Dawn's Destiny

She'd thought he was going to let nature take its course. But, that wasn't Thomas's way of doing things. He had faith in the god of modern medicine and science he served. And he never gave up on a patient. He'd try anything just to give a patient one more day on this earth. But, Barbara's supply of days had run out. And he'd had no other choice other than to do what he'd done. She understood. And hell, it wasn't her place to judge one way or the other. If she were in Thomas's and Barbara's shoes, she might have chosen it herself.

He was here at work instead of taking bereavement days. Barking out orders to the nurses like he always did. Working with such brutal efficiency to see to the needs of his patients and in general being a royal pain in the ass about it. She liked Thomas as a person and respected him as a physician. He was a great doctor and he genuinely had his heart in the right place. He advocated for his patients and they were his primary concern. But, the way he dealt with the nurses needed some serious polishing up. It wasn't that he didn't trust them to carry out his orders and provide the care necessary for his patients. It was just that he wanted what he wanted and he wanted it right now, no excuses. And while he made that abundantly clear. Sometimes, life didn't work that way.

He was her doctor and he knew everything about her. She'd had more than one lecture about her occasional smoking habit. Even now, he made a show over glowering at the slight smell of cigarette smoke on her clothing. Yes, it was a bad habit. And no, she shouldn't do it. But, at the start of a twelve-hour shift, faced with who knew what by the end of the day, what could a few puffs off one teeny-tiny cigarette, hurt? He leaned on the desk, casually flipping through the schedule book, scanning through the pages with pretend disinterest. "Claire's on vacation," Ginger said.

Thomas masked his grin at how well Ginger could read him. He smelled the cigarette smoke on her clothes. The strong perfume she wore really didn't mask the scent. And she knew he'd smelled the smoke on her. She looked almost contrite about getting caught reeking from the pungent smell of a Marlboro red. He'd been on her since the day they met about quitting. Ginger rationalized and hem-hawed around the subject. But, he didn't come here today to lecture her about her habits. He just hoped one day he didn't have to give her bad news.

This was the tricky part. He casually closed the schedule book and pushed it back away from the edge of the desk. To him, the schedules made no sense. Nurses worked just as crazy hours as he did. And he couldn't make heads or tails of exactly when Claire was due back at work. The last thing he needed was Ginger on his trail, trying to sniff out a topic for her next gossip session. The hospital was a small city within itself and a gossip leak about Claire and he would definitely squash any hopes he had of actually getting a date with her. "Oh. I just wanted to see who was on duty this week," he explained.

Ginger snapped her gum and nodded. Yeah, right, like she actually believed he was just curious about the unit's staffing issues. Thomas had the hots for Claire in a bad way. And while his mother had taken first place in his thoughts for so long and he'd had to put his personal life on the back burner to take care of her. That wasn't much of an issue anymore. Dear old mom was healthy as a horse and would be for a very, very long time. "Uh huh. Well, Doc, you're stuck with me until Claire gets back on Friday."

Thomas was not going to discuss his love life with 'tell a phone tell Ginger'. He cleared his throat and busied himself with a chart completely ignoring her inquisitive stare. "You want to discharge Mrs. Jones today?"

Ginger snickered. "I swear if I hear one more word about that damn cat I'm going to sedate her and put her out of my misery." The cat was the reason she was in the hospital in the first place. She'd tripped over the furry beast and taken a nasty spill. Not good, considering her age. The woman was a bit bruised up but otherwise fine and ready to return home. Luckily, she hadn't broken a hip, this time.

Thomas hated that cat. The little bastard was going to be the death of that woman. This time she'd gotten lucky. And while he hated discussing it with her, since that cat seemed to be her only reason for living. He was going to have to advise her to get rid of the damn thing. Unfortunately, nobody could so much as lay a finger on that cat except for her. The woman loved that cat more than she loved her husband. Hell, Thomas couldn't remember the furry beast's name now. And while in her late sixties and otherwise healthy, she was a little frail for her age. And that cat was going to have to go unless she just had the zany urge to break a hip. "You in the mood to take in a stray?"

"Hell no," Ginger scoffed. She'd been chasing that damn cat out of her rose bushes for years. Take it in? Not a chance. She'd make a fur coat out of it first.

"She'll be back," Thomas predicted.

"Aint it the truth. Aint it the truth," Ginger said. "Some people never learn."

Thomas pinned Ginger with a hard glare. Since she'd approached the subject of learning, he took the opportunity. He reached out and patted the pocket of her scrubs feeling the telltale outline of a lighter buried amongst the ink pens, alcohol pads, and scraps of paper. "No, some people don't."

Chapter 33

Carter stared down at the twinkling jewel of the city below. The view from the floor to ceiling wide bank of penthouse windows was spectacular. No wonder the towering skyscraper was Roark's favorite place to hang his hat. Carter felt like king of the universe up here and he could imagine how such a lofty place above it all would have appealed to Roark's ego. Dawn glowed, tinting the horizon in brilliant shades of orange, pink, and dusky purple. Even through the dark tint of the windows it truly was a sight to behold. The place and the city were officially Guardian territory. And he was master of it all.

Hustling about, human and oblivious to the dangers he and the others protected them from people rushed about to start another day. The Guardians had been back less than forty-eight hours and the city was theirs. Except for the small garrison of trackers, techies, and a few strong-arm reinforcements as backup, the Sons were gone. The Rogues had been flushed out of hiding and Carter had given them his terms. His ranks had grown and unfortunately so had the number of the dead. Some just weren't smart enough to give up the old ways. And he'd had to deal with them. Rather than delegate and give his Guardians plenty of material for future nightmares. He'd done what needed to be done personally. The blood had been washed clean. But, his hands were stained with its lingering taint.

The Guardians had complete control. And, they had made an example of the few who dared to refuse to get on board with the program. Carter worriedly scrubbed hand through his blond hair. He had complete responsibility for the Guardians and their actions. Perhaps, Keene would have been better for the job. Keene might have been able to do with the sheer ruthlessness of reputation alone what Carter had been forced to prove with the steel of his blade. Carter pushed a button on the remote clutched in his palm and shut the city out behind a wall of thick, impenetrable draperies. In true vampire fashion, he'd always preferred the shadows to the light. And the cool darkness soothed him. He had no trouble finding his way through the posh maze of the penthouse to his study and the adjoining rooms he occupied.

Roark had kept the city under a tight reign of terror. The Sons instilled fear and obedience by the notoriety of their reputation alone. The Guardians were novices, without a reputation to fall back on. Regrettably, Carter had built them a strong cornerstone of blood and death. And he'd done it all in less than forty-eight hours. Perhaps, Keene would have been the better man for the task. The man was a killer and he had no wavering convictions about the taking of life. Carter really wasn't any different. None of the vampires were any different. They thrived on a steady diet of death. And deep in their blackest hearts, they were all killers.

Thanks to the Sons, the Guardians had the training and the technology. But, did they have the heart to stand up to the test of time? Could they kill when the situation called for it? He had little doubt or hope that the city would remain quiet. There would be plenty of opportunities for the Guardians to hone their skills and deliver plenty of death.

Overwhelmed by the task of leadership, Carter retreated behind the closed door of his study. There were so many things to worry about. Could the Guardians do what was necessary day after day, year after year, to maintain peace?

Could they adhere to their diet? The city was teaming with stray cats and dogs. There would be visits to the Sons compound and to the peaceful woods for respite. Donors waited in the wings at their beck and call. Could he really keep the Guardians faithful to their vows with a city teeming with humanity surrounding them? Could he keep his Guardians from sneaking a forbidden taste or two? Could he keep them from killing?

Everyone had been on their best behavior while at the compound. In the small towns that surrounded the compound, one life, would be missed. But in a city overflowing with heartbeats, one life wouldn't matter. Loss of the right life wouldn't even be noticed. All the players knew the rules. Understood the consequences of taking life. And the execution that would follow on swift wings of justice should they fail.

Life in the woods had been easy. Prey plentiful. The chase enthralling, hunting instinct well satisfied. But, in the city, everything, including scrounging up a meal, had to be conducted under the cover of shadow. Humans, like the city, never slept. Carter worried about what would happen the day that one of the Guardians slipped up and took a life they were destined to protect. Could he sentence one of his brothers, who in a moment of weakness, lost control to death?

Humanity put too much faith in the light. Thought it would protect them. Allowed it to fill them with a false sense of security. Perhaps, it was the only way they could live their short and fragile lives with any measure of contentment. Carter tried to remember what it was like to be human. But, memories, like life, were a fleeting thing. As much as he tried, and he did often, he couldn't recall the taste of food or the true beauty of a sunrise. He couldn't remember what it was like to look forward to tomorrow or what it felt like to cherish such a short supply of days. For him, tomorrow always came, over and over, and over again, ceaselessly.

Carter listened to the reports filter in as the Guardians changed shifts. The city, divided up into eight equal parts, like pieces of a giant pie, was quiet, without as much as a traffic accident to report. So far, so good, the city was safer than it ever had been. But ultimately, would it be safe from them?

Drew sank to his knees in the fragrant, lush, soft grasses of spring. Praying to his goddess and to the ancestors for the strength he'd need to unite the brotherhood and the wolves as one. Magic, ancient and powerful, rippled over the blades of grass and rolled over his bare skin. His face and chest were streaked with the arcing, swirling, colorful finger paint symbols of his ancestors adding their voice to his call. In his long life he had been many things, a peacemaker, a giver of speeches, a father, a son, a brother, a warrior, a leader, and a human. Tonight, he'd need to add one more thing to the long list of titles he'd held and tasks the goddess had assigned him. He'd need to be a wolf.

Drew's thoughts drifted to his brother, to the secret that had been hidden for almost two hundred years. There were so many questions he'd never have the chance to ask and that he'd never know answers to. He took a deep breath and scanned the landscape. The bluffs were a sacred place soaked in blood. Upon these hilly peaks the goddess was worshiped, ancestors remembered, Sons born, battles fought, victories celebrated, and it was here that his Sons were given over to the spirit world and their bodies burned on the pyre.

There was little time left before Drew would set the wheels of destiny in motion down a road from which there was no turning back. Tonight he'd be the Great Father to his Sons and the Great White Wolf to his pack and he'd unit the two parts of them and of himself as one. He'd give of his blood and of his magic and in that swirling mix of body and spirit bind vampire to wolf and wolf to vampire. Tala was right in her assumption that all they needed was good old-fashioned magic. But, he'd also been right in his. The magic was in the blood.

Drew pushed the boggling implications of what he was about to do out of his mind. And focused on the things that only a preternatural creature such as himself could hear. Leaves whispered stories forgotten long ago to him. A creek, miles away babbled softly of the secrets of the universe. The winds exhaled tales older than time. And the ground beneath him murmured the history of the ceaseless trampling of feet of men upon its surface. The sun inched across the sky slowly, inexorably taking her time with the task of illuminating a weary world desperate for life. Shining her rays down onto his bare back, heating his shoulders with their golden glow.

Drew meditated. The deep bass of his chants carried on the wind to the distant four corners where only the goddess lived and there was nothing but spirit and light. Gravity anchored his body to the ground. But, his soul roamed free light and buoyant in the currents of nothingness to the distant lands where only the wolves lived.

Tala was alone. For the first time since she'd met Drew. She was totally on her own. When the sky turned light, she'd left the compound and returned home to her pack. Home, it truly was an odd concept to think about. She lived a split life, trapped between worlds, a part of them both but not truly belonging to one or the other. Drew wanted to spend the day in meditation. She would have distracted him from his thoughts and completely broken his concentration if she'd stuck around. And while the brothers were good company, she missed her family.

The woods had once been scary and frightening. So different from the desert she'd known growing up. There was a lot more to the wastelands than rock and miles and miles of sun scorched earth. There was life in the heat and the desert was a universe unto itself. The vibrant greens of the woods with its lush plants and towering trees were home to her now. A person could get used to anything. And home was wherever you happened to be.

The pack was a flurry of excited chatter and rushing about. Life was exactly as it always had been for them. But, something was missing amidst the people she called family. Grant was gone. His room inhabited by some other male and his things neatly packed in a box and stashed in the garage.

Her father would not change his mind about Grant's expulsion from the pack. He couldn't afford to go back on his word once he'd spoken it into law. Trying to talk him into it would be a waste of time. But, that didn't mean she couldn't work around her father's stubbornness or the inflexibility of pack tradition. There were ways around it. She could lend Grant her magic. And hope that the trickle of power would be enough to sustain him until her father and the pack forgave or Grant became a watered down human version and forgot about the man he had once been.

Today was the dawning of a new day. Even the brilliant sunlight trickling through the leafy branches was filled with promise. The house was too noisy, too cramped, and oddly enough, too empty without its missing member to fill the void. And Tala couldn't bear to stick around doing nothing but twiddling her thumbs as the hours slowly ticked by till sundown. She'd gone to the woods for a walk hoping to sift through her thoughts and make some sense out of them.

The pack behaved like Grant had never existed at all. And perhaps, that was just they way they handled the loss. Grant had been a vital part of their family. Each and every person was a vital part of the functioning whole in one way or another. Grant was a fierce protector. And at the same time so gentle and patient with the young. In his own twisted way, he'd been doing what he thought was right in challenging her father. And while the pack would never forgive him, Tala didn't have it in her to hold a grudge. Somewhere in the confusion of life, Grant had simply lost his way on the path.

Life in exile was not easy. Grant had the skills to survive. But, his wolf was a fundamental part of who he was. And without him, Grant would quickly lose his sense of who he was. He wasn't equipped to live in the human world. He had no money. No past. No identity. And absolutely no hope for a future. The pack would not help him. But, there were no rules against an anonymous stranger or two lending a hand. And she knew exactly who to ask. If Toby could make people disappear with a few creative strokes of the keyboard, surely he could make someone appear just as easily. All she had to do was hope Grant wasn't out there somewhere beyond her reach.

Tala could have called on her wolf to track Grant. But, she would not hazard an intrusion on whatever version he'd set up for his life until she had all the pieces of her plan in place. Grant was prideful and he needed time to put aside his ego before she offered her help. She might get only one chance to get through to him and convince him that he needed the token gesture of her assistance. She'd show up with money, identity, and a past all wrapped up in a neat bundle for him to decide how to use best. And maybe, if she were very fortunate, she might be able to coax the pack into welcoming him home and he wouldn't need her help at all.

Tala's wolf always knew her way home. And home was not a dwelling made of lumber and vinyl siding nor was it a deep series of caverns cut into the earth. It was where her heart was. And right now, it was calling her to Drew. She turned and veered off the narrow path through the heart of the woods. The ground beneath her feet turned rocky and steep. The vegetation sparse and spindly as she climbed the sharp sloping grade up onto the bluffs.

Drew sat on the ground. His glory shone bronze in the morning sun. He sang low in a rhythmic chanting. The ancient language was not one of her strong suits. But, she understood enough to know he was praying to the goddess for strength and for guidance. And in that sing-song chanting, he prayed for her, for them, and for the future that would begin at sundown tonight.

The gray-muzzled wolf felt the ripple of magic over his fur. It wasn't familiar pack magic but cooler. Power filled his body and forced the change. Nash emerged from his wolf. Shaking off the confusion and lingering remnants of pain, he pushed his larger biped body onto its feet. His wolf had been on the run a majority of yesterday and all night last night. His paws carrying their joined souls and bodies to remote, desolate parts of the woods he had never explored before.

Nash flopped down on a fallen log and lifted his face to the sun. Warmth and light infused his skin, chasing away the chill in lingering in the air. The woods were quiet and still, without as much as a breath of breeze to stir the leaves in the trees. Beyond the lake, away from where he sat unabashedly naked, his silver streaked hair streaming over his shoulders. He could make out the shape of a neat row of cabins and the pitch of multicolored rooflines in the distance. Not more than fifty yards away from the border of the woods, was a cheerful little shack with a yellow Mustang parked outside.