Waiting For Sunrise

The smell was verging on unbearable, as was the pain. Irene shakily reached forward, her hand disturbing the pile of bones that had been her attacker mere moments prior. It felt real. Still, no one responded to her calls. As she examined the skeleton closer she realized it was missing a very important bone: the skull. Irene peered into the darkness of the machine, but could not see it there. She glanced around for signs of any further danger. While scanning, she spotted the skull around the corner of a steel box. She crouched down and reached her hand out to it. It rocked at her trembling touch. Irene brought her hand closer to her chest and stared up into the vast darkness. "What is going on!?"

Like an answer from the heavens, she heard some clanking far above her once the echo of her inquiry died out. She squinted trying to see the source. Then she heard it - distant voices. Irene shambled forward, only for her ankle to give out. A plaintive whimper issued forth as she landed on the ground. The noise continued until there was a loud metallic clunk followed by an elongated yell. The noise became louder and closer, and soon she could see the darkness produce a falling body.

"Cyrus!?" CRUNCH! He landed atop a conveyor belt. Irene half ran, half stumbled over to Cyrus's still body. "Cyrus are you…"

"Ooooooooo…." A moan escaped him as he lifted his head. Cyrus wearily brought a hand to the back of his neck and groaned again. Irene, on her knees, reached over to grab a hold of his free hand. He lifted his head a little and stared at her through one good eye, the other forced shut from excessive swelling around it.

"What happened? Everything went quiet!" Irene said.

Cyrus stared at her dazed for a moment, then forced himself to sit up. There was a distant clatter above them, the sound of rushing footsteps on metal grating.

"Don't know… hide!" Cyrus warned, giving her wounds a look of appraisal. "Gabriel will be down here any-"

THUD! Right beside Cyrus landed the monstrous figure of Gabriel. He crouched before his two targets for a moment while the resonating noise of distressed metal died down. He had not gotten through this battle without his share of open wound. That once beautiful, almost angelic, complexion was dirtied with burns, cuts, and filth. One of his eyes was bloodshot, but the other maintained its eerie paleness.

Gabriel's eye widened momentarily upon recognizing Irene, but then they narrowed. "What a waste." His voice had lost that silk-like timbre, leaving roughness in its wake. Gabriel slowly turned his head to Cyrus, who had been trying to get to his feet. "Did you really think you could ever beat me? You were always inferior in every aspect, Cyrus! I cleaned up your messes for years! And for what? Your continued blundering and cowardice? Contempt where there should be admiration? Betrayal against your own blood?"

"Give it a rest Gabriel! I'm tired of your self-flattering speeches!" Cyrus shot back. Gabriel's mouth opened with a reprisal, but it was quickly silenced by Cyrus' interruption. "Shut up and fight me, Frenchy!" Cyrus took a swing at Gabriel, which was easily deflected. Gabriel grabbed Cyrus's arm and flipped him over, bringing him crashing down onto the pavement. Cyrus lay still as blood pooled around his cracked head.

Irene felt no particular sentimentality towards Cyrus, but whether she liked it or not, he had been an ally. And Gabriel was an immediate threat. Irene grit her teeth and launched at Gabriel. She had nothing to lose anymore, she might as well go out swinging. Gabriel stepped aside, evading her strike with ease. Movement in Irene's peripheral vision caused her to turn and look, only to see his elbow swinging at her head. It connected straight in the center of her face, sending Irene reeling back. The central pain radiated outwards, and she could feel blood flowing onto her upper lip and slide down the back of her throat, forcing her to cough and sputter.

Gabriel's large hands reached for her, but before his fingers could grip her throat, he suddenly fell backward. Irene glanced over, seeing Cyrus recoil, unbalanced from his interference. He withdrew the leg in which he used to trip Gabriel, and cradled the back of his head with both of his hands. Irene's hand covered her crushed nose as she dipped her chin forward to drain it.

Gabriel was quick to get to his feet. Seeing this Irene groped around behind her until her hand grasped something she could use as a weapon. She swung a broken pipe as hard as she could at Gabriel, getting him across the chest. It barely caused him to flinch before he grabbed it and wrenched it from her, her grip weakened by fatigue and her missing finger. Irene fell back onto her bottom, staring up at Gabriel. He twirled the broken rod in his hand, then gripped the end and twisted it into a screw-like point. He raised the weapon, poised to skewer Irene. But there was a buzzing in her ear. Was that from some of the machinery?

Irene scampered up to her feet, feeling the hot pain of her twisted ankle as she barely avoided the lunge from Gabriel. He went from thrusting to swinging in a fluid motion, hitting Irene across the back and forcing her forward. She fell to the ground and crawled into a small gap between a metal casing for some piece of equipment, and a caged ladder.

"Think you can get away from me?" Gabriel chuckled cruelly as he pursued her, having to slow down due to his larger stature. Irene heard the buzzing again and saw some thick cables up ahead. Gabriel ducked under a large bar and smiled. Irene had met a dead end; there was nowhere left to flee. And his form blocked the only way out. Haughty with what seemed a certain victory, he thrust the metal bar at Irene's back. She quickly dropped to the ground, flattening herself and the bar barely missed her. Instead, it struck into the large cable, coming in contact with livewires.

Gabriel's hand clenched harder around the rod as sparks flew out from the impact, and he was frozen there a moment, emitting a series of rapid grunts through clenched teeth. Irene shuddered. She had hoped he would get blown back, but instead he remained where he was, albeit stunned. The flying sparks caused her to lean away and shut her eyes.

Hiss. Pop. SLAM! Clatter.

When irene opened her eyes, the twisted piece of metal landed beside Irene. Her gaze drifted to where Gabriel lay prone several meters away. Irene scooted out of the nook she had crawled into. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Cyrus slowly getting back to his feet, only one hand over the dizzying wound in his skull. Gabriel picked himself up, staring at neither Cyrus nor Irene, but something out of Irene's view. Irene wanted to look, but she was too afraid to ever let her eyes leave Gabriel again.

A low growl escaped his throat, and he bared his sharp teeth. Once steady, he prepared to launch another assault, shifting his focus back to Cyrus. Gabriel brought a double-handed fist down on top of Cyrus, dropping him with ease. Then it happened again. A dark shadowy figure moved quickly by Irene. Moments after the rushing sensation a black clad figure appeared beside Gabriel, swinging a weapon. Irene squinted, her eyes catching a glint off of a wedge of steel. Before she could recognize just what it was, Gabriel was falling to his knees. The side of his neck had a deep wound and was gushing blood. One hand reached up to try and cover it and he glared at the figure which stood before him. He tried to get to his feet, but the momentum of a second swing was already in place. Moments later, Gabriel's head was on the floor, and his body was crumbling away with rapid decay.

Irene gasped. Gabriel was no more. Her eyes were drawn to the individual who stood still, blood dripping off of a long-handled ax which now pointed at the ground. Although short in stature, the long billowing coat and scarf-covered head gave an imposing air to the figure. The grim person slowly turned to regard them, the only skin visible was that around a pair of piercing eyes. Irene immediately knew who had saved her. "You! You're…my… creator!"

"Yes," came a rich, womanly voice. She took a few steps closer, her slow sway to her hips prominent. She stopped before a speechless Cyrus and stooped down flawlessly to a kneeling position, laying her weapon down. She unraveled the cloth over her face and head, revealing a thick black braid and a creamy, yet bronze-kissed complexion. Cyrus looked like he could barely keep his head up.

"Layla..." Cyrus finally muttered. She remained with her head lowered and said nothing. It seemed obscure to Irene as she juxtaposed Layla's perfect humility and lowliness with the brutal and efficient killer from moments before. Irene felt drawn to her. To Irene, this woman was the very picture of beauty. It was no wonder Cyrus adored her. With the serpent's head finally removed, Irene allowed herself to succumb to her injuries.

"Mmmmf…"Irene peeled her eyes open after some considerable effort. Her vision was blurry, and her other eye was caked shut. She went to wipe away the sludge from her eye, only to find herself tightly bound by linens. She groaned and rolled, pushing her face into her pillow, rubbing her eye against the textures of the low thread-count pillowcase, only to freeze in pain. The skin around her nose was tender.

"Awake?" came a quiet inquiry. Irene became aware of a depression by her feet.

"Wha… wait a min… did… but…y-you!" came an incoherent jumble of words. Irene blinked furiously and stared at her bedside company. Sitting still and protective was Layla. Blushing, Irene forcefully shut her mouth and stared back. Layla said nothing. Irene said nothing. The silence was getting awkward, and Irene could not bear it any further "So it was you... in the fire..."

"Yes," came Layla's short reply. Irene glanced down at her lap and then back up at Layla. Her thoughts were reaching for something, but it took a while before Irene realized she was in a vast amount of pain. Irene leaned forward and grimaced, hissing inwardly.

"Uuugh… I think I'm going to puke…" Irene said in a strained voice. Layla placed her hand firmly on Irene's shoulder, then gently placed two fingers under Irene's chin, guiding it to tilt upward until Irene and Layla were eye to eye. Her expression was unchanged, but there was a subtle layer of tenderness across her otherwise austere features.

"You will do no such thing." Finally hearing a sentence from Layla, Irene could detect a faint accent. Irene's eyes darted about and then returned to Layla's eyes, uncertain how to respond. Layla bit into her own wrist then brought it to Irene's lips. "Drink."

Irene was unsure about drinking another vampire's blood. Hadn't Cyrus indicated it was taboo? However, Irene had no will to argue or defy Layla. The blood was very thick and not as warm as the blood from a mortal. The taste was familiar; she had drunk this blood before. Irene closed her eyes and all her other senses shied away, causing the pain and nausea to subside.

Layla finally pulled her wrist away, and Irene shot back into reality. Embarrassment suddenly took root in Irene, although she was unsure from whence it came. Irene dropped her gaze and hunched her shoulders. "Feel better now?" Layla asked.

Irene did feel better. The pain was gone. Irene worked to unwind herself from her sheets to examine her ankle. It was still swollen, but even to her poking and prodding it produced no pain - just the pressure of her finger. She finally looked up at Layla again.

"Yes… I am," Irene said in disbelief. She continued to poke her ankle for a while, then brought her hand up to her face, feeling around her nose gently. That, too, was puffy. Instantly she began to feel about her person for more cuts, bruises, and welts that caused no pain. She didn't even stop to imagine what it looked like to an outside observer, which inevitably led to more embarrassment the moment she heard a whistle.

"Ha ha ha, no wonder I keep getting rejected! You've got all you need to satisfy yourself!"

Irene's face turned bright red and she quickly slammed her hands down at her sides. Standing in the doorway, sure enough, was Cyrus, his fading injuries and squinting eye giving him a rakish appearance. She opened her mouth to defend herself, then closed it thinking better of feeding the fire. She just opted to do her usual course of action and glared silently at him.

Cyrus strutted over to them. "Hmmm… my two favorite women in the same bed. I must have died and gone to hea-"

"That's the last place in any universe you'd go!" Irene quickly interrupted. She pulled her covers up about herself again, instantly resenting his good spirits. Nothing seemed to sober him up. Nothing.

Layla walked over to Cyrus. She paused, glanced over her shoulder at Irene, then turned back to Cyrus. "If you please, she needs more rest. She's young and does not heal as quickly as you."

"I know that," Cyrus placed a hand on Layla's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I just woke up, myself, and you and I have a lot to discuss," Cyrus said, an edge coming into his voice. Irene suddenly felt defensive, but kept her silence.

"First you need to drink and get your strength up. Please allow me to hunt for you," Layla responded, bowing to him briefly. Cyrus shook his head, digging his grip into her shoulder. It looked painful, but Layla made no indication of such.

"That can wait. Come with me," Cyrus commanded. Layla bowed again and conceded to his request. Irene frowned as the both of them left. She probably did need rest. However, curiosity was keeping her mind alert and forbidding sleep. So Irene carefully went up the stairs on all fours until she reached the top, and sure enough, heard their voices.

"..all a mess! I just don't understand how you could have DONE that to me! If I wasn't such a coward I would have-"

"Shh. You are not a coward anymore. You proved that last night," Layla interrupted. There was the sound of Cyrus scoffing, which baited Layla to add, "I can not give you the disservice of allowing you to say such things."

"Do you have any idea what your deception could have done? I could be dead because of you! You show no remorse, you never have!" Cyrus accused.

Irene frowned. Kettle, pot.

"And now I am asking for your forgiveness. Only when I was dead would you have realized the truth about Gabriel," Layla responded with aplomb.

"Whom you dispatched flawlessly! Why couldn't you have just killed Gabriel in the first place? Why fake your death? Have you suddenly gotten a flare for the dramatic or something!?" Cyrus continued to question.

"Master, blood between our kind is potent! If I had killed Gabriel before you saw him for what he was, it would have created a rift between you and I," Layla explained, keeping a calm, unfaltering tone. There was neither fear nor penitence in her tone.

"If you had explained afterwards I would have believed you! I was going to apologize to you, Layla! Me! Apologize! Then I found your note!" Cyrus responded in exasperation.

"I did the best I could, and am not sorry for that. I am only sorry that you have suffered, and wish for you to forgive me. I only wish to serve you."

Cyrus went quiet. The more Irene heard of Layla, the more unfathomable she became. Who in their right mind would want to serve Cyrus? Irene winced, an almost physical reprisal to her uncharitable thoughts to her sire jarring her skull. Then it occurred to Irene. She did not know Layla, but felt a strong attachment to her. Was this what Layla felt to Cyrus?

"Well, you should have just done what I wanted and not what I needed! You should have just stayed close to me! I could have protected you! Remember that in the future," Cyrus opined petulantly. Irene shook her head and let out a quiet sigh. "And Irene, of all people you were the last person I figured to eavesdrop!"

Uh oh! Busted.

Irene rose to her feet and opened the door. "Cyrus, what's wrong with you? One night all you can do is sing praises about Layla, and now you're yelling at her after she saved your worthless hide!" Irene reproached. Cyrus stared at her and raised his hand, one finger extended, about to say something. Quick on the uptake Irene found something to interrupt him with. "What I want to know is what happens now?"

Cyrus's face went blank. There was some tiny sign of thought in his eyes. Irene could almost hear wheels turning in his head, and they were painfully loud. Cyrus let his hand rest at his side again and shook his head, glancing between Layla and Irene. "I don't know. What do you want to happen next? You always insisted that the only reason you were tied to me was the fear of Gabriel. Now he's… gone." Cyrus said the last word after a short pause. It was almost a whisper as if it had dawned on him for the first time since it had happened. An almost pensive look overcame Cyrus and he began to pace. "Furthermore, you are no longer of any use to me, Irene. This changes everything." Irene watched him for a moment, then her gaze shifted to Layla, who was still as a statue, and just as opaque.

"Cyrus…" Irene tried to speak.

"Irene, go rest. Now," Cyrus commanded.

Irene stared at him quizzically, but was not in the mood to argue. Something in Cyrus's countenance caused her anxiety, and she did not wish to push him. She wasn't sure what would happen, as her value to him had apparently deprecated, and that was what made her wary. Instead of her usual brazen act, she meekly backed away and obeyed, slinking back to the basement.

A sigh escaped Irene's split lip. Where do we go from here?