Dawn Redeemed

There wasn't time before classes started to fill her best friend in on all the details from last night. She tried to focus on the words on the page in the book. But her mind wandered anyway. American History wasn't stimulating enough to keep her mind occupied today.

Hunter grumbled under his breath. Giving Fallon 'the look' that had struck fear into the hearts of young children for over five decades. He was covering while his uncle oriented the new accountant he'd hired to manage the books. He shrank as the love of his life Gina, gave him 'the look' from the back of the room. Glancing at his watch, he hoped his uncle wouldn't be gone much longer. All this teaching gave him a hankering for a few private lessons of his own with his wife.

Marianne ignored her dad's rigid scowl. Beneath all that muscle and the frown deeply etching the corners of his mouth was a big, soft, cuddly pussy cat. Fallon was practically bursting at the seams, squirming in her seat impatiently. Marianne placed a finger to her lips and gently tapped the text book in front of Fallon. Maybe at lunch, they could find a quiet corner and Fallon could spill her secret and finally sit still.

Erica nervously clenched her teeth as Nash showed her around the space that would be her makeshift office till something more permanent could be arranged. She had no idea exactly what she'd gotten herself into until now. Filing cabinets stuffed to the point of explosion lined three of the four walls. The window was little more than a peep hole from which she could catch a glimpse of the outside world. Her desk was a mammoth thing that stretched from corner to doorway on the fourth wall, leaving her just enough space to shimmy in and out of the door. The computer though was brand new and state of the art, at least he hadn't thrown a ledger and a pen at her and ordered her to work. "Ah...what's in all these filing cabinets?"

"Everything," Nash answered with a shrug.

Erica wrestled one of the overstuffed drawers open with a huff and began randomly flipping through files. Dumbfounded by the dates scrawled in almost legible pen. "These are from nineteen...sixteen."

"Um yeah, I wasn't joking when I said it was everything. I think the earliest records and ledgers are over here," Nash said, patting the filing cabinet beneath his elbow. "They're mostly from the mid to late eighteen hundreds. There's not much. The good old days when a handshake was as good as a man's signature," he said dreamily. Now days, everything had a paper trail a mile long and sub sequentially, he'd had to add more filing cabinets to accommodate the ever growing influx of paper.

"Please tell me that you have back up copies of this stuff someplace," Erica asked. Gently closing the file drawer and moving to a different cabinet, she blinked as she studied an exchange receipt from the nineteen fifties. If the receipt in her hand was real, money was one thing this family would never have to worry about. According to the paperwork in her hand, they owned over a million dollar's worth of gold and other precious metals. Those were nineteen fifty values. What it was worth today was anyone's guess.

"No, why would I? The originals are good enough."

"Oh boy," Erica moaned, lowering her body onto the highly polished edge of the desk. "I'm going to need a scanner and back up drives. Before I can delve into the books and get them in order, I need to figure out exactly what you've got and what you don't. We've got to back up these originals and put them someplace safe, like say... Fort Knox." She glanced up and studied Nash. He didn't seem the least bit apologetic or concerned about her predicament. "I thought we were talking about managing a couple of hundred thousand dollars and a few investments."

"No, it's a bit more than that."

"Yeah, just a bit." Erica got up and returned the file to its place in the drawer. She leaned her head in her hands and massaged her temples. "I need some coffee."

Nash chuckled and gave her shoulder a gentle pat. "Consider it job security. I'll get someone in to take care of what you need. For now, how about that coffee?"

Erica gently closed the drawer, watching bits of crumpled paper float to the floor, "Sure."

Chapter 49

Evan wiggled out of his dad's arms and sat on the bed. His dad was snoring like a bear. He reached out and pinched off his dad's nose, giggling hysterically when he snorted awake.

Hanning snatched Evan playfully by the waist and pulled him across his chest. "Good morning, knuckle head," he said, rubbing his knuckles across Evan's scalp, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to create a little friction.

Evan kicked and giggled, enjoying the roughhousing with his dad. "You're the Knuckle Head!," he teased with delight. His world tilted and pivoted on its axis till he was looking up at floor and down at the ceiling. He hung over his dad's shoulder, his butt sticking up in the air. "I'll fart." Straining in between peals of laughter, he tried to produce a fart.

Hanning pretended to be offended when a little toot sounded and plopped Evan unceremoniously onto his feet. "Stink butt." He gently nudged Evan toward the door with the toe of his foot. "What do you want for breakfast?"

After two days of cold cereal Evan didn't have to be asked twice. "Pancakes." Evan chuckled in enthusiastic glee when his dad dropped to one knee. Scrambling eagerly, Evan climbed aboard. Hooking his toes into the belt loops of his dad's jeans and gripping a hold of his strong powerful shoulders with his hands. For a minute, Evan forgot that everything in his life was upside down. He relaxed and enjoyed, just being a kid.

Ruby woke up cold and shivering on the damp ground. The clear blue sky stretched out for miles above her. The sun lit the drops of morning dew on the blades of grass, lighting them up like thousands of glittering diamonds. Birds skittered about, joyously chirping their greeting to the new day. The scene was peaceful and serene. Too bad she felt so awful. What should have filled her with happiness and joy left her feeling colder and even emptier on the inside. Groaning, she sat up, blinking against the brightness of the morning rays.

Tracker walked through the thick grass. The toe of his boot was damp with morning dew. Catcher, his twin, would have a meltdown if he caught him walking on the fragile blades that he so painstakingly cared for. Getting grass to grow thick and healthy, keeping it fresh and green was a bitch in the South Texas climate. He glanced over his shoulder at the footprints pressed into the tender, green grass and shook his head. Nope, his brother wouldn't be happy at all.

Sometimes, it was difficult for him to remember that his life was no longer dedicated to service. He was not required to do anything, not any more. The instinct to serve had been so inbred in him that he felt absolutely useless wandering about doing nothing. The same way that Catcher tended and cared for the lush lawn beneath his feet. He tended the empty houses, maintaining the tiny yards, doing minor repairs on the boxy structures, wiling away the hours doing useless busy work in hopes that someday, the houses would be homes once again.

Protecting others was no longer his job either, but he did it anyway. He'd spent his whole life training for a service that was no longer required. Except for a few stray families that had stubbornly remained behind. There was no one left to protect and no enemy to protect them from. He made rounds through the quiet, deserted streets and along the barren stretches of empty houses. In between patching this and painting that, and plucking weeds from flowerbeds that no one no longer cared about.

His instinct to protect was what had him out in this blasted field all night collecting dew like a yard ornament. He didn't think in all his years, he'd ever seen one person cry so many tears. Not knowing what else to do, he waited and watched over her. Despite all the decades of training, hand to hand combat, martial arts, firearms and bladed weaponry, nothing had prepared him for how to weather the storm of a woman's emotional outburst. Helplessly, he did the only thing he could do and was damn good at. He protected her while she rode out the worst of the storm. Or at least he hoped the storm was over. If she started back up, he didn't know what he'd do.

"Tracker?" Ruby strained her eyes to get a better look at the man walking toward her. The twin Omegas, they looked so much alike that it was hard to tell them apart from a distance. He looked so different without the black leather and weaponry she'd gotten accustomed to seeing him in. He wore jeans and a loose t-shirt beneath a faded flannel jacket. He'd even grown out his hair. She saw no glint of steel, no line of a bow peeking out from behind his shoulder, or the hard bulge of a pistol beneath his shirt. Instead of a wall of menace, he looked just like any other guy out for a morning stroll.

Tracker stared down at Ruby, snapped his heels together, and bowed his head, cursing himself when he did so. The act was habit, so deeply engrained into his very being that to not do it made him ache. He wasn't an Omega any more. He wasn't the Pack Mistress's body guard. When she'd left Texas and married the Pack Master from the Northern Territories, she'd cut him and his brother loose. They were civilians now. "Mis..." Tracker shook his head, correcting himself, "Ruby."

Ruby scrambled to her feet, groaning at the stiffness in her limbs. "I almost didn't recognize you. I don't think I've ever seen you without your twin or your weapons." Embarrassed by her disheveled appearance, she self consciously brushed away bits of dried grass and dirt.

"What are you doing here, Ruby?" Tracker asked. Breeching protocol and demanding an answer from someone of a higher caste than he, was awkward for him. Being born an Omega, he was the lowest of the low in the social structure. The pack depended on him to protect their very lives. Yet, he was lesser in status than the maid that cleaned Mistress Eloise's toilets. In a way, he missed the old days. Having something worthwhile to do. But, he was also glad the old ways had been abolished. No one should be prized or belittled based on their genetic code or their job.

Ruby sighed and fell into step beside Tracker, jogging to keep up with his wider, quicker stride. Tracker was a hulking wall of a man. Bred for speed and strength, for loyalty and his ability to follow orders without question. Genetically programmed for endurance and lethal defense. He was tall and lean, muscular without the bulk and damn scary, when he needed to be. He was graceful, each step he took like that of an intricate dance. And in so many ways, he was more handsome than she'd ever given him credit for.

His angular jaw, straight nose, broad lips, outcropping of midnight dark hair, and golden cast to his brown eyes mixed to form the perfect male specimen. She'd just never gotten close enough to notice it before. Nobody got close to an Omega for any reason. The Omegas didn't make friends. They didn't have family. They were born for one purpose and one purpose only. To deliver death at their maker's command.

The Omegas were born in the conventional way. They came from a mother's womb. Always male, always twin brothers for sheer efficiency due to the labor it took to create them. Thanks to the wonders of science and artificial insemination and genetic engineering, they were practically exact copies of one another. Tracker and Catcher knew nothing of a mother's love or the comforts of kindness.

They didn't know a mother or a father. They were the best of the best gene splicing had to offer. A trait from this pack member mixed with a desirable attribute from another and another carefully concocted in a lab and implanted into a female. They truly had no parents and were the children of everyone and of preserved generations past. They knew nothing but their purpose and they served it well. The Omegas fathered the next generation of Omegas. But, they didn't do that in the conventional way either. No female would willingly allow an Omega between her legs for any reason. The Omegas' offspring would be created in the same sterile conditions as they had been. The Omegas were the sons of no one and the sons of everyone and therefore, below even the lowest in the pack. Yet, Tracker spoke to her so gently. He wasn't sizing her up to determine her weakness or gauge the appropriate angle for a killing blow. He seemed genuinely concerned. "Making the biggest mistake of my life, up to this point anyway."

"Go home," Tracker said, in his direct, simple way.

"I can't," Ruby answered.

Tracker led her along the pristine, narrow gravel walkways to his front door.

When he'd been in Eloise's service, he hadn't had a home of his own. He and his brother shared quarters. Stark, utilitarian living space was all he'd ever known. When the pack split up and went their different ways. There were lots of empty homes to chose from. He and his brother were neighbors now. Separated by brick and mortar, a chain link fence, and a tiny yard. He held the front door open and gestured for Ruby to go inside.

Ruby sat at the kitchen table and stared out the sliding glass patio door. The neighborhood, once teaming with life and bustling with activity was silent. The houses vacant and well maintained as if an owner might move in and claim them once again. Driveways sat empty, grass springing up here and there in the cracks in the concrete. This place was nothing more than a empty shadow of what it had been.

Seff might have lost, but in so many ways he'd won. He wanted the pack decimated. He got it. Time and circumstance had broken the pack apart. They drifted like dandelion fluff on a summer breeze, carried off to destinations unknown. Ruby marveled at the way that time could romanticize a memory. Her mind's eye recalled this place as a place of safety, a haven from the world, a place where life never changed, it wasn't. "None of this will ever be the same, will it?"

Tracker set down a steaming mug of coffee and took a seat in the empty chair next to Ruby. "I'm afraid not."

"Why do you and Catcher stay?"

"For the first time in our lives my brother and I are free to do as we choose. We could go anywhere, do anything. Yet we stay and tend to empty houses and fragments of dreams. We stay for those who come back and those who move on. This place is not as devoid of life or purpose as you might think. Some need a respite before they move on and others a destination to travel to. This place is both. It'll never be the same as it was, true enough. But that's because we've changed. Our world isn't nearly as small as we once imagined."

Ruby sipped from her mug thoughtfully. "Which one am I?" Warmth from the coffee seeped through her belly and into her limbs, chasing away the chill.

"Perhaps, you are both. My brother and I will always be Eloise's protectors. Even if she no longer needs us. This place will always be our home. The two will always hold our hearts. Maybe you have traveled so far, to find exactly who it is that holds the key to yours."

Chapter 50

Shayla took one last look around the bedroom. One last double check to make sure she had everything. She was definitely leaving with more than she brought. The vampires had lavished R.J. with gifts and so much attention that she feared her son might be a little spoiled from his visit.

A twinge of remorse settled in the pit of her stomach at the plight of these good women. For all their longevity and all their heightened awareness and abilities, they would never know the joy of motherhood. Whatever had brought the women to make the choices they had. There had been a hefty price to pay. Shayla cradled R.J. in her arms and stared down into his sleeping face. Being here with the women made her realize what price she was willing to pay for Carter's love.

Carter couldn't have children. For all his long, long life, he'd never been a father. He'd never told Shayla exactly how he'd become a vampire. Whenever she tried to ask, he clammed up tight and refused to speak about it. She wondered if he ever regretted not having a child of his own. If the decision had been taken from him. Or if at the time, he'd understood exactly what he was giving up. Carter was good with R.J. . He would have made a good father. It felt like she was pushing, so she left the subject alone. But, she wondered, if he'd ever see himself, not as R.J's father, but as his dad.

"I think the last of it is loaded, finally," Carter slid his dark tinted lenses down his nose and chucked R.J. playfully under the chin. "How could one tiny infant and one female require so much stuff? In my time, a whole village could have been clothed with all the things I crammed into that SUV."

Shayla chuckled at the silly face Carter made at R.J. "Your time has come and gone, old man." She was anxious to get above ground and back home. According to the tracking device in Ruby's cell phone and the GPS in her car, she was in Texas. If Ruby went on the move, Nash assured her that she'd be the first to know.

Her bedroom windows had been covered by heavily lined drapes meant to keep the worst of the sun. Carter wouldn't burn to a crisp if sunlight touched him. She knew better than that. Sunlight blinded him and in general, made him miserable. He was making sacrifices for her by being willing to go above ground in the day. She could make a few concessions for him. She leaned up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's go."

Carter slid the dark lenses back into place and nuzzled Shayla's cheek. His main concern was getting her home and keeping her safe. For the moment, Shayla was safe from her sister. Carter had thought things through and if it came down to it. He would kill Ruby before he let her harm one hair on Shayla or R.J.'s head. Doing so would destroy any relationship Shayla and he managed to build. But, that would be a small sacrifice to keep her and the baby safe. Anyone who hurt her or the baby would all too quickly find out what a ruthless killer he could be. "Home."

Shayla nodded, her hair rasped against Carter's unshaven jaw. "Home."

Eloise smiled over her cup of coffee at Nash. "How's our new accountant doing?"

Nash snickered and snatched the coffee mug out of Eloise's fingers. "A bit overwhelmed I think." He returned the drained mug to Eloise and gave her a peck on the forehead.

Eloise frowned at the empty mug. "I've seen your filing system and 'a bit' is quite an understatement." She toyed with the empty mug in her fingers. "I spoke with Tracker today."

"And?"

"Ruby is in Texas. She's safe, confused and heart broken, but safe. Nash, what if there are others out there like her? Caught between two worlds, not sure of who they are or where they belong? Unifying the packs is going to be harder than I'd ever anticipated. I'm not even sure if we should."

Nash eased onto a chair and rested his elbows on the kitchen table. "A house divided can not stand. Maybe if we'd pushed an alliance earlier. Ruby wouldn't have left her family behind. I know there are fundamental differences between our packs, but we have to do this. Especially with the ones that are here and plan to stay. We can't afford to make enemies or have casual acquaintances. We must stand together on a united front."

Eloise sighed and nodded, staring down into her empty cup. "I know you're right. What happened to my pack should never be allowed to happen again. No pack deserves what he did to us or what we did to ourselves.

"We thought through controlled breeding and eugenics, we could create a more powerful pack. We didn't. We forced couples together and pressured them into having children that they didn't want, all to further the cause. We. Were. Wrong. We destroyed families instead of building them and now that it has all fallen apart. What's left? Nothing but empty houses and broken dreams. I'm responsible, solely responsible for what happened between Ruby and Hanning.