Dawn's Darkest Hour

Rod bent and gently pulled a faded sweatshirt out of his wife's hands. He saw what she was doing. Busying herself just for busyness's sake. Hiding her self blame behind pretend industry, but he saw it in her eyes. The guilt ate her from the inside. A black, malignant cancer, if left unchecked, would spread quickly out of control. "Don't do this to yourself. Rachael loved you. She loved us both. Maybe as parents, there were things we could have done differently. But, we always did our best."

"It wasn't enough." Amy stared at the stacks of neatly folded clothes. Rachael had everything a teenager could want, tons of clothes, pocket change, a nice home in the best part of town, and plenty of love. Yet somehow they'd failed their daughter. Not seen through the haze of their ambitions, they'd deprived her of something critical, driving her to seek it someplace else. "We missed something." Amy dropped her hands into her lap and leaned into Rod's chest. His warm arms enveloped her. "What do we do now?" She was sobbing for the first time since seeing Rachael's body on the coroner's table.

Rod cradled his wife, stroking his fingers down her back. "Our best. We get through this the best that we can. And we don't look back. And we don't stop to ask why. We don't blame God and we don't blame each other. We pray...hard...everyday...for justice to be served. And we pray even harder for a parent to never lose a child like we did ever again."

Chapter 78

Jesse balanced a screaming two year-old on her hip and slid the tattered curtains closed. Frowning, she picked at spot of something, looked like peanut butter and jelly, embedded into the fabric. In the living room her nine and seven year-olds were battling it out over rights to the remote. Upstairs rock music blared from under her thirteen year-old daughter's bedroom door. The chaos was typical. Yet, all was not well in the Zimmerman household. Cole her oldest son was missing.

When she'd gotten a call from the city impound yard late Sunday evening, she knew something was terribly wrong. It wasn't unlike Cole to take off after school on Friday and not to be seen or heard from again until first thing Monday morning. But, for him to be careless enough to park his car someplace where it could be towed. That was not like him at all. Her son never let that car out of his sight.

After she'd scrounged up enough money to get his car out of impound. She'd called the police and reported him missing. Cole was not a minor and perhaps it was her fault the police hadn't taken her seriously at first. She'd stammered over the first question they'd asked. When had she seen him last?

A wailing cry sounded from one of the bedrooms upstairs. Great, as usual, the constant noise had woken up the baby. Jesse quickly plopped her two year-old in his playpen and snatched a stuffed animal out of the corner for him to amuse himself with while she rushed upstairs to get her youngest, and her last, seven month old Kayra from her crib. With deft and experienced fingers, she changed the dirty diaper and settled the baby on her shoulder for a late evening bottle.

From downstairs she heard the boom of her husband's voice. He was just coming in from work and was no doubt, growling at the kids. Jesse shrugged in indifference. At least the argument over the remote would be resolved. She made her way to the kitchen to fix a bottle for the baby and microwave some leftovers for her husband. Sometimes, she wondered why she tried so hard to keep the family marginally functional as she did. Bill would eat anything. The house was never clean, thanks to the kids. And she still had an extra twenty pounds of baby fat she couldn't seem to lose.

When the microwave buzzed, she pulled out the plate and plopped it down on the table along with a can of pop and silverware. Out of habit she'd fixed a plate for Cole and it sat on the shelf in the refrigerator wrapped in tinfoil. Instinctively, she knew Cole wasn't coming home and she pulled off the tinfoil and popped the plate in the microwave for Bill. He'd be extra hungry tonight and grumbling at saving what could be his second helping for Cole. "Dinner!"

Bill worked god damned hard for his money. Today, he'd gone in at six in the morning and stayed over for four hours. He was filthy, sore, and hungry. His muscles ached in protest as he sank into the chair and reached for the plate. Twelve and a half hours in a foundry was no joke. "Juvenile delinquent show up today?"

Jesse ground her teeth in irritation. Bill did not have an ounce of compassion where Cole was concerned. Things didn't used to be this way between her husband and his stepson. Before the other kids started popping out. He and Cole got along like father and son. After the first kid, all of that changed. Bill started to treat Cole with cold indifference. With every baby that came, Cole withdrew more and more. The harder she tried to keep everyone happy the wider the chasm between she and her son grew. She hadn't known what to do to make things right again and eventually grew weary of trying.

An unsettled peace between the three of them developed in the place of a relationship. Cole came and went as he pleased. Bill ignored Cole and refused to be a father to him. She pretended not to notice, busying herself with housework and the other five kids that demanded her constant attention.

Jesse realized exactly what her mistake had cost her son and herself when she couldn't honestly answer the police's questions. She had no idea who Cole's friends were. She couldn't remember when the last time she'd seen him was. About her son's life, she did not have a clue. "You heard about the girl across the street right?"

"Damn shame. Young girl like that, world's just not safe anymore," Bill answered in between mouthfuls of mashed potato and pork chop.

Jesse stroked her daughter's cheek and watched her tiny mouth work at the nipple of the bottle. Jesse's tears were hot and heavy, tangled in her lashes. "She was in Cole's class. What if something like that has happened to him?"

Tiny feet padded across the dining room's worn tile floor. "Mama, why is Cole's picture on the TV?" her seven year-old asked. "What does missing mean? When is Cole coming home?"

Jesse hadn't told the other kids about Cole yet. She couldn't bring herself to answer their questions. She couldn't admit to herself that he was missing, possibly a run away or worse. It was as if somehow, if she didn't say it aloud, none of it was really happening. "I don't know, baby. I don't know when your brother is coming home."

Bill pushed his half eaten dinner away. Cole, that little shit, had his mother in tears. Bill had his suspicions that the kid was out somewhere hopped up on drugs while his mother cried her eyes out worried sick. Cole was smart, too smart, to end up dead. He refused to even think about it, despising the tiny spark of worry blooming at the back of his mind. When that damned kid got home. They were going to have words. Gently, he took Jesse's hand with his rough, work worn fingers and gave her fingers a squeeze. "Don't worry about him. I know Cole. He'll wander home when he's good and ready."

Chapter 79

Daniel's mouth tasted like road kill left to rot on the side of the interstate. His tongue felt as thick as shoe leather, sticking dry and parched to the roof of his mouth. Groggily, he sat up in the bed and gathered his bearings. Shit. He was just as stuck as before. Trapped in a posh prison. The thick carpet tickled the soles of his feet as he stood on wobbly legs and gingerly made his way to the bathroom. After several mouthfuls of cold water and a good head dousing beneath the tap, his mind was beginning to get with the program.

Daniel did what his dad had spent hours preparing him to do. He ticked off the facts that he knew one by one. He wasn't dead. Yet. He had access to water. Good. He had two possible escape routes, the door and the window. Possible. Obviously, his captors wanted him alive. He was right on line with that plan too. What he didn't know... where he was...why he was here...or what the vamps wanted with him.

Daniel closed the lid of the toilet and sat on the cold plastic. He needed a plan. Primarily how to avoid those damned tranq darts. Timidly, he rubbed the painful bloom of the dark purple bruise on his bicep. Where the last dart had struck him and sent him straight to la-la land.

He could sit tight and play pansy. Wait for his dad to rescue him. Nah. Not his style. He had to assume and take action as if he was on his own. And as of right now he was. His wolf could give him details about his surroundings that he couldn't conjure up in his human form. His wolf's sense of smell would be able to detect scents that his human nose could not. His wolf's powerful jaws could take a pretty big hunk out of an attacker with one snap. Daniel liked this plan more and more. Kick ass, leave no prisoners, and get the hell out of this joint.

Daniel padded his way to the middle of the bedroom floor. His wolf needed space and plenty of it to operate. He sat on the plush carpet and blew out a breath. Instinctively, the moment his tight control started to relax, the wolf charged to the surface.

O'Sullivan stared at the grainy image on the monitor. My god, the wolf was a thing of beauty. He had the suspicion that he could watch the shift from boy to wolf thousands of time and still behold the miracle with rapt fascination. The wolf's fur was in dull shades of gray and black on the screen. Until now, he hadn't seen the need to upgrade to color monitors. The room usually held unwitting humans waiting the siren's call of death. No need for color for that particular purpose.

His fingers locked around the butt of the tranquilizer gun. Perhaps, he should have held the boy in the basement instead. Concrete was certainly more durable than the contents of the room. The carpet was in tatters from the wolf's claws and the curtains hung from the rod in shreds. The wolf battered his massive body against the window in an attempt to escape. Deep gauges marred the walls. Wallpaper dangled in long strips. "Can the wolf understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes." Carter turned away from the monitor in disgust. The wolf was making quick work of the room's furnishings with its teeth and claws. "Eric, you have to let him go."

"What? And lose my prize. Never." O'Sullivan winced as the wolf shattered the antique dresser with the weight of his massive body. "Can the boy regain control of his wolf?"

"He's a young wolf. I'm not sure. Eric, stop this and let the boy go." Carter was never known for holding his temper very long. His fingers clenched into fists. He could just imagine what O'Sullivan's skinny neck would feel like beneath them as he choked the life out of him. Anger wouldn't help the boy. Rage would not facilitate Daniel's escape. If Carter was going to help Daniel, he had to remain calm and cool.

When the boy's father finally found him Eric would wish he had listened. The destruction of the room and a few busted pieces of furniture would be nothing compared to what a full-grown wolf could do with its claws and teeth.

"If you don't free him, he'll die. The wolves cannot survive without their pack for very long. The boy won't make it but a few weeks. Give this...whatever it is you think you're doing...up and send the boy home," Carter pled.

"You seem to know a lot about the werewolves," O'Sullivan said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "What other secrets are you withholding to protect them?"

"None. I'm going on assumptions here, folklore and legend." Carter had tipped his hand too early in the game. The expression on O'Sullivan's face made it painfully clear, he did not believe him.

"You know what they say about assuming," O'Sullivan tisked.

"It isn't an assumption. When the pack comes for him, and they will, we're going to die. Is one boy worth it?"

Eric chuckled and loaded the tranquilizer gun with an extra dart. He hoped he didn't accidentally overdose the big bruit. After going through so much trouble to acquire the wolf, killing him would be a shame. "I always wanted a dog."

Chapter 80

Cole followed behind the wall of muscle, staring wide-eyed at his surroundings. David's little meltdown...ok BIG meltdown had eventually attracted attention. The vamps had tried to bully him into taking the SUV and heading back home. No way. Cole wasn't leaving David behind, no matter how psychotic he acted. They were in this together, like it or not.

Soooo, this was vampire central...nice digs, Cole thought to himself. Funny, how before, he couldn't have spotted a vampire in a blood bank. Now, he could. Something about them, or maybe a combo pack of things, were a dead give away. Nope, vampires didn't sparkle. They didn't have red eyes. They weren't poster children for bad dentition. They didn't go nuts around humans. They didn't dress in black capes and tuxedos or do that cheesy mind meld thing in the movies. In fact, they were more ordinary than most people Cole knew. Maybe that's what it was...what gave them away. The vamps were too ordinary.

David had been quickly loaded up and ushered away. David was down here in this maze somewhere. Hopefully, getting his act together. Cole pushed thoughts about Rachael to the back of his mind. He wasn't one to mourn publicly. Save it for later and then, when finally alone, lose it in privacy, like a man should.

Vengeance fueled Cole's emotions more than grief. He was anxious to get back to the city and take care of business. To do that, he needed David one hundred percent on his game. The vampire son of a bitch who had murdered Rachael needed to pay. And he had a pretty good idea of what he had to do to make it happen. Fight fire with fire.

Cole had been so focused in his thoughts that he almost ran face first into the broad back of the vampire leading the way. "Wait here," the vamp commanded. Oooookkkkkaaay, no problem. Cole shimmied around the vampire and entered a suite that rivaled the finest any hotel he'd ever seen could offer. The door banged closed behind him with a thunderous boom and a lock snicked softly into place. So much for taking the self-guided tour later on. With nothing better to do than to wait here he flicked on the TV and sprawled out across the bed.

So much for a little diversion, Cole huffed. Where were the rerun episodes of Star Trek when he needed them? Pictures of Rachael flashed across the screen. The prattling commentary from the newscaster didn't even register in his brain. Her photo, one hastily snapped for the school yearbook, was the only thing that did. The picture didn't even do her justice. The sarcastic smile on her face, or what little of it he could see through the shelter of her blonde hair, didn't make it all the way to her eyes. He loved it when she smiled, really smiled. Especially when he was the one to coax a grin onto her lips. He'd miss that the most. His fingers absently fiddled with the remote. This was not the time to get sentimental. He had to focus on what he needed to do.

Just before he found the right button and was about to change the channel. His eyes widened in shock at the sound of his own name and his picture on the screen. Groaning, he looked at the snapshot of his mug on the TV. Naturally, the picture left a lot to be desired. Missing? He was surprised anyone had even noticed he was gone. His step-dad was probably doing a happy dance. Cole would have called his mom to ease her worry, but his cell phone coverage didn't happen to include subterranean vampire lairs.

Maybe, if he asked, nicely, some kindly vampire would loan him a phone. He loved his mom and his little brothers and sisters. His step-dad, not so much love there. His mom, along with the entire town, was probably freaking out. The last thing she needed was to worry about him. He had everything under control.

He snapped off the TV and stared at the black screen. Did his dad know? Had his mom called him and told him about their son? Or had he seen it on the TV? Did his dad even watch TV? Cole's mood was bleak as he entertained the possibility. More than likely, his real dad didn't care. An obligatory Christmas card, which usually arrived weeks after the event, didn't exactly equal a father and son relationship now did it? Fuck it. Cole paced the room. Giving in to his dark fury, rage at the world, and the injustice in it felt a whole lot better than grieving over Rachael's death.

The sound of a gentle knock pulled Cole out of the undertow of his emotions. A vampire with manners, who knew? Most of them grumbled and pushed him around like a rag doll. Pushy bastards. "Come in," he said, not knowing what else to say.

A woman, probably in her late twenties, or at least she had been when she 'died'. For all Cole knew, she was older than Jesus. She gracefully entered the room, balancing a tray loaded with food. "I thought you might like something to eat." She set the tray down on the apartment-sized coffee table and gave him a shy smile. "I hope you like it. Cooking is a hobby of mine." She bent her long willowy frame over the table and lifted a metal cover off the tray. Blonde hair, the pale blonde of ash, fell over her shoulder. She had a calm, cool demeanor, tinted with nervousness and just a touch of shyness. "My name is Anna."

Cole nodded in thanks as he gingerly took a seat on the overstuffed sofa and unrolled a fork and laid the napkin over his knee. All his knowledge about vampires amounted to a whole lot of nothing. Trying to hide his curiosity, he motioned to the spread. "You can't eat, can you?"

"No," Anna replied with a wistful, longing glance at the dish she'd prepared. Her days of human cuisine were over. But, that didn't mean she didn't like to cook or that she certainly didn't long to sink a spoon into a dish of hot fudge and indulge in a bite or two. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and waited as he tasted the food.

Cole chewed and swallowed. The mix of spicy heat from the sauce and tenderness of the chicken exploded in his mouth. Before the food had been placed in front of him, he hadn't given a thought to eating. But, now as he dug his fork in for a second bite, he realized he was starved.

"Hello...," a cheerful woman said as she burst into the room, flooding it with her energy and general aura of exuberance. " I hope you lied to Anna and told her the food was good," the woman teased. "I'm Janine, resident fashion consultant to those otherwise deprived." She gave a little humph as she eyed Cole's torn, stained jeans and rumpled t-shirt. "Someone is in need of a makeover here."

Cole mussed that the woman was every bit as overpowering as the food on his plate. She stood, probably in heels, about mid chest on him. A halo of golden blonde curls highlighted an angelic, heart shaped face. In human years, which, was how Cole guessed a vampire's age, she was about twenty-five or so, give or take a century. "Hi," Cole said between bites. He didn't know to be flattered by all the feminine attention or frightened. "I'm Cole."

Janine tittered and gave Anna a look. "Oh, we know who you are."

"Out you two," a woman chastised. She carried a bundle of neatly folded clothes in her arms and set them on the bed. Her face, the laugh lines around the corners of her eyes and the gentle etchings around her mouth, had character and a kindness that put Cole at ease. Her light brown hair was pulled back off her forehead in a messy haphazard style that made Cole think that before she'd been a vampire, the woman had been a mom. She simply had that 'mom' look.

"I'm Candace," she said with a smile. "You have to ignore these two. They don't get out much." She snickered and shoed the women to the door with a wide gesture of her hands and sat down next to him. "Don't think I'm prying, but, I saw you on the video feed. You and my son, Chance, are about the same size. I took the liberty of raiding his closet on your behalf."