Waiting For Sunrise

Dappled along the green lawn were traces of golden sunbeams, yet none of them seemed to fall on her house, as if a permanent shade were cast upon it. Irene stood at the start of her driveway, her heart pounding.

I shouldn't have told him anything. What have I done?

Irene sought respite, but it would not be found at home. She inhaled deeply, filling her nostrils with the drowsy, warm atmosphere of cedar in the late afternoon. Despite the taint Cyrus had left on her home, this smell still filled her with comfort. After buoying herself with the calming aroma, she entered.

Sunset approached; Cyrus would soon rise. He might already be awake. Irene balanced between stealth and haste as best she could. This meant sliding across the linoleum of her kitchen in her socks, and speed shuffling to her room.

Irene scooted to her closet, careful not to disturb the jangly metal hangers as she searched for her old duffel bag. Once secured, she stuffed it with a few changes of clothes. She looked at the door, expecting Cyrus to burst through at any minute. Nothing there. Movement in her peripheral vision caused her to jump, putting a hand to her chest. Something was emerging from under her bed.

"Oh... Silver..." Irene whispered as her pet stretched and then proceeded to lick off the dust bunnies clinging to her fur. "Were you hiding from the bad man?"

Silver stared at her with her limpid, emerald eyes. Guilt immediately sent Irene's stomach into somersaults. She could not bring her cat with her; Merle's family rented and weren't allowed pets. It was disquieting to leave her furry companion behind with Cyrus. But there wasn't time to think of another solution. She needed to put her well-being first. Irene gave her cat a few pets and whispered, "Goodbye. Stay safe."

Steeling her nerves, Irene left her room. She tip-toed to the bathroom next, quickly gathering a few personal toiletries. She left the toilet lid up to provide Silver with a back-up source of water. Normally she discouraged her cat from drinking from the porcelain bowl, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Rap-tap-tap

Irene froze, shut the bathroom door, and locked it. Waiting for her heart to settle, she eventually realised it was coming from outside. Listening intently, she heard the howling wind. Oh it's just the old fir tree scratching against the window.

Irene's nerves were shot. There were a few other things she wanted to bring, but she didn't dare spend another moment inside the house. She flew out of the bathroom, hastily put on her shoes, and left.

Every step of Irene's journey to her friend's house was strenuous due to the burden of her worries. Everything that was certain and concrete was crumbling. Irene wondered what other myths and supernatural things were real.

Were there vampires in the streets? Irene avoided looking at anyone who passed her by, keeping her gaze straight ahead like a horse with blinders. Ghosts in the old buildings? Werewolves in the forest? She spared a glance at a nearby copse of trees that separated two large properties. The wind was causing them to shake and sway with a liveliness that disconcerted her.

How many deaths and animal attacks were the works of otherworldly beings? Irene tried to ignore the barking of a dog, glancing only briefly to make sure it was on a chain. Losing her cool, she ran the rest of the way to the bus stop, her duffel bag thumping against her hip awkwardly.

When Irene stepped off the bus, she saw a patrol car parked down the street. She could not tell if anyone was inside through the tinted windows. Shivers shot through her spine. What if some of the members of law enforcement or government are vampires, keeping it out of public knowledge? How else could they stay under the radar in this day and age? Thoughts and possibilities swirled through her mind like the eddies of leaves that danced at her ankles. She switched shoulders and continued her trek to Merle's house.

“Irene? What are you doing here this time of day?” Merle’s voice broke through her mental overgrowth. Irene stopped in front of Merle’s porch. The friend who puberty forgot was leaning slightly against an old wooden pillar.

Irene glanced down, and then cautiously looked into her round eyes. “I’m sorry about before, I know you were only trying to help.”

Merle moved away from the pillar and sat down on the porch steps, a frown forming. “You look really pale, Irene. Have… have you been crying?”

“I… I’m just tired,” Irene lied reflexively and tried to look away. Merle sprang to her feet and closed the gap between them.

“You HAVE been crying! Irene, why won’t you talk to me?” Irene was taken aback that Merle even noticed. Words clamoured to the bottleneck of her mind, but none managed to squeeze out her mouth. Even at Merle's urging to come inside out of the chilling wind, she just stood there, dumb and lame. Her friend took her by the shoulders and guided her inside.

The two girls sat across from each other at an old card table, bubbly glasses of ginger ale set before them. Irene stared down at her clasped hands.

"I visited Jordan today..." Irene began.

Merle nodded her head, an exaggerated look of sympathy on her round face. "How is he?" she asked after some hesitation, but Irene sensed she didn't really want to know the answer.

"Bad. He had a really scary fit. Before that he talked about getting married." Irene looked away when she saw Merle's eyes go wide. "I don't think he's accepting how serious his condition is. The injury, the craniotomy, the meningitis he got after..." she shook her head. Tears threatened to return to her face. Quickly, she raised her glass to her mouth, feeling the fizz tickle her lip and nose.

"Man... I'm so sorry Irene. I thought he was on the mend." Merle's bony shoulders raised as she slumped like a reprimanded puppy.

If Irene's thoughts were not so troubled, she would have found her friend's exaggerated expression comical. She reached across the table. Seeing this, Merle perked up and took hold of her hand, giving it an enthusiastic squeeze.

"I don't want to be alone right now, Merle. Can I stay here for a few nights?" Irene asked.

Merle shook her head. "No problem!" Then she went from shaking to nodding. "Of course you can! Mom will be working late, but I don't think she'll mind! She likes you," the redhead chirped with dizzying alacrity. "Looks like you came prepared," she added, tilting her head to the duffel bag.

"Ah, yeah. I didn't mean to assume, but it was just simpler to have this all ready," Irene muttered, her hand hovering protectively over her overnight bag.

"I'll go get the hide-a-bed ready! Looks like we'll have a movie night after all!"

Although Merle could be volatile, she was exactly what Irene needed. Notwithstanding the importance of figuring out her next move, what helped maintain her was the constant distraction a vivacious and lively character could provide. Merle kept Irene busy with so much mundane nonsense that it was bliss. There were no vampires lurking in the shadows for just a couple nights.

Monday came and went, and though Merle expressed surprise that Irene stayed over on a school night, she didn't question it further. However, with the weekend over, the distractions ceased to be a balm, and Irene grew impatient. Merle's mother was also asking questions and Irene was running out of evasive half-truths. This was not a long-term solution, and she needed to decide whether or not to alert the police. Despite Jordan's suggestion, she could not bring herself to involve the authorities.

"Irene, there's something more than just Jordan bothering you, isn't there?" The golden early sunset enhanced the vibrant colour of Merle's hair as she sat on the porch, blowing bubbles.

"Maybe." Irene wrapped her jacket more closely around her to fight off the chill in the air. Evenings came more and more rapidly as the season progressed. "We should go in."

"But the sunsets are so pretty this time of year."

Irene shuddered again. She feared the sunset, despite its beauty. All the same, she squinted at the mountains in the horizon, with peaks dusted white like delicate confections. She drew in the smoky, pine-filled scent.

"So what's bothering you, Irene? You didn't fight with Jordan, did you? I mean you mentioned he talked about getting married, and well, that's pretty big." Merle dipped her bubble wand back into the solution. "You're only seventeen."

"No, we didn't fight. And marriage? Really, that's just his fear talking," Irene sighed as the sun grew a deep amber colour, with pink hued clouds encircling it as a rosy vignette. How many more sunsets would Jordan make it through?

"So you don't think he really means it?" Irene heard the creak of wood as Merle leaned against the rickety bannister. Irene stared as the bubbles captured the dying brilliance of the setting sun. Their lazy drifting was interrupted by a gust of wind which obliterated their delicate membranes.

"Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't, but that's not a decision anyone should make in a situation like this." Irene stepped down from the porch where there was more space. She turned to face Merle and began doing some stretches. Merle shook her head, smiling a little. For a while they were both silent, as the clouds rapidly encroached, blotting out the sun.

Picking up the conversation from where it had dropped off, Merle airily remarked, "I wish there was a guy who wanted to marry me. Though I'd probably tell him no, because I don't want to get tied down too young either. But it'd still be nice to be wanted."

"Don't be in a rush. Your time will come," Irene responded after a long exhale as she leaned to one side and then the other.

"Easy for you to say! You're at least half pretty," Merle pouted, rubbing her goosebump-riddled arms. She turned the porch light on and set her bottle and wand aside.

"Gee, thanks," Irene responded with a laugh, spreading out her arms and performing some torso twists. "I always liked your red hair, Merle."

Merle frowned, running her hand through the chaotic red curls. "Why? I look like a clown." Merle froze and squinted at something in the distance. Irene paused, staring up at her friend questioningly.

“Irene! So here you are!” a familiar voice called. Ice ensnared Irene as her back went rigid at the mere timber of his voice. She looked behind herself quickly, seeing a man in black strolling towards them, carrying an umbrella. Then she looked up at the moody clouds - not a drop was falling. Irene avoided looking back at the man.

“Irene, who is that?” Merle asked, straightening up but gripping the bannister tightly. Irene's arms flew to her chest, folding amongst themselves and hugging herself. Could vampires come out on cloudy days? In the Fraser Valley, it was almost always overcast.

Before Irene could respond, Cyrus was right behind her, peering over her shoulder.

“Ah, you must be Irene’s friend, yes?”

Merle's eyebrows furrowed fiercely and she stood firm, glaring. “And who are you? I know ALL of Irene's friends, and you aren't one of them,”

Cyrus put out his hand to Merle, his wrist brushing against Irene’s arm. Instantly she stepped aside to get away from him. “Come come, no need for hostility. My name is Cyrus, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Merle stared at him long and hard, but then reluctantly stepped down from the porch and took his hand. Instead of a handshake, as would have been expected, he placed a dainty kiss upon her outstretched hand.

Merle stammered and blushed, then shot a questioning glance at Irene. She returned it with a tired and uncomfortable look. Merle licked her lips and withdrew her hand.

Cyrus slung his other arm out to Irene, pulling her in close to him. “Come, Irene, it's about time you returned home. Silver misses you. And we should get going before it gets any later. The night brings out the worst sorts, wouldn't you agree?” His voice injected synthetic charm into his words.

Heart racing and nostrils flared, Irene pushed her fury down. How dare he act so familiar with me in front of my friend? Unsure how to respond without making a scene, she stared dumbly at the vampire.

After a silent interval, Cyrus withdrew his arm from around Irene. “Ah, for shame! I interrupted your girl-talk. I’ll wait for you down the road and then escort you to the bus stop when you are done.”

Cyrus then looked at Merle again. She stared at him intently, seeming similarly dumbstruck. "I'm not surprised Irene never mentioned me. She compartmentalises a bit too well, don't you agree?" Cyrus winked and walked off with his smooth, animal grace, twirling his umbrella as he went.

Merle’s eyes were fixed on him intently. The pink hues remained on her freckled cheeks as she turned to Irene. “What… what was all that about? Why didn’t you say anything about him before?”

“Merle… I… he… Merle… oh…” Irene stuttered. Merle continued to prod her with her large, explorative eyes. Irene hugged herself again and looked down. “Merle,” she began to say more assertively, “Don't look at me like that! I couldn't talk about Cyrus.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know how to explain. Look… Merle… you just wouldn't understand.” Irene rubbed the back of her neck uneasily.

Merle squinted at Irene for a moment or two. “He said Silver missed you - how does he know your cat!? Has he been staying with you? With your father away?” Merle's eyes bulged in exasperation and confusion. "Tell me he's a cousin or something!"

“NO!" Irene blurted in dismay before she could think better of it. Letting Merle think he was a relative might not be a bad thing for the time being. But it was too late for that.

"Then who is Cyrus?"

A very dangerous man. Except Irene could not tell her this. Merle was as likely to charge him as she would be to phone the police without getting the particulars. She also knew Merle and Jordan talked to each other, so she had to keep her story straight. "I helped him out... and he's got nowhere to go and is in the country illegally and it's very complicated. I've got myself into a mess."

"But why didn't you tell me? My mother could probably help!" Merle held her arms open. "She should be home soon! We can tell her!"

"I'm not sure involving your mother is a good idea. She's already on thin ice with the Ministry." Irene folded her arms. "Come on, neither of us like getting the authorities involved."

Merle immediately crossed her arms and turned away, a storm brewing on her face. This kept Merle quiet for a moment and then she shook her head. "It ain't right to be alone with some guy." She then looked back at Cyrus who was twirling the umbrella, his whistling audible. "It's more than that, isn't it? He seemed really... hands on with you. And you don't like being touched by anyone but Jordan."

"Are you implying I am cheating?" Irene could not keep the indignation she felt out of her voice. "No way, he's - he's much too old!"

"Oh come on, Irene! I could see you with an older guy. You always act like you are so grown up! Lately you seem like you've outgrown me, so why not Jordan too?"

Irene was used to temper tantrums. She was not used to these sorts of accusations from Merle. Mortification silenced her greater faculties. "I came to you for help, didn't I? My mistake!" Irene charged into the front door. She expected Merle to follow and peck away at her with justification for her insults, but none came. So she packed up her things. Irene sighed as she zipped up her bag, realising she was being rash. As hurt as she was, an accusation was a trifling affair when hung in the balance. With her duffel bag thrown over her shoulder, she skulked back out to apologise.

Irene swung the front door open. "Sorry, Merle. I..." Irene stared as Cyrus greeted her instead. "Where's Merle?"

"I'm here, Irene. But you better go home," Merle said coldly.

Cyrus stepped aside as Merle came up to the door. Watching her closely Irene stepped out and Merle caught the door and went inside. She paused, looking over her shoulder accusingly at Irene.

"Merle... please..."

"Go."

SLAM.

Irene swallowed hard and then glared at Cyrus, who just raised his eyebrows questioningly, as if to say 'what did I do?'.

"Well Irene, we best be off."