Dawn's Darkest Hour

Bianca paused. The question threw her off guard. She honestly didn't have an answer. At least not one that was as monumental as the question he'd asked. Perhaps, his turning was an act of desperation. A last ditch effort to grasp onto the things she could never be, a mother, a decent human being, innocent. She couldn't create life, only take it. Turn something beautiful into something twisted and perverse. Of her own maker, she'd never asked the most fundamental question. Why? She already knew the answer and it was damning in the truth it revealed. She was exactly like Eric. She studied David, trembling in all his self-hatred and rage, with cool disconnectedness. "Because, I could."

Bianca found her hair caught in a merciless grasp, her neck extended, and a blade resting on her pulse. "Perhaps, you shouldn't have," David hissed in her ear. He had been so fast. She hadn't had time to react. "Touch me again and I will kill you. You see. I have no fear of dying. The dead only die once and you've already killed me."

David left Bianca gasping for breath. He'd made a mistake. In this world, there were no true friends, only bad enemies and worse enemies. Today, he'd made a powerful foe. One that wouldn't be likely to forget or forgive the error anytime soon.

Chapter 62

O'Sullivan crouched low in the narrow space between the buildings. Where Carter had taken off to? He hadn't a clue, nor did he care. The wolves held his interest. Obviously, they'd picked up the scent trail he'd deliberately left behind with ease. Fantastic. He watched the magnificent animals, sleek and powerful, as they tracked his scent to exactly where he intended. Confused, the wolves began backtracking the scent, trying again to sniff him out. As beasts went, they were intelligent. Sticking carefully to shadows and tight spaces, well out of the view of any human that might unwittingly stumble upon them.

He knew the Sons would be bringing their pets today, casing out the meeting place long before nightfall. So predictable. Carter knew about the wolves. Why he hadn't shared this all too unexpected tidbit before now, O'Sullivan didn't know. Weren't they friends? Obviously, Carter's fall from grace wasn't as complete as he'd hoped. As long as they had secrets between them, Carter wasn't to be trusted. Carter had remained tight lipped about his knowledge of the wolves. No matter, in time, O'Sullivan would ferret out the answers he needed. Then, he'd have Carter and the wolves, too.

A plan, he needed a plan. Tonight's meeting, he had to believe it was more than just chance or coincidence. Tonight was fate. He was meant to find the wolves and become their new master. He needed a way to capture them and harness their power.

Carter hung way back. O'Sullivan's interest in the wolves would not be swayed. He stayed upwind of the creatures. In their wolf forms, Carter couldn't identify who the men of the pack were. But, they'd be able to identify him by his scent. They'd think him a friend. If O'Sullivan could find a way to use him against the wolves, he would.

Things were quickly turning to shit. He'd taken every bit of trust placed in him and convoluted it into something perverse. The Sons, big son of a bitches clad in black leather. Once, Carter had walked among them as a trusted ally. Not anymore. They cased the alleyway with determination. Instinctively, Carter wanted to warn them that they were going after the wrong guy. The one they wanted was hidden well out of sight. As far as he'd fallen from Grace, to find he still had a glimmer of a conscience left didn't serve him well tonight. Quickly, he stifled his feelings. He'd never made any promises to the wolves, only to Shayla, baby R.J, and Evan. For them, he'd give his life. Everyone else could fend for themselves.

Daniel shivered in the cold, fall morning breeze and quickly slid into the sweats and long sleeved t-shirt crumpled in the bottom of his backpack. He'd been the youngest in his family to ever experience the shift. He was proud of that fact. His pack didn't celebrate birthdays or track the passing of years the way Eloise and Torr's packs did. You were born and you were considered a kid until your first shift. He was a man now with full rights and privileges due any adult male. He could pick a mate. He could...he could leave the pack and abandon his wolf. Anything he chose was his for the choosing.

All his life he'd been trying to prove himself to the pack and now he had his chance. This assignment was important and even though he wasn't top dog he felt the need to work twice as hard as the other guy. He'd had his wolf for some months now and was quite proud at the way the two halves of him came together to function as a complete whole. He'd volunteered his wolf to track the vampire through the city. Of course, his dad stayed pretty close on his flank. His larger, more experienced wolf watching him with the diligence so inbred in all wolves.

Daniel wasn't one to show weakness. He gritted his teeth against the confusion of shifting back and forth from human to wolf and then to human. Every bone in his body ached and his skin felt too tight. It was damn cold without the luxurious pelt of his wolf to keep him warm. The alley was a dead end. The trail looped back onto itself and stopped suddenly. "I can smell him, but the trail doesn't lead anywhere. It's almost as if the bloodsucker knew we'd be here. The scent is too fresh for him to be too far away. I don't even need my wolf to smell it. It's almost like...well, deliberate." He shook out his spiked black hair and scanned the rooftops of the buildings.

"Kid's right. The trail doesn't make any sense," Hunter agreed. He squashed down the feelings of pride he had for his youngest son along with the desire to rumple his hair in a truly fatherly display of affection. Daniel was a man now and sure as hell wouldn't appreciate the gesture. His son was so young and it was hard to see him as an adult. Daniel was barely an adult as humans marked the passing of time. At eighteen his body lacked the fullness and definition of a grown man. Daniel's face still held the roundness about his cheeks and jaw of a boy and he had yet to fill out through the chest and shoulders or reach his full adult height.

The wolf wasn't supposed to come until after a man reached full physical maturity, usually sometime between the ages of twenty-one to twenty-five. His son had been an exception. Daniel's wolf was small and gangly, uncertain and clumsy as the boy with whom he shared a body. It worried Hunter that Daniel wasn't ready physically or emotionally for the burdens of the wolf. Daniel was quick to anger. He was impulsive and reckless. And worst of all, he was a deep ocean and kept his innermost thoughts to himself. What went on in Daniel's head was a mystery to everyone. Perhaps, even to Daniel himself.

Hunter didn't worry that Tristen, his oldest, would ever leave the pack or that Mouse, his youngest, would shirk her responsibilities when the time came. But Daniel, when it came to his middle child, Hunter had no clue of what path his son's feet would travel. He worried though that for Daniel, it would not be an easy journey.

Out of all his children, Daniel resembled him the most. The other two had inherited quite a bit of their mother in terms of both looks and temperament. Although sometimes, with Tristen he could see a bit more of himself in his oldest than he did in Mouse. Daniel though, Daniel was one hundred percent a chip off the old block. The realization of how much Daniel was like him kept him awake till late in the night more often than not.

Daniel was hell bent on going on the assignment. Knowing there was nothing he could do to stop him, he had reluctantly agreed to let Daniel tag along. His son was too eager to prove himself in the field. Hunter knew Daniel wasn't up to the challenges he forced himself into. Daniel's eagerness might get him killed, or worse.

Hunter's memories of the city still haunted him late at night. The chains, the blood, the screams, and the pain were still too fresh in his mind. Only one other person understood the depth of personal hell and that was because she'd been there with him, at the mercy of a madman, through it all. Gina, his loving wife was his anchor and he, hers. There was a certain level of intimacy shared between those in captivity that not even the bonds of marriage and love could begin to forge. Love kept them together, but their suffering during those long days and nights had brought them there.

"I don't recognize the scent." Marcus paced the confining space between the twin

brick buildings. The reek of spoiled Chinese food and rotting garbage nauseated him. The longer he spent in this place. The less he liked it. To him, the whole thing had the feel of a set up. But, Marcus wondered, who was being set up and why.

The scent clearly belonged to a vampire. Carter was the only one who knew about the wolves. Marcus had to wonder, given recent events how deep Carter's loyalties ran. Would he sell the wolves out too and if so, to whom? "I think we've done all we can do for the time being. Let's get out of this blasted sunlight."

Chapter 63

Rachael awoke to the alluring smell of bacon and fresh coffee. For a minute, she thought she was back home and the heavenly aroma was that of an unexpected Sunday breakfast. Self-consciously, she ran a hand over her tangled hair and shyly gave Cole a smile. "Where's David?"

Cole poured a mug of coffee and guessed at the amount of cream and sugar to add. Room service was the stuff of legends in the hotel. With one simple phone call he had fresh coffee and a huge breakfast delivered to the door in minutes. He handed the mug to Rachael, hoping he'd estimated what to add to the coffee correctly and poured a cup for himself. "I guess we don't need a babysitter during the daytime. We're on our own."

"Oh." Rachael sipped the coffee. The bitterness seeped through the cream and sugar. But, for Cole's benefit, she swallowed and forced a thankful grin. Cole loaded a plate and passed it in her direction. She waved the plate away. Not that the food didn't look appealing, because it did. She simply wasn't hungry.

This was the first night she'd willingly spent away from home since she was eight years old and her parents had forced her to go to summer camp for a week. The weeks she'd spent locked up in the psych hospital lumbering about in a drug-induced haze were different. There, in her memory, but fuzzy and disjointed around the edges.

Embarrassed by her longing for home, she sipped the coffee in silence. She would never ever admit it, especially to Cole. From what she'd gathered, he had few reasons to miss home. His mom was a harried train wreck with too many kids to chase after. His step-dad, well she knew nothing of him other than what Cole had told her. And none of what he'd said had been complementary. Cole's real dad sent him birthday cards and Christmas presents. Occasionally they spoke on the phone, but he hadn't physically seen him since he was a little kid for reasons known only to his mom and dad.

Just listening to Cole during the brief talks they'd had about his home life made her appreciate her parents all the more. Her mom and dad worked too much. They were casually indifferent toward each other. Polite to the point where it made her teeth ache. They never fought or even raised their voices at one another. They smothered her almost to the point of insanity with affection. But, at least she was certain though they may not love each other they loved her.

She felt a little guilty for fantasizing about what would happen when January finally came and she was out on her own in the world. Her parents thought she was planning to stay home and take classes at State. Nothing was further from the truth. Oh, she was going to college right after graduation, just not locally. She hadn't told them yet and hadn't planned to out of fear they'd try to ship her to some very expensive psychologist for further evaluation of her mental health. Her idea was to tell them as she left out the front door with her bags packed and her airplane ticket clutched in her fist. Colorado was a long way away from everything she'd ever known. But, it was also far enough away to be well out of her parents' reach.

She was homesick. All she'd ever thought about for the last year was breaking away from her parents and now all she wanted to do was to go home and tell them how much she loved them.

Cole shrugged at Rachael's refusal of breakfast and balanced the plate on his knees. Devouring her helping with eager enthusiasm, he waggled the last piece of bacon under her nose then stuffed it into his mouth as she shook her head. "We're stuck here all day." He set the empty plate on the floor and stretched out across the length of the bed. His feet dangled over the end. "What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?" Rachael followed Cole's gaze to the popcorn ceiling. She wanted a shower and a change of clothes. The coffee did little to help the gummy feeling on the inside of her mouth. She probably had dragon breath.

"David's orders. We're grounded." Cole turned on his side and propped his head up on his elbow. Rachael had a deer in headlights expression on her face. Nervously, she fiddled with the rumbled bed sheets and looked everywhere but at him.

Rachael sank against the pillows and groaned as she checked her cell phone. "Thank god I'm eighteen. Otherwise, I'd be grounded for the rest of my natural life. My mom has called me like fifty times. What about your parents?"

Cole shrugged dismissively not even bothering to check his phone to see. "They probably don't even realize I'm gone." In fact, they were probably relieved that they didn't have to deal with him. It wasn't unusual for him to take off overnight and show up sometime a day or two later without checking in. Sometimes, he called to tell them he wasn't coming home and sometimes, he didn't. Either way their response was the same. "My parents aren't like yours. They don't care what I do. They wrote me off a long time ago." He snatched a pillow off of the bed and idly tossed it into the air, catching it then tossing it up in the air again. "I'm a bad kid. Not like you. You're perfect."

Rachael reached out and snatched the pillow out of Cole's hands. "I'm hardly perfect."

"Hey!" Cole playfully grumbled and grabbed the pillow out of Rachael's hands. Daring her to come after it, he stuffed the pillow under his head. "You're perfect because I say so and I make the rules around here."

"I don't feel so perfect. I probably reek."

Cole chuckled, "I wasn't going to mention it, but..." His head slammed against the mattress with a thud as Rachael jerked away the pillow. "I tell you what." He sat up as the idea occurred to him. "There's a gift shop in the lobby. While you take a shower, I'll go grab us a couple of cheesy tourist t-shirts and get you a brand new toothbrush. Unless you want to use mine."

Rachael wrinkled her nose. "Eewww, no thanks." She watched Cole as he pulled on his shoes. He'd already paid for the room and all the food. Before all of this had happened and they'd been sucked into each other's lives. They hadn't exactly been friends. "Cole, I can pay you back."

"I didn't ask you to pay for anything," Cole answered, snatching his stash from the Gideon bible in the nightstand. He counted out what he thought he'd need for the purchases and left the rest for her. "Consider it an early birthday present...you know...in case...," he shrugged and stuffed the wad into his jeans. "In case I'm not around for the real thing." Pretending with Rachael was fine. But, he hadn't forgotten what had led them here in the first place. The next ten hours might be all the time he had left.

Rachael nodded with a frown. She understood the kind of danger Cole was in. That they all were in...if things went badly. He still believed that David was willing to stand on the sidelines and let him die. She didn't believe that. She couldn't. David wasn't a killer. David was one of the good guys and if he could prevent it, he wouldn't let anything happen to Cole or to her. "Cole, hurry back, ok?"

Cole nodded and flipped the lock on the door. He stopped and looked over his

shoulder at her. If there was one promise he'd made in his entire life that he intended to make good on. It was his promise to David to keep Rachael safe. That promise didn't end at sundown. The promise would never end as long as he had breath in his lungs and maybe even if he didn't. As reluctant as he was to admit it, Rachael meant something to him. She was the only piece of home he had left. With her, he didn't have to be someone great. He could simply be and she was okay with it. "Call your mom."

The door closed. Rachael was alone in the hotel room. Her fingers trembled, gripping her cell phone. What was she going to tell her mom and dad? Could she handle the lecture and begging for her to come home? She wasn't about to leave Cole. Not now. He needed a friend now more than he ever had in his whole life. And she couldn't bail on him just because she had a sudden case of homesickness. She pressed send and waited. The phone picked up on the first ring. On the other end, she could hear her mother's rapid breathing. "Rachael?"

"Hi, mom," Rachael said, hesitantly.

Chapter 64

Buildings and urban ruin yielded to row houses, and then to the sprawling three bedroom ranches of suburbia. David inhaled the scent of pine. Underneath the freshness was the stench of the city, burning his nostrils. The Suburbanites thought they were out of the reach of all the evils of the city. Yet, thirty miles away David could smell her reek like foul body odor covered by layer after layer of perfume.

He scaled over the oak privacy fence, rickety with age. The backyard used to be his dad's pride and joy, coaxed year after year into a thick carpet of lush green with both patience and no measure of hard work. Barren patches of earth and weeds, spindly and tall, bore evidence that his father, like the grass, had given up. A swing set, Theresa's, rusted in the middle of the yard. David picked his way to a window and jimmied it open. The broken lock had, at one time, been his preferred means of escape. The only thing he wanted to do now was get back in.

David shimmied through the window and landed with catlike grace on silent feet. A cloud of dust stirred by his landing, drifted up from the carpet. Posters of rock stars, whose names he couldn't recall, hung on the wall, suspended by thumbtacks. The edges tattered and curled with time. He ran his index finger along the spines of books he'd read and the pages of which he'd long since forgotten. A model car, half finished, sat on the desk along with a bottle of glue and jar of paint. The unused plastic parts and brushes were gathered in a neat little pile, exactly how he'd left them. Idly, he picked up the model, dusted away a layer of cobwebs and spun a tire with his fingertip.

In this room, time hadn't moved on. It had simply come to an abrupt stand still. Everything exactly where he'd left it ten years ago, waiting for the day he'd come back. The whole house was in a state of suspended animation, holding its breath for the day everyone would return home reunited under its sagging roof.

His last homecoming had been painful and bitter sweet. The house was exactly as it had been, but the occupants were not. Time and stress, the stress of ten years of not knowing, had worn on his parents till they were withered and moth eaten as the curtains covering the windows. Letting Theresa knock on the door that night had been a huge mistake. By far the worst he'd ever made.

It was then, on that fateful morning, that he truly realized what needed to be done. What she was capable of. If only he'd had the strength to take care of it then and there. Instead of delaying her inevitable end and hoping for something short of a miracle.