It was about midnight on a Saturday a week into the summer. Irena was lounging on her bed in a nightgown and re-reading Anne Rice's
Interview with the Vampire
for the third time. Her long blue-black hair fell over her face, obscuring vibrant blue eyes, and she had to keep tossing her head to clear her vision. She had the pale, bookish look of a girl who tends to spend most of her time indoors, curled up on the sofa with a favorite novel in her hands. She turned a page and cast an annoyed glance over at the slatted metal opening of the air duct in the corner.
Her father's voice had been filtering up through the vent for the past half-hour, but Irena was doing her best to ignore it. She didn't have any desire to eavesdrop on his conversations. He had been acting rather strange recently, ever since her step-mother had left him for the mail man, and Irena had no doubt that he was up to something seedy. She had noticed an inordinately large amount of liquor bottles in the recycling bin lately, and he had been avoiding her more than usual. He had also taken to disappearing for days at a time, only to come home in the middle of the night, drunk and quarrelsome.
She didn't want to know what he was doing during his absences. Irena hadn't gotten along with her father since her mother's death five years ago, and she tried to have as little to do with him as possible. The only reason she was still living at home was that her father was the one paying her college tuition. The money was in a non-transferable fund set up by her parents, and she knew that if she wanted to go to school, she had to deal with her father.
Suddenly, the voice coming up through the vent escalated to a shout, and Irena could hear exactly what her father was saying, despite her efforts to shut him out.
"I told you that I'd pay goddamnit! Why won't you people leave me alone? I just need a little bit more time for chrissakes! A month is all I'm asking! I can get you the money then!"
His voice was somehow shrill, even as he slurred most of his consonants and it felt as if an ice cube slipped down to Irena's stomach. He owed someone money, a whole lot of money by the sound of it. Had he done something stupid and had to sell the house? What if he...what if he had taken money out of her college fund? She needed that money to get through school. A tingle of panic went through her and Irena put down her book. She padded to the vent and knelt, pressing her ear against the metal. Her father's voice had been replaced by another's, a man's by the sound, but all she could make out was a low, indistinct murmur.
The murmur was suddenly cut off by another bout of her father's shouting, and he was slurring so badly now that Irena couldn't understand a word he said. She supposed that she should just stuff a pillow in the vent and go back to her book, but the shrillness that she had heard in her father's voice worried her. She had never heard him sound like that before, and knew that it meant he was in deep trouble. She had to find out more.
Irena jumped up from the floor, threw a robe over her thin nightgown, then went to the door and eased it open, willing the hinges not to squeak. She began to creep down the stairs, deciding that she would listen to the rest of the conversation at the door to her father's study and see if she could figure out what he had done.
She made it down the stairs without making a sound and tiptoed through the hallway, making sure to keep to the sides because some of the middle boards creaked. When she reached her father's study door, she saw that it was open the barest crack. Irena pressed herself against the wall, and inclined her head towards the crack in the door, now able to understand every word that was being said inside the room.
"I've given you everything I have! There is nothing else left for me to sell! I've sold both of my cars, my house, my dead wife's jewelry!"
Irena felt suddenly sick. He had sold her mother's jewelry. Everything that Irena had asked him to keep for her until she was old enough to wear it. She wanted very badly to stomp into that room and shout at her father, but she forced herself to remain still and silent. He was still ranting on, enumerating all that he had sold to pay off his debt, and Irena forced her attention back to him.
"Every piece of electronic equipment in this house has been sold, every piece of art, every piece of china, and every scrap of silver! I've damn near emptied my bank account! I've emptied my daughter's college fund! You've ruined me! I have nothing left!"
Irena's breath left her and she had to slump against the wall for support. He had drained her college fund. He had stolen her ticket out of this godforsaken house to pay back a debt. Irena's throat worked and her eyes grew hot, but she forced the tears back. Now was not the time to indulge in self pity. Now was not the time to cry over the destruction of all of her hopes for the future.
"Please spare me the theatrics, Mr. Marshal," said the second voice. It was one Irena had never heard before, deep and melodious, with a trace of an accent that might have been either Spanish or Italian. "I am sure you have a something tucked away for an occasion such as this. If I had delayed a few days in collecting my debt, I am sure that I would have found you long gone. It's lucky that I caught up with you before you acted in such an unwise manner, because I don't think you would have liked the consequences had I been forced to send someone out to find you."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
Irena winced at how ridiculous her father sounded as he tried in his drunkenness to sound indignant.
"Yes, I am," came the second voice's cool reply.
"Well I'm not a liar! I've given you everything I have!" her father spluttered.
"I sincerely doubt that," replied the other man. "Mr. Marshal, let me make this as plain to you as I can. If you do not pay me the remainder of your debt, then I will be forced to come forward with information which I am sure you would rather leave hidden. All of those bribes...and that prostitute in Nassau..."
"How did you--?" Irena, who by this time was feeling as if she was going to be sick right there in the hallway, heard that her father sounded terrified.
"I make it my business to know all the dirty little secrets of the people I gamble with." Irena decided that it was time for her to leave. She'd heard enough, more than she had ever wanted to know, in fact. If she didn't go soon she would break down right outside the door and alert both men to her presence. She had turned to leave when the sound of breaking glass came from the study, immediately followed by the dull thump of a body hitting the floor. A loud, involuntary gasp escaped her, and then Irena clamped her mouth shut, fighting the urge to run back to the safety of her bedroom. She turned her back to the study once more and began to tip-toe back down the hall. She had gotten about halfway to the staircase when she heard a voice behind her.
"It's rude to listen at doorways, Miss Marshal."
Irena whirled around and saw that a man was regarding her from the entrance of her father's study. He was tall and slim, with olive skin, amber eyes, and long black hair which he had tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. She stumbled back a few steps, fear almost crippling her, and suddenly became aware that her robe was gaping open, giving the stranger a clear view of her thinly clad body. Cheeks stinging red, she snatched the terrycloth robe to her chest, pulling the thick folds closed and shielding herself from the stranger's gaze. This seemed to amuse him, and his lips quirked into a smile. Irena wanted nothing more than to flee back to her room, but she couldn't. This man had invaded her home, had taken away her future. She knew that it was her father's fault, but right now she didn't care. Irena drew herself up and forced her eyes to meet the stranger's.
"I don't know who you are, but you need to leave right now." She hoped that she sounded calm and collected, hoped that she didn't sound like a little girl playing at maturity.
"Your father invited me into your home, Miss Marshal. If anyone is going to throw me out, it should be him."
"What was that crash I heard just now?"
"That was your father, dropping his glass on the floor and then slipping in his own spilled whiskey." A grimace flickered over his face.
"Oh."
The man took a few steps towards her and Irena had to resist the compulsion to back away from him. "What is your name?" he asked.
"Irena," she said instantly, and then cursed herself for answering his question.
"A lovely name. It suits you." His eyes swept her body, lingering over every detail, as if he were observing a painting. Irena's blush returned, creeping up her throat and into her cheeks. Her hand clenched on the folds of her robe. "Strange how such a pathetic man could sire a creature as magnificent as yourself. Your mother must have been quite a beauty."
Irena couldn't help backing up a few steps from the intensity of the stranger's stare. She stumbled on her robe, and it fell off of her shoulders, exposing her once more. The stranger's gaze roved over her, taking in every curve of her body, and everywhere his eyes lingered, Irena felt a tingling heat dance over her skin. Flushing with humiliation, and shaking with repressed grief, she pulled her robe around her once more and turned away from the man in the hallway. She ran the length of the corridor, bounded up the stairs and into her room, locking the door behind her. Stumbling over to the bed, she collapsed on top of it and began taking long, trembling breaths to keep herself from dissolving into a fit of sobbing.
When she had gotten herself under control, she raised her head from the bed to look at the clock on the nightstand, convinced that several hours had passed since she had wandered downstairs to eavesdrop on her father. According to the clock's display, however, she had been gone for only half an hour. She sat up, her body still shaking slightly. She could once more hear voices drifting up from the vent in the floor, but this time, she had no desire to listen in. Irena took a pillow from her bed, lifted the cover to the vent and then shoved the pillow inside the duct, muting the voices completely. Then she fell back into bed, laid her face in the remaining pillows and slept.
********** Irena awoke the next morning to a soft knocking at her bedroom door. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and for a moment, couldn't remember why she felt so miserable. Then it all crashed down on her again, and the breath left her lungs. With an effort, she managed to shove her despair and rage away. She would think about that later; right now, there was someone knocking on her door. She glanced at the clock and was shocked to see that it read 2:00 pm. Irena had never slept this late in her entire life. Her father had probably come to check on her.
"I'm coming Dad, I'm coming," she muttered, peeling herself out of bed and heading for her bedroom door. Irena turned the lock and then opened the door a few inches to see her father's hung-over face. "Yes?"
