Dawn's End

"Hi," Megan answered, stepping through the doorway. Her eyes wandered over the mess in the living room. Empty boxes were strewn all over the floor ready to be packed with the Christmas decorations piled on the couch, spilling onto the coffee table, and everywhere else there was an inch of free space. "If this is a bad time, I could come back later," she said meekly, ducking her head into the deep hood of her winter coat.

"Nah," Ginger replied, toeing a wayward strand of Christmas lights out of the way. "Come on in. I was just beginning to put some things away till next year." Giving up on clearing a path through the mess in her living room when another mass of brightly colored strands of lights fell from the couch and landed on the floor with a crash, she carefully picked her way through the clutter. "Stop by to have me check your stitches?" she asked casually.

Megan stood with her hands shoved into her pockets and her shoulders drooped inward. "Actually, I came by to see Maggie," she answered, staring down at the floor. Bits of snow from her boots melted into a puddle on the living room rug. The rug was frayed at the ends and had seen a few better days in its time. But still, she didn't want to track all over the place. She was bending to unzip her boots and pull them off when Ginger gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Never mind that," Ginger said. Obviously, Megan was uncomfortable and nervous. A little melted snow wouldn't hurt that old rug in the least. The dirtier it got, the sooner she could coax her husband into letting her buy the one she'd seen at the Super Center and had been drooling over for months. Even with financial aid, Maggie's tuition had been more than they'd expected and she'd had to put off buying the rug to pay the difference. "Maggie is in the kitchen. I'm sure she'd be happy to see an old friend from school."

Ginger directed Megan through the dining room and into the kitchen at the back of the house. Not one to intrude, she mumbled an excuse and got to work on the clutter stacked at her feet. Her brows furrowed in thought. She didn't remember Maggie and Megan ever being friends. Megan was a year behind Maggie and her daughter was sort of a recluse, more interested in books than the high school pecking order. Megan was a cheerleader and as such, at the pinnacle of the societal pyramid. They wouldn't have been girlfriends then, and with Maggie in college, most likely, not now.

Given the way Megan nervously chewed the inside of her cheek. The reason for her visit was not to catch up on old times. Ok, so she was curious. In the guise of using the dining room table as a gathering place for her Christmas baubles, she dragged in a bundle of lights to sort. From here, in the dining room she could listen in and not be accused of eavesdropping. She was simply putting things in their proper order and nothing more. Or so it would appear.

Maggie stood at the counter, staring out into the snowy backyard as she stirred her coffee. She heard footsteps on the tile floor behind her and assumed her mother had shooed away their visitor and was coming back to join her. "Who was that, mom?" she asked turning from the window. She quickly recovered the surprised expression on her face, turning it into a smile. "Ah... hi."

"Megan." Megan generously supplied her name. Maggie didn't remember her, well she did, obviously, but not her name. There wasn't any real reason for her to. They sat together as lab partners in biology class last year, but they weren't friends and after the Glenn fiasco, Maggie probably hated her guts.

Maggie wasn't the least bit embarrassed because she hadn't remembered Megan's name. Glenn was so yesterday's news. Hopefully, Megan hadn't stopped by to talk to her about him or worse, to apologize to her about the whole thing. "Good to see you." Reaching up into the cabinet, her fingers locked on another mug, this one a memento from a trip her family had taken to the Grand Canyon when she was in grade school. "Want some coffee?"

Megan returned Maggie's smile with a doubtful one of her own. She shrugged out of her coat and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. Maggie was trying to be friendly. The least she could do was return the gesture and accept the offer for a cup of coffee before she started asking questions. "Sure." Heart racing, she sat at the kitchen table and twirled the end of her ponytail with her fingers.

The kitchen was as homey and welcoming as the rest of the house and in the same state of disarray. Dishes, freshly washed, with a Christmas theme of red and green sat stacked on the far end of the counter. Here and there, some of the decorations from the living room had migrated into the kitchen to be packed away. Maggie took the seat across from her, not the one next to her as a real friend would have done and waited expectantly for her to start the conversation.

"How's college?" Megan asked. The mug of coffee was hot against her chilled fingertips. From the basement, she could hear the chug of the furnace and felt a blast of warm air blow over her cheeks.

Maggie arched a brow and took a sip from her mug. The coffee was better than what she usually got in the mornings. The hotpot in her dorm room barely got the water warm enough to dissolve instant crystals. The real stuff was heaven. "Great. It's a lot different from high school." She savored the last drops from the mug on the end of her tongue before swallowing it down. "How's Glenn?"

Megan shrugged and followed suit, setting her half empty mug on the table. "He moved to Chicago to live with his sister. Said this town wasn't big enough for him."

"You think Chicago is big enough for his ego?" Maggie teased.

Megan snorted in agreement. At least they had something in common. A deep distain for Mr. Glenn Forrester, ex jock, ex boyfriend, same old jerk. "Doubt it." She shifted nervously in her seat. Coffee made her jittery and she'd never really developed a taste for it. "It's really good to see you again. But, listen, I came by to talk to you about something. Something important."

"Ok, talk," Maggie said. Rising form her seat for a refill from the coffee pot, she asked, "Want a warm-up shot?" Sloshing the black coffee in its glass carafe after adding a respectable amount of cream and sugar to the brew, she sat in her place at the table. Megan was pale, almost too pale, and nervous. Her hands had not stopped tugging at her ponytail since she'd sat down at the kitchen table. Megan had the floor now. Maggie waited, quietly sipping away at the mug in her hands, for her to say whatever it was she'd come here to say.

Megan glanced over her shoulder into the dining room. Dim sunlight filtered through frilly lace curtains giving the room a pale golden glow. Maggie's mom, Nurse Ginger, was nowhere in sight, although, she could hear her former caregiver singing vaguely off key from the living room. Maggie's dad was a trucker and the semi wasn't parked in the driveway. So, he wasn't home and had most likely left before dawn to pick up a load. Her sister didn't live at home anymore. Maggie and she had the kitchen to themselves. Assuming, Maggie didn't throw her out on her ear for either knowing too much of the truth or sounding like an absolute lunatic, the kitchen was a safe place to whisper secrets.

Megan shuffled her feet beneath the kitchen table and rested her elbows on the garish holiday print of the tablecloth, leaning in toward the center, where a Santa and Misses Claus salt and pepper set occupied the space. "Your boyfriend...,"

"Cole," Maggie nodded.

"Yeah, he's...um...different from other guys, right?"

Maggie was thrown off by Megan's question. Was this some post-adolescent talk about sex? "I'm not sure what you're getting at," she said in a suspicious voice.

"I was at the prom that night. I saw what he did."

"He kicked Glenn's ass. Yeah, if you consider that different from what every other guy in school wanted to do, but didn't have the balls to do. I'd say he's different." Maggie shrugged. "Sure."

Megan shook her head. "That's not what I mean. It wasn't like that. He was so fast and strong...and Glenn has won every fight he's ever been in...except for that one."

"So," Maggie said. Nonchalantly hedging the question she had a feeling was coming. "He's got a black belt in Karate. Besides, Glenn was drunk that night. A kindergartener could have whipped his ass."

Maggie wasn't going to tell her a damned thing. Megan should have guessed that she wouldn't. There was probably some super secret vampire pact thing or something and Maggie couldn't tell even if she wanted to. Maggie was her only hope at getting to the truth. In desperation, Megan stretched, leaning over the table, upsetting the matching salt and pepper shakers with their dopey smiles and chubby red cheeks. Spilling grains of salt and pepper all over the table, she grabbed the sleeve of Maggie's sweatshirt. "Look, you have to tell me the truth." She latched onto Maggie's arm, squeezing hard. "I have to know the truth."

Maggie scooted her chair away from the table and twisted the sleeve of her sweatshirt out of Megan's grip. Megan was furiously clawing at the dressing covering her neck with shaky, trembling fingers, tearing the gauze and tape free to reveal a line of red, jagged, puffy looking stitches. "I don't know what you're talking about," Maggie said. Her voice quivered, lacking the conviction behind her words. Megan was bruised, torn, and battered. Traumatized to the point of not knowing what was real and what was not. Maggie read what the Internet and the local newspapers had to say about Megan's attack. She had heard the real story from Cole. The girl probably thought she was losing her mind. But, Maggie couldn't afford to tell her the truth.

Megan sat back on her chair. Her hands trembled as she gently tapped the gauze around her neck back into place. The wound was a long way from healing, sore, and painful to the slightest touch. She would scar, the doctor told her that. But, he said the scars wouldn't be bad, not bad enough for plastic surgery to do them any good. Everyone was so worried about how she'd look on the outside and how the line of shiny, puckering scar tissue would affect her that they'd forgotten to worry about how she'd feel on the inside and about the scars that nobody would ever see. "I was attacked," she said. Her voice trembled as badly as her hands.

"I'm sorry," Maggie said in a soft, consoling voice. The voice her mom used when she was about to do something unpleasant to a patient. A nurse voice, filled with apology and determination to do what needed to be done to make it all better. Megan was better off not knowing, never knowing the truth. Ignorance really was bliss in this case. Most people would never sleep if they knew the reality about the boogeyman under their beds. And she was about to give her life away to become one of them. "I read about what happened in the newspaper. I really, really am sorry."

Megan shook her head. Tears boiled at the corner of her eyes. Maggie only knew what the sheriff wanted her to know. Maggie only knew the watered down version that Mack Brown had told the press. Megan knew when people were hiding things from her. The sheriff. The doctor. Maybe even Maggie and her mom. She lifted her gaze from the upturned salt and pepper set to meet Maggie's. In them, she saw sympathy and a touch of regret. "It wasn't a rabid animal. I know what I saw. It wasn't an animal and it wasn't human. It was a man, but he wasn't human."

Maggie's fingers held her coffee mug in a death grip. In her mind, she begged Megan not to say what she thought attacked her. Sure, not many people would believe her. But, if only one other person did or if the wrong person overheard, bad things would happen. The Sons wouldn't kill her, but they would contain the threat of her words. The rogues lived by no laws except for one. Secrecy. If word got to a rogue before the Sons got to her, she was as good as dead. "What do you think he was, Megan?"

Megan let the tears she thought she could hold back spill from beneath her lashes. She looked across the table at Maggie. Tears blurred her vision till Maggie was nothing but a watery shape in front of her. Maggie was the only person who could help her. As crazy as it sounded, and she'd really tried hard to convince herself that she was totally insane, but deep down, she couldn't swallow the lie. She had to say it. The word was a whisper on her tongue, an utterance spoken in a dark cold alley. Letters spelled out in red blood across a backdrop of white snow and written in pain. "Vampire."

Megan blinked back her tears and eyed Maggie's reaction to her words. Maggie sat blankly across from her. Her facial expression conveyed nothing. No shock, no surprise, and no pity. "I know," she said through a heavy sigh, "Crazy, right?"

Maggie blew out a breath. The taste of coffee and sweet cream on her tongue turned bitter. She could have ignored the girl's frustrated tears. Megan was struggling to hold on to the truth. Nobody wanted to believe in the mystical. The girl hadn't asked for what happened to her, but it happened anyway. Megan had a very fragile grasp on what was real and what she believed to be the truth.

Maggie could lie to her. Concoct some pat version of the world and feed it to Megan, hoping the girl swallowed it down. Not that a lie would do Megan any good. She simply knew too much, all of it terrifying and unreal. No one deserved to be afraid. Megan didn't deserve to think she was crazy and that her memories were fiction. She'd survived a brutal attack that most people wouldn't have. Denying the truth would only push Megan over the edge. Out of desperation, wildly clinging to a horrific memory, she'd come here for answers. "It isn't as black and white as it seems. The truth isn't my secret to tell."

Maggie didn't know if she was doing the right thing. Deep in her heart, her decision felt right. The truth might save Megan's life, but it would take something from her in return. Her innocence and naivety about the world would be destroyed. "Grab your coat." Maggie pushed her chair away from the table and snatched up her mom's car keys. "I think it's better if you see for yourself."

Chapter 57

Cole thought it better to get the whole thing off of his chest all at once. He'd found an empty room at the far end of the compound away from prying ears and laid it all out on the line. John Mark was more like a brother than a mentor to him. Cole wasn't so stupefied by his friend to believe the sun rose and sat in his ass, but damned close. And John Mark's opinion mattered.

For the sake of time, Cole had gathered John Mark and his father into the room together, saved words that way. His dad whistled low when he laid the news on him. Mouthed a few congratulations, at first, but then when Cole had spelled it out, what Maggie was asking of him, the old man had clammed up, dragging his hand through his hair as he paced and thought of something to say. Cole wasn't sure if his dad was going to try to talk him out of it or give his full support to Maggie's idea.

Cole should have called Daniel and gotten a first hand account of what it was like to watch the love of his life die before his eyes and be reborn. But, he was afraid that Daniel would try to talk him out of the very thing he'd asked him to do for him a year ago. Daniel would use the argument that Nora was older. She'd already lived almost half of her life before the turning. Maggie was young, inexperienced in the world. Daniel would argue that Maggie needed to live her life before she gave it up. His dad and John Mark might say the very same thing.

Cole had to admit, in a way, he felt exactly the same way. He'd had hours to formulate lists in his head while Maggie slept in his arms. All the reasons for and all the reasons against it spelled out. The lists were long and equal. There were good reasons to share his blood. She'd be stronger. She'd be faster. Better than before. But, she'd never change, or at least, she'd change so slowly that it'd seem like she'd be frozen in time. Spending countless centuries alone without her didn't appeal to him. He was a warrior and as such, there was no guarantee that he'd outlive her. He might, if he turned her, subject her to the very same fate he dreaded above all others. He could handle dying, but, not if it meant leaving her all alone.

He was only a year older than she. Turned at the very same age that she was now. His reasons were different, very different, from hers. He'd taken the blood to right all the wrongs of his past. He did it to find redemption. She was doing it for love. Some would say that love was a temporary thing, as fleeting and changing as the seasons from winter to spring and from summer to fall. Were they right? Love was a powerful force. But, was it enough to sacrifice your humanity for?

Cole felt John Mark's eyes burn into the core of his soul. They shared a bond that went deeper than father and son. They were brothers by blood. Bound by oath and honor to give their lives for one another. John Mark stood statue still, eyes boring holes into him. Cole could always argue that John Mark had turned his wife Robbie. But, at the time, John Mark had no other option. Robbie was dying. Maggie was healthy as a horse and had many, many, good human years ahead of her. The fact that she might die, by consequence of an unforeseen chain of events, someday, wasn't a good enough reason to end her life. She was human and as such, as far as the Sons were concerned, she took her chances, just like everybody else on the planet.

Robert gave up his pacing. He was the only one in the room that moved. Sometimes, no matter that he'd lived among them for the better part of a year, he still could not get over the eerie stillness that the vampires were capable of. The energy stretched between John Mark and Cole was thick enough to cut with a knife. Hairs on his arms stood up at attention from being so close to their power. "Will somebody say something? Human guy here," he said, pointing an index finger to his chest. "Clueless."

John Mark focused on Robert. Cole's father fidgeted with nervous energy, shuffling from foot to foot, moving all the more as he struggled to still himself. "Be still," he barked, pinning Robert with a scowl. Cole was young and in love. Those two factors put together were a recipe for disaster. His father was human. Cole, in so many ways, was still human too. He saw the world with the jaded enthusiasm of the young. There was still so much that Cole had to learn.

There was no law to prevent Maggie from giving away her humanity. She'd earned the right through her blood sacrifice to the Sons. Cole, instead of acting on impulse had come to him and his father for advice. John Mark could sense the doubt in Cole. The thoughts rolling in his head as he thought through his decision. As long as there were doubts, the answer was clear. Maggie should remain as she is, human, soft, vulnerable. No matter how happy his life was with Robbie, turning her was his deepest regret. If he'd had another option, he would gladly have taken it.

"I sense your hesitation," John Mark said. "You love her enough to give her what she requests. But, you fear she doesn't yet fully understand what her choice means."

John Mark's order to stop fidgeting made Robert self-conscious every time he moved a muscle. Was he fidgeting? Cole stood between them, halfway between John Mark and halfway between him, trapped in some sort of a middle ground. John Mark was his mentor. He was his father. Cole was a man. Somewhere in the busyness of life, his son had done gone and grown up on him. But, there was still a vague hint of little boy, perhaps in his stature or hidden in the expression on his face, something unsure and indecisive, in need of reassurance. "Son, you really should be certain that this is what the two of you want beforehand. You should both be absolutely sure first. If you're not, then perhaps, the time isn't quite right. If you'd come to ask me for advice about marriage, maybe I'd say the same thing, maybe not. This is something bigger than marriage. This is unchangeable. This goes beyond forever. Are you ready for that?"