Dawn's End

The blade strapped between his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the world on its edge. The hilt buried beneath the fall of his ice-encrusted hair dug into the base of his skull. He'd made promises before and meant every word of his pledge, but had lacked the conviction necessary to see them through. Or, at least, see them to completion in the way his words lent themselves to.

Shayla had offered her heart to him and he'd taken it. Gave his word to see her happy and safe. He had done exactly as he had promised. Not in the way she thought he should, but by giving her over to another. There'd be no such play in the words he'd promised his maker. The only way to uphold Eric's honor in the last few terrible moments of his life, to ensure that the man wouldn't cave and beg, was to kill him personally and privately, before the fateful day on the bluffs arrived.

Chapter 68

Robert winced beneath the weight of Cindy's stare. His fingers itched with the need to touch her and read the thoughts behind the expression on her face. She didn't say a word. Her eyes darted to the uneaten pizza on her plate and back to him. Idly, she picked at a burned fleck of crust with her fingers. "You can read my mind?"

"Yes, well, sort of, it doesn't work exactly like that. I have to be touching you. I get flashes, not exact thoughts." He shifted uneasily in his chair. "I have no idea what you're thinking right now," he said softly.

Cindy huffed and scooted back in her chair. Robert slouched in his seat, staring down at the tablecloth as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "I don't know what to think," she admitted. Was his gift the reason why he seemed like such a nice guy? Why he always said and did the right things? When they were together last night, he'd done things to her and made her feel like no man ever had. Nice to know her suspicion of him was warranted. He was just like every other guy on the planet, only with a paranormal boost. He'd used his gift to get into her pants.

"I'm sorry. I guess I should have told you before...before last night happened. It's just that I thought if you knew you'd think I was a freak or something worse." Cindy's movements were chopped and forced, gathering up the plates and the uneaten food. Walking across the kitchen she dumped the cold pizza in the trash with a hard thump of the plate against the plastic can. She wasn't even looking at him anymore. Her stance was rigid, rinsing the pizza pan in the sink and leaving it to wash later.

"Usually, I can control my gift. There was a time when I couldn't. When everything I touched, every person who brushed against me flooded my mind with images and emotions that weren't mine. I never wanted to know anything."

Cold water from rinsing the pan dripped from the ends of her fingers. She wiped her hands dry on the thighs of her jeans and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. "Was last night even real? How much of it was you and how much of what we did was the result of what you picked from my brain?"

Robert dragged his hand through his hair and popped his jaw in frustration. He couldn't believe she doubted what had happened between them. Sure, bits and pieces crept into the corners of his mind. He couldn't have blocked her out. The contact was too intimate and way, way too personal. She'd shouted into his mind as loudly as she'd shouted into his ear. He believed the extra help augmented the experience, not cheapened it. He was sure she'd loved the feel of him just as much as he loved the feel of her. He hadn't needed to pick her brain, as she'd called it, to know exactly how much. His male pride was more than a little bruised at her insinuation, seared and scorched crispy by the accusation in her voice. "Oh, it was real enough. Don't kid yourself about that."

He was insulted? How could she have insulted him when he was the one who had been riffling through her brain? Blushing at the thought images of last night ran through her mind. She chastised herself for the need to apologize to Robert for wounding his male pride. No way was she going to debase herself any further by doing so. "I don't know how many other women you've done this to. Don't think I'm going to let you do it to me again. I think you should go."

Robert jumped up from his chair, practically knocking the thing over onto the floor with the force of the motion. Go? She had to be kidding. Anger welled up within him melding with all the years of regret. She was punishing him for being something he couldn't even help being. His gift wasn't something he could simply stop. It was just a part of who he was. He hated it every bit as much as she apparently did. He couldn't leave things like this between them. He'd go. But, not until she'd heard him out.

"Don't come any closer," Cindy warned. Robert had gotten up from his seat and stood in the narrow entryway that led into her kitchen. "I don't want you touching me." She'd be damned if he'd touch her and use her own thoughts against her. He held his hands out in front of his body, fingers splayed in a gesture of harmlessness. He was anything but. His words were like caresses and he knew exactly what to say to disarm her. She needed her outrage and distrust if she was going to stick to her guns and kick him to the curb.

"Ok, ok. Just give me a chance to speak. Alright?" Robert leaned on sharp corner of the stub wall that separated the meager dining area from the kitchen. Cindy was as far away from him as she could get, leaning against a counter at the far end of the galley style kitchen. Begrudgingly, she nodded and tightened her arms around her chest. Her body language was anything but agreeable, sending him clear signals that she'd hear him. He didn't know how well she'd actually listen though. He took a deep breath and began.

"First of all. You're the only woman I've touched since my ex-wife. Cole was barely a toddler when we divorced. He's twenty. That's a damn long time to be alone. Don't you think?" Robert clenched his fingers into fists at the painful memory of his failed marriage. "I tried to make things better for her...for us. I really did. We were young and poor. Newly married with a baby to support and a mountain of bills looming over our heads. I couldn't even hold a job, because of this," he said, holding out his hands.

"Jess tried to hide the truth of her feelings from me. To never let her disappointment show. She shouldn't have bothered." He blew out a long breath, relieved by the outpouring of thoughts he'd kept bottled up for so long. The emotions and feelings he'd kept secret and never shared with anyone. "I couldn't bear to touch her. Every time I tried, I saw her thoughts. She loved me. Even though, she knew, I was doing my best. She viewed me with bitter disappointment. I was a failure to her as a husband and a father.

"I hid my gift from her. She wouldn't have understood. I couldn't tell her about it. I could hardly bear the horrors myself. The things I saw. The things I knew about. Evil. Murders. Lust. Greed. Dark emotions cling to surfaces with such tenacity. Rarely did I see anything happy. So many things that nobody should ever know, I knew and I couldn't breathe a word of it to anybody.

"When I tried to coax her into leaving the city. It was the final straw. She was done with me. Jess took our son and left. I let her go, because she was right. Her leaving me was for the best. We both knew it." Robert sank down onto the kitchen chair with a sigh. Cindy didn't move. She leaned against the counter, speechless.

"I tried for a while, after she remarried, to be there for them. I couldn't see past my shortcomings. Bill was a better husband to Jess and a better father to Cole than I ever could have been. Eventually, I stopped coming around. I blamed my gift. Because of these," he said, stretching out his fingers on the table. "I almost lost everything.

"I got lucky Cole forgave me. Cole is a good kid. Better than I deserve. He helped me in more ways than he could ever imagine. Without him, I never would have been able to touch you at all. I wouldn't have been brave enough to try. As for Jess, she's happy now. There aren't any hard feelings between us. It's just that, there's no going back. Life moved forward and keeps moving forward. Whatever might have been is long gone by now. I don't suppose any of this is going to change your mind when it comes to me. But, at least now you know." With a great heave of effort, he pushed up from the chair and reached for his coat.

Cindy watched Robert slide his arms into his coat. He fished in his pocket, retrieving a ring of keys from its depths. She wasn't sure what to think. The fact that at any time he wanted, he could read her emotions, rankled her. No one should know the innermost thoughts of another person. Especially, the secrets of a lover, those should remain guarded, close to the heart. He shuffled to the front door as if his feet weighed a thousand pounds each. His shoulders sagged in defeat.

She couldn't let him go like this. Her reaction to him wasn't his fault. It was hers. She felt the burden of the weight of his gift. It had cost him dearly. Too dearly. People who loved you should understand. She wouldn't give in and define what she felt for him as love. But, to have him walk out the door without a word from her was too cold and cruel. "I don't think you're a failure."

Robert paused and glanced over his shoulder. Cindy teetered in between the arched entryway between the kitchen and the dining room. One foot lifted to either take a step forward or back. He wasn't sure which. Her fingers gripped the corner of the wall to hold herself in place. "I just need time to think this through, I guess." She said with a defensive shrug, nervously worrying at her lower lip with her teeth.

Robert nodded. His mind still stung with the hurt of her rejection. He'd laid it all out for her. She needed time. He supposed he could understand if he were in her shoes. Unfortunately, the sentiment didn't ease his painfully bruised ego one bit. "Yeah sure. Time."

A wintry blast of frigid air blew into the house on Robert's heels. Cindy shivered and rubbed her hands along the tops of her arms for warmth. The sound of his Jeep rattling to life broke the still quiet of the pre dawn. Tires crunched over snow and she saw the wild light of his headlights cut through the darkness as he pulled out of the drive and onto the narrow lane that led away from her house.

She should run after him. Apologize for making him feel rejected. She hadn't meant to hurt him or for her reluctance to come across the way it had. Her feet wouldn't move. The cold of the tile beneath her soles bit through the warm layer of her wool socks. She put herself in his shoes. He'd lost so much. Although his gift could have given him the edge he needed to get ahead. He'd chosen to punish himself instead. He was just beginning to try to make a life for himself. Trying to trust and to live again and here she stood, unfairly punishing him all over again.

She tamped down hard on her guilt. After all, she didn't owe him a thing. They'd only just met. One night together did make them a couple destined for the road to happiness. She'd worked too hard to get where she was. No matter how badly she felt for Robert. She had to protect herself first.

Robert snapped off the radio, giving the dial a hard twist. The last thing he wanted to hear was a sappy love song about a relationship gone wrong. So what? Who cared? Let the singer pine away in misery. He wasn't vested in a relationship with Cindy. They'd only just met. At least now, with her rejection in the forefront of his mind, he knew exactly where he stood. Where he'd always stood. Alone. He drove with silence as his companion. Determined to push every thought about her out of his head, he didn't have the energy to engage in another pity party. She didn't want him. That was all too clear. He'd put himself out there and told the whole truth. The truth, had as the saying went, set him free.

Chapter 68

Maggie had spent the last few hours calming Cole down. Finally, she thought, she'd managed to convince him that the fact he couldn't kill O'Sullivan was a good thing. Cole had called himself every name in the book. Cursing himself for lacking the conviction that had led him down this dark path to begin with. Maggie knew Cole's heart was in the right place. He'd made the choices in his life that he had to protect the innocent. Killing O'Sullivan was just a side benefit of his choice. That he couldn't finish him off when he had the chance, Cole saw as a sign of weakness.

Cole burrowed his head in the crook of Maggie's shoulder. His cheek rested on the softness of her breast. Her fingers, the nails lightly scraping against his scalp, played with the strands of his hair, lulling him with the rhythm of their strokes. She'd done her best to soothe him with reassuring words of confidence. The sentences fell on deaf ears. The only thing he saw was his failure to do what needed to be done. O'Sullivan was a crafty bastard. If he could find a way out of his pending death sentence, he would. Cole had practically given away the keys to the cell with his inability to put the bastard down for good.

"I can't protect you," Cole admitted. Maggie's heartbeat sounded against his ear in the rhythmic, subtle whisper of a drum. As long as she was human, there would be danger. He had never viewed her as defenseless and as helpless as he did right now. Her pulse was her greatest weakness, and his too. What if the one time she needed him, he couldn't get to her in time to save her? And her heart, the soft lub-dup against his ear, the sound he cherished so dearly, stopped. There was only one way he could protect her. Give her the tools she needed to protect herself.

Cole's breath against her skin sent cool shivers skating along the nerve endings of her body. Her fingers stopped, gripping his hair tightly in a fist, tugging the strands hard. His hand fisted in an iron grip on her hipbone. His long fingers locked around her wrist holding it fast. Her other arm was trapped beneath the weight of his shoulder. Terror shot through her pinned limbs. Her heart, which had been beating almost imperceptibly in her chest, pounded like a war drum against her ribs. Cold fangs rested against her bounding carotid.

She wanted this. She'd asked, no, practically begged for him to turn her. The word bounced in her voice box, barely uttered before he struck in a relentless torrent of agony. "Yes."

If a vampire ever had a lingering sense of doubt, it was in this moment. The moment when a life hovered on the wings of sheer will and control. One sip too many and Maggie wouldn't be coming back. Her body bucked ineffectively against him. A tear, hot and salty, laced with agony splashed against his cheek. He hated causing her such pain, but there was no other way. This was what vampires were born of, pain, blood, and terror. The pounding rhythm of her heart became weaker, beating down to soft whispers, trembling and sputtering in its fight to hold on to her life. Three beats...three beats...and then a shudder. Cole opened his wrist with blood-stained fangs and pressed his bleeding flesh to Maggie's cold, lifeless, lips.

Maggie's throat worked wildly, gulping and swallowing at the decadence of the warm flesh pressed to her lips. A soft moan escaped on breath she no longer needed. She worried Cole's wrist like a starving dog with a bone, drinking and coaxing more blood free from the wound with the suction of her mouth. She was all instinct, like a babe at its mother's breast. His protest of pain meant nothing when weighed against the need to feed.

Agony gripped her in its iron fist, squeezing her with biting cold. Maggie released Cole's wrist on a scream that was more powerful than her instinct to drink him down. She bucked and writhed in terror and pain as her blood froze to a thick, icy sludge in her veins. Hands caressed her face, searing her skin in their heat. Every sound was deafening. Every scent made her stomach heave in waves of nausea. Light and color pierced her closed eyelids, driving needles of tormented agony deep into her brain. She clawed and kicked against the horror of her rebirth, begging for the death, which had a hold on her no more.

Cole rocked Maggie's rigid, spasming body in his arms. He begged for her forgiveness and winced at the curses and agonized screams flying from her lips. Memories of the night of his birth into this world rolled through his mind. It was easy to forget the pain once it was over and push it back into some subconscious part of his brain. So enamored of his new existence, he'd forgotten the small details of what it had been like. There was nothing he could do for Maggie, but hold her and marvel at the new life forged out of his blood and her pain.

John Mark stood in the doorway in silent witness to Maggie's birth into this world. There were humans in the compound and Cole, cradling his new creation with trembling hands, was in no shape to protect them. Maggie would be hungry once the fog of her agony lifted. Until she learned to control herself, she was dangerous.

Maggie opened her eyes, amazed and speechless over what she saw. Before, she saw the world through a veil. Now, that veil was lifted and for the first time in her life, everything was crystal clear. The brothers whispered in a song of welcoming, their thoughts one harmonious chorus in her mind. She took a deep breath, inhaling scents too myriad to sort. Cole's trembling hand reached out to stroke her cheek. She nuzzled lovingly against the fingers so hot they seared her skin. She hadn't given death a thought. And now, she had nothing but life to look forward to. Lifetime after lifetime wrapped in the arms of the man who held her. She knew Cole loved her, but she'd never realized how much until now. He'd done more than die for her. He'd given her his life.

Chapter 69

Megan sat at the counter dipping chocolate chip cookies in a deep glass of very cold milk. She focused on nothing but the white drops rolling off the edge of her soggy cookie to drip back into the glass with a light splash and ripples of white. Drew had been more than accommodating. Insisting that she needed sugar and protein after her encounter with O'Sullivan, he deposited her onto a stool at the kitchen counter and left her under Anna's care.

Anna had poured the milk and tried to make small talk. After it became apparent that Megan wasn't in the mood to talk, Anna had excused herself to disappear into the depths of the compound. Apparently, nobody was worried that she'd take it upon herself to wander about unsupervised to search for an exit. She wasn't going to. Even if she had a map and a compass, she doubted if she could find her way out.

She had taken care of a few details and bought herself some time with a creative lie. Even though she hadn't spoken to her friends in weeks. Her mom wasn't suspicious of her call. Her claim to be at a girlfriend's house watching a movie and catching up on recent gossip had fallen on a very relieved parental ear. All her mom had ever cared about was her daughter's social standing in the jungle otherwise known as high school. Her mother wouldn't be snooping around and calling her friends to check up on her.

Megan wasn't hungry. She held the cookie between her fingers, suspended over the glass. Saturated, the cookie crumbled into soggy bits of mush and fell to the bottom of the milk to join the others she'd soaked and dropped prior to this one. Thinking about nothing was easier than sorting through the muddle of thoughts piled in her brain. Vampires were real. Evil was real. Hell existed on Earth.

She didn't know to which corner of the compound Maggie had disappeared. She was stuck here unproductively wasting Anna's efforts in a boggy mix of milk and sugar, till Maggie decided to resurface. That was ok. She wasn't tired. She doubted if she'd ever be able to sleep again, knowing there was a war that would never end going on in the shadows around her.