Waiting For Sunrise

Groggy, aching, and disoriented, Irene finally regained consciousness. A hard, cold surface registered before her headache. What pressed against her skin was smoother than wood, rougher than metal. Cement? Her shoulder ached, and the ground had wicked away all warmth from her body.

These sensations reminded her of when she'd slept on the floor in her basement. Am I home? Irene sniffed the air hoping to smell laundry soap, but instead her olfactory senses were assaulted with metal, sweat, and something fruity but artificial. An involuntary groan escaped her lips.

“Oh… she woke up," spoke a feminine voice. Reflexively, Irene turned towards the speaker and immediately winced as her neck burned. She corrected her movements to prioritise keeping her head still.

In the sparsely lit room, Irene first saw a fellow teenager crouched beside her. Her eyes were struggling to adjust; the girl was too close. Irene's eyes wandered beyond her in search of something easier to focus on. Several feet away two other girls sat together. One had her knees up, arms wrapped about them. The other had one leg straight out, which she was rocking side to side. Her other knee was bent, and she leaned back slightly with her hands on the ground as support.

Irene rubbed her gloopy eyes. “Where am I?”

“I… I don’t know. I was grabbed on my way home,” the girl hugging her knees answered in a hushed voice. She looked vaguely familiar. Is she from school?

“…Irene right?” the individual closest to her asked.

Irene strained her memory for where she knew this girl from, but her headache thwarted her attempts. “Yes. Do I know you?”

“Not really… but you're dating Jordan, right?”

A minimal tilt of her head was all the nod Irene dared to offer.

“I guess you don’t remember me… it’s me, Tina.” Irene thought for a moment. Tina. The name seemed familiar.

"I'm sorry, I'm not..." Irene's head was pounding but she tried to remember. "Do you go to school with Jordan?"

"I'm Keith's step-sister. I'd seen you at a few of the hockey practices."

It was difficult in the dim light but Irene looked over Tina intently. With the context of hockey, it all seemed to click. One of Jordan's teammates, Keith, had a step-sister the same age that came to watch.

“God, I am so scared,” moaned the curled up inmate.

Tina sighed and curled her knees up to her chest as well. “Um, let's just introduce ourselves. Maybe together we can find a way out,” she suggested. "As you already heard, I'm Tina. And this is Irene."

“I’m Katie,” another girl said, stroking her hair nervously.

Following suit, the more nonchalant cohabitant introduced herself. "And I'm Ashley."

After saying their names, all four of the girls were silent.

Irene rubbed her temples. She needed more context to make sense of her current situation. “Um… where do you all live?”

“What does it matter?” Ashley snapped.

“I am just breaking the ice,” Irene murmured.

Katie lifted her head. “I live past the river… on Gurney."

Irene frowned. “Gurney? Really?”

“Why, where do you live?” Ashley asked, her face going pale.

“On Sleepy Hollow Road,” Irene responded as calmly as she could. Katie gasped, Tina's eyes went wide, and Ashley wrinkled her nose.

“I live on Linzey. It's also off of Sleepy Hollow," Tina said in rushed words. Before Irene could ask, since she was sure Keith's family lived on the other side of town, she added, "I moved back in with my Dad over the summer.”

“I work part time at the motel on Sleepy Hollow. My Aunt is the manager there,” Ashley grumbled.

“…But why us?” Tina pondered out loud, her voice going shriller.

“Why does it matter? We've been kidnapped! We're not rich, so it's not for ransom. So why else do you think someone would kidnap a bunch of girls?” Ashley rambled. She opened her mouth to spout more negativity, but Katie quickly interrupted.

“My uncle is in the RCMP! Someone will save us,” Katie assured. Ashley muttered a few things under her breath, and Tina said nothing. Irene sighed. Her shoulder cracked as she rolled it. Limiting her movement as much as possible, she scooted into the corner. Irene's hand went to her neck. It was sore and bruised, but she did not feel any punctures.

Time proceeded in a nebulous haze. Occasionally a man would come in and give them bottled water and dried foods, such as pre-wrapped crackers or granola bars. The intervals were irregular, thus she could not rely on mealtimes to keep herself chronologically oriented.

"We need to figure out a way out of here," Tina said after the guard had left. Irene took a sip from the water. She'd resisted eating or drinking anything the first time, and watched to see if the other girls had any ill effects. As they seemed fine, Irene was content to risk it.

"I'm sure someone will save us, we just need to keep our heads down and survive until then," Katie suggested.

"No offense, Katie, but we can't rely on the police. Who knows how long it will take them to find us?" Ashley retorted.

"What if one of us fakes being sick? And then when the guard comes in, we all gang up on him? I bet the four of us could take him down if we work together," Tina chipped in.

Ashley made a rather rude sound, followed by an even ruder insult. Irene shot her a severe glance, but it was ignored. "Not my fault she's being stupid. That is so cliché that they'd probably know exactly what we were doing."

"Besides, I don't think it's a good plan. We don't know how many men are here, where we are, or how to get out," Irene added, still giving Ashley a firm glance. "But let's avoid insulting each other. We're all scared, and if we are going to get through this, we should try to get along."

"Whatever..."

"No, Irene's right. If we bicker, it won't help," Katie weighed in.

"I have some bobby pins they didn't pull out of my hair. They can be used to pick locks, can't they?" All eyes went to the door handle. They did not see a keyhole. "Um... if there was something to pick."

"Do you actually know how to pick locks?"

Tina looked down. "Well... no."

Ashley scoffed at her.

"Well do you have an idea, Ashley?" Katie asked, her cheeks a little flushed.

"Sure. Like I said, they didn't nab a bunch of girls for no reason. So we just give the guard a taste of the goods, and he might let something slip. I bet I could get his eye," Ashley said, running a hand through her hair.

"NO!" everyone else said in unison.

"That's too risky!" Irene hissed.

"Have you no self respect!?" Katie gasped in dismay.

Tina and Ashley both rolled their eyes.

Ashley placed her hands on her hips. "I'd be willing to take one for the team, which is more than any of you'd do."

"Well we can't do nothing," Tina insisted, staring at the door impatiently.

Irene sighed, looking at her fellow captives. So impatient. So reckless. "Sometimes, all you can do is wait." She was as eager as the other girls to break free, but she was certain that vampires were behind this. She did not dare tell the other girls that, though. The burden of that knowledge was hers, and hers alone. Irene decided to begin examining the walls while the girls continued scheming together.

Nerves were frayed, for the next time the door swung open, the girls jumped, Katie letting out a yelp.

This wasn't the man who normally brought them meals. Instead of slicked back golden hair, he had shoulder-length curly brown hair. "Alright ladies, queue up and follow moi." An icy needle wove discord in Irene's stomach. She recognised his voice. It was one of the men who had attacked Cyrus. She was certain of it.

The girls all looked at each other, hesitating to move. The man clapped his hands three times while stomping his foot. "Vite vite vite!"

This startled the girls and they shuffled around, brushing against each other and nearly stepping on each other's toes. No one wanted to be first. Irene sighed and took the lead, and the other girls followed.

Irene carefully took note of everything as they walked through a narrow corridor, which turned at the far end. They were taken through a door at the end of the second hall. Immediately, the first thing that impressed upon Irene was red. It was all just too red. From the patterned red wallpaper along the far wall, to the red lanterns that hung from hooks in the ceiling, making the pale cement floor even take on a rosy hue. The next thing to attract Irene's attention, and stop her in her tracks, were the bars that cut through the center of the room.

"In you go," their escort insisted. None of the girls wanted to go in. Tina made a run for it despite Irene's warning for her not to. Within the blink of an eye, the man had caught her and lifted her off her feet and dragged her back. The other girls didn't dare move, as they now sensed something supernatural about the man. It didn't stop Tina from kicking and flailing the whole way until she was tossed into the room. The man cleared his throat and looked at the three remaining girls. "S'il vous plaît."

Irene and the others filed in. They all stood in a line as the man closed and locked the door behind him. To her surprise, he stayed in the room with them. She watched as he approached a segment of the bars, and it took her a moment to realise it was a door. He paused before opening it, facing the girls and wagging his finger reproachfully, as if anticipating the urge to try and run through. He stepped through and locked them on the other side of the iron bars.

“Come in, sire,” the man called. Through a thick door entered a familiar figure. The lights brightened, and Irene’s eyes stared at the long golden hair. She covered her mouth, but then lowered her head, trying to look less conspicuous. “Are any of these fine ladies the girl you were looking for?”

The blonde man took his time to examine each and every quivering girl. Finally he gave a nod.

“The one of the far right,” he said as stared at Irene. Staring straight at his face, Irene knew without a doubt it was Gabriel.

"Very good, sire," the slighter man said with a bow. Immediately, he entered the cell again. The other girls looked alarmed, but just shuffled away from him as he strode over to Irene. Irene backed away, but he clicked his tongue at her disapprovingly, snatching her arm. Irene tried to resist, but she was held firmly. She looked frantically at the other girls, who all had their backs to the wall. They looked horrified, but none of them had an ounce of defiance left in them. Perhaps, and it may have been Irene's imagination, she thought she saw relief on Ashley's face.

“Got her,” the wavy-haired man said, dragging Irene through the steel cage door.

Gabriel nodded, putting out his hand to seize Irene's chin. “Yes, good work Louis. This is the one who was with Cyrus,” Gabriel said with a twisted grin. Whispers, like rustling leaves, erupted behind her. “Take the shift off, tell Guy to fill in for you.” Gabriel took Irene by the arm and turned to leave.

“But sire…”

Gabriel waved his hand in a dismissive motion at Louis. “Fine, fine, have it your way. But only one. We have to be careful with the local supply,” Gabriel said impatiently. Irene heard the barred door creak open as she was being led away by Gabriel. As she was pushed into the hallway, screams echoed behind her. Irene shuddered, sickness and disgust oozing into her heart. Images flooded into her mind as to what was happening to one of those girls, and what was going to happen to her.

Irene was led into a room with a receded cement floor, a drain sitting like a dimple on the spattered ground. Fear and sickness intensified. Dark stains blotted the cement and a fetid yet metallic smell filled her nostrils. Without a word or warning, Gabriel grabbed her from around the waist and lifted her up so her feet dangled uselessly beneath her. She tried again to fight, jabbing her elbows at him and trying to kick, but it made no difference. She didn’t stop struggling until she was forced to prostrate on the ground. It took Gabriel little time to bind her arms behind her back. Once she was securely restrained Gabriel walked over to a small table.

“There isn’t any point in wasting your energy, girl,” Gabriel said as he picked something up. He turned around with a knife in his hand, twirling it effortlessly between his gloved fingers. Terror filled her chest as he approached.

“Get away from me!” Irene commanded in a deep, but shaky voice. Gabriel just chuckled and grabbed the collar of her shirt, pulling her upright. She scrambled back into a sitting position, and Gabriel crouched beside her.

“I’ll show you just what you’ve allied yourself with,” he sneered. His breath reeked of decay. Irene tried to pull back, but could not. With nowhere to flee, Irene firmly banished fear from her face and stared straight into Gabriel's ghostly pale eyes.

“What I allied myself with?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said, offering no further explanation. He pulled again at the collar of her shirt, slipping it down, exposing her shoulder. Again she tried to struggle, but nothing she did even inconvenienced him. His eyes ran all over her form, searching. He pulled the collar the other way, scanning her neck and shoulders for something. Gabriel brought his eyebrows together, looking perplexed. He muttered something under his breath and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to lift it. Finally he withdrew his hand, looking lost in thought for a moment or two. His lips grew even more thin and grim. Then his eyes lit up in epiphany. Irene, for a split moment, thought perhaps she would be spared, but such an optimistic thought was quickly banished. He grabbed her under her armpits and lifted her to her feet.

“Do you know what that man you were with is?” Gabriel asked, an eyebrow arched.

“You… you mean Cyrus?” Irene lifted her gaze to the looming vampire.

“Yes, that pathetic, greasy weasel,” Gabriel spat the words disdainfully.

Irene drew in a slower breath to calm herself. “Yes. He's a vampire."

Gabriel leaned down, so that their noses were almost touching. She did her best to stare into his eyes intensely without going cross-eyed. But she could not fight the watering of her eyes from his lukewarm, putrid breath. “Good. You passed the first test. I would have known if you were lying. But... how much DO you know?”

“About what? What do you want?” Irene finally asked. Is this an interrogation? Does he want to know where Cyrus is? She’d gladly tell them in exchange for her freedom, but Irene doubted she could trust him to actually spare her.

“Answer my question."

Without faltering, she responded with cold confidence. “As you said, he's a greasy weasel. I don't care to know anything else."

"Has he fed from you?"

"...Once. A little," Irene responded. At least, once was all she remembered.

"Hmm. Once," Gabriel's eyes narrowed. The answer did not seem to please him. "Did he promise you something? In exchange for services?"

"...I wouldn't believe any promise he'd make," Irene said coolly. Gabriel raised his eyebrows and snorted, again invading her olfactory senses. Irene wondered why he smelled so terrible. Cyrus didn't have a smell. At all. In retrospect, that was very odd. "I honestly don't know what's going on. I don't know where Cyrus is if that's what you want. He left." Irene saw just a slight smirk surface upon Gabriel's lips. "I can't help you further. So will you please let me go? I won't tell anyone."

“No. I’m not done with you,” he said as he leaned back. He grabbed the knife again. Irene’s eyes went to it, then back up to him. He poked his finger gently with the sharp tip. “Something isn't adding up. But since you know nothing, I guess there's no sense wasting my time further. I guess all that's left is a little experiment."

With little warning, Gabriel slashed at her with the knife. Pain bit into her chest, just under her collar bone. She tried to scream, but the pain was so intense that her throat constricted. Instead a squeak was all she produced. She remained with the full scream trapped in her lungs, until the air released in a long, raspy breath. She watched in horror as a red blotch grew and grew on her shirt.

Gabriel cleaned the blood off of the knife and headed for the door. Irene stared in disbelief and shock as all other sensations fled, leaving only hot pain and cold sweat. Her heart pumped furiously, and with each beat, her shirt became more saturated. Irene turned her head to look away from it, her mouth going dry. Irene bit her lip and fell to her knees.

Irene wasn’t sure how long the pain throbbed in her before someone was thrown in with her. Her eyes shot open and she peered in desperation at the man who lay crumpled on the floor. He looked malnourished and scrawny, but despite being nearly skin and bone, he still had a strange amount of muscle definition on his bare back. Red streaks contrasted brightly across his china white skin, interspersed with red splotches and burn blisters. His pants were torn and tattered, and his bare feet had nails jutting out from them.

The man groaned and rolled on the floor, then groggily lifted his head. Irene gasped. Although gaunt, she could tell it was Cyrus. He was in worse shape than he had been in when she had first encountered him. He looked like he’d been starved for months… but he couldn’t have been in this god-forsaken place for that long! At that moment she knew she had been hurled into the shark tank. Irene wanted to close her eyes, but they wouldn’t even blink. They were transfixed on Cyrus.

Cyrus stared at her long and hard, his face seeming contorted and wild. He struggled onto his perforated feet and shambled towards her, his eyes fixed on her cut.

Irene felt panic strike her, and she began backing up, until her hands felt the wall. She slid back down, trying to make herself as small as possible. Whatever they did to him, it had terrifying results. Irene wasn’t certain if trying to talk to him or reason with him would work. But anything was worth a try.

“Cyrus…” By then he was standing over her, sniffing her and licking his lips like a dog.

“CYRUS!” Irene screamed. The loud sound made him shrink back, startled. His head jerked up and he gazed at her face blankly. She stared at him intensely, trying to force him to keep eye contact with her. She was reminded of a guard dog Merle used to have. Irene used to stare that rottweiler down when it barked. Usually if she gave it an authoritative look, it stopped dead in its tracks and stared back. The moment she looked away, it would pull against its chain and bark at her some more. Thus Irene continued to captivate Cyrus with the very same expression.

For a while they just stared at each other. It was as if any humanity in him had run and hid. However, his eyes slowly drifted back to the blood. He craved it. He needed it. All of this was evident in his eyes.

“Cyrus,” she said loudly again. “Cyrus, wake up!” she urged. “Cyrus… don’t do this… oh don’t let this happen…”

Mad eyes looked up at her, and for the tiniest moment, Irene thought she saw a hint of cognizance, maybe even fear, in Cyrus's eyes. But they glazed over and his focus returned to her bloody shirt. Rip. Irene shut her eyes at the sound of fabric tearing. She shuddered at the sensation of lips around the cut. She could not come to terms with all of the thoughts and feelings whirling around her. First came the disgust and horror. Then there was a sharp sting caused by suction and further gnawing of teeth at her wound. Soon the pain was all-encompassing; she didn't just feel it on her chest but around her whole body. Following this was a sedating sensation and she could almost hear music somewhere in the distance, but it was a superficial tranquility over an ocean of terror. Her whole body relaxed. No. Her whole body stopped. She wasn’t sure if it was the loss of blood that caused this, or if it were the effect of a vampire drinking her blood… nor did she even care. She just ceased her struggle and drifted off into oblivion.