Dawn's Darkest Hour

"No. I'm not leaving her here like this!" Cole batted David's offering away. Desperately, he clung to Rachael's lifeless hand. Her skin was cold and waxy against his pink, warm fingers. He looked up, imploring David. "We just can't leave her here."

"We won't. We'll take care of her," a voice said in a warm, gentle tone. The

owner of the voice slid his hands under Cole's arms and slowly hoisted him onto his feet. The world spun dizzily and flashed from color to dull black and white, back and forth, sometimes fading into complete darkness. Cole could barely support his own weight, leaning heavily on the man to keep from falling. Cole twisted and tried to steal one last glimpse at Rachael. Somehow he could not wrap his mind around the fact that she was gone. He had to see her one more time.

Strong arms gently shifted Cole's body, forcing him to look away. "Better to look forward," the man said. With a shuddering sigh that went from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, Cole allowed the man to lead him farther and farther away from Rachael.

Hunter steered the boy to the idling SUV. The kid was trembling like a leaf in a windstorm, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Worry and fear for his own son was pushed to the side as he aided the boy into the vehicle and stood watch. The boy crumpled into the backseat without a word of complaint and silently stared at the layer of dried blood on his clasped hands. Later on, probably when no one was around to see, the boy would fall apart and allow himself to privately mourn the girl's loss.

David stood over Rachael's body, forcing his eyes to look anywhere but at her. A part of him still wanted to believe that she was going to wake up. He knew better. Her soul was gone. The part of her that made her, her was gone. The crumpled up body on the sidewalk was simply the shell that housed the greater part. The Sons were as efficient at death as they were at most other things. Quietly discussing the best way to cover up her death amongst themselves.

More often than not, missing persons, at least those who didn't intend to be missing persons, weren't really missing at all. Someone knew exactly where all those missing persons were. Rachael would be one of thousands, a poster on a wall, a face on the Internet, never to be found. No body. No evidence. No proof. The thought of Rachael's body being violated in an autopsy sickened David. But, thoughts about the hell her parents would go through at never seeing her again and never knowing what really happened to their little girl were worse. The hell he knew his own parents had endured forced him speak up. "Her parents, they need to know. They need to be able to put their daughter to rest."

More mumbling. More heated discussion. More waiting. Finally an agreement had been reached. A body found without explanation in a dark alley. Rachael's death would be just one of hundreds of unsolved crimes that happened every year. Gently, David knelt and scooped Rachael's body into his arms. She was cold and still as the grave. He cradled her head on his shoulder and carried her, as carefully as if she were made of glass. In the dark, the black cargo van intended for such nefarious purposes as scene clean up was barely visible. Whispering softly, not that she could hear him, promising that all was well, he slid her into the back. He didn't know exactly what the Sons planned to do. How or where her mutilated body would turn up. Only, that for her family, there would be closure. And no greater gift could he give.

David walked the trek back to the SUV alone. His senses barely registered the cold wind gusting off the buildings or the rustling of debris along the curb that rustled in its wake. His clothing and skin was stained with Rachael's blood. He didn't care. For him, the stain went much deeper than his skin. The weight of his failure was so heavy he almost collapsed beneath it.

Lights from the Chinese restaurant shone merrily into the darkness. GOOD FOOD, written in red neon, flashed garishly in the grime covering the window. He turned and sidestepped the glowing brilliance and melted into the darkness beyond its reach.

Chapter 71

Nora awkwardly balanced her bag of leftovers, a hot tea for the road, and her purse while trying to unlock her car door with trembling fingers. The fall night had turned impossibly cold with gusts of frigid air from the north and her light jacket did little to protect from the biting chill. Too bad, especially on a chilly night like tonight, that her car didn't have automatic locks. Downtown had an unusual energy vibe in the air and she didn't like the feel of it. AT. ALL. She sensed that something bad had happened and nobody knew about it yet. Hell, in this part of the city, she'd believe such an event was far too possible.

Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder into the darkness. Her eyes narrowed as she squinted for distance. A figure crossed the street. She wasn't sure from this distance, but she thought it was David. She pursed her lips to call out to him. His stare was focused on a point far beyond her and her little car. She opened her mouth to speak, as he got closer, and quickly slammed her jaw shut. David walked right past her and didn't even acknowledge her presence.

As irritating as that was, the sight of him disturbed her more than his actions. This wasn't the David she knew from the past. The David she knew. This was the David she didn't know and was seeing for the first time. David the Vampire.

His black leathers were coated with dried blood. A trail of the thick viscous fluid crusted on his chin and trailed from the corners of his mouth, glistening black against the pallor of his skin. His eyes froze her where she stood. He looked right at her, but didn't see her. His eyes, haunted twin points filled with cold, hard, onyx, desolate as the pits of hell, met hers in a glance that stopped her heart. Her Styrofoam to go cup fell from her fingers and landed on the pavement with a steaming wet splat. Trembling and terrified, she scrambled into her car and locked the doors. Panting she cranked the key and gunned the engine. She didn't so much as slow at the red light at the end of the block, but pressed harder on the gas, speeding toward the interstate as fast as the little car would allow.

David had tried to warn her. He'd tried to tell her the truth. But, she hadn't wanted to see it. Not his fault. Hers. All. Hers. Nora supposed she'd watched Twilight one too many times to see past the myth and into reality. Well, the truth had smacked her right in the face. And it had scared the shit and any hopes for a happy ending right out of her.

David rounded the SUV and silently thanked Hunter. Every second's worth of delay cost the man dearly. The scent trail was growing colder and colder with each passing minute. Lessening the odds of successfully finding his son. Yet, Hunter had remained to keep guard over Cole instead of abandoning the brothers. "Go," he said.

Hunter nodded and disappeared into the night. Stripping, he shifted into his wolf and set out to do what his wolf did best. Hunt.

David slid behind the wheel of the SUV and pulled out into the night. He navigated sharp turns and pushed the engine to its limits, traveling at breakneck speeds through the city. On the interstate, he pressed the engine harder, topping out at almost one hundred miles per hour.

In the back with the window he'd kicked out letting in a harsh night wind, Cole shivered and huddled into the seat for warmth. "Where are we going?" He asked between chattering teeth. The further away from the place of Rachael's death, the better her felt. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, bloodied and pale, staring toward the heavens through lifeless eyes. He didn't care if he ever saw the city again. With the way David was driving, he might not.

David didn't answer, but stared out onto the black ribbon of interstate. He was so intent on driving into nothing and on getting there as fast as he could he barely registered Cole's movement from the backseat, over the console, and into the passenger side. He just needed away from all this death. "Does it matter?"

Cole looked into the rearview mirror. The skyline of the city was growing smaller and smaller. Soon, all that was left was an orange, glowing dot over the horizon. Cole stared out into the darkness, beyond the narrow track of the headlights to the black ribbon of darkness ahead of them. He cranked up the heat and cupped his frozen fingertips over the vent. "No. No, I guess it doesn't."

Chapter 72

The world was blurry, but even in its bleared haze Daniel could see that his world was wrong. He mustered what little strength he had and tired to sit up, only to fall back onto the soft mattress. He had no idea where he was or what had happened. Nausea gripped his stomach, twisting it in knots. With shaking hands and trembling limbs he squeezed his eyes shut, willing his pitching stomach to calm. Finally, when his belly stopped heaving. He pried open his eyes and tried to make sense of his surroundings.

He was in a bedroom, a very posh bedroom with a huge four-poster bed and thick burgundy carpet. This confused him even more. If he had been taken captive, which his addled brain assumed, what was up with the luxurious digs? His father had prepared him, spent hours training with him for such an event. Even dazed as he was, Daniel recalled the constant drilling and did what his dad would want him to do. Find a weapon, establish an escape route, and get the hell out.

He studied the expensive wallpaper and took in every corner of the expansive room. A simple set of drawers sat in the corner. A bathroom, small but apparently functional with a toilet, sink, and tub was included in the setup. Apparently, who ever had taken him had plans for him to be here for a very long time. Too bad for them. Daniel hated to disappoint, but he had other plans.

Frilly curtains hung over a wide, long window. He could see through the lacy sheers that it was still night. He hadn't been out that long. Good. Who ever his captor was had to be incredibly stupid. Getting out, not a problem. All he had to do was break the glass and climb down. That was as soon as he got over his case of rubber legs and could do so.

He scanned the room for some kind of a weapon. There had to be something he could use. Another gut wrenching wave of nausea sent his stomach reeling. Think about a weapon later. Right now, his main priority was getting to the bathroom before he tossed his cookies. Scrambling, he stumbled to the toilet and sank to the cold, hard tile floor. After emptying his stomach and suffering through a round of dry heaves. He crawled back to the bed and waited.

The fact that he was still naked had not been lost on him. Aware that the room might be bugged and could have cameras, and that someone could be getting their jollies off at his expense, gingerly he pulled the blankets over his body. His joints and muscles throbbed with exhaustion. He took it as further evidence that he hadn't been here too long. Shifting always left him hurting for hours afterward. And at least he hadn't been out of the game for days, as he'd first feared.

His mouth was dry and he felt like his tongue had been coated with a layer of glue. Daniel decided to put up with the unpleasant feeling rather than risk retching up his spleen. Timidly, he ran his hands over his neck, wincing when he felt a scab and a tender bruise the size of a baseball.

He called on his wolf's memories to try to make sense of the lump. After the wolf took over he couldn't recall a damned thing. The details were too fuzzy. What would drop a wolf the size of a small Shetland pony?

Darts! Tranq darts! Shit. That's how his wolf had been subdued. Someone had drugged him. And, if they could do it once, they could do it again. DOUBLE SHIT. He wasn't that good at control. Often times, he wondered if the wolf controlled him and not the other way around. His wolf, especially now that he was stressed, could pop out at any time and that might very well mean more darts. He had to figure out how to keep it together if he was going to get himself and his wolf out of here alive.

Already, he could feel the first stirrings of his wolf under his skin. Not good. Daniel took some deep breaths. Just as his dad had taught him to do and tried to calm his wolf. And didn't that bring another TRIPPLE SHIT issue to light? Without his pack and their combined strengths. Either he or his wolf would win, permanently. His wolf was a symbiont creature inside his flesh, interdependent on the energy of the wolves. Without the pack, his wolf would be lost. And without his family to anchor him, Daniel would be equally lost. No one in the pack was an independent entity. Without the pack only one of them would remain. He had to find out what his captor wanted. Figure out how to use it. And GET THE HELL HOME! Quickly.

A key turned in the lock. The heavy, steel door groaned on its hinges as it opened. Nix that as an escape route, not even his wolf could claw through a steel door. Daniel gripped the sheets in his fists as a familiar smell hit his nostrils. Vampire. Not a Son, but the nauseatingly sweet smell of Rogue. "You!" he hissed as the vampire he'd watched murder that poor girl entered the room. Daniel's eyes quickly locked on the dart gun loaded and cocked in the vampire's hand. Keep it together, he thought. Don't lose it now, he pled, fighting against the ripples of energy surging through his flesh.

O'Sullivan nodded for his friends to accompany him into the room. Between Carter and the dart gun, things should be safe enough. Yessette took the rear, scowling as she carried a tray loaded with human delicacies. Eric wanted his guest to be happy and well fed. "I see you've taken the time to become acquainted with your surroundings. I do hope you like them."

"They're great," Daniel growled between his clamped jaws. His eyes narrowed and muscles tensed as he focused on Carter. He tried to hide any sign of recognition from his captor, as if Carter were a complete stranger. Carter was an asset and an ally, till proven otherwise. Daniel couldn't believe that Carter was in on his abduction.

O'Sullivan examined the non-verbal exchange between Carter and his guest. After centuries of observation, very little got past him. "I see you two need no introduction. Good." He waved Yessette forward. "This angel is Yessette and I am Eric. Sit the tray down over there," he motioned to the bedside table. "That's a dear." He grinned as the boy's nose subconsciously twitched at the smell of the food.

Daniel's eyes went to the food. Obviously, this twit watched too much TV and had done too little research on what people actually ate. Fast food bags, junk food, not that he didn't love the stuff, and drinks of every kind, lined the tray. His stomach rolled in disapproval. Still nauseated, even the smell, sickened him. "What do you want?"

Eric sighed heavily. The boy didn't trust him. Fair enough. He supposed some hard feelings were in order. He pulled up a chair and positioned it out of Daniel's reach before taking a seat. Smiling honestly and resting his chin on his folded knuckles and a fooling gesture of trust, he said, "For us to be friends."

Daniel suppressed the growl emerging from his throat. He was on the verge of losing control. BIG TIME. He had to keep it together. He glanced to Carter and read nothing in the man's expression. Not pity. Not contempt. Absolutely no emotion whatsoever. Yessette hovered close to the door, her eyes wide and gaze darting everywhere. Bouncing back and forth from him to Carter, to Eric as if she wasn't quite sure where she should be looking. Eric sat on a chair, watching him contemplatively. Sitting with a stooped posture as if he weren't on guard and gauging Daniel's every move. Bullshit, Daniel knew it when he smelled it and this new friend of his reeked. "My dad is coming for me and when he gets his hands on you. He'll kill you."

"Not likely," O'Sullivan said dismissively. "I've been alive a very, very long time."

Daniel panted hard against the fury of his on coming shift. "Everyone dies," he gritted. The wolf charged from the dark chasm of his psyche and took control.

O'Sullivan leveled the tranquilizer gun and fired. The boy was trapped half way between becoming a wolf and remaining human. The dart quickly went to work, subduing the beast. The boy, in his soft wrapper of flesh, collapsed unconscious on the bed.

Carter looked on in horror. Of course, he knew who the kid was. He'd lived among the wolves for months. His fingers locked around the fuzzy end of the dart and plucked it free from Daniel's arm. "Eric, what have you done?"

Chapter 73

Dawn was just creeping over the horizon. Its golden light thawing the narrow strips of sky between the towers of concrete and steel. Michael surveyed the work of his warriors. The girl deserved better than the death she'd been dealt. His brothers were good at their jobs. About right now, some unwitting trash man was calling 911 to report an unknown body found in a dumpster.

Her death, nothing more than another murder in a city that found hundreds of nameless corpses and senseless deaths every year. His boots echoed on the sidewalk as he walked the scene, making sure no evidence remained. Clean as a whistle. How many people would walk this very stretch of concrete and never be the wiser about what had occurred in this spot less than twelve hours ago? For them, this was just another day. For her parents, this would be the day that changed their lives, forever. For him, another piece of his soul had been irrevocably torn away. "Looks like we're done here."

Marcus nodded and gripped Sam closer to his side. Loss always made people cling to one another and appreciate the ones they loved, just a little more. He had never, and hoped he never did, get used to all the death that surrounded him. Gently, he nuzzled her cheek. Her skin was cool and her body tense. Marcus understood. She was a warrior, death wasn't supposed to affect her. She was putting on a tough face for the benefit of the men. But, underneath he knew the girl's death had touched a part of her soul. She would bury it away someplace deep inside of her and do her duty, as would he. "What about the boy?"

Michael stared down at the sidewalk. Although every last trace of blood had been neatly scoured away, he could still see the girl's lifeless body crumpled on the concrete and hear David's voice, begging the girl to live, echoing in his mind. The sound of the boy's mournful sobs repeated over and over in his head. Soon the downtown area would open its sleepy eyes and be alive with human activity. "Let them go. For now, let's just pack it up and get out of here." Everyone had gotten more than their share of death for one night.

The Guardian slid back into the scanty shadows still remaining in the glowing light of dawn. He stayed downwind of the Sons, and out of sight, avoiding detection. He'd been watching the warriors for hours. When he first caught the scent of human death, he followed the trail, and watched the night unfold.

The Sons were searching for the vampire who had murdered the girl. So were the Guardians. That son of a bitch would pay. Humans could slaughter other humans and the Guardians were bound not to lift a finger to help. But, no vampire slaughtered a human on their turf and lived to talk about it.

Expecting to see the swift retribution the Sons were famous for, excitement bubbled through him, only to fade into deep disappointment. The truth of the legends he'd nursed upon his whole vampire life were, in reality, only stories. The Sons were just as limited, and every bit as fallible as the Guardians. Just ordinary vampires, made of flesh and bone, exactly like him.