Darkest Before Dawn

The brakes of the ancient bus squealed to a halt and the door hissed open. She took Robert's hand, allowing him to help her weary body up. It was late and as much as she hated to admit it. There wasn't much more she could do tonight.

John Mark dejectedly kicked an empty beer bottle. The glass careened into a far wall and shattered into bits in a shower of tinkling sounds falling against concrete. He walked the deserted sidewalk back to the apartment. Patience was not one of his virtues and it had been hours since the last sighting-the only sighting. He worried that he and his brothers would be too late to save Patrick. The city had so many little nooks and crannies. Searching them all would be impossible.

John Mark stopped dead in his tracks, slipping tightly along the side of a towering brick building. The big Kahuna of vampires was standing across the street, partially hidden by the shadows, intently watching the apartment building. His gaze fixed on Danielle and Robert as they wearily made their way inside. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. Apparently, the rogue was a better tracker than he was. Since the rogue had managed to track Robert and Danielle back to Alex's place. John Mark brought the mic close to his mouth. "Raven across the street. The fucking rogue is on top of us. Our position is compromised!" he whispered urgently into the mouthpiece.

"Copy." Robert rushed, practically dragging Danielle into the elevator and hurriedly pressed the button for their floor. "We were followed," he said, sliding a dagger from its sheath. He'd fight to the death before he let one of those son of a bitches taste one drop of his blood. Even though the elevator wasn't heated and the night was cool. Beads of nervous sweat broke out on his brow and across his upper lip.

Danielle gasped. She stared up at her husband. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. They hadn't gone straight home. They'd ridden bus after bus for hours before deciding to call it quits for the night. "How? We were so careful. We changed buses three times on our way back. How did he follow us?" Fumbling at her belt line, she released a dagger of her own. Ready to defend. Ready to die, if need be.

John Mark watched as the vampire stared on intently. He made no move, no sign of aggression. He was standing there on the sidewalk bathed in shadows, simply watching. John Mark knew better than to engage this particular vampire. He was an ancient and very dangerous. The most damage John Mark could hope to inflict was to piss him off and maybe buy Robert and Danielle enough time to escape.

This was the one they were looking for. There was no mistaking the red ponytail gathered at the back of his neck to trail down his narrow shoulders or the waves of power that radiated off of him. John Mark sucked in a breath as the vampire scanned along the storefronts and various buildings that lined the street. Before he could release the breath, the vampire was gone. Poof. Vanished. John Mark cautiously made his way across the street, hopeful for a trail. But, the stink of the city masked the vampire's scent. He circled the building and combed the lobby before heading up on the elevator. The perimeter was secured, even if their position had been compromised. At first light, they would move to a different location and set up shop.

John Mark rapped on the door of the apartment. Greeted by a sharp lethal looking dagger wielded by a nervous Robert. "Hey its just me. I've checked it out. Our perimeter is secure, at least for now." He lowered his hands down to his sides as Robert stepped back to let him in. "You guys try to get some rest. I'll keep watch and pack our stuff. In the morning we haul ass to a different location."

Nervously, Robert sheathed the dagger into the leather belt at his waist. Danielle and he, they'd been so careful, maybe too careful. Paying too much attention to the bigger picture to notice the vampire trailing them. Setting up shop had taken valuable time from the mission. Having to move, breaking down and resetting the equipment would waste time nobody had. Patrick was out there. And everyday that passed decreased the odds that he was coming home in one piece.

John Mark frowned and began breaking apart equipment, hastily stuffing it into totes. Not the least bit mindful of the rat's nest of wires and cords Robert would have to sort out later. Robert and Danielle retreated to Alex's old bedroom and shut the door behind them. Desperate for a few hours of sleep before the party started all over again. He'd already called report to Lucien. There was no need for Lucien to remind him. Nobody had to say it. Yet, it was on everybody's minds. They were running out of time.

Chapter 8

Marcus stood on the other side of the thick steel door, eying it as if it were a snake and at any minute it would bite. To say he hated his life would be putting it mildly. His life sucked. Literally. Idly, he thumbed the lighter stashed away in his pocket. There was a human in that room. And the scent of her blood was driving his newborn baby vampire senses into overdrive. He was hungry. He was cold. And he wished more than anything else, he were dead. To think, he always thought a raging case of lung cancer would be the death of him. Nope, no such luck. To die rotting away in some hospital room, being eaten from the inside out. Not going to happen. Ever. Fucking vampires.

He knew the right thing to do. But, damned if he wasn't too much of a coward to do it. If he had any balls at all, he'd march right up to that spindly-necked bitch and snatch that key from around her throat. He'd stake that puffed-up, pansy of a brother of hers in his black little heart. Fucker lusted after his own sister. How sick was that? Yeah, if he were any kind of a man at all, he'd get his hands on that key, unlock this door, and let the girl go. Even up the scales, just a little. One life, in exchange for the dozens he'd taken in his short time as a vampire. Hardly a trade. Of course, he wasn't a man. He was...nothing...

Candace trotted up the deserted hall in search of her only friend. Marcus was always making things harder on himself. Hell, harder on them all. He was pissed. Ok, so were the rest of them. None of them had asked for this to happen. None of them wanted to be the things that they were. Everyone wanted to go home and pick up where they left off. But, none of them were going to get that chance. Even if they could go home, what would be left for them, left of them if they did? "What are you doing up here?"

Marcus shot a glance over his shoulder at Candace. She was the only thing that kept his sanity. And then she only held him together by a fragile thread. He couldn't imagine what her life was like...before. Who she was...before. He would have liked to think that if they had, by some chance, met, before... They would have had coffee together. Spent hours in each other's company, talking. He was kidding himself with that idea. They wouldn't have given one another the time of day. They would have passed on the street and kept on walking without an upward glance. There wasn't any point to reference, to even think about the people they had been...before. There was now, who they were now, and this hell that erased every possibility of any life they could have had, alone or together...before. "Nothing."

Candace's eyes flicked nervously to the door and then to Marcus. Whatever that girl's fate was, it wasn't their concern. If he tried to help her, he'd only make it worse on the girl, and on himself. And if something happened to him, it would definitely make things worse on her. She had no one else, but him. Unfortunately, he was so blinded by his own misery he couldn't see past it and look on hers. Maybe, that was what kept her going. Gave her a reason to exist in this hellish substitution of a life. He needed her to take care of him. And she needed someone desperately to take care of. "Come on, we'd better get back before we're missed."

Marcus shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and shuffled after Candace. She didn't have to point out the obvious. There wasn't a damn thing they could do to help the girl. Her fate was sealed the minute she caught the master's eye. At least, she was the lucky one. Compared to this, death didn't seem so bad. The reek of suffering and hunger rolled from under the door in thick waves. Given the harshness of the smells, and the unmistakable scent of vampire, she didn't have much longer to wait.

He looked over his shoulder at the door. Ready for one last kick in his conscience's balls. The door might as well have been a mile thick and a mile high as impenetrable as the vault at Fort Knox. "I'm sorry," he mouthed silently. Head pointed down, he followed the tracks left from Candace's shoes on the filth-encrusted tile.

Chapter 9

Nikki yawned as she opened her eyes and looked up at Patrick. Embarrassed, she lifted her head from his lap and sat up. "I must have fallen asleep." Her stomach moaned angrily, protesting the days of starvation. She smiled at Patrick shyly, poking at the flatness of her empty belly. "This has really been a great diet plan. But, I'd kill for a huge platter of bacon and eggs right now."

She bit her lip at her words, regretting them. Patrick was suffering too, every bit as hungry. His expression was pinched and drawn in, suffering silently, while she bitched and complained. He didn't have to be hungry, she reminded herself. He was holding out. He would continue to deny himself for as long as possible. Not because he wanted to, but for her.

To him, she was a juicy morsel. It would be like someone sitting a plate of food right under her nose and telling her not to eat it. He suffered worse than she did. She had no option, but to go hungry. He had a choice. And he was choosing her life over his.

Nikki moaned, slowly scrambling to her feet. Wavering with fatigue from the lack of nutrition. Silently, she cursed every diet she'd ever been crazy enough to try. Damned every hour she'd spent sweating in the gym to drop a few extra pounds. What she wouldn't give right now for so much as a scrap, a nibble, of the food she'd denied herself in the name of vanity. "I guess it's time for some more water stew. Thank God, at least we have that much."

Nikki fumbled in the frail bit of light that filtered in through the cracks in the boards covering the window. Doggedly, she made her way to the bathroom sink and took a deep gulp from her cupped hands. Something in her stomach was better than nothing. A bit more contrite, she glanced through the doorway at Patrick. He watched her silently, almost with envy, as she sated her thirst.

Worried thoughts about their predicament ran through her mind. She was trapped in an abandoned hotel or something similar, slowly starving to death with a hungry vampire, who was also starving and losing his control. She sighed, silently resolving herself to her fate. There wasn't going to be a way out of this. And she'd rather meet her maker on her own terms than have her life ripped away.

Patrick stretched out at the floor and stared up at the ceiling. Attempting to distract his thoughts from the sweet perfume of Nikki's blood. Softly and gently, the scent toyed with his nostrils, coaxing out the hunter with the heavenly essence of easy prey. She might wish for a platter brimming with bacon and eggs. But, he wished for death. It was the only way he was going to keep from killing her.

He wondered how much longer he could keep in control. If he had the strength, he had no doubt that he could claw his way through the narrow opening in the boards until it was wide enough to get them out. However, his captors had seen to it that he was too weak to save his own ass, let alone Nikki's. They weren't going anywhere except, in his case, to the pits of Hell. And guess what, he was already there.

Nikki sniffed back tears, frustrated by her sense of powerlessness. She had to get out, or die trying. She shuffled across the floor, tripping over a board she'd managed to pry free, along the way to her corner of the room. Gathering her strength, she lifted the board. If she could use it to break the window behind the other boards, perhaps some passerby would hear her cries for help.

She was skinny. Maybe, she could wiggle through the narrow space between the boards and climb down to safety. Who knew? Doing something beat sitting around doing nothing. She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the board. The wood was rough and jagged against her palms. Tiny splinters dug into her flesh. Exhausting the last bit of energy reserves she had left, she swung the board toward the open gap between the boards, sending a spray of broken glass showering down on her head.

Patrick's senses sprung to life at the gust of fresh, cool, late spring air, rushing into the room. The scents and sounds of humanity assaulted him. They were so close. The taste of freedom was driving him mad. He lifted his body up on his wobbling legs and took a few steps toward the window before he collapsed to his knees. The tiny rivulet of fresh blood from a cut on Nikki's cheek mingled with the tantalizing mix of smells from the city. His resolve was vanished on the spring breeze. His fangs throbbed and ached. He cried in anguish, fighting to hold his hunter back. "Get away from me!" he hissed. "Lock yourself in the bathroom and stay there." His breath came out in short agonized pants. His fingers dug holes in the musty carpet beneath his crouched body/ "You're bleeding, not much time... Hurry!"

Nikki gasped in horror. Looking into the eyes of a predator. Patrick was gone. The thing kneeling before her was dangerous and feral. "Patrick," she whispered, wielding the board like a weapon. "We're in this together, fight it." She longed for a clear path to the bathroom. But, he was blocking the way. The only way to safety was to walk straight into danger. Not willing to take that chance, she backed up against a wall. Trembling, watching his shoulders rise and fall with strained effort.

Patrick smelled her fear, pungent and burning in his nose. Yet, she stood her ground, holding the board like a baseball bat. Perhaps it was her bravery. Her desperate will to cling to life despite the bleakness of the odds that called him back. He scrabbled across the floor until his back struck the cool decaying wall on the opposite side of the room. "I'm sorry we're in this mess."

"Together," Nikki said, exhaling a semi-relieved sigh. "We're in this mess together." Weak kneed, she slid down the wall. Her fingers clung to the board. Reluctant to let it go. Togetherness only went so far. The thought that she had some meager means of defending herself from that thing was more reassuring than the words that came out of her mouth.

"If I had the strength, we wouldn't be in this mess. I could get us out," Patrick mumbled, wrapping his arms around his knees. He had to think of something. Hefting his heavy body up, he leaned against the wall for support. He stumbled toward the window; freedom teased him as he clamored onto the sill. "Damn."

The glimpse of the world from the window's narrow view wasn't reassuring. "We're at least nine stories up. Too far to jump." If he were at full strength, he might be able to make the jump with her on his back. But, in his current state weaker and hungrier than hell, jumping with her in tow was impossible.

Nikki wiped the trickle of blood off her cheek with the corner of her tattered shirt. "Maybe, there's a way."

Patrick slid to the floor. His wobbly legs were too weak to support his own weight any longer. "I won't do it." He shook his head in determination. The grim expression, one of quiet resignation, told him where her thoughts were leading. He wouldn't drink from her even if she offered. The risk was too great. "I won't be able to stop. I won't let that part of myself take over. Never."

"I'm willing to take the risk." Nikki said as she crawled over the dusty tile and torn carpeting toward Patrick. "If just one of us gets out of this, its worth it."

"Not to me. You don't understand. Please, don't come any closer." Patrick scooted away from Nikki. Till his back hit the wall. It was still too close. He would not do this. It was what the rogues wanted. They wanted him to kill. And he would not give in. He couldn't. If he did, he would never be the same. And he'd lost himself once before. He would not lose himself again. This time, there'd be no coming back.

Nikki stopped and looked at Patrick hesitantly. Considering she was willingly offering him her blood. And he was a vampire. Somehow, she thought he'd look what...eager?...thankful?...hungry? He looked positively mortified at the suggestion. "How many people have you killed?"

Patrick looked away in shame. "Too many. I was left to my own devices after I was made. A new, hungry, vampire surrounded by nameless faceless people." He sighed, " Compare it to...well, like a kid in a candy store." He traced patterns in the dust on the wall with his finger and sucked in a ragged breath. "I hated what I had become. I fled the city in horror. Hoping to find some peace in the country."

"How did it happen? Nikki asked. She had no right to pry. No right to question. But, they both knew what was coming. Eventually, he'd cave. He'd have to kill her. It gave her some slight comfort to know that he didn't want to. He'd hate himself for it. But, he would, no matter what the consequences, he would. So maybe, she did have the right to know everything that was possible about the man that would inevitably take her life.

Patrick sighed. He was about to break another rule. But, he couldn't see the harm. Soon, they'd both be dead; his secrets would die with them. "My parents passed away when I was very young and I was raised by my uncle. My uncle was a very wealthy and ruthless man. He showed no affection for me what so ever. I was cared for by a series of nannies and when I was old enough, he shipped me from boarding school to boarding school. I never really knew him very well. He was just a signature on the bottom of a check."

Patrick smiled bitterly. Remembered his uncle and his cold, relentless, steely, gray eyes. "I went to stay with him one summer while on a break from school when it happened. I was young, in my late-teens. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. But, I thought I was a man. I was wrong. My uncle was a very shrewd businessman and it would seem that he had finally double-crossed the wrong person. I overheard a heated argument, echoing down the hall from his office. Naturally, I was curious. So, I went to the door to eavesdrop."

"When the door was flung open. There I was wide eyed and scared shitless. The man that my uncle was arguing with snatched me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me inside the office. I had never seen such a frightening man in my life. His skin was white as a sheet of paper. His eyes flashed with fury and rage. And he had very long, white, daggers for teeth. His hands, they froze my skin when they touched me."

Nikki gasped in horror. But, was held fast, listening in morbid fascination to Patrick's story. She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and begged him to continue. After what she had been through and seen, it was some comfort to know that someone had seen and been through worse.

Patrick's voice was soft and low as he went on with the story. "Apparently, my uncle had taken the man's money and invested it foolishly. The deal that turned sour. When the man demanded repayment, my uncle had no way or no intention of paying the debt. The man took me as payment." Patrick scoffed, "The funny thing, I had no idea my uncle even knew I existed let alone loved me the least bit. Until I saw the sheen of tears of regret rolling down his cheeks as he, helpless to intervene, watched the vampire take my blood, killing me slowly, gulp by gulp.