Dawn's Destiny

"Ah," Drew said knowingly. "Woman troubles." Women were a relatively new phenomenon at the compound. There were females in the brotherhood and there were married couples both human and vampire devoted to the cause. But, women and warriors did not mix. It took a special breed of female to deal with this particular brood of hotheaded, temperamental, arrogant, stubborn, and far too often egotistical men. Fights were common amongst the warriors. It was just a way for the men to blow off steam. And Dane had his hands full trying to control them.

The life of a warrior or a warrior's wife was not an easy one. There was always the constant threat of discovery and danger. And there was always the worry that one day a warrior would go out on a mission and never return. It was something to think about. It had happened before. And the odds were in their favor that it would happen again. Lucien had gone out and he hadn't come back. The loss had devastated Alex, and if not for her parents and Janine, the brotherhood would have lost her too.

Drew had done a lot of things that had never been done before. He'd promoted Robbie to the ranks of the warriors. He'd encouraged the brothers to follow their hearts and marry if that's what they wanted. The women actually served as a buffer. A gentle, feminine buffer of soft curves and sweet lilting voices. They could do what no amount of fist pummeling on one another to blow off steam could not. In that way unique to the gentler sex, they soothed the savage beast inside of the men. They gave the warriors a reason beyond duty to come home.

And this was the life he was asking Tala to be part of. Oh, she could handle the brothers just fine. She'd proven that more than once. And she was as tough as any man, maybe more so. The life of a wolf wasn't any easier. The pack could be ruthless and unforgiving. The rules they lived by staunch and inflexible. There was every threat that they could be discovered. They'd lived in hiding for just as long as the brotherhood. Living alongside but never part of. It made for a lonely existence. As Drew and the brothers well knew.

"Absolutely not," Doc stammered. Drew was a long time friend. He was the Shaman, the Great Father's Shaman, long before he was a vampire. Long before Drew was the Great Father. When he and his brother were mere boys, Doc was there ministering to the needs of the tribe. He was the second addition to the brotherhood. The Prophet, Drew's brother, had been the first. He couldn't lie to Drew. They were too close for secrets. But, admit that a woman was the source of his strife. Never.

"The reason I've disturbed your...meditations." Drew added emphasis to the word meditations as his brow lifted in amusement. "Is because Tala wishes to bear my mark." Drew couldn't help but hear the shouting thoughts of his best friend and most trusted confidant. Doc's mind was a snarled nest of confusion and thoughts about the woman, who he loved and hated, with the same fervent passion.

The Shaman beamed with joy. Finally after so many years alone, Drew was claiming a mate. The Shaman bowed reverently to his new Mother. "I am honored." He stroked his fingers across his chin, studying Tala. The designs his needle made were not of his creation. The goddess inspired him and guided his hand. And he waited for Her to divinely motivate him to press the ink into Tala's unblemished skin.

"Tala, listen to my voice. Relax," Drew whispered. He wouldn't let her suffer. She would not feel the first sting of the needle. She rested with her head in his lap. Her neck exposed and the skin stretched taut. Doc lit some sage and wafted the smoke around the room with broad motions of the plume clutched in his fingers. Doc took no credit for his work. He claimed the goddess made the design and his hands merely followed Her instructions. And that was probably the way it went. He too tried to relax a little and let the pungent smell of burning sage carry him away.

"No Drew," Tala protested. Her eyelids grew heavy and her voice weak. "I want to feel the pain. I need it. Things aren't always going to be easy between or for us. And the pain will remind me that no matter how bad things might get. No matter what the future might hold. That I have already endured worse."

Drew nodded and withdrew his influence from her mind. Tala was right. Life wouldn't always be peaches and cream for them. Most likely the bad might be more common than the good. He simply didn't like the fact that she was willing to suffer because of him. The thought rose bile to his throat. If there were a way to take it from her, he would. But, there was nothing he could do. Nothing she wanted him to do.

Receiving a tattoo. The mark of the Sons was a sacred thing. Drew listened to the deep bass voice of the Shaman as he chanted. Calling divine inspiration to guide his hand. Finally, Doc poised his needle and made the first strike of ink against the fragile skin of Tala's neck. Drew bit his lip as she sucked in a breath and sweat beaded across her upper lip. He squeezed her hand tighter. Whispering lightly. Distracting her from the pain.

Hearing Drew's voice helped. Tala focused on the gentle words he spoke instead of the stinging strike of the Shaman's needle. Her neck felt as if it were on fire. The Shaman made each prick of the needle deep and true. Luckily, he was moving with preternatural speed. The worst of it would be over soon. And that was a good thing because the stars that floated beneath her closed eyes were much more numerous than the ones in the night sky. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. Repeating over and over in her mind that this was for Drew and worth every second of agony.

The scent of Tala's blood filled the air. Tiny drops welled to the surface of her skin. Blending with the indigo ink in streaks of red. Drew fought the predator in him. The greedy fiend that would taste of her bounty and always wanted more.

The Shaman needed no light to survey his work. The dim light from his hearth was plenty to see by. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, his creation was finished. Tala's mark didn't match what she had in mind. And although Doc knew that, the goddess had something different in mind. She guided his hand and he translated what he saw in his mind onto the canvas of flesh stretched out before him. "All finished," he said.

The Shaman frowned as he looked at the blood that seeped to the surface in spots. Vampires healed as soon as the marks were etched. There was never any blood. But, Tala was a different story. She healed faster than an average human, thanks to her wolf gift and the vampire blood surging through her veins. But, she was a new creation. One to which the rules of vampire, wolf, nor human applied. "She'll need your help to heal faster," he said.

Every brother underwent a series of trials before the final ceremony took place. Tala was no exception. Her trials had been just as difficult as any warrior's. She'd been physically, spiritually, and emotionally challenged on a number of levels. Drew had transformed her without her permission. No ceremony had taken place. They were going to be wed. And Tala would become Mother to them all. She was one of them yet so apart from them. Drew didn't see it. He was blinded by his love for her. But, Doc did and the other brothers would as well.

Tala's trials would not end on her wedding day. She had one more task yet to complete. It was redundant, but necessary. And it was no more than the Sons had asked of Marcus and Patrick, made vampires not birthed of Drew's blood. She had been born of Drew's blood. Her vampire self, created by his blood without the benefit of a ceremony. She was tied to the brothers through him, as Angel was through Lance. But, she was not part of them. And neither was Angel. Angel was loyal to the brothers and she had her reasons for not completing the ceremony. The brothers accepted her and didn't question her devotion. But, unlike Angel, Tala was to be their Queen Mother. Her word would be Drew's word. And it was critical that she become one with them all.

Doc set to work on Drew's neck, completing a design of the goddess's will. The ink work was painstakingly intricate. He knew that deep in their hearts Tala and Drew wanted their marks to match exactly. But, in this like so many other things, the goddess had her own divine plan. And while the design was similar, it was not exactly identical. In this new era of casualness, he felt compelled to address Drew in the formal. "Father, you must do what must be done. Tala must stand at the bluffs and become one with us."

Drew gritted his teeth against the pain of the Shaman's needlework and at the sting of truth. He was asking a lot of his Sons to accept her without the rites of a ceremony to bind them as one. He simply didn't think of it. Tala was a part of his life, forever. And he assumed the brothers would welcome her as a part of theirs. The entire brotherhood hinged on his ability to lead them. It was up to him to set the example they were to follow. The brothers had accepted Tala, to a degree. They were friendly enough. Accommodating enough. But, Doc was right. The brothers were receptive. But, she wasn't one of them. And if they were going to follow her they way they'd followed him, faithfully and without a waver of doubt, she needed to be one with them.

Tala was ready. Drew did not have any doubts about that. She'd endured so much and her trials completed. He didn't want to cause her that kind of pain again. She was stronger than she had been when he'd transformed her. She was brave and she would not balk at the necessity of a ceremony. But, part of her was wolf. And the brothers would have to taste of her blood and she of theirs. And that was something he could not allow. Her secret, the secret of her blood had to be protected at all costs, even if it cost him his Sons. At this point, he wasn't entirely certain what would happen if a brother sampled his blood. If there'd be enough of her wolf gift in him to change them into something more than any ordinary vampire should be. "No."

Tala crouched beside Drew, gently stroking her fingers through his hair as he endured the endless strikes of the Shaman's needle. They spoke softly, as if she weren't there listening in. Vampires and their ceremonies, she thought imperceptibly rolling her eyes. A wedding would be kind of fun. And she looked forward to it. But, what Doc suggested that she endure for the sake of belonging. Her wolf would never stand for it. Her wolf was predatory in nature and it was not part of her psychological makeup to stand and let another predator snack on her. Drew was different. What they did was different. And not only did it sate the vampire side of her, but her wolf half as well.

The vampires didn't get it. They spoke of ceremonies and of blood. The Prophet, the first Great White Wolf had taught the pack differently. Magic was in the vessel through which it flowed. For the vampires, obviously, it was blood. But, for the wolves it went beyond flesh and bone, beyond matter and the substance flowing through her veins. Magic was metaphysical and its power was in the belief not the actual hands on touch and feel of the physical world. The vampires didn't need to taste of her blood only of her magic. "I'll do it."

Drew jerked his head, wincing as the Shaman dug his needle in deep to hold him in place. "What?" He could not believe she was willing to share her secret with the brothers. Not only was it none of their business. But, it was also very, very dangerous. He could not allow her to freely give her blood and the gift of her wolf to anyone. Not all of the brothers were prepared or had the capacity to receive such a rare and precious gift. Some were. And maybe eventually, he'd permit such a thing. But, others never would be. They were obedient and faithful to him, devout. But, they lived for the sword and as regrettable as it was, they'd die by the sword. Drew had seen their nightmares. He'd lived the hell they'd survived. Seen it through their eyes. And it was no place for children. Tala might be ready. But, the brothers were not. "No," he said in that authoritarian voice he used when there were no further arguments to be made.

Doc glanced away from Drew's neck long enough to see the shit storm he'd caused beginning to brew. And automatically regretted that he'd said a word about his speculations. Him and his big mouth. Barbara was right he had no business around civilized folk. "I meant to cause no disagreement," he mumbled.

"You're absolutely right," she said to the Shaman. "Drew, we are asking a lot for two groups of strangers to act and behave like family. The pack and the vampires are family. But, we're also complete strangers. We must unite as the family we are."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Drew grumbled.

Tala snickered as Doc released Drew's head from underneath is palm. The tattoo work was splendid. A series of interlocking spirals and scrolling vines trailed across the right side of his neck, across his collarbones to end at his throat. She hadn't seen the artistry Doc had engraved into her skin yet. But, she had no doubt it would be a magnificent complement to Drew's. Magic flowed between the three of them, goddess driven and goddess divine. "We tell the truth, Drew. All of it. Secrets create walls. And between the likes of us there can be no division. We don't need blood, Drew. Just magic. Good old-fashioned magic."

Chapter 31

Nash stashed the box in the massive expanse of garage. He should toss Grant's belongings to the curb like he had the wolf. But, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd treated the man harshly enough. The least he could do was to box up his things and store them properly in a forgotten corner. Grant's treasure trove consisted of the marriage rings he'd inherited from his parents, an old badly faded red ball cap from his youth, a few snapshots, and some tidbits and knickknacks collected throughout the years. Not much, really, to sum up a lifetime lost. Although, Nash should have turned the items over for redistribution to the pack, he didn't. But, he also couldn't say precisely what his purpose in saving them was. Grant wasn't coming back. Pack law forbade it. To return would be a death sentence.

Nash hadn't liked it. But, Grant's private space had been turned over to another well deserving male in the pack. Privacy was as rare as personal belongings in the pack's communal mindset. Nobody truly owned anything. And everything belonged to everybody. As right as it had been to evict Grant's things and give the space to the next in line, something about it was just wrong. After Grant's mother died in childbirth and his father joined her soon after, Nash had stepped in to fill the void. He'd raised the infant into the man he had become. And perhaps, that was Nash's problem with Grant's sudden absence. He couldn't help but wonder where he went wrong. Should he have been harder on Grant or perhaps, more lenient?

Grant had come into the world screaming and he'd been screaming ever since. Almost as if he knew, even as a red-faced, inconsolable infant, that a piece of him was incomplete in the loss of his parents. For months after Grant's birth, Nash had paced the floors trying to quiet the wailing baby so that the pack tasked with raising him could get some sleep. Hunter had wanted to drown him in the river. And more than a few adults were tempted to go along with the plan.

Tala's birth had been a saving grace for both Nash and the pack. Nash had lost his wife to the difficult labor far too common in the wolves. And tending to two precocious young ones had given him something to focus on besides his loss. Regrettably, like all parents he'd made his share of mistakes. And he'd gotten closer to Grant and Tala than he had his other children.

He'd been blessed beyond measure with five other daughters and two sons. And when his gentle wife announced she was pregnant with Tala, he knew then that they'd pushed their luck too far. Bringing Tala into the world had simply been too much for her body to endure. And keeping Hunter, his oldest, from actually drowning Grant in the river, as he'd threatened to do, had kept his mind and his worries on something else besides Tala's impending birth.

Nash knew kids. And Grant was just one of those kids that required a little extra attention. Growing up wasn't easy for Grant. He wasn't the only child without parents. But, he'd taken it personally when his father had willingly gone to the spirit world. As if Grant blamed him for not being strong enough to find the will to live. And maybe, Grant was right to do so. Grant had always had an edge to him, a ruthlessness, and practicality. A cold way of viewing the world no child should ever have. As much as Nash tried to make Grant a well-rounded man, Tala was a soothing balm for him. And when she rejected him, Grant lashed out in the only way he knew how.

There wasn't anything fundamentally wrong with Grant. And if the circumstances had been different, if his parents had lived, or if Tala had been able to love him back, he could be the man Nash knew existed beneath the hardness of his exterior. Grant loved deeply. He had great aspirations and dreams. He was loyal to the pack. But, he'd spent his whole life trying to make up for something nobody judged him for. His father's death wasn't his fault no more than his mother's had been. Grant judged. In that judgment he'd condemned a man he'd never known as weak and selfish. And he'd do anything, as he always had, to prove he was not the man he perceived his father had been.

Nash was a renegade that didn't adhere to pack tradition. Not when doing so cost lives. Risking his daughter had taught him a thing or two about mindless obedience. Looking back, he would have stopped the challenge before it began. Taken his rightful place and fought his own battle.

Grant's life was now the one in danger. If he couldn't shift, couldn't travel into the spirit world to patrol its misty borders, he would die. Become human and rapidly deteriorate. No more healing. No more preternatural speed and endurance. No more acute senses attuned to danger. Without the blessings of his wolf, Grant wouldn't make it more than a week or two in the human world. Grant was ill prepared for the ruthlessness of the world he'd only seen from a distance. And unless he adapted quickly, that world would chew him up and spit him out.

Nash crouched and opened the box, pawing through the things that had belonged to Grant. He lifted the ball cap to his nose and drew in the scent of the man who had been as much of a son to him as his own sons. The brim smelled of old sweat, summer heat, and of wolf. Grant had tried to kill him and he'd tried to kill Tala. But, somehow Nash couldn't bring himself to hate him. The outside world would teach Grant many lessons, if he learned to survive in it at all. And maybe, it was those lessons Nash had failed to teach, that Grant needed to learn.

Maybe, this was for the best. And the pack was better served to write Grant off. Maybe, he was better served to write Grant off and simply forget him. Nash knew he'd never seek Grant out. Oh, his wolf could easily sniff the man out and hunt him down. Naked and without resources, Grant couldn't have gotten that far. But maybe, it was pride more than tradition that prevented Nash from doing so. But, if Grant were to come to him, promise his allegiance, and beg the pack to take him back. Nash also knew that whether it was tradition or not, whether the pack agreed or not, he would put everything in the box back where it belonged, kick the cur out of Grant's room, and welcome his prodigal home.

Nash repacked the box and left it in the corner of the garage. He went outside and lifted his gaze to the night sky. The song of the pack rang in his ears. Calling to him. Thoughts of human life disappeared as he stripped and gave himself over to the wolf. Howling in excitement. Eager to join the pack, the gray-muzzled wolf that had seen its share of action over the years loped into the woods, sniffing out of curiosity for a scent that was more than pack, it was family.