Darkest Before Dawn

"Luckily for me, I guess, the vampire was as ruthless as my uncle. When I was drained to the point of death, he bit his wrist and forced me to take his blood. I was too weak to stop him. As I fed, he laughed at the creativity and cruelty of his revenge. My uncle was horrified.

"When the first draughts of the change hit me. Freezing me as his blood surged through my body the vampire turned his wrath on my uncle. I lay on the floor twisting and wriggling in agony, watching every bit as helplessly as the vampire ripped out my uncle's throat, killing him instantly. I wanted his blood, Nikki. I wanted my uncle's blood."

"I fell into unconsciousness, whether from shock or from being turned, I don't know. But, when I awoke, I found myself face down in an alley covered in filth and gore, abandoned by my maker. I wandered through the city, a lost, soulless thing. But, I finally made my way back to my uncle's house only to find it in ashes."

"Oh my god! That's awful." Nikki shuddered in her skin and gasped in realization. "An eternal teenager." She couldn't guess his true age. His face was angelic and youthful framed by unruly waves of sandy brown hair. His body was lean and gangly, not the body of a man, but of a boy. But, his green eyes were haunted, reflecting myriad experiences she couldn't begin to fathom.

"No," Patrick smirked, "Almost eternal. I do age. And I certainly can die. Its just a little harder to accomplish killing me."

"How long ago was it?"

"Over a century ago. The city was a lot smaller then. And people were a lot more trusting, finding a meal was easy." Patrick sighed. "When I realized what it was that I had become..."

"A vampire," Nikki interjected.

Patrick shook his head, "No, a killer. I fled the city trying to escape the temptations of my baser nature. I couldn't do it. I didn't want to kill. But, surrounded by humanity, what choice did I have?"

"There are others like you?" Nikki asked, carefully wrapping her fingers around a sharp, cool, jagged wedge of glass that had fallen from the broken window. She held it up to her face and closed one eye. Peering at Patrick's fuzzy, distorted outline through the thick coating of grime. "Vampires that don't kill?" Idly, as if the plan in her mind hadn't taken root, she laid the bit of broken window on the floor and spun it on the grungy tile, round and round with the tip of her fingernail.

"Yes, The Sons." Patrick's body stiffened as he watched Nikki pick the shrapnel from the window up between her fingers and slide just a little closer. "I didn't know they'd been tracking me. I was stupid and careless. All they had to do was follow the trail of corpses I left in my path. Led them right to me. By rights, they should have killed me then and there." He shook his head and dropped his chin to his chest in regret for what he knew he would do. "Right now, I wish they had."

He lifted his eyes to Nikki's intent and calculating gaze. She was planning something. He could see it in her expression. Feel it thought the link from her blood. He worked so hard to cut her off, to disconnect their minds. He couldn't add her suffering and her hunger to his own. He couldn't endure the combined misery of them both to his fragile hold on his control. Otherwise, he'd snap. He'd do it for no other reason than to give her peace and deliver her from this hell. "Everyday since, I've worked hard to repay the favor, earn back the life they saved. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for them. I'd die for my brothers."

"That's why you're here." Nikki filled in the rest of what Patrick hadn't said. She crawled across the dingy floor. Bits of grime and filth scraped across her palms and embedded on their surface. "These vampires, the ones that did this to us. They aren't friends?"

Patrick snickered at Nikki's way with words. "Hardly. Captured by the enemy." He draped an arm over her shoulders and guided her head to rest against his chest. The soft pounding of her heart against his body was a comfort. Reminded him of what he suffered and fought for. And what he was willing to die for. Her life. Slowly, slicking his fingers over her hair, he whispered, "I'm only sorry that you're here with me. That by just being human, it was enough to drag you into this."

Nikki closed her eyes and rested against the slight warmth of Patrick's chest. In this moment of clarity, she could see past the monster and see the man. "Patrick, if you don't make it. If...," she couldn't bring herself to finish the question. If he failed, if he forced her and took her life, he'd be one of them. Rogue.

None of this was his fault anymore than it was hers. The situation they were in was a lose-lose situation. He could fight against his nature only so much longer. If...no when...he killed her, this man cradling her in his arms, stroking her hair with such tenderness, regret, and compassion would be gone forever. Leaving only a soulless shell behind, a tool for the rogues. If she made a choice, gave her life to him of her own free will. He'd be utterly and absolutely blameless, innocent of wrong. He couldn't save her life. But, she could save his in every way that mattered.

Patrick pulled his arm free from around Nikki's shoulders and gave her a gentle nudge. "We'll make it," he said, jaw tightened in stubborn determination. "I will figure out a way to get you out of this. As for me, it doesn't matter. I won't do what they want. They need me alive. And I can live a very, very long time, Nikki. But, I can't live with myself. If I betray you I betray myself, and worst of all, my brothers. No matter what, I won't kill for the rogues."

"Patrick," Nikki said low under her breath. Thin, pale traces of moonlight danced across the jagged, dangerously sharp and pointed scrap of glass. She reached out and traced a path with the end of her finger along its' cool, smooth surface. "Even if you could die. Even if you're not as valuable to them as you think you are and they kill you. I'm not getting out of this. If you don't do it, they will. How much longer do you think they'll let either one of us live? They won't wait forever. Patrick, neither one of us has forever, not in this life anyway."

Patrick's shoulders slumped against the wall. Damn her for being right. The rogues wouldn't play the waiting game much longer. Eventually, they'd come. They'd force his secrets out of him. The gravity of her situation wasn't lost on either one of them. Sooner or later, her time would be up. She wasn't walking out of this, no matter what. He forced his eyes to meet hers. "I'm sorry," he said, in a thick, gravely voice, heavy with regret.

"I'd rather have a choice." Tears sprang from the corners of Nikki's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. The glass meant to protect her from the outside world would be the means to send her out of this life and into the next. She gasped in pain as the sharp edge dug into her skin and dragged across her right wrist, tearing the flesh. Dizzy with wave of nausea, she watched the life bleed out of her. "Make my death worth something, Patrick."

Chapter 10

Janine looked better now. Showered, dressed, and her hair combed into submission. Alex made small talk, and avoided topics that would set her BFF off and send her back into that windowsill. Primarily, the subject that everyone tiptoed around like a landmine was Patrick. Any mention of him sent her hands trembling and tears to the corners of her eyes. Even her dad, clumsy as a bull in a china shop when it came to anything to do with emotional outbursts, treaded with extreme care. Her mother was somewhat better at handling Janine's fragile emotions. She'd even managed to guilt Janine into eating a few bites of supper this evening.

Her parents, hell even Lucien, thought it best to call Doctor Thomas Sterling. Have him make a house call to check on Janine's emotional and physical state. Maybe, he had a pill that would fix her. Transform her back into the bubbly, carefree girl she'd been a week ago. Alex squashed that idea like a bug under her shoe. Drugging her best friend into submission was not going to fix her. Nothing would fix her except for getting Patrick back, safe at home, where he belonged.

Janine sat on the edge of the couch. Her shoulders hunched in exhaustion. Everyone was so careful around her. Hedging their conversations away from anything having to do with Patrick or the mission. Hell, they wouldn't even let her watch the local news for fear there'd be something in the broadcast that would set her off. Lucien had been conspicuously absent all day. And when he did come, he whisked Alex and her parents into the kitchen. Well out of earshot. Nobody was telling her anything. Maybe, there was nothing to tell. But, even that would be something.

Her eyes flicked to the electric Christmas candle lit in the windowsill. Longingly, she wished she could sit beside it and stare out into the night. She wondered exactly how deeply that little light penetrated into the darkness. And would it be bright enough for Patrick to find his way home.

Lucien snapped his cell phone closed. More bad news. The day had been filled with it. No matter where his team searched, they didn't seem to be making any headway. He should be there, leading the effort. Not stuck here, playing leader. If he'd been a good leader, a smarter leader, he would have anticipated this move by the rogues. Patrick wouldn't be in the enemy's hands. Now, things were worse. The rogues knew they had company. The team's position had been compromised. The move had been risky to begin with. And he in his finite wisdom had placed even more humans in danger.

Manpower was desperately low. He could call in assistance from the surrounding lodges. But, that would leave the other lodges, the only allies they had, in a compromised position themselves. He would handle this on his own. The Great Father had placed total control of the rescue efforts in his hands. Delegated this mission to him and his men. Also, a risky move. If they failed...no, there would be no failure. He would get Patrick back before it was too late.

In the morning John Mark was moving Robert and Danielle to a more secure location. Lucien's instincts screamed to pull the team out. Better one life lost. Patrick would want it that way. He wouldn't want others to risk their lives for him. If he were in Patrick's situation, he'd feel the same way. But, he couldn't do that. He couldn't give up, if there was still a shred of hope left. There were people counting on him. Maybe, not Patrick who would assume that he'd do what was best for the Sons. But, Janine, he saw it in her expectant eyes. She counted on him to bring Patrick back alive. And as long as she kept that candle burning, like a beacon, in the window. As long as she believed, so would he. It wasn't over till it was over.

Chapter 11

"No!" Patrick hissed a curse. He gripped Nikki's wrist, lifting it to his lips. He lapped at the wound, her sweet taste hot on his tongue. He intended on closing the wound and keeping her alive. He wouldn't allow her to do this, to sacrifice herself for him. Shuddering, powerless to resist, he opened his mouth, allowing the sweet crimson liquid to flow over his tongue and down his throat. She tasted so good. Each drop he ingested restored his ebbing strength. He yielded to his hunger. His fangs tore at the flesh, damning him. This animal was who he was deep down inside, in his core. He was a killer and for decades, playing the devout Son, he'd only been deluding himself.

Nikki felt her spirit float along. Her last memory was of watching the sunlight dimly peeked through the narrow opening in the boards. The broken glass on the floor reflected the lemon yellow rays of dawn, casting prisms of rainbow colored light along the ceiling. Nine stories below the city sighed and opened its eyes to another day. As the city woke up, Nikki faded, succumbing to the darkness, allowing it to wash her away. It was nice here, in the land of nothing. Peaceful.

Patrick stared into Nikki's cold, lifeless eyes long after his fatal kiss sealed her destiny. Her lifeblood flowed through him, strengthening his body, repairing the damage brought on by starvation. Muttering a curse, he gently lowered her lids, blocking their dim lifeless stare. She'd wanted to die on her own terms. In making her choice, she'd taken all of his away.

He hadn't meant to take everything she had offered to him. But, nonetheless, he had. Patrick threw his head back and bellowed a roar, fueled with rage and self-contempt. She had trusted him and he betrayed her. After all the decades of battling the hunter inside of him, all the years of meditation, and self sacrifice, he was no better than when he was first introduced into this world. He was a beast. A murderer.

Fury added to Patrick's strength as he crouched in the corner of the room. Out of reach of the sun's blinding rays. Muscle corded tightly into knots, given new life from Nikki's blood. He bounded toward the window, shattering the remaining boards like toothpicks. Sharp teeth of glass from the bits of window that had remained intact dug at his skin. Tearing at his flesh the way he'd torn at her wrist, and then, driven by his hunger, at her neck. Before he could turn her gift against himself, he jumped.

Patrick was blinded by the fierce light of the dawn as he fell, freefall style nine stories to the concrete below. Limbs pinwheeling wildly out of control, he felt the sidewalk shatter beneath him from the force of his impact. Things were broken. Things were bruised and bleeding. He would heal. Nikki would not. Ever. Even if he could go back and share his gift with her, he wouldn't. The dead were dead and beyond any hope of saving. Ignoring the pain, he gathered himself up and bolted away from the scene of his imprisonment and his long, long fall from grace.

******

Robert stirred in his sleep, fighting for wakefulness to end the nightmare. He drifted along, dreaming. His dreams were not pleasant ones. He tossed and turned, muscles stiffening and contracting from the content of his dreams. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest, unwittingly revealing the track of his sub-conscious thoughts. Danielle's voice echoed in the distance, her hand shaking him awake. "Robbie," he gasped, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

Danielle scowled, shaking her husband awake. He'd startled her from a very happy dream with a swift elbow to her ribs from his wild thrashing about in the bed. She jumped back, startled as he sat upright in the bed, gasping, terrified by the nightmare. "Robert, shh, it was just a bad dream." Her brows drooped in a worried scowl. He did that more and more, these days. Woke up in horror, unsure if his dreams were real or just the product of a vivid imagination.

Robert exhaled in relief, fully awakened, blinking against the light streaming through the sun-drenched windows. "Yeah, some dream." He rose from the bed and shuffled into the bathroom, avoiding the questioning look in his wife's eyes. He didn't want to talk about the dream. It felt too real. Locking the door behind him to shut her out, he turned the tap and waited for the shower to fill the room with hot steam.

Robert felt somewhat better after a long, hot, shower and a shave. He looked like shit, haggard around the edges. The constant nights of battling his sub-conscious mind in the realm of dreams were taking their toll. He smoothed his rumpled waves of hair to his scalp with the palm of his hand and followed the alluring fragrance of coffee into the kitchen.

He smiled back at Danielle, returning her wave and poured the steaming, black liquid into a cup. Usually, he liked his coffee very sweet. But, today, he needed it black and strong. "Let's go visit Robbie for a bit today. Take her out to lunch," he said, thumbing through the contacts listed on his phone. Seeing his daughter, even for a brief visit, was the only thing that would truly ease his mind.

John Mark turned from the wide, sliding glass, doors of the balcony. Hearing her name was enough to drag his attention from his watch and make him grin like a fool. "I'm always up for a visit with Robbie."

Robert grunted, ignoring the warrior. "I was talking to Danielle," he grumbled. He knew how John Mark felt about his daughter. The boy was head over heels in love with Robbie. Always had been. He didn't like it one little bit. Luckily, his daughter had good sense, like her father, and had given John Mark a very aloof, cold shoulder time after time. It suited him just fine. His first priority was to Robbie. He had to keep his little girl safe. The less she knew about the paranormal world and her place in it, the better.

John Mark's face fell. He glowered back at Robert. Robbie's old man had sole hold over his daughter's heart. What daddy wanted, she wanted. And daddy didn't like him. Therefore, neither did she. Oh, they were friends, pals since their childhood days of playing in the sandbox side by side. But, never anything more, daddy wouldn't allow it. And neither would she.

Robert had filled his daughter's head with thoughts of college, learning, and books. Priming her for the day she took over the family business. Not that there was anything wrong with that. John Mark liked intelligent women. They were hot. He'd about chipped a fang from laughing so hard, when he'd heard, much to daddy's chagrin. That Robbie wasn't going to college for a business major. She wanted to be a librarian. A librarian! Served the old man right. "Of course you were. I'll watch from a distance. Stand point. Make sure no vamps are around," he grumbled, dejectedly.

Danielle swatted Robert with the newspaper she had been rolling into a tube. "Don't be so rude. I think Robbie and John Mark spending some time together catching up is a great idea. After she graduates," she qualified.

Until Robbie moved back home or the rogue situation was finally under control, she would do what a mother does best, worry. She unrolled the newspaper and pointed to the headline with a finely coiffed fingernail. "Another girl has gone missing." She shivered, ashamed for being relieved that it wasn't Robbie's photo splashed across the front page. "Nichole, Nikki, Annabelle Morris. That poor girl...and her poor family," Danielle tsked at the headline. "Only nineteen. Had her whole life ahead of her."

Robert muttered a curse and snapped the phone's case shut. "I hate voice mail! Hate it!" Robbie hadn't answered the phone. It went straight to voice mail. His eyes scanned the headline. That girl could have been Robbie. Thanks to the coffee, he was jittery, even more desperate to make contact with his daughter. He flipped open the phone. His thumb hovered over the redial button.

"Relax, she's probably in class," Danielle said, working the phone out of Robert's hand. "Let's head out. And maybe by the time we get there, she will call back." Burning up Robbie's phone wouldn't make her answer any quicker. Robbie always called them back as soon as she could. The headlines didn't make for a very reassuring morning read. It could have been Robbie on the front page. But, it wasn't. Danielle knew it, in that way that mothers know things. Her daughter was fine. Safe, tucked away in some class busy making them proud.

Robert and John Mark eagerly nodded their heads in agreement with her train of thought. These days, they had to cling to what hopes they had. There was plenty of negativity and worry to go around. "Let me go pack up the rest of our things and then we can finish loading the SUV," Danielle said. She was in a hurry to get organized and back on the hunt. Totally sidetracked by the eagerness to see her daughter, the men had gotten off track with the bigger problems yet to be faced today. That rogue was at the top of the list. "John Mark, have you found us a place to go yet?"