After Dawn, What Came Next

Fallon stopped on the stairs. Daniel needed her? Not likely. “Daniel doesn’t need anybody and neither do I.” She called up the stairs to answer Evan. She stood there panting with the evidence of last night embedded into her skin and wrapped into a neat bundle in her arms. Determined to wash last night away, she turned to make her way to the laundry room and then to the shower.

Evan stooped in the hallway and picked up the belt. He stared after Fallon, imagining her hasty footsteps to the laundry room. Getting rid of last night would not be a simple matter of washing the sheets or scrubbing her skin in the shower. Last night had been a long time coming for Fallon and a huge leap of faith for Daniel. The both of them needed each other. They were just to prideful, too terrified of themselves, to realize it. “Yes, you do,” he said quietly under his breath.





Chapter 31

Marianne knew exactly where to find her brother. Not Daniel, who was still MIA, but Tristen. He went where he always went when he needed time alone to think. It was as if though fixing something broken he could repair whatever was wrong in his little corner of the world. He had pulled the car into the garage and resting his weight on the open hood was peering down into the engine. She stifled a snicker under her breath as she overheard him cursing lightly to himself at the condition of the car he had proclaimed as his first true love.

Well, it was some consolation that Daniel wasn’t going anywhere, at least not if he had plans of driving there. Greasy parts smeared with black grease and thick with grime, worn hoses, and tattered belts littered the garage floor. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent, sickly sweet smell of gasoline and motor oil. Tristen spared no expense for the car. Where he had gotten his hands on genuine Quaker State motor oil instead of the synthetic stuff and real gasoline, she had no clue. The air was ripe with the stink of engine cleaner and exhaust, but the smell of it was like coming home after a long journey away. She fished in her hip pocket for a tissue and handed it to Tristen. “Here, I think you need this more than I do,” she said on a stifled chuckle.

Tristen battled with a stubborn bolt and thwacked his knuckle a good one on the carburetor when the wrench slipped under the strain. His car, his beautiful, beautiful baby girl was a train wreck under the hood. He had meant to give her a quick go over and replace the thermostat before Daniel got it in his head to hit the road again. He hadn’t intended to give the engine a major overhaul, but here he was with grease under his nails and motor oil staining the palms of his hands. Bleeding and cursing, sucking in exhaust fumes, and maronaiding in gasoline, and it was blissful and peaceful, like reveling in a lover’s embrace after decades apart.

He batted away his sister’s offering of a tissue and grumbled, “Very funny.” He eyed the engine and the parts littering the floor with a heavy sigh. Almost every belt and hose needed replaced. The spark plugs were shot. The carburetor was filthy. And he had not even begun to delve too deeply under the hood yet, let alone search the Internet to find the replacements he needed. It would cost a pretty penny to restore his girl to her former glory or to at the bare minimum declare her road worthy.

The transmission fluid needed changing. The oil was thick and gummy. Antifreeze, even if he could manage to get his hands on some, was rare as gold and what was in the radiator was cloudy and full of scale and antifreeze in name only. This car was a menace to the public good and he would be doing her a favor, saving her from a slow and painful gasping death if he simply put her out of her misery.

Tristen couldn’t do it though. He would pull the money out of his personal stash to bring her back firmly into the land of the living. It would take weeks, possibly months to find everything he needed, and even longer than that to fix her up. In her current condition he wouldn’t allow Daniel to drive her around the block in good conscience and wasn’t that convenient? He needed help to restore her and who better to do it than his brother. A little male bonding around an idling engine might be exactly what he needed to talk some sense into his little brother.

Marianne sensed the direction of Tristen’s thoughts in the sudden sag of his shoulders. He was taking mental inventory of everything that needed done, how much it would cost, and how long he could extend the project. Tristen had always taken care of them and no doubt he was feeling the pressure of taking care of Daniel now the way he had when they were young.

The ruse of fixing up the car might work. It was as good of a plan as any. Tristen was a fixer of things and not only did he have Daniel to fix, but his daughter as well. Danni was a wild card, a restless spirit, just like her uncle. So far, Tristen had managed to bind her to home and family. Marianne saw it as proof of her brother and Kacie’s good parenting. But, now in the city surrounded by nothing but open doors of possibility, for the first time ever, Danni might discover the comforts of home and hearth not as endearing as the smoke and mirrors of the illusion of adventure.

Tristen was tense again, leaning with one arm holding his weight against the hood of the car. Rusty metal groaned under the strain of keeping him upright. He glared at something in the engine and fumbled for a wrench in his hip pocket. If Tristian couldn’t fix Daniel or his daughter, Marianne mussed that he was going to fix this car come hell or high water. She hadn’t received anything but a male grunt of acknowledgement at her presence. Sputtering curses he yanked another piece of the car, the starter she thought, from underneath the hood. “Do you two need a little more time alone?” she asked faking a joviality she truly didn’t feel.

Tristen grunted at his sister’s teasing. Fixing this car up would take nothing short of a small fortune and major divine intervention. Mouse knew engines. A female in this family had no choice except to learn how to turn wrenches, but she had never been the gear head that the men in the family were. Automotive repair was a religion of sorts, a communing of spirit and the elements beneath the hood. “Do you think Daniel pushed her here from Texas?”

Marianne shrugged. “Maybe. Not much stops Daniel when he sets his mind to something.” And that was the crux of their current dilemma with Daniel. What exactly was he going to do next? She had always strived for open minded impartiality in terms of her brother. She tried to respect his boundaries and see him as brave in terms of blazing his own path into the unknown.

He was like the wind, first blowing this way, then that way without any clear direction. Sometimes, he was fierce and biting like the gusts of a winter’s gale. Sometimes, he was gentle and warm like a southern breeze in springtime. Sometimes, he renewed the spirit, revitalizing as a cool jet stream in the hot, humid air of summer. Other times, he was the mystery laden smoky chill of autumn mists. He could be as destructive as a tornado tearing through everything in his path or he could be the flat calm of a windless day. Much like the weather, with Daniel you never knew exactly what you were going to get until it hit land.

“True that,” Tristen mumbled. In his opinion everyone was too careful around Daniel. Nobody wanted to risk his wrath or upset him with questions. Daniel had been given a get out of jail free card and he had used it liberally for the past twenty-five years. He loved his brother, but that didn’t mean he necessarily liked him. It would be a lot easier to like his brother if Daniel would simply man up and take responsibility for his actions. By taking apart the car under the guise of putting her back together. Not only did it give him something to take his mind of Danni. It gave Daniel the excuse he needed to stay put for longer than a day or two.

Daniel had a lot of unfinished business to take care of. The time for apologies had long since come and gone. There were some hurts, some things that simply couldn’t be apologized for. Daniel’s forgiveness had come at a heavy price for a lot of people, primarily for his father and Gina. Tristen had forgiven Daniel a long time ago, but that didn’t mean he had forgotten.

Maybe, this was his way of getting Daniel to face the truth of the past and finally move beyond it. Shame and guilt made for horrible companions. It was best to let the past go. There was one thing though Daniel had never been able to do. One thing he would rather run from than face. He would rather run than let go of his self-condemnation. Daniel never could let something go.

Maybe, Fallon could help Daniel with that. Love could mend a lot of wounds. And if there was one thing in this whole crazy world Tristen was certain of. Fallon loved Daniel. Things might not work out the way he hoped they did. With Daniel that was too often the case. “Well,” Tristen said, as he added the starter to the stack of parts needing either to be rebuilt or scrapped for replacements. “Daniel sure as hell isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, now is he.”

Her brother was a genius, a fucking, certifiable genius. Daniel would have taken care of the car, to a degree. Probably not up to Tristen’s lofty standards of automotive maintenance, but well enough to keep the car running. Of course! Daniel would never stoop low enough to resort to driving the modern day version of a car. Texas was one hell of a long walk. Public transportation and werewolves didn’t mix. Something about being trapped in a metal box with wheels for hours. Airplanes were doable, but Daniel was the type to go to any extremes to keep both feet planted on terra firma. Zealously, she kicked a tire and snickered at the shower of mud and loose bits of gravel that fell from the almost non-existent tread. Rubber was more difficult to come by than gasoline. “You know something. I think you might be right about that.”













Chapter 32

The parents were worried sick about their kids. Less than twenty-four hours and a majority of them were still pacing the floors waiting for news that would come with the dawn. Shayla wasn’t concerned about R.J. and Phoenix. At least, that’s what she told herself. That she had nothing at all to worry about. Carter would take good care of the kids, especially her kids. She had decided a long time ago to omit the details of her past with Carter from the list of things she would tell her children about, someday.

She should have known she hadn’t seen the last of Carter. He was a vampire, brooding, moody, obsessive, and not one to go of the past easily. In other words, just like every other vampire she had ever met in her life. Carter had the tendency to take his obsession with the past to an unhealthy extreme and it had led him down some very dark paths she hadn’t been willing to follow him down. They had parted ways and even though a part of her still missed him desperately. She had found her happy place in life. But somehow, she doubted Carter had found his or if he ever would.

R.J. and Phoenix were old enough and wise enough to find their own way in life. About that, she had no worries. Phoenix was one hundred percent her father’s daughter. Tracker’s influence was stamped all over her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Maybe, it was his DNA. That flawless strand of proteins he had contributed to the genetic mix that made her what she was, ruthless to a point, unerringly faithful, intelligent to shrewdness, inexhaustible, and of course, the most beautiful daughter in the entire universe. It was however, that small part, the contribution of her DNA that went into the making of her daughter that kept her awake last night. Phoenix was too gullible, guileless, and innocent and just a little too much like she had been at that age.

Out of her two children, she worried about R.J. the most. Phoenix had that uncanny ability, much like a cat, to land on her feet no matter how high the fall. R.J. didn’t. If R.J. ever fell, it would be a graceless, rapid tumble to the ground. He would fall and he would fall hard.

Shayla considered R.J. a blessed child. Not only did he have the love of the father he had never met. He had Tracker who loved him as deeply as any dad ever could. And, unbeknownst to him, R.J. also had Carter who had at one time, called him son.

R.J. had never met his father, but Shayla could see so much of Ramon in him. R.J. was reckless and too willing to follow any worthy cause that he came across regardless of the consequences, just like his father. She had never made a secret of the fact that Tracker was not his father. R.J. knew exactly where he came from and the circumstances surrounding his father’s death. Ramon had died a hero, a foolish one, but still a hero nonetheless. There were secrets though she had never told her son.

R.J. had no idea how much influence Carter had over him. She herself hadn’t realized it till many years after Carter and she had parted company. For years she had managed to fool herself into believing that her mistake had not affected her son. She had taken Carter’s blood while she was pregnant with R.J. Her reasons for doing so were selfless and without blame, but they had not been without consequences.

Shayla didn’t dwell on the dark days of the pack’s downfall often. Nor did she think on the days that followed. She couldn’t not without shedding a tear, a single crystalline tear for Carter. The pack had been under siege, battered, bleeding, and in danger of dying under the iron grip of Seff’s tyrannical rule. At that time, she hadn’t realized she was pregnant. Her only thoughts had been for the lives of her pack. She had already watched Ramon die at Seff’s hand. More had been destined to follow in her husband’s footsteps if she hadn’t done something to stop it from happening. Her part in the rebellion hadn’t been one of fame and glory. She had though, done her part and put her own life on the line for the lives of many.

She hadn’t meant to fall in love so quickly after Ramon’s death. Perhaps, his death was the very thing that made her so open to the prospect of new love. Carter had almost been driven out of his mind and only she had been able to pull him back from the brink. Her love hadn’t been enough. Riddled with guilt from the past, he was constantly looking behind him. He hadn’t wanted to love her, but he had. In reality what other choice could there had been for him, but to love her and R.J.? He had linked with the both of him, with her and her unborn child, through the gift and offering of blood.

Their parting was a bitter painful thing. She had no use for the past and for Carter, the future served no purpose. She had wanted to blaze forward and he to linger behind. Tracker had been there to catch her before she fell. He hoisted her up by her bootstraps and dusted her off and set her back on her feet again. And for that, for his faith in her and his love, she owed him a great deal. She had never lied to him about Carter. Tracker knew where he stood, rooted firmly in her heart, but sharing pieces of it with Ramon, the ghost of a love lost and with Carter, the shadow of the greatest love she had ever known.

Phoenix had brought Tracker and she together and set their feet on a path from which there was no turning back. She loved her family too much to consider the vacant pages of what might have been. Shayla had hoped for more children. Tracker had always and still was more than willing to go along with the plan. It simply hadn’t happened for them. As much as Tracker considered R.J. as his, R.J. would never truly be his son. There was too much of Ramon in him and also, a bit too much of Carter as well.

After twenty-six years, Tracker knew his wife well. He let her wander in her thoughts and gave her space in which to dwell in them. Some days Shayla barely spoke a word. It was on those days that he knew the ghosts of the past had drifted into the present to pay her a visit. A part of him still hated that damn vampire and always would. He had come to peace with Carter long ago. He still begrudged the man for the small part of Shayla’s heart that he owned and would never belong to anybody but him. Shayla’s love had been hard won and one of the bitterest wars he had ever fought. The victory of which was bittersweet to this day.

Phoenix had been the turning point in their rocky relationship. Shayla claimed she had already chosen him, but the pregnancy had solidified it for her. As confused as she had been at the time, torn between him and Carter, she realized the child needed a father, a real father and not an animated corpse as a substitution. Tracker was proud of his family, both Shayla and R.J., but nothing absolutely nothing superseded his pride in his daughter.

Shayla was thinking about Carter. He had never asked if she ever wondered what if. Tracker truly didn’t want to know the answer. He was a selfish bastard and his wolf crafty. He might share her heart with Carter, but he had her in his bed all to himself. When he commanded her body was perhaps the only time she did not think of Carter and he had her completely to himself. They were a bonded couple and neither one of them would ever leave. There was love between the two of them, albeit a dim shadow of the love he knew she still harbored secretly in the depths of her heart for Carter. He had forced himself to think beyond that meager fact and was as determined now as he was back then to make it enough.

Tracker would have pumped Shayla’s belly full of babies, but nature had other plans. Phoenix was his only daughter. He would have liked to have a son. He loved R.J. like a son, but it somehow just wasn’t quite the same. He worried more about R.J. than he did about Phoenix. She had more than her fair share of his finer and lesser qualities and was quite capable of taking care of herself. R.J. though, he was too much like his mother and someday he feared it was going to land him in big trouble.

There were things about R.J. he didn’t want to admit. R.J. saw beyond people in terms of male or female and deep into the depths of their hearts. Such things did happen and he had no problem with it. As long as a wolf did his duty to the pack what went on behind closed doors was not his concern. R.J. though, he was too tender hearted and had not one ruthless bone in his body. Love for another came too easily for the boy and it would eventually rip him apart. It was that day that Tracker as a father dreaded more than any other. R.J. would lose far more than his innocence. Like his mother before him, he would lose his very soul.

Tracker felt the tingling of a presence crawling over his skin. Catcher, his twin was another source of constant worry. Catcher had withdrawn from the world and the pack. His too, was a heart broken far too easily. Tracker hadn’t realized the depth of Catcher’s feelings for Eloise. She had them both in every way possible. Tracker had always been able to distance himself from her charms and lend her his body without losing his heart in the process. He had assumed the same went for Catcher. Apparently, it hadn’t.

Catcher had risked his life for their former mistress, as had he. Eloise was all they had ever known growing up from infancy into adulthood. It was a cruelty in so many ways. The things she had done to them to garner their absolute loyalty. The pleasure. The pain. And of course, when the old ways crumbled to dust around them, the abandonment. The two of them had never known any other purpose but Eloise and suddenly they had found themselves without a mistress or a pack to protect. Eloise had just simply cast them to the wind and left them to find their own way. Tracker’s way had led him to Shayla and as for Catcher, he found some measure of solace in Texas, or so Tracker hoped.