Consciousness.

  She knew she was awake. The arm about her provided proof. Something was missing, though. There was a void. She didn't remember standing up, and barely heard the groggy voice protest.

  The bed was empty.

  Her bed was empty.

  Layla hastily pulled on her sweater and padded over to where her boots lay by the bottom of the stairs.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Irene's gone."

  "She's probably getting some air. Come back to bed."

  Layla glanced over her shoulder at Cyrus who patted the spot where she had lain. It was her compulsion to obey. But a new strand had coiled around her mind and heart, and it tugged her in another direction. She looked up at the stairs with deep longing, and an unprecedented concern.

  "She is gone."

  There was a frustrated huff and the slap of a hand on a pillow. Layla ventured up the stairs, disregarding Cyrus's antics for the time being. Soothing him was not unlike ameliorating a child, and she was strong enough to endure any punishment he could dole out.

  There were ghostly echoes in her mind of distant footsteps, the vaguest trail of a scent. Shadows conducted her, as they always had, down forlorn streets as she tracked Irene. There were no surprises at the end, just a lonely house with caution tape flapping around it.

  Layla remained one with the shadows. The flash of two glowing eyes caught her attention. A small cat rested on the porch, but already her hackles were raising. Not wishing to raise the alarm, Layla circumnavigated the ornery tabby before the shrieking could start, heading for the back door instead. She needed to move quickly. The first light of dawn was already tickling the mountain tops.

  Like specters, Her presence lingered everywhere in the house. Layla put her hand on an old recliner, the pleather worn soft under her touch, but as she glided her hand along it she felt the inevitable cracks forming from age and overuse. The back door swung open and closed again, but she did not look up.

  "You're lucky I guessed this is where you headed. You think she's..."

  "Can't you feel her?"

  "Well..." Cyrus tilted his head to the side. "Yes." He started towards the basement. "Irene... you down there?"

  Layla shook her head. "No, not there..." An impression of heat and fear swept her up and she looked at the distorted blinds. She felt vulnerable. Exposed. But that wasn't it. The back of her neck prickled, prompting her to rub her hand along it. "No..."

  "What?"

  No time to think. Instinct. Layla grabbed an old throw blanket off the couch and ran outside. She heard Cyrus shouting behind her, but it was garbled. Holding the blanket over her head she hurried out onto the porch. Sitting in calm composure on the frosted grass was Irene.

  Before she could voice her dismay, Layla witnessed with a deep visceral horror as the first rays of morning light crested the mountains. From seconds, her spawnling's skin blistered and peeled. The first shriek was not human. It was not vampire, either. Layla barely noticed the sharp pain of claws raking her ankle before. Then,what started as a low, throaty noise turned into a careening scream of agony. That was Irene.

  Layla didn't want to step out from the overhang. The intense pain, both physical and mental, was etched into her very being. Her stomach churned and she forced one step and then another, using the blanket as a meagre shield. By the time she reached Irene, the girl was rolling on the grass, her clothes ignited. One hand reached forward - she was trying to crawl back.

  No time to waste. Layla exposed herself to the intense heat of the sun, feeling the primal repulsion rattle her body as she cloaked Irene in the thick cover. She bundled her up in her arms and raced back indoors, as her own skin stung with the scorching heat. Just inside the door Cyrus was waiting. He took the burden from her, and together they raced down into the basement.

  Safe in the darkness, the blanket was unrolled, revealing a charred body. The synthetic fibers of Irene's shirt had melted to her skin, what remained of her hair were frizzed wisps that curled close to her scalded scalp. All over her body were blisters and lashes of char. But there was life. It was weak, but she had not perished.

  "Damnit, Irene!" Cyrus spat as he knelt beside her. Irene groaned, seeming barely conscious. He shifted his attention to Layla, scrunching up his face in dismay before looking away.

  Layla fell to her knees beside Irene, a hand hovering over the burnt vampire, fingers trembling. She looked as though one touch would cause her to disintegrate into a pile of ashes.

  "Great. She orchestrated this well. I commend you, Irene. We can't get any blood to save you until sundown... revenge complete." Cyrus sighed and looked down at the crispy neophyte.

  Silence existed, only interrupted by soft whimpers. Layla stared hard at her master. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked away. The pain was still smarting where the sun had scorched her, but she knew her current suffering was a fraction to what Irene was experiencing. Anyone who had experienced such a thing would never have chosen that as their demise. Compassion swelled in her breast for the poor child that lay before her. Layla brought her wrist close to her mouth, but Cyrus grabbed her arm and pulled it away.

  It burned. It burned. She bit her lip, but did not pull away.

  "Stop. It's better to treat your wounds - they look more salvageable." Cyrus gestured to the writhing figure on their floor.

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  Layla fixed Cyrus with a carefully neutral, albeit attentive stare. His selfishness knew no bounds, but it rarely impacted her. What she'd normally respond with was compliance. But she looked at Irene. My blood. My creation. She never had anyone else to protect but her master before. And now, she had to choose. "Let go."

  Cyrus blinked, evidently astounded. But he tightened his grip. Layla hissed from the pain. Seeing this, he quickly let her go. "Ah... right... you're burnt there, too." He looked at Irene with great consternation, and then back at Layla. "Layla."

  "Yes?" Layla peered at him, awaiting his next command. Cyrus spoke no command, but instead tore open his wrist and presented it to her. "...No. Give it to Irene. I will not drink."

  "Tch. Now is not the time to rebel. Your lesser wounds will heal faster. Now drink!" Cyrus commanded.

  Layla stared at the bleeding wrist. She craved respite from the pain. Alas, she'd never experienced such conflict before. All responsibility and morality was abandoned as she accepted her subservient role. However, in Irene, she saw her own pain. Even given the elixir of another vampire's blood, she would still feel it as long as Irene was left to suffer. But Layla abided by both duty and pragmatism. She sighed and accepted Cyrus's wrist. She was already his slave, it made no difference if she took one step closer to losing her will completely to him.

  Despite all of their time together, Layla had not tasted her master's blood since she was created. She had almost forgotten. The thrill of intimacy coursed through her body as the pain was swept away. There was a deep, gnawing hunger in her that wanted to consume him. But she remembered Irene. Immediately, Layla pulled away and knelt back beside Irene, lifting her head and cradling it in her lap. Irene whimpered, hands clenching and unclenching.

  "Move." Cyrus crouched down beside them.

  "Master. Do not discard her just because you and I have been reunited," Layla pleaded.

  Cyrus gave her a side glance. "Pfft. Why not? She was just my rebound after you broke my heart." He gave a quick shake of his head. "But..." He looked down at his bleeding wrist, then he lowered it to Irene.

  "Master! After feeding me... you won't..."

  "Silence, woman!" Cyrus interrupted as he pressed the bloody wrist to Irene's chapped lips. Irene did not latch and turned her head away. "Layla, hold her head still. I will force my blood down her throat if I have to!"

  "Leave her be." Although her voice was quiet, there was an urgency in it that bordered on reproach.

  "What? Make up your mind. Save her, or don't save her?" Cyrus scoffed, grabbing Irene's chin, causing her to wail in pain. He then placed his wrist over her mouth. Layla grabbed his shoulder, but then she saw Irene's blackened hand reach up and seize his arm, bringing it closer as she began to suck with as much abandon as a nursing child.

  "Thank you." Although Layla said these words, she pondered upon Cyrus's intentions. It was a fleeting moment, as she knew his reasons seldom mattered to her. The outcome was the ultimate goal. The price she may pay would be a matter to resolve later.

  "For what? I'm doing this for myself. Like you said, I invested a lot in her already so, no, I'm not going to toss her aside. I'm just running a little... triage here... is... all..."

  Layla had to pry Irene away from Cyrus, lest she drain him to the point of frenzy. There was no fight left in the girl and she rolled away from both of them. "Anyway..." Cyrus said as he crawled over to the closest bed, then leaned against it. "I'm not... the only one... am I? Tell me Layla... you... wanted me to..."

  Layla shook her head. "It is not for me to want anything."

  "Bah. Enough! I'm... too... wane... to play this game. As much... as I love... games." Cyrus retorted as he took great effort to get back to his feet. Layla set Irene's head down gently and rose to steady him.

  "You must rest," Layla cautioned. He pushed her away, stumbling back and falling onto the bed.

  "Layla... for once tell me... that you want something!" Cyrus demanded, fighting to keep his voice firm despite it withering away to exhaustion.

  "If you insist." Layla sat down beside him and wrapped her arm around him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against her bosom. "I want..."

  "I'm listening."

  "I want Irene."

  There were no words immediately. She could feel him grow momentarily tense, lifting his head away from her breast. But then he flopped back against her. "I'm... not sure whether to be... excited... or threatened... by that."

  "That is up to you, Master." Layla rubbed his back, a subtle smile momentarily gracing her lips. He nestled against her, too exhausted to make any further quips.

  Layla remained silent and patient, listening to her sire's heart beat slow and seemingly stop. Only then did she carefully transfer him to the bed, gently laying a cover over him.

  "Layla..." croaked Irene. She rolled onto her side, finally opening her eyes and seeming more aware.

  "Yes?"

  There was a long pause.

  "Nevermind."

  Layla knelt beside Irene, helping her to a sitting position. "Whatever pain you feel now, it will end. I will stay by you." Irene shuddered and wretched out a few sobs. Cautiously, she placed a hand gently on her spawnling's shoulder. "Rest now. By sunset, things will be clearer."

  "It's... already clear." Irene's voice, however, was not. Going from a low gritty voice to popping up to a near squeal, she lacked grace, but her determination was nonetheless palpable. "When I recover... I go my own way."

  "Then I will prepare you for that day."

  "I... don't want... your guidance. I will... never... be like you and Cyrus."

  "I am not like Cyrus."

  "But you... do anything... he tells you to."

  Layla smiled faintly, her eyelids drooping. "Correct. Thus, I am not like Cyrus."

  There was a short syllable that may have been the beginning of a laugh, but it came out like the bray of a donkey before being cut short. Irene curled up tighter, her whole body trembling.

  "Irene. Show me how, and I will give you the respect you deserve. And when you are strong enough to stand on your own, leave Cyrus to me."

  "Why?" Irene looked up with her blood shot eyes, eyelids struggling against facial blisters to open wider. "Guilt? Pity?" Her teeth seemed all the whiter against her seared flesh, her lower lip pulled down exposing her reddened gums.

  "Love. Imposed or not, I feel it and do not fight it. I hope by nurturing it, it will be replaced with a far more genuine feeling."

  "Why!? Why ...don't you... fight?"

  "It simply is not my way." Layla carefully ran her hand over what remained of Irene's frazzled hair. "It can be yours. But it is not mine."

  Irene rested her head against Layla. "I... hate... him."

  "That is your prerogative. But you needn't fear him. I am with you."

  "I don't... want to live... forever... hurting... hunting... hurting..."

  The demands of slumber were growing heavier, and Layla could sense Irene slipping away. Once she detected the changes in her breath and heart rate, she carried her to the other bed and set her down gently to recuperate.

  Layla looked over to where Cyrus slept. That was where she'd belonged for over a century. Now, she had Irene. Though unsure what the future would hold, she felt a new chapter about to begin. Vigilant at their sides she would remain, faithfully waiting for sundown.