Dawn Awakening

The Great Father's eyes slid over to his brother, filled with doubt. The Prophet was so calm, too calm, about this whole thing, lounging against a tree as if he didn't have a care in the world, as if the human race didn't hang in the balance of the outcome. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, after all, I am the Prophet." He grinned and bent to start a fire. "You're the muscle. I'm the brains. Remember?" He watched the pine needles and dry twigs he'd gathered for the small fire spark to life and rubbed his hands over the flame. "Your men need to learn to handle themselves without you. Just as you need to learn to let them, what is the saying? Do their thing."

He grinned up at his brother. Harder times were coming. And sometimes his brother was such a micro-manager and so dependent on him. This was a lesson for the Sons and their Father. And it was going to be a hard one to learn, for everyone. His brother and he had been at one another's sides for over two hundred years. They were separate parts of the same whole. Inseparable. One day, soon, his brother was going to have an even harder lesson to learn. After all, nobody lived forever and he'd have to learn to go on without him. Death was coming on swift wings. And The Prophet had to admit, after two hundred years, he was ready for it. "Come, lets warm our old bones by the fire."

*******

Lucien gathered his men and looked over their eager faces. Armed with blades, dressed in black leather, their jaw lines hard with determination, the Sons were as ready as they were ever going to be. Where in the hell was their Father? At the time when the Sons needed him the most, he was gone. The battle, however, wouldn't wait. Their lodge was blown to bits. The fires raged, lapping at the edge of the woods. He took a deep, calming breath and did what the Great Father knew he could, rallied his men and took control. Ready to lead. Ready to fight. And ready to die, with them at his back.

"So far, Mack has things in town under control. The humans don't suspect a thing. He's got them convinced that the fire is in the next county, nothing the worry about. According to Patrick and the trackers, the rogues are clustered in small groups throughout the woods, converging on the town. We can't let it get that far. We have to push them back to a central location. Engage them there. For now, drive them back to the bluffs and that's where we'll end this thing," Lucien said.

The warrior's eyes solemnly met one another's in silent agreement. They knew what they had to do. Their moment was here and now. John Mark nodded his head, never glancing from Lucien's eyes. Patrick cracked his neck in eager anticipation. He had a score or two to settle and payment was due. Dane flexed his hand on the obsidian hilt of his dagger, his eyes narrowed and focused on the task at hand. Will squared his shoulders in steely determination.

Doc prayed, in a low chant to the goddess and the ancestors. His voice carried out the warrior's song, never wavering, never faltering, drifting up to the heavens on pungent wisps of curling, gray smoke from the smudge pot in his hand. The blade at his hip hadn't been used in a long, long time. But, he still knew how to dance the warrior's dance.

Toby's fingers nervously drifted to the communication device tucked into his right ear and gave a thumbs-up. Hocus pocus was fine and dandy. But, a bit of good old-fashioned technology certainly wouldn't hurt either. He'd be in the fight, sword in one hand and his trusty Ipad in the other.

The brothers were wired for sound, linked by their cosmic bond and the wonder of modern electronics, armed to the teeth with steel, hardened with determination, and ready to fight. Miserably outnumbered, they headed out into the night. Patrick guiding his trackers, Lucien leading the fight, John Mark as pure muscle, Will as the warrior he'd given his human life to be, Toby managing the whole thing by the gadget in his fist, Doc ready to patch them back up if things got too rough, and Dane, prepared for the dreaded task, as any second in command would be, to take Lucien's place, if it came to it. The odds weren't in their favor. They all knew it. But, they went anyway. Ready to fight. Ready to bleed. And ready to die for the cause, for the humans they battled to protect, and for one another.

*********

Candace crouched in the thick mounds of brush, hidden by the drying leaves and thorny branches. Beside her, Marcus blinked into the darkness and plotted their next move. The woods were in chaos. The crash of heavy boot falls and the scent of unfamiliar vampires cut them off from all three sides, closing in fast. Around them, vampires scrambled up the steep ravines to higher ground and thicker cover. Shadows from the fire danced in the night sky ahead of them, blocking their path except for a narrow swath of ground headed away from the town and Marcus's planned escape route. The Sons were herding them like cattle, north, up into the flat planes and stony ground of the bluffs. "Marcus, what are we going to do?"

Marcus panted beside Candace and wracked his brain. He had been in sticky situations before and there had to be a way out. There was always a way out, if one was smart enough to find it. Explosions and the fires left in their wake had always been a bit of a hobby for him. Not, that he was nuts or a pyromaniac or anything like that, no. He just liked the way the orange flames curled like so many lapping tongues and destroyed everything in their path.

Tonight, his particular interests had come in handy. He thought, during the confusion that followed his little demonstration, and he had held back on the destruction he could have caused, Candace and he could slip into the darkness and that would be that. They'd be safe. Sneak into town, steal a car, and drive as far as the road would take them, or at least as far as they could go on what was in the tank. Things just hadn't worked out quite like he'd planned. But, then again, when had they ever?

The Sons reacted quicker than he'd thought. And Kore, along with her henchmen, was smarter than he'd anticipated. "They're pushing us onto the bluffs," Marcus huffed. "If we go that way, we die. If we try to slide around the flank, we die. If we stay here...,"

"We die," Neil finished the sentence for Marcus. Ever since he'd caught a few hurried whispers of Marcus and Candace's plan, he'd stuck to them like glue. There was no way in fuck he was getting killed tonight or any other night. He wasn't dying for anyone's cause.

For weeks he'd been watching, looking for someone like him. Marcus was a slick son of a bitch. No matter what, he seemed to have an ace up his sleeve. A true master who worked bullshit the way a sculptor formed a raw lump of clay into a work of art. And if anyone was getting out of this goat rope alive, it was Marcus. Candace was a nice little motivator for Marcus, who seemed to care about nothing and no one, except for her. Neil figured, as long as he stayed near her, he was as safe as a baby in its mother's arms. Always the gambler, he'd held his cards close to his chest throughout this sick, twisted, game and now they were on the table. He only hoped, he hadn't gone all in too soon.

"Yeah, something like that," Marcus muttered. The unmistakable fall of boots hitting the hard, summer dried ground was close. Too close. Random screams and moans of the dying echoed from the darkness ahead of them. The sharp clank of steel on steel rang through the night. He had to get Candace out of here. Neil, he didn't give a damn about. Neil was a user. He took what he could get from anyone he could get it from. The bastard would sell his own mother if he thought he had something to gain from it.

He'd like to think he could be Candace's knight in shining armor. Even if that armor was a bit tarnished around the edges. He'd like to think that someday, he'd be able to reunite her with her son and the three of them would ride off into the sunset as one happy family. He wanted to be her hero. He'd be lucky if he got her out of here in one piece. As for her son, it was never going to happen. As for being her hero? Maybe, maybe he could still pull that off.

Will brought up the rear of the advance. Rounding up stragglers from Kore's ragtag assembly and driving them up onto the bluffs, where the fighting was already going on in full force. John Mark was ahead of him, slicing his way through the enemy like a hot knife through butter. It really wasn't too hard. Kore's army had no training, no weapons, per se, and the ones who did had no idea of how to use them. It was too easy to cut them down and leave the pieces for later. In a way, he felt sorry for them. The loss of life was regrettable. But, not one of them could be left alive. Not one. The risk was too great.

Rusting from a nearby thicket of brush caught his eye. His nostrils caught the unmistakable scent of rogue in the air. Weapon drawn, he slowed, creeping forward, prepared to add to the death toll of the destruction around him.

Candace fumbled in the dark with her Iphone. Just one last time, she had to look at her son's face, just one more time before she died. She had no doubt of that. She was going to die. None of them were getting out of this alive. If they didn't fight, Kore or one of her faithful would kill them. If they tried to run, Kore or the Sons would catch them...and kill them. And if they stayed put...the Sons would catch them and kill them anyway. Their options were limited. Marcus swore he had a plan. But, Candace knew him well enough by now to know when he was bullshitting her. There was no plan. She pressed down on the power button, but the screen stayed dark. The only thing she wanted was to see was Chance, one last time. "The battery is dead."

Marcus stared out through the cover of leaves, watching the warrior, clad in black, creeping silently toward them like death's dark shadow. "Leave it!" he hissed. Whatever plan he had dissolved with the warrior's every footstep. There wasn't any option. Their odds were equally bad, no matter what he chose. Run. Stay. Fifty-fifty chance at best that at least one of them would make it out alive. Clutching Candace's hand, he tightened his grip and balanced on the balls of his feet, muscles coiled as he shouted, "Run!"

Candace scrabbled to keep hold of her cell phone as Marcus pulled her to her feet, dragging her free of the brush. She stifled a scream as the warrior, with sword drawn bolted at them. His blade made a whistling sound as it carved through the empty space where she'd been crouched seconds ago. She thought she heard the warrior cry out her name, but there wasn't time to turn to look over her shoulder as Marcus dragged her at breakneck speed down the hill.

Will swung his weapon just as a head popped out of the bushes followed by two more. He almost got one of them before recognition had him pausing mid swing. No. It couldn't be. It wasn't right. She was living her life, safe and sound in the city, an accountant or something nice and safe, in an office, somewhere. She couldn't be here. It wasn't right! She couldn't be one of them! "Candace!" He could be wrong. He had to be. After all, he hadn't seen her in over twenty years. It just couldn't be her.

The sound of a piteous howl of pain drew Will's attention from the rapidly retreating rogues to the battle on the bluffs. Agony ripped through him, slicing him through the gut, stabbing him in the back, and tearing through the tendons in his neck. He could barely breathe through the slice of horror captured by his mind's eye. The earpiece in his right ear crackled to life. Static filled commands sputtered out in short, almost intelligible bursts in his right ear canal. His brothers needed him on the bluffs. There was no time to chase after three stray rogues. The turning point of the battle had come. And it was taking a turn for the worst. Blinded by rage, pain and confusion, he charged up the hill to the heat of the fight.

*******

Robbie stumbled along the pitch-black tunnels. Some so narrow she had to turn sideways to pass through them, feeling her way along the cold, hard, relentless walls of jagged rock. She and the dark had never been BFFs. Here, so deep underneath the earth, it felt like she was in a tomb. The air was stale and dank. The blackness so oppressive it seemed to be crushing down around her. Tiny rivulets of water snaked down the walls and trickled over her fingertips as she fumbled in the impenetrable nothingness.

Her mind had already concocted at least a hundred different scenarios, each one more frightening than the other. Maybe, she'd heard John Mark wrong or somehow misunderstood his simple instructions. How hard could it be to put one foot in front of the other in a straight line? Maybe she'd missed a turn and had gotten lost. Maybe, someone in the far distant future would find her fossilized remains. She shook it off. But, the sense of foreboding stayed as thick and heavy as the air pressing down on her shoulders till she almost gave up and caved under its weight.

Robbie knew nothing of war or epic battles. But, the sudden stabs of pain, the surge of agony that raced through her body had nothing to do with the darkness around her. Someone, one of the brothers, had died. She could sense it, as if a limb had been torn from her body. Panicked and screaming, tears burning her cheeks, she stumbled blindly through the tunnels. Pale light flickered from an opening ahead of her. She ran toward it and half fell into a large chamber roughly hewn in the unyielding rock.

Faceless hands grabbed at her, pulling her into the cavern. Screams rent the air. Frantic and wild, piercing in their agony. Ineffectually, she batted at the unseen hands and struggled with the weight pinning her to the floor. Wrapped in warm blankets as soft as a caress, calming words meant to soothe finally worked their way in through the panic assaulting her mind. Blinking against the light, Robbie opened her eyes and stared up into the face of a woman not much older than she. "Who are you?"

Janine sat back on her heels and scoffed at the vampire she'd generously donated her soft, fuzzy, cuddly blanket to. Worriedly, she looked over her shoulder at Alex. Leigh and Alexander were doing their best to calm their frantic daughter, her BFF, as the drugs Doctor Thomas Sterling injected into her arm took effect. Things were bad and only getting worse. Alex would have been out of the mine by now, running to Lucien, if her dad hadn't acted quickly and tackled her to the ground. Alex's eyes, overflowing with tears and fresh grief, were beginning to glaze over and her screams of anguish quieting to a low moan of utter despair. Unsure of what else to do, when Janine saw the vampire pop out of the tunnels, wild and half crazed like a demented Jack in the box, she'd gone over to her and quickly done a little damage control.

Alex lay on the hard, cold, rocky floor of the cavern and stared up at the shadows drifting across the roughly hewn ceiling over her head. Her mind was fuzzy and confused, grappling with the truth. Lucien was gone. Dead. She didn't want to believe it. But, she knew it was true, deep down in her heart. He wasn't coming back. Ever.

The slow strokes of her mom's hands through her hair made it hard to stay awake. Slowly, bit by bit, her eyelids sank closed. She fought to keep them open. Eventually they closed and stayed that way. Sandwiched between the soft warmth of her mom and the security of her dad's never yielding heat, just like when she was a little girl and a bad dream frightened her and she'd crawl into their big bed between them, she gave into the powerful influence of the drugs Doctor Sterling had pumped into her system and drifted off to sleep. Only, she knew when she awoke, the nightmare would still be there. Haunting her.

Janine breathed a sigh of relief at Alex's sagging eyelids. For the moment, things were under control. When Alex came to, they would be bad, all over again. There wasn't anything she could do about that now, except be there for her best friend and try to help her move on. It wouldn't be easy. She couldn't imagine loving someone the way Alex loved Lucien, and not losing him once, but twice. Feeling completely helpless and more than a little hopeless at the gravity of the situation, she turned her attention to the bewildered vampire standing in front of her. "My name is Janine."

Robbie grappled with the edges of the blanket, clutching them closed, scowling in confusion at the scene around her. Humans crouched in clusters, some sitting on the rocky ground, some standing, milling about, talking in hushed, worried whispers. Something was wrong, really wrong. And everyone, not just she, was feeling the effects of it. "Huh?" she said, frowning at the woman, who had said something, not that she'd been paying any attention.

Janine rolled her eyes in irritation. This vampire was a little dense. Maybe she had a hearing problem or something. Why was it the cute girls were always the dumbest? And to think, SHE was the blonde. Annoyed, she pointed to her chest and said very slowly, "I'm Janine and you are?"

Oh, the woman was introducing herself, Robbie thought. What was wrong with her? Did cavewoman Janine think she was stupid or something? "Robbie," she answered dismissively. There was no time for pleasantries or lengthy introductions. She needed to find out what was going on and a pair of pants. "What's happened?"

Janine frowned at Robbie, not really understanding the question. After all, Robbie was the one with the pointy fangs, not her. Did she really not have a clue? Gingerly, knowing how skittish vampires could be, she pulled her to the side. "You really don't know?" She cast a glance over her shoulder toward Alex then leaned in to whisper in Robbie's ear. "That cosmic shudder you felt, and don't tell me you didn't, that was Lucien. He was Alex's husband."

Robbie's brow wrinkled in confusion. Janine said Lucien WAS Alex's husband. Not that he is Alex's husband. Her eyes trailed to the woman, drugged and dazed, cradled in her parent's laps. She had to be Alex. Her heart clenched in her chest. What if it had been John Mark instead? It still could be. John Mark was in the battle, fighting. Alex had her parents and a best friend. Robbie had no one. If something happened to John Mark she'd be all alone in the world. "Was?"

Janine nodded and cast her eyes down to the floor. "Yeah. He's gone. He didn't make it." She sniffled back a tear. She would not cry. Alex would need her to be strong for her, not a blubbering mess. Later, when Alex couldn't see, she'd fall apart. She stepped back and wrinkled her nose at Robbie. She didn't know why the woman had no pants and was dressed only in a floppy oversized t-shirt, socks, and tennis shoes. She was sure there was a story behind it. And like so many stories that would be told about tonight, it wouldn't be a good one. "Lets see if I can find you something to wear."

"Thanks," Robbie said. She'd caught Janine's nose wrinkle in distaste at her state of dress. Robbie was certain under normal circumstances that Janine was a nice person. Maybe even someone she'd be friends with. There was nothing normal about the circumstances. Worry and uncertainty brought out the worst in everyone. Janine was overwrought with concern over her friend. And maybe, there was someone she loved too, topside in the heat of the battle.

Robbie pulled on the black sweatpants Janine managed to find crumpled in the bottom of a box of supplies. They were two sizes too big and smelled musty. But, with a tight cinch of the drawstring and a quick roll up of the cuffs, they worked. She shrugged off Janine's apologetic smile and tucked John Mark's t-shirt into the loose waistband.

Fully dressed, she felt a little more like herself. Already, she was assessing the situation. John Mark told her to lead people out, if the shit hit the fan. Not only had the shit hit the proverbial fan, it was blowing the stink all over the place. As the only vampire in the place, she took command. "Come on, we need to move."