Dawn Rising

"Do it." Lucien looked up at the sky. There was perhaps, if he was lucky, enough time to clean up the mess left behind before the city awoke. "Take care of this," he said to Dane and his men. This place had to be as pristine as an operating room by the time they left. No blood. No bodies. No evidence of the fight that took place here and the lives that were lost. The Sons had been very fortunate. There were some injuries, but none dead. Which gave him all the more reason to believe that this little fight had been a ruse. A message.

"At moonrise tonight, we'll do what needs to be done." He scraped a weary hand over his hair. "We'll put the dead to rest. See what you can do about finding out who they were. Maybe, there's a way to give their families some peace."

Lucien led Alex away from the carnage, guiding her toward the waiting truck. "That was a brave and very stupid thing you did. Coming here like that."

"Well, you did end up needing me," Alex stubbornly retorted. Lucien's raised brow put an end to the discussion. If she hadn't have come, John Mark wouldn't have almost gotten himself killed in the process of saving her. She crossed her fingers behind her back and said, "I won't do it again." And she wouldn't. Not until she'd had some training and had something to offer to the fight, besides her blood.

Lucien crushed his lips against Alex's mouth in a fierce kiss. That was one promise he was going to hold her to. He didn't care if he had to lock her in a closet or chain her to a bed. She was not going to put herself in the line of fire ever again. His poor old heart couldn't take it.

He didn't like the expression of doubt etched across her face. He wouldn't have her doubting herself or punishing herself for John Mark's injuries. John Mark wasn't a kid. He knew what he was doing. Once he recovered. Lucien had a myriad of ways in mind to teach him a lesson or two.

As for Alex, Lucien would train her. Teach her to defend herself. He couldn't expect her to sit by the sidelines and wring her hands like some damsel in distress waiting for the knight in shining armor to come and save the day. These were dangerous times. The rouges knew exactly what she meant to him. That made her a target. Something he could not allow. He had a punishment or two in mind for her, all of them in the slowest, sweetest, most passionate of ways. "Lets go home."

Chapter 55

The drive home was quiet, giving Lucien time to collect his thoughts. He'd failed his brother. Patrick was still in the rogue's hands. Despite all the death, he'd saved a great many lives today. The rogues were increasing their numbers. To what end he didn't know. But, it wasn't a good one.

Alex dozed in the passenger side and John Mark in the truck bed. The dawn held the promise of a beautiful day as it pink rays stretched out across the horizon. The miles ticked silently by as Lucien drove lost in thought. They had been so close to finding Patrick only to have him snatched out of their grasp. "What do they want with him?" he muttered. Beside him, Alex moaned in her sleep.

Patrick is a tracker, Lucien mussed. Trackers are used to find things. What are the two fiends looking for? What or who? He tapped the steering wheel with his index finger as he pressed the accelerator down closing the distance between the truck and home. Why were they keeping Patrick alive? Obviously his captivity was more than just a ruse to flush out The Sons and draw them into battle. There was something more to it. What was it? He slowed and guided the vehicle onto the off ramp.

Alex lifted sleepy lids and rubbed the back of her neck wearily. "We're home?" The truck bumped and shimmied its way down a gravel road, close to the house. She yawned and glanced out the back window. John Mark was stretched out in the back of the truck asleep, or doing as good of an imitation of it as a vampire could.

His long lanky limbs, folded at odd angles, a lock of sleek, black hair spayed across his cheek, the ends of it drifting up and down as his breaths rose and fell. She smiled; someday he was going to make some woman very happy. She squeezed Lucien's knee worriedly, not looking forward to telling Janine the news that Patrick wasn't with them.

The truck rolled to a stop in front of the house. Alex took Lucien's hand as he helped her climb out of the cab. "John Mark," Alex said, reaching over the side panel of the bed, tugging on the worn toe of his black boot. "Wake up, we're home."

John Mark yawned and stretched, sitting up slowly, still a little stiff from his injuries. He smiled at the redhead who tugged on his boot. She reminded him just the littlest bit of his own redheaded vixen. He slid out of the back of the truck and bounded up the path that led to the woods. He waved over his shoulder to Lucien and Alex. Sniffing the air and catching the musky scent of prey he decided on a little bit of breakfast before retiring for the day.

Alex snuggled into Lucien's body. The light of dawn spilled into a glorious, golden wash of sunshine around them. A perfect day hovered on the horizon about to burst forth. "What's going on? Why are the rogues doing this?" Her parents and Janine paced on the porch, eagerly waiting for news. She had nothing to tell them. No way to tell Janine that Patrick was still missing.

Lucien sighed, pulling Alex closer into the line of his body. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. The scent of blood and pain tainted her natural aroma. "I don't know. I don't understand why they're keeping Patrick alive. At first I thought it was to lure us into battle. But now, I just don't know." He placed a kiss softly on her neck, for the moment he was just glad to have her whole and in one piece. "They sacrificed their own kind."

Alex wrapped her arms around him, unsure of what to say. The battle weighed heavily on his spirit. Dampening the glory of the morning with shades of black and gray, like storm clouds hovering on the edge of a clear, blue sky. There were no words for what she was feeling; so many people dead; so many families that would never be reunited. And there was no answer as to what they'd died for. She longed for a way to comfort him, and perhaps, herself. Tenderly, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. His leathers were coated in so much blood. Dried and flaking beneath her fingertips.

"I don't know what they want. We have existed in peace for nearly a century, why now?" Lucien rested his chin on the top of Alex's head and closed his eyes. "We will need to regroup and discuss a new strategy. Thankfully, we didn't loose any men," he said on a heavy sigh. "Except for Patrick. Without knowing what they want. I don't know how to get him back."

Alex embraced Lucien tightly, offering her strength. "He's not lost. Don't give up on him, not yet." Lucien's fingers wound through her hair, gripping it in his fists. His head was heavy on her shoulder. His breath came out in hot gasps against her neck. As a leader, he was supposed to be strong, impervious to the weakness of tears. As a man, around her, he could cry a few tears for Patrick and for all the lives lost. And he did.

Janine paced the front porch. Her fuzzy slippers made light scraping sounds across the rough, weathered wood of the floor. Sleep played hide and seek with her last night. Unfortunately, she lost, unable to settle back down once she'd heard about Patrick. She was pissed at him. Pissed that he'd dragged Alex into danger...again. Pissed that she'd lost out on those precious hours of beauty sleep she so desperately needed to look her best. Pissed that he'd gotten caught in a trap of some sort and his life was ... She couldn't even think about it. He was better than that. Smarter than that. She was so looking forward to shoving the furry toe of her purple slippers up his cocky, arrogant ass this morning when he came back. The trouble was, he didn't come back.

Behind her, Leigh and Alexander exhaled a relieved sigh that Alex had made it back safe and sound. She was happy too. More than happy, that her best friend was ok, and Lucien, was at her side. The couple looked slightly more haggard and worn down than she felt. She trotted to the edge of the porch eager for news. So far her head count was minus one person. Maybe, Patrick had slipped off into the woods for a snack before checking in. Maybe, he got left behind in the city to fight for the cause for truth, justice, and the American way, like a superhero. Maybe...Maybe.

Her hopes sank past the deepest depths of the sewer as Alex and Lucien broke their embrace and wearily walked up the stone path to the house. They didn't have to say a word. The defeated expressions on their faces said it all. She gasped in shock, her body trembling involuntarily, knees threatening to buckle. Alexander's hand on her shoulder was no comfort. She wanted to bite it off at the wrist out of sheer frustration.

Lucien and Alex walked past her, unable to meet her eyes. Gently, Alexander said in his best fatherly voice, "I'm sorry." She wanted to snap back at him with a few choice words of her own. But, she didn't trust her voice to speak. He gave her a quick, soft pat on the shoulder and turned to follow Leigh into the house. Janine stood alone on the porch, bathed in the warm sunlight of a simply beautiful morning. The tranquility held no awe for her. She couldn't see beyond the empty spot of Patrick's absence. Her chin warbled and her eyes stung with unshed tears. She would not cry over a dumb ass like Patrick who had gone and gotten captured by the rogues. It was his own fault for being so stupid. She. Would. Not. Cry.

Chapter 56

That night, after the gruesome task of laying the dead to rest on the pyres, the strategy meeting was in full force. Hushed voices gathered around the table, debating Patrick's fate. Alex trotted around passing out refreshments to the human members, needing to do something besides join the back and forth banter. She wanted Patrick back as bad as anybody else. Divided by her humanity and her loyalty to Lucien, she saw both sides of the argument. Humans couldn't be put in unnecessary risk. And the Lodge had to be defended against attack. Either way the end decision went, one side was bound to lose.

After hours of debate, Lucien's head throbbed. The decision was split in half. Lucien lowered his head into his hand as he repeated his strategy for finding Patrick. He outlined how human volunteers could scour the city, searching for clues and reporting their findings to the team of trackers that were already in place in the city. Humans wouldn't be as apt to be noticed as their vampire counterparts. A good plan, or as best as he could come up with and still cover all bases.

Half of the council agreed with him. The other half balked at using humans to run intelligence ops. They felt the danger to the humans was too great. They wanted to turn the warriors loose into the city, like a herd of kids at Disneyland, and take Patrick back by force, if necessary. Go in balls to the wall and guns blazing in glory.

Lucien was reluctant to allow too many warriors out into the field at one time. Patrick's kidnapping could be a rouse to lure the warriors from the Lodge, leaving the immediate perimeter and the humans under protected. Pounding his fist on the table, he repeated his plans, very slowly, to make sure everyone understood exactly what he had in mind and why.

What good was it to be a leader, if nobody listened to him? All of this talking wasn't going to get Patrick back home any sooner. Lucien loathed the day the Great Father and the ominous Prophet saw something deep inside of him that he sure as hell didn't see and crowned him ringmaster of this particular circus.

The Sons were masters of subtlety. They operated under the cover of mists and legends. Helped to maintain the image. If they went all out in an attempt, note the words, an attempt to rescue Patrick, brothers would die. Lucien had a feeling that the sampling of rouges they'd encountered were just a small portion of the actual population. They'd managed to put names with the faces of the dead. But, there were still dozens of missing persons unaccounted for. No one sent the best into the fight first. He wouldn't.

A deep voice from the back of the crowd broke through the chattering of voices and opinions, drawing everyone's attention to it. "I said, we'll do it. We'll go." Robert raised his voice and his hand high in the air. His arm rested around his wife's shoulders in a united front. "My little girl is in the city, going to college. She's not safe until these rogues have been dealt with." His wife's tight chignon bobbed in agreement.

Lucien stood to face the man, Robert, and his wife, Danielle. Solid members. Their unassuming appearance could easily blend into any crowd without raising the slightest suspicion. Middle aged, non-threatening either in stature or manner, perfect for the mission.

Robert had that soft paunch around his middle and a fading bulk that once spoke of high school, maybe college, football glory days gone by. His sandy, reddish- blonde hair was gray at the temples and his jaw stubbed with a scruffy goatee. Danielle was the very image of a Stepford wife on steroids, complete with the hand embroidered sweater, clam digger pants, and matching blouse. She was small, delicate, and wore her hair, bleached blonde within an inch of its life to hide the strands of gray that had once been carrot top red, in a chignon wound so tightly it made Lucien's scalp ache. Throw in a camera and a couple of cheesy t-shirts and they could pass for tourists. Perfect. Absolutely. Perfect.

Lucien glowered down at the assembly, waiting for their final decision. Impatiently, he wrapped his fingers on the table. After what seemed like hours of deliberation, finally someone rose to speak. "The council agrees, taking warriors from the territory would pose too great of a risk. However, we insist that one warrior accompany Robert and Danielle on their mission."

Lucien shook his head, "Fair enough." Especially since he had the same idea. It was so nice to have things his way. He turned to his brothers. "Who amongst you will accompany our brethren on the mission?" He smiled at the eager waving hand in the back of the room.

John Mark stepped forward, eagerly. This was his chance to prove himself to his brothers and to Robbie's father. Especially since his last attempt at proving himself had gone so wrong. If he screwed this up, Lucien would never let him do as much as take the trash out to the curb for the brothers. "I'll go."

"Agreed." Lucien said as he pounded his fist on the table, signifying the end of the meeting. He approached John Mark and clapped him on the back in a show of support. John Mark was eager. He'd been slinking around for days, doing a fine impersonation of a fly on the wall. "Let's get you geared up, my brother."

Alex handed the thermos of coffee to Danielle through the car's window, wishing she could go with them and knowing she couldn't. Her face was too familiar to the rogues. She had to stay behind and stay put. Leaving the danger to be someone else's job. Danielle took the thermos and buckled in. Worriedly, Alex gripped her hand, squeezing it tightly and then stepped back, allowing Danielle to shut the door. Alex made her way around to the back, just as Robert and John Mark finished packing the SUV for the trek back into the city. Satisfied that the SUV was packed, Robert walked toward Lucien, leaving her and John Mark.

Anxiously, she squeezed John Mark, hugging him tightly. "Bring them back safely," she whispered. "Bring them all back." She was proud of John Mark and she felt like a mother seeing her child off to war. A tear she hadn't meant to fall slid free of her lashes. Ashamed at her show of emotion, she brushed it away with the annoyance one would shoo off a fly.

"You know I will." John Mark replied, slouching in that boyish way of his, to make his body look smaller, more unassuming, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Don't worry so much." He slid her a sideways grin. "It's not macho for vampires to be around crying women, bad for the mojo," He said softly, patting Alex on the head affectionately. Turning, he made his way to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. The mission was going to be a piece of cake. It was Robert and his harsh, judgmental glare, picking everything apart that he did. That made him nervous as hell.

Lucien stood by Alex, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they watched the tail lights of the SUV disappear into the rising sun. Once the terms of the mission had been agreed on. No time was wasted getting John Mark and the team to the city to join the trackers.

Alex sighed a deep worried sigh and rested her head on Lucien's shoulder. This was hard for the both of them. Hell, for everybody. Of the rogues and Patrick, not a trace. Patrick was alive. For Lucien's sake, for Janine's, and for her own, she refused to believe any differently. Just as surely as she'd never given up hope on Lucien. And that stubborn refusal had landed him in her arms, reuniting them again. So it would be with Patrick. He was out there somewhere. They'd find him. And they'd bring him home. "We'll get him back. I just know it."

Lucien landed a kiss on the top of Alex's head. Her hair glowed brilliantly, a coppery red infused with gold like a fire's flame. He wished the hardest days were behind them instead of looming ahead of them like a storm gathering its fury on the horizon. They'd waited so long to find one another. Surely, the universe owed them some measure of respite. No, it didn't. As long as there were rogues out there, Sons to be brought home, and battles yet to fight, there would be no peace.

Alex held the hope for the both of them. She made sure the flame never went out. She kept it alive and burning brightly. She said she always knew that he was out there, alive. Despite all of the evidence to the contrary, her hope had kept him going. Holding him to her when she had nothing but her hope to cling to. Her stubborn belief to accept circumstances at face value had kept her flame burning. And had been what had brought them to this place. Home where they belonged.

As long as Alex believed, he believed. As long as Alex hoped, he hoped. Patrick was alive. And Lucien and his brothers, with the force of Alex's faith behind them, they had no choice but to press onward and bring Patrick home, safe and sound.

Epilogue

Janine hadn't spoken in days. Not since Alex and Lucien returned from the city without Patrick. Nightmares plagued her dreams, when she managed to fall asleep. Horrific visions of the torture he endured at the rogue's hands. Alex had tried desperately to talk her out of the dismal cloud of funk she preferred to human companionship.

Soft words and sympathetic glances weren't enough to make her want to break free from the bleakness of her thoughts. She didn't want to go on. She didn't want to act like nothing had happened and Patrick was on an extended vacation. For every day that passed, she slid a little deeper into the blackness of her thoughts, bits of her self, disappearing along with any shred of hope she might find to scrounge up in the back of her mind.

She stood at the window, watching John Mark wrap up the final preparations for the rescue mission. He was a better man than she'd given him credit for, than a lot of people gave him credit for. He was brave, dauntless. She could barely find the energy to drag her body out of bed and throw on the threadbare robe Leigh had scrounged from one of the closets.

Alexander and Leigh tried their best to help. She was beyond helpless, these days. Lucien wouldn't let her go on the mission. She couldn't blame him. What did she have to offer except for a pocketful of used Kleenexes? She wanted to be mad, outraged. Anger with Patrick, anger with Lucien, anger with herself: anger would be better than the emotionless pit she'd fallen into and couldn't seem to dig her way out of. Doing something, even if it was fuming in anger, would be better than waiting, doing nothing. Only, she didn't know what to do.