ… but a part of her felt better feeling SOMETHING wrong.

"It will pass," Cyrus said without moving his eyes from the task at hand. Finally there was a rumble as he got the engine started. Satisfied he sat up and shut the door. "Alright… here we go."

"I feel very sick…" Irene said as the car began to move. Cyrus shrugged his shoulders at her. Irene began to feel several unpleasant sensations in her abdomen that were very unfamiliar to her. She curled up in her seat as best as she could. Perhaps she was just experiencing some sort of numbness, and now her latest close encounter was finally catching up with her. As uncomfortable as it was, it was of great comfort.

"Like I said, it will pass. When we get to your place, I'll warm you up a cup of something… it'll make you feel a lot better…" Cyrus said, keeping his eyes focused on the road in front of him. Irene glanced over at him. Seeing Cyrus drive a car struck a strange nerve in her. It seemed almost TOO normal for him. She slowly let her eyes drop stare at her singed and blood-stained clothes. Without thinking about it, her hand went into her pants pocket. Her fingers closed around something warm and metal. She hesitated, but then brought it out. It was the locket and key. Her eyes slid over to Cyrus, whose eyes were, thankfully, still on the road. She quickly slipped it back into her pocket before he noticed. How did that get there? She remembered throwing it back into the drawer. Another ominous feeling came over her.

Irene was relieved when the car rolled to a stop in her long driveway. She looked at her house. It was still there, and didn't look disturbed at all. Relief swept over her as she shakily got out of the car. She hadn't realized how much she was shaking until she tried to stand, and almost fell over. This felt right. This was normal. She felt Cyrus bring her arm over his shoulders to offer support. Slowly, the two of them walked towards the house. Irene's eyes darted to the horizon, where the slightest hint of light was forming along the outline of the mountains. It felt so familiar, except this time she was the one who was injured, and it was Cyrus carrying her to the old porch. The sun would rise soon, and they had to be inside before it did. She felt unusually apprehensive.

The door swung open as Cyrus lightly pushed on it. Irene felt alarmed at first, but then remembered she didn't have time to lock the door when she ran out in response to hearing Amber scream. Once inside, however, her house showed signs that someone had been in there. The kitchen chairs and table were all moved to one side, and a small pillow, which was usually on her bed, was lying on the ground in front of the basement door. Irene paused, and she could feel Cyrus' was just as disconcerted.

"Did some rearranging, did you?" he asked her. Irene shook her head.

"No… I didn't do this…" she said, slipping away from Cyrus and kneeling down in front of the pillow. There was a vague dirty shoe print on it. Irene frowned and looked up, towards the hallway. Keeping one hand on the wall, she walked cautiously towards her bedroom. Peering in, she saw that her bed had been removed, and her nightstand was across the room. Irene quickly closed the door and turned towards Cyrus who was opening the white basement door and peering down. "Cyrus… my bed is gone…"

"Strange thing to take, when there's a perfectly functioning and much more portable microwave in the kitchen," he said with his back turned to her. Irene wandered over, watching as Cyrus disappeared down the stairs. After a moment she heard him call up. "Found your bed."

"What?" Irene asked. Clinging to the wall she began to head down the stairs, only to have Cyrus come up and block her path. He took both of her hands and stared at her.

"If you even think I had anything to do with this… which knowing you, you would… I didn't. Look, I'll help you to your bed, get you a drink, then we can tell each other what happened, and work this out," Cyrus said. Irene nodded slowly. Cyrus turned sideways, guiding Irene past him, and then followed her down into the basement. Irene stared at her bed, set right in the middle of the room. It was too bizarre. Who would do such a thing? Irene made her way to her bed, and crawled into it. Relief swept over her as she laid down, even though more strange things were happening. She closed her eyes and curled up, thinking over what had happened to be sure that she could give a somewhat comprehensive account to Cyrus.

Cyrus eventually came down with a mug and sat beside her. He held the mug in his hands, staring down into it with a sigh, and then looking to her. "Irene… sit up. Don't ask questions just yet, and drink this - not matter what it smells or tastes like, it will do you some good."

Irene slowly sat up, knitting her eyebrows together, studying Cyrus. His warning made her a little unsure about drinking whatever was in the mug. "Okay…" He offered it to her, and she peered in it. There was a thick, dark, ugly looking liquid in it. It was almost black, leaving a residue on the sides of the mug that looked like some horrible colour TRYING to be purple, but failing somehow. She purposely did not sniff it, and tipped the mug to her lips, a little afraid of what the taste might be. When the substance finally greeted her tongue, it was just a pleasant warm, not a scalding hot. The taste instantly made her hair stand on edge, and a tingling sensation to prickle along her jawbone. It was salty… and very familiar, aside from a slight bitterness. That bitterness was out of place. Still, she drank the entire cup, trying her best not to think about it.

"Good…" Cyrus said, taking the mug from her as soon as it was empty. Irene frowned. She tried hard not to think about it, but she knew what it was. The fact that it somehow felt good to drink it, worried her even more. The mixture of salty and metallic left one conclusion - and the bitter taste, she could tell by the aftertaste, was food colour. The effects were almost instant, as she felt the shaking leave her, and most of the pain and discomfort in her release. She lowered her head, but then slowly looked at Cyrus.

"What did you do to me?" she quietly accused. Cyrus shook his head, setting the mug on the ground.

"Nothing… not me… I didn't do it…" Cyrus said, bringing up his hands with the palms outwards. Irene continued to stare at him. She hadn't noticed it before, or perhaps, blocked it from her mind, but there was something foreign feeling about her mouth. Carefully she ran her tongue along her teeth. Then, she opened her mouth, running a finger along them, her finger snagging on her canines and tearing the flesh with ease. She stared at the small red bead that formed on her finger. Her eyes then went back to Cyrus.

"Who else would do this to me?" Irene asked, aggression filling her voice. Cyrus shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know Irene! There's a lot that doesn't make sense. I would never turn you into a vampire because I know you would never forgive me," Cyrus responded, a note of caution in his voice.

"Oh yeah? Maybe you wouldn't do that because I would no longer need your protection from other vampires! You'd have nothing to hold over me to make me put up with you!" Irene accused, violently shoving Cyrus. He wasn't the immovable statue he used to be, but he still offered her some resistance. He grabbed her hands and pushed her back, pinning her to her bed, baring his fangs at her.

"Listen to me. I've been on your side from the start. DO you think I'd do such a thing? As much as it is ironic, and sweet justice that you are now a monster like me? You'll need to feed off of blood the rest of your existence! I didn't want that for you, otherwise I would have turned you a long time ago just so you could defend yourself!" He released her and drew back to a sitting position, crossing his arms over his chest. "Besides… last thing I need is the IMMORTAL wrath of a scorned woman."

Irene went quiet. As soon as he released her, she slowly pulled herself up, propping herself against the headboard. As angry as she felt, she knew, for once, there wasn't any point of directing it towards Cyrus. She also knew, remembering Cody, that as a new vampire, she could not stack up against older ones like Cyrus, or Gabriel. Shivers ran through her spine. The only other person who knew she was there was Cynthia, but if she meant to turn her, why shoot her? Irene brought her knees to her chest. She watched Cyrus as he sat with his arms crossed, sulking. She momentarily was reminded of a child who sulked about being blamed for something, even though they got into regular mischief. Irene heaved a sigh.

"Let's… just compare stories… what happened? Where did you go?" Irene asked. Cyrus unfolded his arms, instantly coming out of his sulky posture and expression, and lightened up.

"Well, as you know, I had used my charms to gather together a group of vampires willing to fight against Gabriel," he said, his tone instantly back to his usual conceited state. Irene's face drooped at the sudden transformation. Whenever he changed tones so quickly, she often wondered how she could have taken him serious when he was supposedly upset. "So we head out to where one of Gabriel's latest perches was rumored to be. We found Gabriel, but he barely had any of his lackeys about. This was suspicious, but we figured we'd take the opportunity anyway. I, of course, was wary of there being a possible ambush, so I was cautious. Caution saved my hide, but Gabriel took a lot of pride in telling me that he knew YOU were at my base. Amidst the fighting that ensured, he singled me out… I of course stood back to give commands rather than actually FIGHT, because, well… we may have been vampires as long as each other… but he's always been stronger. I have to use me wits if I want it to be fair at all. So after I managed to evade most of his attempts to get me, he told me he already sent his men to go to the coffee shop. Oh, he does talk a lot though… all about raiding our supplies, burning the place, slaughtering the humans who were cooperating with us, and.. a long list of things he'd do to you, which I will politely decline from repeating."

"…" Irene remained in uncomfortable silence. She had no doubt in her mind that Gabriel would do things to her that she could never even imagine. His mind was just so twisted, she'd never comprehend him. At least, she hoped so.

"I retreated back to where we stashed some weapons. Guns don't kill vampires, but they can slow them down. Now, shotguns in close proximity can certainly do some damage… and well… I always hated Gabriel's pretty-boy face," Cyrus recounted, with a smile on his face. Irene frowned, images in her mind causing her to feel ill.

"…You shot off his face?" Irene asked?

"Yes. Poor git was blind and dumb, and I made an escape. I'll get him next time…" Cyrus explained. "I told the others to finish up and take any prisoners to a different location. Somewhere without shade. I doubt, even with an injury like that, that they could take out Gabriel. Well… Kendrick might… he's older than the both of us…"

"I can believe that…" Irene said, trying to shake the graphic images out of her mind.

"I ran back, and found the headquarters ablaze. Gabriel wasn't bluffing, so I ran in just before rescue could get in, and I found you collapsed in the bedroom I left you in… and I quickly realized you weren't the same… and will never be again. You know the rest," Cyrus explained. He glanced over at Irene, waiting for her to begin her story.

"Oh…" Irene shook her head. She decided not to mention to Cyrus about digging through his things, or about Cynthia's horrible trick to make her go crazy. Irene fiddled with another small pillow of hers. "I got to sleep pretty quickly… and when I woke up, I noticed the place was quiet. Eventually, I heard some noise, and just knew it wasn't you or your, uh, comrades. It sounded too destructive. I eventually heard voices, and I knew they were looking for me…" Irene hesitated. She wondered how Cyrus would react to Cynthia's part in it? "I hid behind the door… and then I heard a scraping… I suppose someone was picking the lock. Then… Cynthia came in," Irene said, pausing and looking at Cyrus. He was listening intently, but she only saw a mild reaction in him to Cynthia's named. Irene frowned. "I just felt wary, so I questioned her intentions. She mocked me a little, but her intentions became clear when she demanded that I got onto my knees to beg her not to deliver me to Gabriel's men."

"I have a hard time imagining you beg for anything…" Cyrus murmured. Irene was silent for a moment.

"I got to my knees. I didn't trust her, but I also didn't want to end up in Gabriel's clutches again…" Irene admitted, a little ashamed that she was so compliant. Cyrus lifted an eyebrow at her, suddenly looking a lot more interested. Irene gave him an odd glance. "What?"

"Oh nothing… just go on…" Cyrus said airily. Irene frowned, and continued on, speaking slowly at first.

"She told me it was 'good enough' and bowed. She was about to leave… but then she took out a gun and shot me," Irene said. Cyrus' eyebrows relaxed and he seemed somewhat disappointed. His reaction irritated Cyrus. "What now?"

"Nothing… I mean good! I mean… oh drat. It'd GOOD that she shot you,": Cyrus said lamely. Irene remained unimpressed.

"Why's that a good thing?" Irene asked. She didn't find it so great. She found it a lot more… death bringing.

"Well, for one, she didn't give you, alive, over to Gabriel. It was a mercy kill… which is a lot sweeter than anything she's ever done. To be frank, she's almost as twisted as Gabriel… I know she joined because she was ambitiously waiting for a big shot like Gabriel to be out of the picture so she could step in and take control. She got us a LOT of information on Gabriel, and I suspected she was playing both sides… but I used her as much as she used me… so I'm not terribly surprised or broken up," Cyrus explained. Irene threw out a balled hand and punched Cyrus in the side of his arm. He let out a small startled sound, and put his hand on his arm, rubbing it, and looking mortally wounded at her. "What?"

"You are a pig…" Irene muttered.

"Yeah, yeah I am," Cyrus admitted complacently. "Anyway, I said, Cynthia's a pretty twisted girl. She also likes girls much more than men, so really, two reasons being shot was a mercy…" Cyrus added. This awarded him another punch.

"I didn't need to know…" Irene snapped. She tried to get her thoughts in order. She was shot. Irene fidgeted. "Anyway… I was pretty sure I was dying. It wasn't like the other times I was hurt… I just felt like I was ready to burst out of my body… and time was all mixed up. It seemed like an eternity before I realized there was fire, and yet, it seemed to go from a quiet, empty room, to a roaring inferno in single second," Irene explained. She knew she would not be able to properly convey the experience, and so she didn't try much harder. "Then…" Irene's eyes became dull. "I saw… a face… and I vaguely heard a woman's voice…" Irene shook her head. "I couldn't make out everything she said… but she did say 'forgive me' before everything went black."

Cyrus leaned forward, becoming keenly attentive. Irene's eyes darted around, anywhere but to him. How was she going to explain this? She didn't know how. Irene dug her hand into the pocket, balling the locket and chain up in her fist. She hesitated, then let go. She wasn't going to tell him. She knew it could have been a hallucination. Someone could be playing some mean trick. She knew someone had to have come upon her and turned her into a vampire. She vaguely remembered her mouth being flooded with the taste of blood. Upon thinking back, it wasn't rising from her lungs as she first thought. She remembered it entering through her lips. "Irene?"

"Huh? Oh… I don't remember much else other than tasting blood…" Irene said. Cyrus frowned. He seemed to have his cautious suspicions around it. "I suppose… whoever it is… came here and moved me bed into the basement… knowing I'd return here."

"Yeah… someone who knows you live here… and didn't take you to Gabriel," Cyrus said skeptically. Irene lowered her head. She felt her gut begin to hurt again, and the rest of her just seemed to squirm on the inside. Cyrus looked over at her, noting her discomfort. "It'll pass… but your body is going through changes to properly… adapt to your new diet. Other changes will happen, some slower than others will. It usually takes up to a year to fully evolve…"

"It feels disgusting…" Irene muttered. Cyrus reached over and rubbed her back.

"Yeah… it won't hurt like that the entire year… these are just the changes that need to happen now. Some of your organs will shut down entirely, since they won't be necessary anymore. Others rearrange themselves to serve a new or higher purpose. You will only age for a year more… so you'll be immortally a very late teen or really young adult."

"If I live that long…" Irene muttered. Cyrus frowned.

"Don't talk like that," Cyrus reprimanded firmly.

"I don't want to become a monster… I don't want to get used to hurting people…" Irene sniffed. Cyrus shook his head.

"Sorry, peaches… there is nothing I can do to change you back, otherwise I would. All I can do now is help you through the transition," Cyrus sighed, continuing to rub her back. "Get some sleep… it's the best thing to do right now. Want me to read you a bedtime story?" Cyrus got a pillow in the face and a discontent grumble in response. "I take that as a no."

Irene had began to feel too ill to even risk speaking. Instead she burrowed under the covers, burying her face in the one large pillow she had. Although she wouldn't say it, even if she could, she wanted Cyrus to stay right there. She had finally ended up in his world now, and with no turning back, she knew she'd have to rely on his guidance. That is, if she wanted to even try to survive.