Dawn Redeemed

Eloise exhaled a relieved breath and reached across the coffee table, grasping Torr's hand in hers. "Thank you." She had hopes that he wouldn't let his pack down and he hadn't. He had the makings of a true pack master, albeit a reluctant one.

"Torr, I have just one more thing," Nash said. "Erica is very close to figuring things out for herself. You have to tell her the truth, soon, before she does."

"I know," Torr answered. He pushed off the arms of the chair, regretting that third shot of whisky. His limbs were sluggish and uncoordinated. To do what he needed to do, his thoughts had to be focused and his head absolutely clear. He was going to reach deeper into himself than he ever had and unleash the power he'd never explored before. "Tomorrow night, I'll call my pack."

Drew nodded, "I'll meet you on the bluffs after moonrise."

"We'll be there too," Eloise said, speaking for her husband. Torr's face was pale with an expression of dread marring the beauty of his features. He needed all the support he could get.



Chapter 80

Evan sat on the porch steps with his elbows resting on his knees. His fingers balled into fists, supporting his chin. His mom hadn't poked her head out of her room all day and his dad was a complete grouch. Evan thought things would be better now that his mom was home, but they weren't. Sometimes he wished he was a grownup so that he could understand things better than he did. Some of the things he saw in his head just didn't make sense.

"What are you up to kid?" Carter asked jovially. He bent his long body and sat on the stoop beside Evan. Evan had that forlorn lost puppy look that should never belong on any child's face. The boy looked absolutely heart broken. Evan's parents were too embroiled in their personal struggles to see what was effect it was having on their son.

"Nothing," Evan answered. Carter towered over him in a wall of blond muscle and strength. He had eyes as clear and brilliant as a summer sky, but there was always such a sadness hidden in them, like clouds obscuring the view. Evan couldn't understand why Uncle Carter was so sad deep down on the inside where nobody could see it.

"You know, I heard there's a carnival coming to town in a couple of weeks."

"Really?" Evan perked up at the mention of a carnival. Carnivals meant rides, tons of sweets, and even more people. Evan liked to watch people. Sometimes they did the funniest things. Even if he didn't always understand why they did what they did. He still enjoyed watching them.

"Maybe we could talk your Aunt Shayla into taking us." Carter got a laugh out of the way Evan brightened, almost as if he'd flipped some invisible switch in the kid's psyche. He believed that carnivals had a different meaning for Evan than they did for him. Carnivals were a prime hunting grounds for his kind. People hopped up on sugar, dazed by bright colors and flashing lights, and an endless barrage of sounds were easy pickings.

Evan nodded eagerly. "Maybe. Do you think R.J. can have some cotton candy?"

"I don't know what cotton candy is, but it doesn't sound like something you'd feed a baby. We can ask his mother though."

"Ok."

"You ready for bed?"

Evan hopped to his feet and scrambled onto Uncle Carter's shoulders. He held on tightly as Uncle Carter stood and carried him through the front door. Uncle Carter was better than any carnival ride could hope to be.

Carter deposited Evan on the narrow twin bed and bent low to tuck the covers up to his chin. "Goodnight Evan." Evan's kiss was sloppy and messy. Sweet from the cookie he'd gobbled down in two bites for a bedtime snack.

"I love you, Uncle Carter," Evan said sleepily.

"I love you too, Evan." Carter flipped off the light and left the bedroom door cracked behind him. It was amazing, no matter what thoughts were on his mind. Whatever troubles he had melted away when he spent some time with Evan. The kid had a child's innocence and bright view of life. So very different from himself, Evan saw wonder in everything and everyone around him. And when Carter was with him, he saw it too.

Ruby felt like a kid at the principal's office. She sat in a straight backed chair in front of Nash's desk. He sat across the wide expanse of highly polished wood, analyzing her thoughtfully. "I made a mistake," she explained for at least the fiftieth time in the last hour.

Nash took a deep breath. The woman was nervous and uncomfortable. He couldn't say as if he blamed her. "You endangered my pack. You threatened your sister and your husband. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I made a mistake," Ruby answered shakily. She was on the verge of tears, her bottom lip trembling. "I'm not a threat to the pack or to anyone else."

Eloise's eyes softened as she saw the first glimmer of a tear slid from Ruby's lashes. "Hanning has petitioned for an official revocation of your marriage vows."

"I know. He doesn't want me anymore." Ruby hung her head in shame. Her actions had cost her everything.

"What do you think of that?" Eloise asked, "Do you feel the same way? Do you have no hope of a resolution between yourself and your husband?"

"I'd like to think that there could be," Ruby whispered. "I'm just not sure he feels the same way. I can't make it work on my own."

Hanning bristled. Ruby was one hell of an actress. He could almost sense the honesty in her words. He sat silently in the chair beside her. Scooted as far away from her as he could possibly get. There were only one of two ways that this could go. Either Eloise and Nash would grant their revocation or they wouldn't. Considering the fact that he could not stand the sight of Ruby. He knew what way he hoped they voted.

"I understand that our packs have very different views on marriage," Nash said carefully choosing his words. "Marriage is a sacred union of two souls. In my culture when one chooses a mate and if the mate accepts. The bond is for life. Sometimes, even from beyond the grave, the bond still holds sacred. To lose ones mate is to lose ones life. For your situation, a more human standard applies. Maybe, I could understand and see my way to agree with this, to a degree. If children weren't involved. But, in this case, a child's future hangs in the balance of any decision we reach today. We must proceed cautiously."

Nash leaned heavily on the desk, his elbows made indentations on the pristine white blotter beneath them. "Ruby, what is it that you want above all else?"

"My family back," she answered without hesitation.

"And Hanning, I'll ask you the same question."

"My son," Hanning answered, scowling at the tears streaming down Ruby's cheeks.

"Very well. In thirty days, I'll ask you both the same question again. After that point, I'll reach a decision. Hanning, if your answer has not changed. I'll grant the revocation. I can't force you to love one another. I can't force you to live as mates. But, I can force you to work together to build a solid foundation in which to raise your son. I suggest you use this time to come to some sort of amicable plan and achieve some level of peace between the two you.

"Ruby, you have free run of the house and the grounds as any other member of the pack. But for the time being I must ask, as a show of good faith, that you not leave the premises with Evan or R.J. unless escorted by a trusted member of the pack. Hanning, Ruby must be allowed to function in Evan's life as a mother should. You may not restrict her from caring for Evan as she sees fit." Nash pushed himself away from the desk and dismissed them from the room with a single nod of his head.

"As you wish," Hanning gritted with a bow. He did his best to keep his cool until after the study doors were closed tightly behind him.

"Hanning, can we talk... please," Ruby kept her eyes fixed on the brightly patterned runner that stretched the length of the hallway. Hanning was enraged by Nash's decision. She was grateful for the small concession he'd given her. At least she could see her son without supervision.

"No." Hanning's steps were hurried, putting as much distance between himself and Ruby as quickly as possible. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want to come to an amicable agreement or any level of peace with her. He wanted her out of his life.

Nash buried his face in the soft planes of Eloise's abdomen. Still sitting in the wingback chair, he hugged her close. "Did I do the right thing?"

"I think you're doing your best." Eloise slid the leather band holding Nash's hair back into a tight braid free and ran her fingers separating the black and silver strands till it fell in a waterfall of waves over his shoulder.

"Why can't everyone just get along?" Nash found the dip of her belly button, just above the waistband of her jeans and nuzzled it with the tip of his nose. Her touch was soothing and gentle. The strained muscles of his neck began to uncoil beneath her fingertips.

"If they did, we wouldn't have much to do."

"That'd be just fine with me."

"Me too." Eloise curled her body around him and planted a kiss on the top of his head. The burdens of pack master were heavy on his shoulders. She knew exactly how heavy the weight was. If they could manage to bring the packs together as a singular entity, some of those burdens would be lifted.

The Great White Wolf would have ultimate say, while she and Torr would aid Nash in the duty of carrying out those decisions and overseeing the day to day function of the pack. What they were planning had never been tried before. Packs operated as separate entities, under the direction, whether good or bad, of one leader. Those days were coming quickly to an end. And Eloise looked forward to seeing a calmer, somewhat less stressful future with her husband.

Chapter 81

Torr was drunk off his ass. Not an easy thing for a werewolf to achieve. Oh sure, they could call it whatever politically correct term they wanted. But, the facts were as plain as the nose on his face. He was a werewolf. Nope, no doubt about it. He stumbled through his dark living room. Marveling at the way the room tilted and rolled as he tripped over a footstool. Ottoman. Torr corrected himself. What the fuck ever. He stretched out and stared up at the slowly twirling ceiling fan. Saluting an appliance that had a specific purpose, did what it was created to do, and did it well. So unlike him.

His dad used to ramble on and on about what a disappointment his son had turned out to be. Year after year, day after day his father never let up, not even on Christmas or on his birthday. When he was old enough, instead of words, his father began using his fists, all in the sake of toughening up his pansy ass son. Yeah, call it whatever made it sound acceptable. But it was still child abuse. Yeah. What the fuck ever.

Killing the old man had been one of the best things he'd ever done. The miserable son of a bitch wouldn't hurt anybody ever again. Torr grinned and took some measure of comfort in the fact that his father would be turning in his grave if he knew what Torr was planning to do. Hand the pack over signed, sealed, and delivered to the Great White Wolf.

Torr didn't believe in all that mystical shit. But there was something deep inside of him that held a great power. Power enough to call the pack to him, no matter where they were. Anyone who thought of him as master would come. He had less than twenty-four hours to feel normal. Once the power was unleashed, he knew he could never go back. In less than twenty-four hours he would release a power that would change him forever. He wouldn't be Torr the ordinary. He wouldn't be Torr the indistinguishable. He'd be Torr the pack master. Torr, the son of Seff, the miserable bastard that still tortured him on a daily basis from beyond the grave.

He wanted Erica. He was so damned lonely. The bottle of whisky in his fist and its empty twin on the counter were poor substitutes for the warmth of a woman's body in his arms. He tucked his knees into his chest and curled into a ball in the middle of his empty living room floor and cried. He cried for the little boy who had never known a father's love. He cried for all of the people his father had hurt over the decades. And he cried for the part of himself he was going to lose in less than twenty-four hours.

Erica woke up to Fallon's constant and incessant badgering. She'd only been awake for ten minutes and already she had a splitting headache. The fact that her daughter had outgrown all her pajamas and slept in one of her uncle's old work shirts had not escaped her attention. "I promise you. Before Friday we will go shopping for pajamas," Erica moaned into her coffee.

"Tonight?" Fallon asked. Marianne had invited her over for a sleep over on Friday. She had to have something better to wear than an old, stained work shirt that barely reached her knees.

Alexander gently tugged on a tuft of Fallon's curly red hair. "Cut your mom some slack, Jack."

"Jack's a horse," Fallon giggled as she swatted at her uncle playfully.

Erica shook her head and drained the last sip of her coffee. "We'll see. I'll skip lunch and go to the bank this afternoon."

"We have money?" Fallon asked enthusiastically.

"Not that much. Enough for a mini shopping spree though." Erica hated having to deny her daughter anything. Worst of all, she hated having to explain the real world of money and finances and their lack there of to her little girl. But, things were what they were and at least Fallon understood.

Fallon bounced in her seat and clapped her hands. "Yay!"

The noon hour was rapidly approaching and Erica had yet to sign the back of the check and fill out a deposit slip. At least this time she had something to actually put in the free checking account she'd opened over a month ago. Last night she'd been so dumbfounded by the numbers on the check that she hadn't had time to pay attention to the minute details on the paper.

The check was standard issue, institutional robin's egg blue pinstripes with a white background and the obligatory watermark in the middle. The signature in the bottom right hand corner caught her attention. Studying the intricacy of people's chicken scratches was a hobby of hers. The signature was neat, with bold strokes, tight curving vowels, and slightly tilted consonants. She'd seen this signature before, somewhere. Probably in one of the later files. Occasionally, she found documents stuffed in the wrong year, sometimes the wrong decade. Perhaps Nash had signed something and she'd neatly filed it way. Made sense, since he was her boss that she would have seen his signature scribbled somewhere. Carefully, she made a copy of the check for tax purposes, folded it, and stuffed it into a corner of her purse.

With an air of authority, she filled out the deposit ticket and signed the back of the check. Somehow, just holding the check made her feel independent and legitimized as an adult once again. She was a long, long way from financial freedom, but at least her feet were on a road and walking instead of dangling in mid air without a purpose.

Torr woke up somewhere close to lunch time. He could tell what time it was because his neglected stomach was growling madly. The inside of his mouth felt like cotton and his head throbbed in time with his beating heart. Clumsily, he scrambled to his feet and scowled at the half empty bottle of whisky innocently laying on the carpet. Grumbling beneath his breath, he launched the bottle and watched it skid across the overly priced beige carpet and land against the baseboard with a light thump. Good enough. He'd deal with the bottle later. After a pot of coffee, a dozen Tylenol, and an ice pack or two, then he'd be good to go.

The cold water rolled over his cheeks and dripped onto his bare chest, forming into cold little rivulets that wound through the thick mat of dark hair on his abdomen. He held his hands under the faucet and cupped them together. He drank from the tap till his stomach felt sloshy and bloated. The empty square bottle on the countertop glittered merrily in the early afternoon sunlight. Promising that better things could be found inside. Torr gripped the bottle in his fist and swiftly deposited it into the trash. The only evidence leftover from his binge was his pounding head and he was quickly preparing to get rid of that too. He gulped a handful of Tylenol down, dry swallowed, and prayed they'd kick in soon.

Chapter 82

Shayla didn't bother knocking, she barged right in with R.J. in tow. "Good afternoon, Ruby. It's time you got out of that bed and faced a new day!" She marched to the window and threw back the curtains, flooding the room with sunlight.

"You're a sadistic bitch, you know." Ruby flung the covers over her head and turned away from the window.

"So you say," Shayla jerked the covers out of Ruby's fists and flung them to the foot of the bed. "Get up, time's wasting." Not so gently, she patted her sister's flannel covered rump. "Come on. Get up. Evan wants to see his mommy. And I brought R.J. by to see his favorite auntie."

"I'm his only aunt," Ruby protested as she rolled over onto her back and pried open her eyes. Couldn't everyone quit pestering her so that she could wallow in her depression alone like every other respectable person did?

Shayla thrust R.J. into her sister's hands and made for the closet. "How'd it go last night?"

"Not so good," Ruby answered. R.J. was a soft, tiny thing, with a round cherubic face, wiggling in his onsie as he rooted for a more comfortable position. "Hanning wants a revocation of our vows. He doesn't want to be married to me anymore."

"And...?"

"Nash is giving us thirty days before he grants the revocation. I've got thirty days before my husband gets rid of me for good," Ruby sighed down at R.J. and stroked the end of his button nose with a fingertip.

"Well, that's good news," Shayla said cheerily.

"Good news?"

"Yeah, that means you've got thirty days to make him change his mind."

Hanning spent his lunch break trying his best to be a dad. He stood in the backyard absently playing catch with Evan. His heart wasn't in it and he was just going through the motions. His emotions bounced back and forth like the ball. One minute, he was glad that in thirty days he'd be rid of Ruby for good and the farce their marriage had become would at long last be over. But, another part of his heart was saddened and deeply hurt by the knowledge that his marriage would be over. Was it possible to love someone and not even like them? If he had to sum it up, that's exactly how he felt about Ruby. He was still desperately in love with his wife, which sucked. If he hated her the pending revocation would be an event to look forward to. He just didn't hate her, he just didn't like her, at all. And he didn't know if he ever would again.

Evan was trying his best to be a good son. He trotted after the ball every time his dad missed a catch and dutifully returned the ball in his palm. He was beginning to feel more like a golden retriever than a kid at this point. Luckily, a six year-old doesn't have that long of an attention span and his mind was already scanning for new sources of entertainment. "Look Dad! Its Mommy!" Evan hopped up and down like a jack rabbit and waved wildly. "Maybe she'll play catch with us."

Ruby headed across the backyard. The sun was hot on her shoulders. A fine sheen of sweat, whether from nerves or just the warmth of the sun began to glisten on her skin. She tried to play it cool around Hanning. At this point, she couldn't afford to push him very far. "Hi Evan," she said as she knelt down to give her son a hug.

"Me and Dad are playing catch. You wanna play with us?" Evan practically quivered with excitement. He hadn't seen his mom and dad in the same place at the same time in weeks. He knew they were mad at one another and they were fighting. Maybe if they could have some fun together, they wouldn't fight so much.