Dawn's First Light

Bryce caught a glimpse into her soul and saw her regret. The darkness was there beneath the surface. But, it hadn't taken her over yet. There was still time to save her and get the four of them out of this unscathed. "You risked your life to save Lori. You are not a killer. You don't have to keep living this way. Roark has you fooled. You didn't know any better. Now, you do. I'm offering you a second chance."

Kayla reached out her hand to touch Angel and then dropped it to her side. She wanted to offer her support. But, thought the better of accidentally provoking her. "Please Angel, come with us."

"Stop pretending that this is going to have a happy ending. It's not. Look at her." Angel gestured to Lori who was staring up at the three of them through bleary, bewildered, eyes. "I could have killed her."

"But, you didn't." Bryce coaxed gently. Lori was dazed and a little weak from her ordeal. But, she was going to be fine. "I promise, none of my brothers will harm you. Lori will be a little pissed. And Keene...he'll be more than a bit upset that you hurt her. But, Roark, what will he do to you? He'll never stop. And if you stay with him, you're going to go down too. He won't let go of you easily. If you won't come with us, at least let us break your link with him. It might help to keep you safe."

"You'd do that for me?" Angel asked in disbelief. The brotherhood was offering her an out. She'd be a fool not to take it. And he was right. Roark was very possessive of what he believed he owned. And he thought he owned her. He didn't. Nobody did.

"Yes. But, not right now. We have to get Lori and Kayla out of here." He scanned the darkness and picked up movement in the shadows. They'd drawn an audience. Roark's minions were closing in. And Angel and he were greatly outnumbered. "None of us are safe."

"Yeah. It is getting a little crowded here." None of Roark's minions would make a move against her. At least until they figured out she'd switched sides. There was only so much Bryce could do. And she wasn't much help. She had fangs and strength. But, she had no idea of how to fight. Roark wanted her weak and defenseless and he hadn't taught her anything to protect herself. She bent low to scoop Lori up. Lori was too slow and weak to make it to safety on her own and it was the least that Angel could do. But Lori had other plans the minute Angel laid a hand on her. Lori fought weakly against her and cried out in sheer terror.

"I'll take Lori. You take Kayla." Bryce crouched on the balls of his feet at her side and gently wrapped his arm around Lori's shoulder. "Lori," he said soothingly. "You've had a rough day and you need to rest." As he spoke, he concentrated on isolating the neurotransmitters in her brain. "You must sleep now. Trust me. I'll keep you safe." Locking in on the rapidly firing synapses in her mind, he whispered, "Sleep."

Lori shook in terror. In the past twenty-four hours, she'd been physically abused, almost raped, locked in a dark closet, and bitten by a vampire. Today wasn't one of her better days. And she was very tired, overwhelmed. A nap sounded so good. She yawned and snuggled into Bryce's arms. Even though she was in love with Keene, Bryce was no slouch in the looks department. Abruptly, she forced her eyes open, snapping awake. What the hell was she thinking? She couldn't take a nap in the middle of a war zone. If Bryce was here, that meant Keene was too. But, where? She blinked into the darkness, searching him out. Why wasn't he taking care of her? And why was Bryce doing it instead? Roark! Roark must have Keene! She struggled in Bryce's hold and tried to force her body to move. But, she couldn't shake the malaise that slowly crept over her. Against her will, her eyes slid closed.

Keene kept up his guard, circling Roark. With expert precision he blocked and dodged every swipe of the Rogue Master's blade. Roark countered every onslaught Keene unleashed against him with skilled moves. Neither man had the upper hand on the other. Their skills were too closely matched. And this could go on for hours. He didn't have minutes, let alone hours to waste dicking around with Roark while Lori might be in danger. "We can do this all night," he gritted, narrowly missing a strike aimed at his cheek.

"That won't be necessary," Roark huffed in reply. He changed tactics mid fight and had Keene backpedaling for cover. He wasn't a Rogue Master for no reason. Only a fool would teach a man that would someday challenge him everything he knew. Roark charged forward. His blade shone brilliantly, reflecting the orange din of city lights off its silver surface. "I intend to finish this and grab a snack way before dawn arrives. Why don't you just give up?"

Keene spun on his heel, careening out of the way of Roark's razor sharp blade. He'd anticipated that Roark might have a few surprises in store for him and countered the blow. He too had learned a thing or two during their time apart. Throwing Roark off balance, he flung out a kick with his right boot heel, planting it in the Rogue Master's chest. "Why don't you?"

"If you'd conveniently die, I would." Roark stumbled and scurried out of the path of Keene's kicks. Quickly regrouping his wit, he studied Keene. One didn't live to be as old as he was by being stupid. Roark had always been a fast learner. And he easily caught onto the rhythm of Keene's movements.

"Sorry to disappoint you." Keene drew back and circled Roark. The man never ceased to amaze him with his resilience. Every move he made, Roark countered with equal grace and agility. He studied his former master carefully. Every man had a weakness. He just had to wait for Roark to reveal it.

Roark knew how to get to Keene. The fool was a self-proclaimed protector of the innocent. Always had been. It was a tactic Roark had used for decades to keep Keene on a short leash. He was waiting for just the perfect time to exploit the man's weakness to his advantage. The death match between them drug on and on. Neither one winning or loosing, but holding ground on a slippery slope that could tilt in either of their favor at any time. "The girl is so young and so sweet. I can see why you wanted her to yourself. She was delectable."

"Bastard! You better not have touched her!" Keene hissed. He swung his blade wildly through the air with lethal intention. Roark was baiting him and he knew it. But the thought of Roark touching Lori drove him over the edge of his restraint.

"I guess you'll have to find out for yourself, assuming Angel let her live. With as sweet as she tasted, I'm guessing my protégé might have had difficulty stopping." Roark lifted his sword and deflected Keene's destructive onslaught. Keene's fury made him clumsy and reckless. It was just a matter of time before his outrage caused him to make a fatal error in judgment. Roark danced out of the way of Keene's onslaught and waited for it.

"You son of a bitch. I'll kill you!"

"Not likely," Roark chuckled. "But, you can try."

Dane and John Mark stayed in the backdrop, keeping a careful eye on the battle. This particular war was between Keene and Roark and it had been brewing for centuries. It was best to let Keene handle it his way and on his own terms without the brotherhood's intercession.

The streets and buildings surrounding the construction site were crawling with the Rogue Master's minions. But, they kept out of the way and made no aggressive moves against the brothers. There were too many to go after each and every one and hope to have a chance in hell of capturing them all. That kind of a fight would be messy. And definitely attract unwanted attention from the humans. As long as Roark's men stayed on the fringes and out of sight, there was no need to attack. Obviously, they were as interested in the battle between Roark and Keene as the brotherhood. In actuality, it was an interesting and temporary truce. Short lived, sure. And a clean up detail would have to be sent in to take them out. But, for now, the peace served its purpose.

Bryce carried Lori in his arms. And Angel followed behind with Kayla on her back. They snaked their way around the hulking pieces of equipment and mounds of construction debris, nearing the paved edge of the sidewalk. Bryce sighed in relief as he neared Dane and John Mark. Lori and Kayla were safe now. He'd done his job. And Angel would be safe, if she accepted his offer. "Wake up, Lori," he whispered softly.

Lori's eyelids fluttered open. Dane hovered over her, crouched low, close to her face, evaluating her injuries. She sat up too quickly and sucked in a breath at the pain. Every bone in her body ached and she felt like she'd been run over by a bus. "Where's Keene?"

"You're safe now." Dane replied. He wasn't about to send the poor thing into a panic her by telling her the truth. He gently eased Lori onto her feet and locked an arm around her waist, supporting her weight while she gathered her bearings. Her limbs were covered with healing cuts and fading bruises. Her eyes were ringed with sickly yellow bruises and her bottom lip was puffy from the severity of a blow she'd taken to the face. Her blonde hair was a rusty color of brown from the dried blood clinging to the strands. She'd been badly injured. But, was as healed as if the damage was several days old. "Did you give her your blood, Bryce?" he asked out of curiosity.

"No, I did," Angel answered. She stayed on the fringes of the little reunion. If she needed to run, she wanted some space between herself and the brothers. They wouldn't take kindly to Lori's treatment. And to them, she was the enemy.

"I thank you," Dane said, nobly bowing his head in respect. "You saved her life."

"I was the one who risked it in the first place," Angel replied. She knew that even if Bryce's offer were rescinded, she wouldn't run. She had no place to go. And if she had to choose, she'd rather get it over with quickly than wait for Roark to finish with her.

"No, you brought her back to us," Dane corrected. He sensed the young vampire's nervousness. She knew the precariousness of her situation and by helping Lori and choosing a side she'd placed her life in their hands. Roark had ruined too many lives in the past. He considered every one he could snatch out of Roark's grasp a victory. The vampire was desperate and frightened. Her eyes darted between him and the darkness. He didn't want to kill her. She'd been through too much in her young life. And she didn't have to die. But, that decision was in her hands, not his.

"You did us a great service today and I'd like to return the favor. My name is Dane and this is my second, John Mark. Please accept our offer of protection. Return to the compound with us. Stay as little as long as you'd like, as a guest."

Angel considered Dane's offer. The man seemed genuinely honest in his assurance of her safety. She turned her eyes and searched the darkness. Homeless and immortal was not something she wanted to consider. Spending an eternity running from Roark and the brotherhood was not an option. She could barely manage her fangs, let alone survive for long on her own. Even if she did escape Roark, she'd never be free. There'd be another master, demanding her service, if not her life. She didn't want to be this thing she'd been forced to become. In her bid for freedom, she'd found only a different kind of slavery.

Angel was hardly a do-gooder type. She was self-serving and held her own interests at heart. She doubted if she could even pretend to live by the lofty principles of the brotherhood. And Dane wasn't asking it of her. He was giving her a chance and a choice.

She'd have to let go of her rage. Accept that Kayla and she were going to be under the same roof again. They didn't have to be buddies or even speak to each other. Dane hadn't asked her for that either. Perhaps, that was at the crux of her fury. When Kayla left, she felt betrayed and it hurt. The two of them had tried not to get too close. Girls died all of the time. And friendships caused nothing but pain. But, somehow, their suffering bound them in a sisterhood of sorts. They were both survivors. And no one would ever understand them better than they understood each other.

Dane spoke for the brotherhood. No harm would come to her, as long as she played by the rules. She had a lot to learn about being a vampire. The reality of it wasn't nearly as cool as the fiction she'd once believed in. She'd take it all back, if she could. His generosity beat death or an endless eternity constantly waiting for the next big bad monster to find her. And she was willing to try. "Thank you."

Kayla knew how hard accepting Dane's offer was for Angel. The woman had wanted to kill her to ease the pain inside of her. Angel wasn't a bad person. She was a good person in bad circumstances. Kayla wanted to be childish and hold a grudge. And the old Kayla might have done so. She was bigger than that girl had been. Better. Hesitantly, she held out her hand to Angel in a gesture of friendship. Smiling as Angel, albeit reluctantly, accepted the handshake.

Pale gray light of first dawn infused the sky, lightening the shadows. Lori scanned the construction site, hoping to catch a glimpse of Keene and where he might be. In the background, against the soft whisper of the awakening city, she heard the sharp metallic sound of metal striking metal. She'd been so out of it before; she hadn't considered what the noise meant. "Keene!" Catching the dark outline of his silhouette as he battled Roark, she gasped in horror.

Keene heard his name on Lori's lips. No sound was ever sweeter in his ears. Distracted, he turned his head toward her melodic voice. He felt the bite of steel as Roark, ever the opportunist, seized the moment and drove his blade in deep, twisting it in Keene's chest.

"Game over," Roark said, withdrawing his sword from Keene's chest. Lifting his long, heavy blade, he prepared to deliver the killing blow. This would be his sweetest victory ever. One final swipe of his blade and the traitor would be dispatched and forgotten about. He reveled in anticipation of his triumph and swung his arm in a wide, downward arc.

"No!" Lori screamed. "NO!" Weakened by blood loss, she collapsed to the pavement as Dane, reeling in shock, lost his hold on her. Scraping her nails on the hard, cold concrete sidewalk, she inched her way toward the center of the construction site to Keene's side. She didn't care if she lived or died. Without him she had nothing. "No, no, no," she wailed. Her tears fell down her cheeks and landed in fat, wet drops on the loose earth as she pulled her body forward. Roark paused mid kill long enough to give her a wink and a maniacal, triumphant grin before he continued the sweeping downward fall of his sword.

Chapter 55

Roark's victory was stolen away. The killing blow stopped by the point of a blade just before the edge connected with Keene's flesh. "NO!" he roared in outrage. Lifting his heated stare to meet the eyes of the man who had just saved Keene's miserable life he hissed in fury. "YOU!" Ripped free from his grip by a twist of the Great Father's blade, Roark's sword shimmered in the morning light before falling harmlessly in a heap of dirt twenty feet away. "Victory was mine! How dare you take it from me!" he shouted, quivering from the force of his red-hot anger.

The Great Father arced his blade and poised with the tip planted against Roark's neck. The steel point glistened in the golden morning sunlight. He could end this. Now. Forever. One life in exchange for the many Roark had taken. His hands tensed around the leather wrapped hilt of his sword. His jaw hardened with determination and eyes focused on the man who had caused so much pain, his biceps rippled with unleashed fury. This was over. Today.

Finally, the moment the brothers dedicated their lives in preparation for was at hand. One force would win and the other would lose. Time slowed to a single heartbeat. The rogues at Roark's command eased out of hiding. John Mark, Dane, and Bryce stood back to back ready to die to defend the Great Father. Taking a protective stance, Angel posed in front of Kayla. Patrick glided through the morning mists, jockeying for a better position from which he could do the most damage to the rogues. Each side stared the other down, hands clenching into fists on the hilts of weaponry, waiting for hell to unleash its fury.

Head held high, cutting his way through the opposing sides, the Prophet made his way to his brother's side. They had been together for over two hundred years. And in all that time one would think that his brother would have learned to listen to him. Hadn't happened, yet. But, there was always hope. There was always a reason behind why he did what he did. And that included the silly ploy he'd used to coax his brother into the city. He'd come to prevent a war. And he had, for now. "Brother, this is not the time," he whispered. He placed a hand on his brother's tense bicep and tightened his grip. "Not yet."

That was the funny thing about being a prophet. The future was fluid as water. It flowed, sometimes a gentle current, sometimes a raging rapid. But, it was always in motion, always, changing course, and his visions, never the same twice. Small events had big impacts on outcomes yet to come into play. Free will could never be predicted. If his brother killed Roark, what was yet to come to pass would be altered. The Prophet wished that were the case and the future events he'd seen...his destiny... didn't have to turn out the way he knew it would.

Roark still had time to heed his warning. The Prophet could see the darkness within the man battling for control. As demented as Roark was, the Prophet pitied his tortured soul. For now, unless something happened to change the course of events yet to come, the Prophet had merely managed to delay the future, not prevent it. "No one will die today, Brother."

The Great Father shook off his brother's grip on his arm. Bristling at the cryptic meaning behind the word 'yet'. Damn, he was used to the goddess and her mystic messages. But, the mumbo-jumbo his brother sometimes spewed out of his mouth set his fangs on edge. What was wrong with the direct approach and just saying what you meant? For two hundred years his brother had been spouting visions of the future and most of it was utter nonsense. He had a chance to finish off the enemy. And his brother wanted him to lower his weapon and walk away. Maybe, he should offer to hold hands and sing kumbayah with Roark and that would satisfy his brother's passive need to preserve a future only he could foresee.

His brother had a gift that the Great Father could only, one day, in the future...ha...ha...hope to understand. The mighty Prophet had been dead on the money the day he predicted Tecumseh would die. Tecumseh had died-he had died and arisen as something...someone else. It rankled him, but the Great Father eased the point of his blade from Roark's neck. The warrior in him howled in disapproval. But, the man in him that trusted his brother more than anyone else in the world obeyed the request. If the Prophet said this was not the time, it wasn't the time. "My Sons, lower your weapons."

Roark chuckled in disbelief. Inspired by a prophetic vision or not, if he'd had the chance he would not pass up the chance to slaughter an enemy. But, the brother's superstitions worked out well for him. Cockily, he straightened the lapels of his designer suit and adjusted his cuff links. Teasing the hilt of the dagger he had hidden up his sleeve, he eased the hilt into his hands. He wasn't one to let opportunity pass him by. And in lowering his weapon at his brother's behest, he'd given Roark the opportunity of a lifetime.

A blast of raw energy flowed from the Prophet and pinned Roark where he stood. Ok, so maybe this particular part of the future was set in stone and he was powerless to change the outcome. Roark seemed hell bent on dying. And soon, he would. "I said nobody dies today, Roark. This is not the proper place or the proper time." He leveled his gaze meeting Roark's eyes. "Our time will come soon enough but, not today. Go."