Dawn's Darkest Hour

Desperate to put the depressing subject and the potential threat to rest, she shifted onto her knees. Her stare shot between Cole and David, hoping to find resolution in their eyes of what she was about to ask. "I want to make a pact here and now. If that happens to me, promise me, you'll kill me. I don't want to never grow up."

Cole thought about it and nodded, "Agreed." He didn't want to be stuck like this forever either. His eagerness to grow up was exactly what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. At almost twenty, he had started to fill out. His chest broader and shoulders wider, his jaw squarer than it had been just a year ago. But, he couldn't imagine living the way David was forced to live. He could give a shit less about ever seeing his step-dad again, but never getting to see his mom and his brothers and sisters. Letting them think you were dead as an alternative to the truth. Unimaginable. "Same goes for me, too."

"I will age," David whispered. In ten years, he hadn't changed a bit. The neat haircut he'd gotten before going to downtown that night had grown a bit scraggly around the tops of his ears and the back of his neck. It took weeks for the slightest shadow of stubble to grow on his chin. He didn't know how long he'd be stuck like this. Maybe forever. Bianca promised him he wouldn't be a fresh-faced youth forever. That he would age. Funny that. He'd never seen a geriatric vampire. Maybe it was because vampires with the supposed market on immortality didn't live as long as they believed they would. Vampires died and they died violently. "Eventually."

Cole and Rachael exchanged glances. David couldn't even buy a pack of smokes or get himself into a bar without getting tossed out on his ear. Eventually? What did that mean exactly? They both shook their heads and said in unison, "That's too long."

David slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes. Agreeing to what they'd asked of him in an almost imperceptible nod. He'd make it quick and as painless as possible: a crack of the spinal column, the swift pierce of a blade: easy and gentle. If he'd been given the choice back then, he would have chosen just as they had. To die rather than to exist as he was forced to. "Deal."

Chapter 57

Nora paced around her living room. The walls were too confining, too bland. She'd never realized how devoid of color her world was. Until David had came back into it. For the first time, she'd had a taste of everything her life was missing. With nothing to do and no one to talk to, she sat and stared out of her patio doors into the darkness of the night. Even after her divorce she'd never really felt alone. In a way, she wished David hadn't come back. No, she didn't want him truly dead. It was that, in the wake of this painful first, the crushing agony of loneliness was killing her.

David was a vampire. She was in love with someone, rather something, that couldn't love her back. That was why, in the heat of last night, he'd promised her nothing but one night. Beyond a brief interlude, he had nothing to offer. In the daylight, with the sun streaming down through a thick layer of puffy white clouds, she'd accepted the facts as they were. But, at night, with nothing but her quiet thoughts and her reflection to meet her stare through the glass of her patio door. She realized exactly how demented her lies had been. One night would never, ever be enough.

She understood David's mother a lot better now. His mother had known the truth about her son. For years, she kept the blinds open and the lights on, night after night. Hoping they'd guide her son back home. And for years, a decade now, she'd sat waiting for him to return. Knowing the truth, but never being able to tell. Never giving up on your child and be so resolved to love him no matter what. During her visit with the fragile woman, Nora had noticed it, but at the time had failed to pick up on the tiny kernel of truth. David's absence, the constant waiting for the one day her son would reappear, was slowly driving the woman insane.

Nora wondered how many years it would take before she became a mad woman driven insane by her memories. How many times would she see David in a stranger's face? How many shadows would she chase after before she came to realize the truth? He wasn't coming back. She was in love with a ghost.

Chapter 58

Amy slammed the phone down on the receiver and cursed a string of obscenities that would have made a sailor blush. She'd called Rachael's cell phone so many times that the voice mail wouldn't accept any more messages. "Rod, aren't you the least bit concerned about your daughter?"

Rod glared at his wife from across the breakfast bar. "Unless you want me to drive around the city knocking on every door. What more can I do but sit and wait until she decides to come home?" Amy was completely overreacting. Just like she always did whenever a situation came up that she could not be in complete control over. Concerned? Sure he was concerned. Rachael wasn't the kind of kid who would sneak off and stay out all night. Did he think she'd been abducted? No. She was simply stretching her adult legs and getting her first taste of the world. Rachael was being herself, for once, instead of the obedient Stepford daughter Amy demanded.

Amy ignored Rod's unhelpful glare and comment and wracked her brain. There had to be something more she could do to find Rachael. The police were as useless as her husband. Since Rachael was eighteen, she didn't meet the qualifications for an Amber Alert. Her baby girl was out there somewhere alone on the mean streets of the city, cold and hungry, frightened, and there was nothing she could do about it. "I can't believe you're so nonchalant about your missing daughter. She could be out there lying in a gutter dead for all you care!"

Rod slammed his coffee cup down on the granite surface of the breakfast bar. The mug shattered into tiny fragments, spilling sticky, hot coffee over the pristine countertop. "Enough! Did it ever occur to you that your little girl isn't so little anymore? She's a grown woman, Amy. Did you ever stop to think that your constant badgering and nagging was smothering her? Rachael wasn't taken anywhere against her will. If she ran away, it's because you drove her to it!"

He snatched a dishtowel from a drawer under the sink and sopped up his mess. The disapproving scowl on his wife's face was evident. He'd gotten a good dishtowel out of the drawer. One of the expensive ones she saved for when company came over. A fluffy, pristine, white towel with a colorful border of embroidered roosters on the edges that cost more than a dozen Super Center towels put together. He'd done it on purpose, just to prove his point. He returned her scowl with smug satisfaction, daring her to correct him. The damn towel did nothing but smear the coffee all over the counter. "God damned piece of shit! How much did we pay for these anyway?" He tossed the ruined dishtowel into the sink and grabbed for a wad of paper towels.

Amy slumped onto her stool, watching her husband sop up the coffee with her good towels. He thought she was a bad mother. Was she? All she'd ever tried to do was give Rachael the life that she'd never had. She was pregnant with Rachael and married before she'd barely turned nineteen. Things were so hard at first. Finishing college with a new baby and a husband to look after, not having two nickels to rub together, it had been awful at the time. The only thing that kept her going during all the bad times was the belief that, for Rachael, life would be different. "You think I'm a bad mother."

Rod stopped his agitated wiping with the paper towels and drooped his shoulders. Amy's bottom lip trembled. She was on the verge of tears. He didn't want that. He didn't mean to make her cry. He'd spoken out of frustration and anger. The wad of paper towels landed in the trashcan with a damp thud. "No," he said gently. "I think you try too hard though." He wiped his hands, tacky with cream and sugar, on his jeans and rounded the breakfast bar. Amy was so small in his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I think you're the best mother any girl could have."

Amy sighed, comforted by Rod's strength. His body had changed some over the years. The rock hard abs and broad, chiseled chest of his youth were a bit softer now days. He smelled of soap and expensive cologne. She smiled and rubbed her cheek into the crook of his neck. Sometimes, she'd stop at the row of cheap men's colognes on display at the Super Center and sneak a whiff or two of Bruit or Old Spice. Just to take a quick trip down memory lane.

Even though they saw each other every day. They were practically strangers in the life they'd worked so hard to build for themselves and their daughter. Life, the house, Rachael, jobs, car payments, and 401K's, had driven huge wedge between them. "I miss you."

Time had simply gotten away from her. Rod was probably right. Rachael was just rebelling. Staying out all night, just because she knew there'd be nothing her parents could really do about it. She hadn't even gotten around to having the talk with Rachael yet out of her refusal to accept that her daughter was all grown up. Hopefully, Rachael was being smart and taking precautions. "Do you think Rachael's out doing what we were doing at her age?"

Rod stiffened. "I don't want to think about it." If Rachael had inherited half her mother's appeal toward the opposite sex, they were in deep, deep shit. He nuzzled Amy's hair. So much had changed between them over the years. His wife was a perfect, WASP, machine. Underneath the layers of overpriced hair products, age-defying makeup, and endless trips to the gym, was the girl he fell in love with. My god, he'd been crazy about her back then. He still was. Too bad, it took a crisis to bring them back together and for him to see it.

Amy leaned back in Rod's arms, tipping her chin to look up into his eyes. She trusted that he wouldn't let go. That his arms, the twin pieces of flesh, bone, and muscle, she'd relied on so many times, would always keep her from falling. "There isn't anything more we can do is there?" Resignation was in her voice. She couldn't drug Rachael into submission. For far too long, she'd refused to let her go. Her little girl had blossomed into womanhood and no little blue pill was going to stop it.

"Trust our daughter," Rod answered. He led Amy to the sectional and spread out a throw. The couch had been well worth the exuberant price. It was comfortable and designed for long naps. Amy settled down on the cushions and stared up at him. He stretched out on the chaise next to her and stroked her hair till she fell into a restless sleep.

He stared out into the dim light of dawn and evaluated life and all the trappings of it. Screw the dishtowels with their stupid embroidered roosters, to hell with the five hundred dollar a month SUV payment. Burn the two-story cookie cutter McMansion they paid through the nose for to the ground. What did any of it matter? What a man was on the inside defined him. Not what name brand was stamped on the waistband of his jockey shorts. In the end, family was the only thing he had that was of any value and for far too long, he'd let life get in the way of living. Not any more though, he vowed, not any more.

Chapter 60

David watched Rachael and Cole. Somehow, despite the fact that a vampire was perched on the arm of a chair not more than fifteen feet from them, they'd managed to fall asleep. My god, their faith in him was truly blind. They trusted him not to take a bite out of them while they slept. What they didn't know was how thinly tethered his control was. Even now, the ache of thirst held his throat in an iron fist. He could kill them and they'd die. He was the very personification of the grim reaper. Sometimes, he could fool himself into almost feeling human. Almost, until the thirst reminded him of what he really was beneath the surface.

He stared out at the glittering city. Not giving a damn about the glorious display of man's accomplishments. They were only lights in empty buildings. Out there somewhere, someone was dying. Out there somewhere, a couple was busy in the act of conceiving a child. Out there somewhere, a life began with the same surety as another one would end. Humanity just kept right on living and dying in absolute oblivion.

He was damned hungry. Scowling at the stack of dirty dishes from Cole and Rachael's supper, he pushed them out into the hallway. Cole was an eating machine. He'd wolfed down his two burgers and the other half of Rachael's. David hadn't been doing this long enough to forget what it was like to be human. He remembered the salty taste of fries. The consistency of hot grease from a hamburger as it rolled down the side of your hand with every delicious bite. The cool, sweet, froth of a chocolate shake slicking its way down his throat. GOD he missed food! What was immortality compared to a burger and fries? NOTHING.

He resumed his perch at the window. In a few hours, a new day would streak across the horizon and he could leave the kids alone long enough to hunt. Not that an attack couldn't happen in the day. But, more likely than not, one wouldn't. The risk of being seen was too great. Besides, like the smell of human food, daylight was almost intolerable. Sunlight was just one of the myriad little things that reminded him of what he was, as if he could forget.

He was going to keep Rachael and Cole alive and very human. The choice to end their lives was not one he was going to have to make. He'd fucked up and lost Theresa. She'd trusted him and look where it'd gotten her. Dead. Vampires, and he didn't care what kind they were, Guardian, Rogue, even the mighty Sons, used people.

Theresa was nothing more than a pawn in a much bigger game. A way for O'Sullivan to get what he wanted. David had delivered, as promised, and he'd gotten his sister back in fragmented pieces. He had her body, but her soul, was already gone. A braver man, someone who truly loved her, would have let her go then and there. David wasn't that man. And in the end, she'd paid with her life, and he, with his soul.

David thought about how many had suffered because of him. His sister. His mom and dad. Nora. Now Rachael and Cole. All because of him and what he was. His world had no business mixing with theirs. At one time, he thought he could blur the edges and come up with some sort of a gray safe zone. Not possible. After this was over. He was done. No Guardians. No humans. He'd find someplace where nobody else was and stay there. Bianca and her pet cause could kiss his ass.

He had some unsettled business to tend to before that could happen. O'Sullivan had killed his last human. He just didn't know it yet. David owed the bastard for what he'd done to his sister, for Rachael and her best friend, and for all the lives destroyed by O'Sullivan over the years. This was a grudge match, if ever there was one. And he was ready to kick some ass straight into hell where it belonged.

Cole rolled over and pried his eyes open. The soft light of dawn was beginning to creep through the curtains. Rachael was still fast asleep, curled into a little ball on her side. Careful not to wake her, he slid out of bed and yawned sleepily. David sat on the arm of a chair exactly where he'd been when Cole fell asleep, staring out into the city below, watching it come to life. "Do you miss it?"

David tugged the curtains tightly shut, closing out the world. "More than you could ever imagine." He closed off his mind from Cole as easily as he'd drawn the drapes. What was going on in his head was none of Cole's business. "You should be safe now," David said, pulling on his leather jacket. "Don't leave the room. Don't tell anyone where you are. And most importantly, watch over Rachael." He gave Cole his most threatening scowl to show he meant business. "Don't disappoint me."

"You're leaving us?"

"I'll be back before sundown." David turned the lock on the door and closed it tightly behind him. In broad daylight, there was only one place he could go to get a meal. As much as he dreaded going back there he needed his strength for tonight.

Chapter 61

Bianca had always hedged on the side of caution. One thing she'd learned early on was to make sure all her bases were thoroughly covered. No matter what went down tonight she was absolutely in the clear. The thick tint on the windows made it possible to view the sunrise without agony. Below the city sighed and opened its sleepy eyes to another day. The rooms of the massive high rise grew quiet as the masses settled in for the day. Quiet a legacy she'd inherited. Dozens of lives bound together by one singular purpose. To keep humanity alive.

Guilt was something Bianca had ceased to feel long ago. One could not be what she was if feelings got in the way. She was as hard and cold as a stone. Her survival depended on it. A long time ago that simple fact had become apparent and after it did, she had no feelings left. After centuries of sitting in the cheap seats, watching entire nations fall and crumble, she realized that the tiny sip of humanity she took didn't matter in the least. Whether humanity survived or not wasn't hers to worry over. Humans were more of a threat to themselves than an entire legion of her kind could ever be. Eventually, humanity would become extinct, not because of vampires, but by their own hands.

Some would call her a fatalist and maybe she was. But, until the day came when the Lord's trumpets sounded. Not that her name was going to be in any heavenly roll call anyway. Why not try to have a little fun till then? The door opened behind her. She blinked in surprise to see her child standing in its frame. "David, how nice of you to stop by."

"Can the pleasantries, Bianca." David could not stand the sight of his maker. He refused to shrink away from her as she slunk across the carpet, like a tigress with her sights on a juicy tidbit of prey. In the beginning, she'd been his world. What a sick and twisted world it turned out to be. She was a poor substitute for the mother he'd been forced to leave behind.

Bianca slid her fingers across David's smooth cheek. How young he still was. She saw his disdain and revulsion of her. At one time, he'd looked on her with devotion and worship, like a babe in his mother's arms. Turned out, she wasn't exactly cut out for motherhood. Far too soon, she'd shown him exactly how violent the world she'd birthed him into could be. "I can still make you feel good, David." She cupped his groin and squeezed.

David gripped her wrist mercilessly and twisted free of her grasp. "You never made me feel good," he hissed.

"Never?" Bianca smiled. She knew better. His early days had been spent under her careful mentoring. He'd been an innocent, wide-eyed youth, a virgin, timid and unsure, clumsily pawing at her. In time, she'd taken that boy and made him into a man. A lover, trained for pleasure. Had she known he'd grow to despise her so quickly, she might have drained him in the alley that night and left him for dead. Maybe that spark of hate was exactly why she felt not a hint of remorse at his upcoming betrayal. He had turned on her first and she could not allow an enemy who knew her so well to live.

"Stop." David's stomach rolled at the sensation of her taint on his flesh. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in an ornately framed mirror. Ugly, twisted, that was what he saw in his likeness. There was not as much as a glimmer of the boy he used to be in that dim reflection upon the glass. He shook with rage and fury at her and in anger with himself for being so stupid. One bad decision had changed his life forever. His fingers locked around the heavy bauble resting on a table. With a roar, he flung it at the mirror, shattering the glass. "Why'd you do it?" he asked, turning away from the bits of his distorted image.