Darkest Before Dawn

Janine rested her head on the cool glass of the windowpane. The contrast between the coolness of the glass and the warmth of Alex's fingers around her hand sent goose pimples racing along her skin. She wanted to tell Alex everything. Pour out her heart. But, if she admitted the truth and depth of her feelings, that'd make them real. As long as she kept them bottled up inside. They weren't real. She could deny them. Stuff them back into an abandoned corner of her mind and forget them. Go back to living the life she'd led before. Fancy free, frivolous, and empty, so numbingly empty. If Patrick didn't come back, she'd need every defense she could call on just to pick up the pieces and fake living again.

Alex shifted and tried to find a comfortable spot on the floor. She kept hold of Janine's hand. Terrified if she let go, Janine would slip back into her stupor and start staring out the window again. "I'm not going anywhere. Whatever it is you're going through. We're in it together."

Janine looked down at the top of Alex's head. She'd envied her best friend plenty of times. The way that Alex was so confident that she didn't need to hide behind layers of makeup and designer labels to feel good about herself. The way Alex's life was so full. Brimming over the top with people who loved her. And Lucien. They'd finally found one another and she was so complete. Next to her, Janine felt like an empty shell. Superficial. Shallow. And empty. So empty. Alex was so sure of every step while Janine bumbled her way through life. Janine had thought she was special. That she was the one who would bring Alex kicking and screaming, to follow in her footsteps. She was the impostor, the one that couldn't face herself. She was the one that needed a major makeover both inside and outside. Not Alex.

Janine couldn't stomach herself. She couldn't deal with her life. Patrick was an enigma. At first, she'd thought he was just a distraction wrapped up in a pretty wrapper of flesh. She didn't realize. Maybe, hadn't wanted to delve into the empty cavern of her heart to explore just how much he'd meant to her. She had feelings for him. Ones she hadn't given much thought to. After all, she had her job, shopping, and men, so many men to fill the void. She hadn't had to pay attention to her heart. Until now, now that he was gone and might not come back, ever. She should have taken the time. Should have made the time for them before it was too late.

Alex tugged on Janine's hand, surprised when she didn't resist and melted onto the floor in a pile of worn terry cloth next to her. Janine's shoulders quaked with the force of her tears. They spilled in a waterfall down her cheeks onto the lapels of the robe. Crying was something. Progress. Janine had sat in that windowsill all day without the faintest hint of an expression. Tears, as sorrowful and mournful as they were, were an improvement. Alex wrapped her arms around her best friend's shoulders and crushed them in a hard embrace. Janine didn't speak. But, she didn't need to. Her tears said it all. "We'll get him back."

Chapter 5

John Mark spat disgusted by the dirty oily fur. Eagerly, he released the hissing, writhing, bony cat. "Trust me buddy, I don't like you either," he grumbled at the cat. The tang of thin blood turned his stomach. The cat had hardly taken the edge off his hunger. Growling low and menacingly, the cat bolted into the darkness of the alley, retreating behind the safety of an overflowing trashcan.

He was distracted from the hissing feline by the urgent whisper of Robert's voice in his earpiece. "Ravens on the wing. I repeat ravens on the wing Thirty-eighth Street and Main." John Mark kicked his boots into high gear and trotted down the sidewalk. Ravens on the wing was code for a rogue spotting. "Hot damn," he muttered excitedly. Finally there was some action.

Kiros studied the couple, watching as they turned the tourist map in their hands, arguing in heated debate about where to go next. He sniffed the air curiously. Could it be? His beloved children this close at hand? Hanging close to the shadows, he crept in for a closer look. The man was stocky, thickly built, with a shook of fading, reddish hair, almost blond from the gray. Familiar green eyes, so much like his ancestors, scanned the street for the landmark on his map. The woman, so tiny, pale as moonlight, a faint, blonde wisp of a woman, clad in a springy colored pantsuit, muttered exasperatedly at the man.

"Right over there," Robert said, pretending to point at the map. He was actually directing his wife's attention to the rogue, standing in the shadows watching them. His heart pounded in his chest at the feel the vampire's eyes on him.

Danielle followed her husband's finger, pointing to an imaginary spot on the crumpled map stretched between his fingers. "Oh yeah, I see it." The pale face ducked into the shadows as she glanced around the map. "How many more landmarks are we going to see this evening?" She asked, her message buried deeply in code. Vampires had excellent hearing and there was no reason to tip their hand. She sighed feigning exhaustion. "Maybe we should duck into the coffee shop and have a drink before we go on." Their job was to observe and report, not to engage. No vampire in his right mind would attack in the presence of so many witnesses. They'd be safe as long as they stayed in plain sight.

"Of course, sugarplum." Robert said, tucking Danielle's arm under his. He led her to the coffee house. The place was packed with late evening coffee drinkers desperate for one last caffeine buzz before calling it a day. He could sympathize. His hand ran along her waistband, tucking another dagger securely into place. In an over exaggerated gesture, he held the door open for her.

His eyes traveled to the vacant space where the rogue had been moments before, watching them. Pressing through the crowd of people mulling about with fragrant drinks clutched in their grips, he made his way to the counter and ordered two caramel lattes. In the din of so many people, the rogue couldn't over hear his hurried communication to John Mark. There was nothing to do but wait, enjoy the sweetness and warmth of the drink, and watch, from an empty seat at the window, till John Mark arrived.

Kore slipped up on her brother gently tapping him on the shoulder. Playfulness tended to keep him off balance. Kept him from getting so suspicious of the true motives behind the gesture. She smiled broadly as he turned. "Brother."

Kiros raised a finger to his lips, although he hardly needed to. "Sister, look! Your nephew." He pointed to the couple silhouetted in the warm light of coffee shop window. "My search is over. I've found him at last! Blood of my blood!"

Kore rolled her eyes in disdain. Her brother was out of his delusional mind. This man and his mundane little wife were just two in a herd, nothing more. Kiros's bloodline died with him, centuries ago. If there were loose ends left undone, they were so remote, so watered down by time that they were genetically inconsequential. "You mean the semi- attractive couple sitting in the window?" She sighed shaking her head at her brother's latest obsession. "How can you be sure?"

"A father knows his children," Kiros replied. He stared down at his sister. A harsh, appraising look glimmered in his eye. Kore was the bastard daughter of his father and one of his many mistresses. Abused, beaten and starved by his mother out of jealousy for the love and kindness he lavished on the girl. But, blood was blood. Like his father, Kiros had an eye for beautiful things. Her dark Mediterranean looks captured his imagination and his heart. Much as her mother's had captured his father's. That was long, long ago. And the starving whelp of a girl so grateful for scraps from the master's table was long gone too.

"Perhaps, I took you too soon. I should have waited until you had children of your own before making you. Then you would understand." He had a child before what was done and could not be undone happened. He'd watched his bloodline ebb and flow like the tide out to sea for centuries. It was finally time to bring them home into their father's arms and reunite his family.

"You haven't seen any of your alleged mortal children in how long?" Kore asked. Her voice dripped with sarcasm and utter hatred. As a girl, she hadn't wanted much. A home. A family. A husband. She didn't long for things as a bastard's daughter born of ill breeding in a land teeming with pale-faced, superstitious, Celts, could only dream of. And thanks to her brother, that's all they would ever be. Dreams.

"I know the scent of my blood." Kiros sniffed back a tear as he lost himself in reminiscence. Kore thought she'd erased him from the face of the earth. She'd killed his wife and the babe growing in her womb along with her. Kore didn't know everything. He'd always been a man of secrets and shadows. There was a woman he loved far more than the wife that had been forced on him. A child, of his blood, that lived, grew into a fine man, and fathered children. "Blood of my blood. Flesh of my flesh."

"Somehow, I doubt if he shares in your enthusiasm for a family reunion." Kore pointed out. She watched the hulk of warrior walking down the sidewalk. The Son exuded pure menace. Loose fitting clothes hid what was most likely, a various array of weaponry from plain sight. Blades and weapons meant for them. Honed into lethal edges for the rogues. Gripping her brother's sleeve, she pulled him deeper into the shadows. "Look."

Kiros growled low in his throat. "Bastards are everywhere." He shot his sister a glaring stare of pure hatred for the warriors. "How is the tracker coming along?" He needed that tracker. Today. He would not lose his family this time. It had taken him over two hundred years, dozens of countries, and the very depths of the oceans, to find the remnant left. This was all he had left, this man and his daughter. All that was left of his humanity. And he would not let them slip away. After he had them in his embrace, he intended to use that tracker, search every corner of the globe for more of his precious family. This man and his daughter, his great, great, great...grandchildren couldn't be all there was.

Kore smiled knowingly at her brother. Let him have his obsessions. They kept him off her back and gave her the time she needed to work her plans into place. "Give me time, he's close."

Kiros nodded, "Good, I need his allegiance. Come, let's not draw anymore attention to ourselves." He took Kore by the arm and melted into the shadows.

John Mark slowed to a trot, turning the corner of a packed sidewalk. Finding the coffee shop, he spotted Robert and Danielle seated in front of the window. He slowed to a crawl, elbowed and tossed about by the crowd of passersby. He stopped at the bus stop, trying to look casual. Just another guy waiting for the bus., he leaned against the streetlamp, scanning over the crowd.

Robert guided Danielle to the bus stop by the elbow. She pretended to study the tourist map. "I thought I saw our next stop over there," he said, pointing to the buildings across the busy intersection. "Sir, can you help us?" he asked. Playing the lost tourist act a bit overboard, he handed the map to John Mark and pointed to the spot where he'd spotted the rogue. "I think we may have missed our next stop."

John Mark smiled. Robert was sure hamming it up for the cameras. Maybe, a little too much, all things considered. "Ah, yeah. I see where you mean." Fucking rogue was right under their noses. "Maybe, you should wait here for the next bus," John Mark said. "Let me go check the bus schedule for you. There's a posting across the street."

He darted across the busy intersection and cautiously approached the dark space between the two buildings. Casually, John Mark walked with his hands shoved into his pockets, scanning the area. His senses were on high alert. "Shoot," he muttered, snapping his fingers as if he'd remembered something. No trace of the vampires. Their essence was lost to the throng of humanity and the noxious stench of exhaust from the vehicles that crowded the narrow roadway. He brought the microphone close to his mouth and whispered into it, "Raven has flown the coop."

John Mark caught Danielle's subtle nod out of the corner of his eye. Robert and she were safe, as long as they stayed elbow to elbow in the thick of the crowds. Since he was already here. Dressed up and no dance partner. He ducked into the alley for a quick, little look around. Who knew? He might get lucky tonight.

Chapter 6

"You're going to fall," Patrick said, watching Nikki teeter on the windowsill. She had been working on those boards for half of the evening. Cursing and pleading, desperately scrabbling to work a second board free from the relentless nails that held it fast. Everything else in this building was close to collapse, except for the ten-penny nails hammered into the boards. Comical, especially because of her struggle over one goddamned board when the place was coming down around them. He admired her determination and her will to live. Especially, since he had none.

"No I'm getting us, or at least me, out of here," Nikki said, biting her bottom lip in frustration at the stubborn board. She was hungry, cold, tired, and scared half out of her wits. And she had a bigger problem due anytime. Her period. If she were still locked in here with Patrick when Mother Nature decided to visit. She could ensure her place of honor at his dinner table. The scent of her blood would be too much. Push him well over the brink.

"Ow, shit," she hissed, gripping her hand. A large splinter protruded out of the meat of her left palm. Add tetanus or some god-awful flesh-eating bacteria to the list of things she had to worry about. Not, that she'd live long enough to watch her hand rot off anyway. Wonderful. Sucking back a whimper of pain, she tugged furtively at the splinter. Stubborn as the board it came from, the thing wouldn't budge.

Patrick hissed as the scent of Nikki's blood drifted through the darkness, lodging deep into his nostrils. She smelled fresh and airy, sweet, like a warm summer afternoon. He closed his eyes and licked his lips. Hunger tore through him, cramping his body into a spasm of pain. "You've been injured," he said, burying his face in his hands. Struggling to maintain his fragile hold over his self-control.

"No shit," Nikki shot back. She didn't want to sound like such a bitch. But, the splinter hurt and her palm was on fire. She eased her feet onto the floor, cradling her injured palm in her other hand. She bit the inside of her cheek, gathering her courage to rip the splinter free. It wouldn't budge. "Ow, ow, ow, damn!" she cursed, stomping her foot to keep from crying. She chastised herself for being such a wimp. IT. WAS. JUST. A. SPLINTER! Sucking in her breath, she pulled on the wooden shard again, releasing a string of obscenities as the thing bit deeper into her flesh.

"I can help." Patrick took a light, tentative step toward her. He didn't know first aid or any of that shit. Vampires healed, for the most part and in case that didn't work, they died. There wasn't much of an in between for his kind.

"No, you can't Bloodsucker," Nikki protested, clutching her injured palm close to her chest. "Great." Jarring the splinter had caused the wound to release a fresh flow of blood. Now, she was bleeding again and Patrick looked hungrier than ever. She could see his control weakening with every minute that passed.

"It'll get infected." He took another step closer to Nikki. His nostrils flared and his fangs elongated in response to the scent of her blood. He couldn't help it. He was like one of Pavlov's dogs slobbering at the sound of the dinner bell.

"That's the least of my worries," Nikki said, taking a defensive step back. Her butt bumped the windowsill. Rustling the moldy curtains, sending a shower of things she didn't want to think about over her shoulders. What'd he think she was going to do? Say ok and hand her bleeding wound over to one of the creatures of the night for first aid?

"Really, I'm in complete control, see." Patrick lifted his upper lip high, showing her that his fangs were well hidden. Retracting them was agonizing. Controlling his nature, utter torture. He wanted nothing more than to dig his fangs into her flesh and gnaw on her. There was little he could do in terms of offering her any type of aid. Maybe, this small gesture would make up for what was to come. Maybe, when she met Saint Peter, she'd tell him about the kindly vampire who had pulled out the splinter and not the fiend that had sent her there in the first place. They were painfully short on time. And they both knew it.

Nikki's palm throbbed as the flesh surrounding the splinter started to swell. "Can you get it out?" Doubt resounded in her voice. "Really?" She shifted her weight from foot to foot in hesitation.

"Of course I can. Great suction." He teased to gain her confidence. "Really. I can."

"It will hurt."

Patrick smiled reassuringly. He held out his hand, waiting for her to place her injured palm in his. "I won't let it."

"If you bite me, I swear I'll knock your head in." Nikki said. Her voice filled with trepidation as she timidly placed her hand in his. She flinched at the intimacy of Patrick wrapping an arm around her waist and easing her to the floor. Her head began to spin at the whispered words, so soft that she couldn't quite understand what he said.

The pain in her palm began to subside. Replaced by a feeling of intense calm. She yielded to the cool hand, guiding her head to rest against his chest. She closed her eyes, drifting, comforted by the calm that seemed to wrap itself around her like a warm blanket on a winter's night. She felt the cool brush of lips against her palm. But, she wasn't afraid. There wasn't any pain, exactly as he'd promised. If he killed her, if she had to die, maybe, this wasn't such a bad way to go.

Patrick's senses reeled at the warmth of Nikki's body enveloping him. Slowly and gently, careful not to startle her, he lifted her palm to his mouth. He wrapped his teeth around the offending splinter of wood and tugged it out, working quickly before his next wave of hunger struck. Drawing with soft pulls he sucked at the wound releasing several miniscule slivers of wood. He swallowed the splinters and the minute amount of blood that accompanied them, drawing a small measure of strength from her sweetness. It wasn't enough to drive away his hunger. There was never enough to drive away his hunger.

Using the last reserve of his will power, Patrick lapped the wound closed. He was desperate to earn her trust. When the time came. And he was sure it would. He didn't want her terrified in those final moments. He could, at the very least, send her to her rest without the terror and pain she'd known over the last few days. He kept his hold on Nikki long after she succumbed to the power of his spell. Whispering softly and running his fingers through the chocolaty smooth waves in her hair. He would not forget. He would never forget. No matter how ravenous he got. He would always remember the feel of her hair running through his fingers. And, that a human girl had been brave enough to trust him when he could not trust himself.

Chapter 7

Danielle stifled a yawn, resting her head on Robert's shoulder. It was well past midnight and they were no closer to finding Patrick than they were when they first arrived. She tucked the map carefully into her bag. Throughout the night, they had been going from place to place, searching for rogues. They had zip. Nothing. Hopefully, John Mark had done better on his end of things. But, the quiet that filled the earpiece tucked into her left ear told her that he had not.