Dawn Unleashed

Chapter 76

Maggie spent the morning catching up on some desperately needed sleep. Cole had left with his leathers and weapons slung over his back, as quietly as he'd come. Disappearing into the morning on the wisps of a dream. She peeked out of her bedroom window. Her lawn chair sat in the driveway in a crumpled heap. Her mom's car was gone from its usual parking space.

Good. If there were anyone she hoped to avoid today it was her mother. Today sounded like a great day to do laundry. Quickly, she gathered up the wet towels strewn all over the bathroom and crammed them into her too full laundry basket and tiptoed down the stairs. Ok, so as fully-fledged adult, she should be hauling ass to the Laundromat, but mom's basement was so much closer and cheaper.

If her mom had been going to work today, she would have left about the same time Cole slid out. Damn. She might have seen him sneak out. That would mean one hell of a lecture. At least, her mom could spare the talk about safe sex. Vampires didn't carry disease and they couldn't make babies. Besides, Cole and she had not had sex. The very thought of sex with Cole was enough to make her blush brilliant crimson and set her heart racing like a herd of wild horses in her chest. Gingerly, she eased the back door open and sat down the basket. The house was quiet, but obviously not empty. "Maggie? Is that you?" Maggie cringed at the sound of her mother's voice echoing from the living room.

"Yeah, mom," Maggie answered. Busted. She could tell by the expression on her mother's face she'd been caught red handed. Her mother stood with her hands on her hips glaring at her. Her dyed cherry red hair was rolled up tightly in curlers. The mark of the Sons was just visible over the collar of her fuzzy pink robe. Her eyes rolled over the overflowing laundry basket with more than just casual interest. "I thought you were working today."

"Car is in the shop. That new place up the road." Ginger motioned with her thumb to the east. "Nice people. Even came to the house and picked it up around six this morning."

"Oh," Maggie's cheeks glowed with heat. No doubt, her mom saw Cole sneak out of her apartment this morning. Her brows furrowed. So what if she did? Nothing happened and she was almost nineteen anyway. An adult by all legal standards, she could do what she wanted to.

Ginger leaned on the thick wooden doorframe that separated the back porch from the kitchen and studied her daughter. After raising two teenage girls, she was a master at using guilt as a means of confession. If anyone's face had guilty written all over it. It was her youngest, Maggie's. Unfortunately, Maggie was the most stubborn of the two and likely to do the exact opposite of what her well intending mother wanted her to. If she pushed the issue about the company her daughter kept too hard. Maggie would run to him out of spite. And damn it, as a mother it was her right to ask at least one of her children to give her grandchildren. "Come inside, I've got some coffee made."

"I've got to do the laundry," Maggie felt herself already beginning to cave. Confession, even though she had nothing to confess, was thick on her tongue.

Ginger raised an eyebrow at her daughter. At eighteen, she was still her little girl and so close to spilling the beans. Just a little push and she'd work the truth out of her. "Bah, the laundry can wait," she said with an over exaggerated wave of her hand. "Girl talk waits for no one."

"No prying," Maggie protested, following her mom into the kitchen.

"Maggie, I never pry. Although I am curious about how so many towels ended up in your laundry basket," Ginger said. Pulling Maggie's favorite mug out of the cabinet, she filled it to the brim with coffee.

"Mom," Maggie warned. Her mom should have been an inquisitor in the Spanish Inquisition. With a heavy dollop of cream and an extra spoonful of sugar she would have even the hardest of people confessing their very soul.

Ginger took the seat across from her daughter and idly stirred the coffee in her mug with a spoon. "Baby girl, don't rush into adulthood. The world is so new to you. Enjoy its wonders while you can. Far too soon, what seems wondrous today becomes mundane and ordinary tomorrow. Don't push too hard too fast."

Maggie took a sip of her coffee. The sweet, creamy, mixture coated her tongue. Her mom was so upbeat and vibrant. Seeing her with a touch of melancholy in her eyes, trapped by a painful memory was something she had not expected. "Mom, this isn't about Cole is it?"

"Not really. This is about you and how the choices you make today will change your life tomorrow. Your father wasn't the only contender for my heart. I was in love once, before he came along and before you were but a twinkle in my eye." She smiled at the shocked expression on her daughter's face. "I kept your grandparents up many a night worrying. I was a wild child," she said with a chuckle and a wink.

Maggie stared over her coffee cup. She couldn't imagine her mom being anything but a mom. Her mom worked at the hospital, did the laundry, cleaned the house, and cooked supper. Her mom had never been her age once, surely not. "I thought dad was the love of your life."

"Oh, he is," Ginger said around a swallow of her coffee. "But he wasn't my first. Back in the day, I was cute as a button and I had a pack of boys at my beck and call. Your father was the quiet shy one who almost slipped away. Back then he didn't stand a chance. I had no idea how much growing up I still had to do. The first boy to catch my eye wasn't a boy at all. Not, if you count years as a measure of age, anyway. Even now, thinking about him makes my palms sweaty and my heart beat faster." She shrugged, "Either that or I've had too much coffee this morning."

"What happened?"

"I wasn't much older than you. I was just learning about life and my place in the Sons. He was my first in all the ways that counted. He took my blood and my heart. He was so beautiful, like a dream on a star filled night. In fact, he still is as beautiful as ever."

Maggie watched her mother's expression change from the familiar mom expression she always wore to that of a love struck girl. "Did you love him?"

Ginger nodded, "At the time, I thought so. I was young and impressionable. He seemed to have all the answers. I would have let him turn me, if he'd had the mind to do so. I followed him around like a lovesick puppy. I adored him. He was well over a century old, give or take and I was just a girl, at least to him. Eventually, he realized what was happening. How I felt about him and he let me down as gently as he could. Still, it hurt. I hurt. All of my friends had moved on, off to college, to other places, and other lives. I held back and stayed here, because of him."

"And then you and dad?" Maggie felt a pang of sorrow for her mother's heartache. Hearts were such tender things to be broken so easily.

"Yes, I enrolled in the local vo-tech, finally gave your poor dad a chance, and here you are," she said, playfully grabbing at the tip of Maggie's nose. "Don't you see what I'm trying to tell you? If I'd jumped in feet first, you wouldn't be here right now. Don't make a life altering decision before you've even begun to live. Right now, you think you're all grown up. You're not. Hell, I'm not. Everyone is somebody's kid. Love the vampires. Do your duty with a happy heart. But, don't fall in love with one. There's only one of two ways it can end. Either you lose him or you become like him."

"Like Lori did." Maggie hadn't considered where a romance with Cole would take her. Her sister chose Keene over a human life. Could she do the same to be with Cole? Did she want to?

"Exactly. I'm glad Lori is happy. But, I have to admit my motives for talking to you are a little selfish. I want grandbabies, someday. Not anytime soon, mind you, but someday."

"Mom, I think the pep talk is a lot premature. Cole and I aren't doing anything. I only have one plan for right now and that's to survive the humiliation of working at Happy's another summer and go to college this fall."

"Well, that's good to hear," Ginger said on a breathy exhale. She sipped her coffee, analyzing her daughter's face for any sign of a falsehood. After almost twenty-three years of being a mother. She knew when her daughters were trying to pull a fast one. Maggie was being completely honest. The chair scraped across the tiled kitchen floor as she popped up. "I guess we'd better get this laundry started."

Maggie stopped at the sink to rinse out the coffee mugs. Her mom hummed a happy tune as she lugged the laundry basked to the basement. Nice to know that her mother had her life planned out for her. Next, she'd be telling her who she'd picked out for her to marry. Grandchildren. Maggie rolled her eyes and set the cups in the strainer to dry. Some days it didn't pay to save a few bucks by doing the laundry at her parent's house.

Absently, Maggie ran her fingers along the seam of her lips. They still tingled from Cole's kiss. She should avoid him till she sorted things out for herself. Distance herself from him and the temptation wrapped in a very human skin. Her mother could plan and plot her future for her, but she wasn't the one that had to live it.

Chapter 77

Cole showered and put on a fresh pair of jeans and a snug black, cotton t-shirt. What could he say? He liked the look of the shirt stretched tightly over his bulging pecs. He felt better, not great, but better. Last night and its horrors were still fresh in his mind. He'd made a vampire to save a friend. To think, eternal life could be achieved so easily, just a bite away. What people wouldn't give for a taste of what he'd given away for free?

Last night, he'd been in a dark, dark place and only Maggie's light brought him back from some invisible brink he almost crossed. She'd been afraid of him, at first, but kept her fear beneath the surface. She knew better than most people what he was capable of and she'd controlled her terror to help him. She saw him for what he was, looked past the beast, and helped him anyway. Brave girl.

The cross at the hollow of his neck gleamed brilliantly in the bathroom's overhead lights. Rachael would have done the same for him. Time had a funny way of kicking one in the ass. If he'd been a vampire that night, could he have saved her? David blamed himself for his failure. Cole didn't blame him. He didn't blame anybody except for the cold son of a bitch that had left her bleeding on a cold sidewalk to die.

He wished he could be there with his brothers when they took him down. Only nursemaid John Mark said he wasn't ready to face one so powerful. Cole felt powerful enough to take on an army. He wanted to be there on the front lines. See the light drain out of the bastard's face as he killed him. Rachael wouldn't like the black places where his thoughts led him. He didn't like the darkness brewing inside of him either.

Groaning, he pushed away from the marble counter top. John Mark was right. Until he could conquer the darkness and bitter urge for vengeance, he wasn't ready. Revenge blinded a person and fed the beast. One death wouldn't be enough. A hundred, or a thousand deaths would not bring Rachael back. Vengeance would take him places he didn't want to go. Turn him into a person he'd met one too many times and battled on a daily basis.

The darkness inside of him would take him, if he let it. He could kill without conscience. Murder without regret. Let the dark rot him from the inside out. It was easier than fighting for the light. Sometimes, it was tempting to give in and let the darkness have its way with him instead of fighting it. He did not want to go there. He did not want to be the dim shadow of himself that dwelled at the edges of his mind.

Cole closed his eyes and balanced his weight on the heels of his hands against the countertop. He could stare at his reflection all day and never get a clear glimpse of who he was. He could see his physical reflection clearly. But, who he was, deep down inside, he could only catch a fleeting glimpse of in the eyes staring back at him. The eyes of those around him, people like Maggie and his dad, were a far better mirror than any piece of glass.

With John Mark and a majority of the warriors gone, Cole didn't have much to do with himself. His training had been put on hold till his stoic mentor returned. A thought stabbed at the back of his mind. John Mark might not come back. Some of the warriors could die in the field. The beginnings of worry gnawed at him like a terrier with a bone. He considered John Mark and a handful of the other brethren friends. That they might not return. That one vampire could get the better of men as seasoned as the warriors were, was inconceivable. It wouldn't happen. It couldn't. The brothers were in the city. They'd kick some well-deserved ass and they'd come home, all of them, end of story.

One day, Cole hoped to work his way up in the ranks. But, not because the best the Sons had were dead. Never. Strains of that spacey, New Age crap his dad called music floated on the air. Cole followed the sound to a well-lit studio, his dad's temporary digs. When his father was working, he became oblivious to everything around him. Cole wasn't surprised when he stood in the doorway like a ghost unnoticed. He watched his father work furiously at an almost completed work. A flick of the wrist here, the smoothing of a curve there, then a quick top to inspect, and back to work. Adjusting, little things till the clay on the table matched the picture in his mind's eye.

"And all this time I thought you labeled junk as art and sold it to filthy rich people," Cole said, eying the piece on his father's worktable. The sculpture was a pretty decent representation of the Goddess. Right down to the tips of her bare toes peeking out from under the hem of her robe. A wolf leaned against her right thigh, delicate fingers made of clay rested on his ruff. He reached out a finger to smooth it down the curve of her hip only to have his hand hastily batted away by his dad.

"Don't touch," Robert snapped. "Wet clay, you'll leave fingerprints."

Cole held up his hands and took a few steps back. "Sorry." He hadn't seen his dad at work in years. He'd forgotten how touchy the old man was about his craft. Bits of dried clay stuck to his dad's fingers and stained the front of his jeans. His hair stuck out in odd angles, like he'd pulled at it with his clay-encrusted hands. "I like it. What made you decide to form the Goddess into still life?"

"Who?" Robert asked. He wiped his fingers on the front of his shirt in an attempt to free them of some of the debris stuck to them.

"The goddess," Cole answered with a shrug. "This is how I imagine she looks anyway. You've seen her?"

"No. I just got the urge and started working." He stared at his hands and waggled his fingers. His gift hadn't gone anywhere. He could touch people and handle objects without sharing a ringside seat to the horrors of their minds. But, his gift still had the ability to invade his thoughts. He was just kidding himself when he thought he had it under control. Absently, almost reflexively, he reached for his back pocket, for gloves that were no longer there.

Cole watched his father stare down at his clay stained hands. "Dad, you ok?" Shelves were littered with all sorts of artsy/craftsy stuff and not a glove in sight. His father was terrified by what he saw as a curse. If he needed a crutch, if a pair of gloves could give him some kind of comfort, Cole was all for it. After all, just because the crutch his father used to get him through the day wasn't as obvious as Cole's didn't make the symbol any less or more significant. Rachael's cross around his neck was more days than not the only thing that kept him sane. Reminded him, that humanity was more than blunt teeth and a limited lifespan. "Let me go find you a pair of gloves."

Robert reached out and grabbed his son by the sleeve. "No. I've hidden beneath them long enough. The gloves have separated me from the things I love. I won't hide beneath them. I'm finally just getting to know you." Images flashed behind his eyes. Glimpses of Cole's world, all the pain, wonder, and joy invaded his mind. The sleeve of Cole's t-shirt was rumpled in his fist. Gripped by a trembling hand as he saw, truly saw his son. He forced his hand open. "Nothing, not even a pair of gloves, will come between us again."

Pallor spread across his father's face. Fear, not of the gift, but of what he'd seen, flashed in his dad's eyes. Gently, Cole led him to a chair and sat him down. "It isn't pretty is it?" Cole eased to the floor at his dad's feet, rested his chin on his folded knees, and stared up at his father.

"Not all of it, but it is real. Cole, your life...I don't think I'd trade you places," Robert said. His fingers shook as he reached out to his son. Touch was an awkward thing for the both of them. But, Robert felt compelled to do something to comfort his son. A macho clap on the back wasn't going to cut it. Timidly, he reached out and tousled his son's hair. As if he was a big, all knowing adult, father of the year, and his son, still a little boy who believed his father was still capable of slaughtering the monsters in the closet.

Cole suppressed the urge to shrink away from his dad's touch. The gesture came far too late. As a little boy, he might have welcomed the affectionate exchange. As a man, he tried not to resent it. He loved his dad. No matter whether he was there for him as a kid or not, he still loved him. Cocky comments fluttered behind his lips. A biting remark would burn away the awkwardness. But, he wouldn't feel any better for saying it. "Mom has a box hidden under her bed where Bill and the other kids won't find it. I caught her looking through it one day. It was just a beat up, old, shoebox filled with pictures. Pictures from a long time ago...of us...we looked so happy."

"We were happy, some of the time, Cole. Not every moment was awful. Your mother and I... we loved each other...we loved you... but, it wasn't enough. Bill was there when she needed him. He gave her one thing I couldn't, a normal life."

Cole nodded, in that one sentence from his father's lips, he understood. His dad had stayed away, not only out of fear from what his gift could do, but because he loved them too much to stay. If his dad had kept coming around, doubts would have overshadowed the life his mother and Bill were trying to build. Five step-brothers and sisters later, too much water had run under the bridge for his mom and dad to ever go back. "Divorce doesn't really make things over does it."

"No, it doesn't," Robert answered. "A court ruling doesn't change one's feelings."

"You still love her?" Cole asked the question. Regardless of the redundancy of his words, he had to hear it from his dad's mouth.

"Always, Cole, always."

Cole rose to his feet in a lithe, graceful, motion. He stalked around the statue, studying the artistic interpretation. "You going to sell it?" He couldn't take any more openness or airing of raw emotions today. If he were a girl, he'd think all this worry about his friends and all this touchy feely emotional stuff was PMS. He was a guy, guys didn't think in terms of feelings and emotions. Enough of himself had been laid bare for one day.

Robert backed off and stuffed his feelings back into a seldom used corner of his mind. The father/son moment hadn't been everything it could have been. Cole wasn't ready for that yet. The small bits and pieces they'd shared were more than he'd hoped for. "I don't think my fans will like her. She's not eclectic enough for their tastes."

"But, she's real," Cole said.

Robert nodded his head and whispered, "I know."