Dawn's First Light

"What's that?" Keene sensed Lori's emotions, the worry gnawing at the corners of her mind. If a promise would ease her fears, he'd do it and keep it, if he could. He slid a pair of black leather pants out of the closet and pulled them over his hips, buttoning the fly carefully. And pulled the black Kevlar long-sleeved knit shirt over his head. The fabric was itchy and the pants snug, the newness of the leather creaking with his every movement. He refused to don the brand new pair of boots on the shelf of his closet and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his old, familiar pair with the frayed laces and scuffed tips.

"No secrets between us, ever." Lori crawled up next to Keene, loosely circling her arms around his shoulders. Her man looked good in black. Janine could say what she wanted to about Patrick. But, Keene was the sexiest brother in the whole world.

"I'll tell you everything I can," he replied honestly. Sometimes secrets had to be kept. She was an innocent. And he wouldn't haunt her dreams by filling them with the horrors he'd seen, and still might see out in the field. He could offer her one reassurance though. If she consumed his blood, even the slightest drop. He'd be unable to hide anything from her. He lifted his wrist to his lips and unsheathed his fangs to bite break his flesh.

Lori stopped Keene before he could bite himself. She wasn't ready to see the world as he saw it. She needed the world to hold some mystery for her. She was already in love with him and didn't need his emotions confusing her further. "I trust you. A simple yes will do," she said. She did trust him. But, if he felt something was too horrific for her to hear about, he'd hide it from her in an attempt to keep her safe. And maybe he should. There were things out there she didn't want to know about.

Keene was relieved that Lori didn't press the issue further and that his word seemed to satisfy her. He smoothed a hand over her blonde curls and lifted her chin, bringing her lips even with his. "Will you be here when I get back?" He liked the idea of her sleeping, tucked safely in his bed while he was away.

"Yes." She closed her eyes savoring his kiss as if it were their last. For all either of them knew, it could be. If there were one certainty about life, it was that for both immortals and mortals alike, it ended.

Chapter 32

Angel dropped the dead woman's body on the floor. She didn't want to be a killer. But, once the first sip of blood rolled over her tongue entrancing her with its decadent richness, she couldn't stop. She made herself at home, studying the contents of the woman's Coach purse and helping her self to the cash. Taking her time in the shower and sifting through the closet. Selecting the perfect designer attire. Black of course. Form fitting, naturally. And expensive as hell. Angel applied her makeup liberally, framing her eyes in dark mascara and liner. Her feet brushed soundlessly over the posh, imported rugs and sleek hardwood floors. The shoes pinched her toes. The woman had excellent taste in footwear. But, the designer boots were a half-size too small for Angel's slightly larger feet.

Feeling just the slightest twinge of guilt, Angel hefted the woman's lifeless body onto the couch and covered her corpse with a sleek coverlet she'd snatched from the bed. Eventually, the woman would start stinking up the place and someone would come around to investigate. Snatching the expensive dark glasses from the linen jacket pocket the woman had draped over the back of a dining room chair shortly before she met her untimely death, Angel locked up and slipped out into the night.

She grinned at her cleverness. She was accomplishing more as a vampire than she ever had as a human. Then, she was weak, slow, and stupid. But now, she was cunning, fast, and oh so very smart. Melting into the darkness, she disappeared into the night in search of less temporary digs to call home.

She should pay Kayla a visit. That bitch had deserted her. Left her to bear the full, unbridled fury of Roark's anger. She owed Kayla a great deal in payback. If only she could figure out a way to get her hands on her. Angel had no plans to turn Kayla over to Roark. This was personal. Angel wanted make Kayla suffer the way she'd suffered when she abandoned her. Torture her and keep her alive...just barely until she felt vindicated and then, maybe then, she'd kill her or possibly, give her to Roark as a gift, just to smooth things over between them.

******

Roark had scoured every inch of pavement in the city and found not so much as a trace of Angel. She was out here somewhere and he would find her. He needed more members like her in his following. Given what she'd done to the rogue and the bum in the alley, and the fact that he hadn't managed to ferret her out of hiding yet. She'd do whatever it took to save her own skin. He could use her. She was a familiar face, one that both Keene and Kayla knew well and quite possibly would trust. If he couldn't close enough to get his hands on them, perhaps she could.

His minions were busily working, trying to contain the aftermath of her mess. His best hackers labored to delete encrypted computer files. His favorite muses were out on the streets spreading the urban legends necessary to cover up the truth about the Angel's handiwork.

Their most creative work had been required decades ago, when a female massacred her way through a women's dormitory. Good old Blood Mary still struck terror into the hearts of adolescents everywhere. Humans were far too easy to deceive. They reveled in their imaginary fear. If only they knew the truth about how real their legends truly were.

The bodies, however, were proving to be little trickier. They were being held in the city morgue under lock and key. Getting in wouldn't be a problem. But, getting them out unnoticed was another story. And explaining them away, damned near impossible. Unless, he wanted to kill every human that could have had any contact with them. And the last thing he needed was another batch of unexplained murders in his city. People were a paranoid lot. And the populous hadn't forgotten, despite all his hard work to cover them up, the wake of unexplained disappearances left in Kore and Kiro's wake. It would take years before the citizens relaxed enough to let their guard down after dark.

Roark rounded a corner. How close the good side of town was to the bad never ceased to amaze him. By simply crossing a busy overpass, the squalid, low rent shacks transformed into to posh high rises.

He strolled casually down the park like sidewalks, wrinkling his nose as he caught the scent of new death. Humans died and the smell of decay was unmistakable. This human was dead, but not from any illness or internal defect. He lifted his head, staring up at the bank of high-rise apartments stretching up into the city skyline. A lesser vampire might have missed the scent all together. Not him though, he'd been around long enough to catch the faint essence of spilled human blood through the brick and mortar of the building.

He took a deep breath, dragging the fragrance into his nostrils. Beneath the coppery smell of blood, was another, less noticeably sweeter undertone. Ah, his Angel had good taste in choosing the bluest of bloods to dine on. Slipping into the building through a service entrance, he tracked the harsh, bitter, scent of human death to a pent house suite.

Keene walked through the halls, making his way to the garage where he'd meet up with his brothers. He was suited up with various blades and daggers tucked beneath his combat gear. A high caliber handgun was loaded and stashed in a holster out of sight beneath his leather jacket. A bullet wouldn't kill a vampire. But it would sure leave a mark, and if necessary, drop a human dead where he stood. Roark wasn't above enlisting humans to do his dirty work. And given the proper training and incentive, serve him or die, they were almost as lethal as any vampire.

John Mark stood by the side of the idling SUV waiting for his team to assemble. He chose Keene because of his knowledge of rogue behavior. Bryce was coming along due to his extensive knowledge of the lay out of the city. And Patrick... damn, John Mark hated cutting the man's honeymoon short. But, duty was first and foremost. There was no better tracker. If a rogue had been responsible for the murders, Patrick would sniff him out.

John Mark snickered as Patrick trotted into the garage with a very unhappy Janine trailing behind him. John Mark flinched beneath her scowl. "Thank you Janine for letting Patrick join us," he said, hoping to smooth her ruffled feathers.

"You get your ass back here as soon as you're done," Janine threatened.

Patrick chuckled and held up his hands in defeat. "I will. I promise." While they were in the city, he might make a pit stop and pick up the dainty gold bracelet he'd seen her drooling over on the Internet. Nothing got a guy out of the doghouse like an expensive, shiny, bauble. He snatched her up in his arms and planted a warm kiss on her lips.

"You stay safe out there," Janine said as Patrick lowered her to her feet. She knew no matter what her protests, duty had to come first. She still had friends and people she cared about in the city and if a rogue was out there on a killing spree, he had to be stopped.

"Trust me," Patrick said, patting her butt playfully as she stomped out of the garage. He sensed her mood she was not as irked as she pretended to be. She was using her feminine pouting as a guise to hide her worry. Once she left the garage, he studied the map, memorizing the locations where the bodies had been discovered.

Keene arrived next, nodding to Patrick. He'd only had very brief encounters with the wily tracker known for his abilities to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. But, he'd heard the stories of Patrick's capture and torture at the hands of Kore's minions. He respected the man deeply, for having the ingenuity to escape and the strength to move on afterwards with his sanity intact.

Lastly, Bryce popped into the garage, averting his eyes from Patrick and giving him a wide berth. Preferring to focus on the map displayed on his iPod rather than the paper version stretched out on the hood of the SUV.

John Mark wired up his team. Toby had thousands of toys at his disposal. The most recent addition to their gear was a tiny microphone and wireless ear bud. They didn't need technology to communicate with one another. There was not a damn thing wrong with their psychic links. But, Toby was right. That particular means of communication came at a cost. And was limited in its value. A brother could lose his head to a rogue in the seconds it took to communicate psychically with his partner. "Toby, are we on line?" he said into the microphone secured to his collar.

"Got ya," Toby replied. "Are you receiving?" He grinned as John Mark's voice boomed at him through the ear bud pressed into his right ear. Toby itched to be out in the field with his brothers. But, he was staying behind in the tech lab to monitor the mission's progress and take care of whatever little glitches the brothers managed to get them selves into. There were other warriors. But, he was the only one with his particular talent. He drove not from behind the wheel, he fought but not hand to hand. He battled from the keyboard balanced on his lap.

He watched the four red blips, flashing on his computer screen. The tracking devices he'd placed in their boot heels were working perfectly. Just as he knew they would. Ever since Patrick's abduction, nothing was left to chance any more than it had to be. Toby took every precaution that he could to keep his brothers safe.

"Load 'em up and head 'em out." John Mark said, motioning to the SUV. Excitement jolted through his system at the prospect of being back into the field and thrust headlong into danger. He was a complete adrenaline junkie and nothing got his heart beating and his rocks off like the thrill of the chase.

Bryce sat in the back with Keene. The dark leather interior of the SUV was cool and smooth against his body. Janine had found her happiness with Patrick and that was the end of it. He couldn't begrudge the man for being the one that she'd chosen over him. But, his pride still had its fair share of issues. He concentrated on the mission and pushed aside his personal feelings. They had no business in the field and might possibly get him killed if he let them take over. The mission and nothing beyond that mattered tonight.

Keene ran his finger along the spider web of roads on the map. His old master had many places he called home. And he could be at any point in the city. This wasn't a mission to find the rat bastard and send him straight to hell where he belonged. The infant had to be his primary concern. Roark came in a close second. Not that if the opportunity presented itself, he wouldn't turn it down. But, for now, Keene had other things to worry about.

Get in, clean up the mess, find the infant and get the hell out, was the mission. Avoiding the Rogue Master and a messy scene would take more than a little luck. Keene didn't lack faith in his brothers or in him self. But, he knew Roark's ruthless tactics all too well. And if he spotted him or the brothers, it'd take no random act of chance to get out with their lives.

Patrick fucking hated rogues. Hated them. Keene was perhaps, the only exception. And the man hardly counted anymore, since he was a brother now. Patrick was itching to get into the city and get the hell out. His little stay in the guest suite at the Rogue hotel had left a very sour taste in his mouth for all vampires not in the brotherhood. Most rogues kept to themselves. And strays had their uses. But, he wanted no dealings with them beyond the punishment he could deliver at the end of his blade. He would hunt down the infant. And he would kill it. And then, he'd be back for Roark. He wasn't strong enough to exterminate the Rogue Master. But, he could sure as hell play bloodhound and point the brothers in the right direction.

He could feel Bryce's eyes on the back of his head. Since his wedding, the two of them had very limited contact with one another. He didn't blame Bryce, at least, not any more. Janine was a hell of a girl. And Patrick considered him self one lucky son of a bitch to have won her heart. There wasn't a damned thing he could do about Bryce's wounded pride except to ignore it and hope the guy moved on. Soon. Patrick was hardly the matchmaking type, too sissified and girly for his tastes to intervene in someone's love life. But, he had a feeling that Bryce was already working toward a speedy recovery. Thanks to a petite blonde with blue eyes as big and round as saucers.

John Mark drove in silence. The mental dialogues in his team's heads were more than enough conversation for him to handle. They were good fighters, capable manly men types, and despite their personal issues with each other, they had one another's backs. What more could he ask of his team? He wanted this job done and over with. He did not relish killing a newborn that didn't know any better. He'd rather go after the sadistic fuck responsible for the mess in the first place. Perhaps, there was a way to salvage the infant and save a life. Stranger things had happened. And damn, hadn't he seen his share of them.

The city loomed ahead, glowing beneath a yellow-orange dome of electric light. She was a beautiful sight, spread out and glittering in her brilliance. Just like a woman, full of mystery and danger. John Mark slowed and took the off ramp that led into the heart of downtown. Whispering a silent prayer to the goddess as he rolled to a stop at a traffic light. He prayed for the success of the mission. And selfishly for one extra thing, that he'd bring his team home in one piece.

Chapter 33

The ER was dead quiet. Nothing more than a quick stitch job and an upset belly had come in for hours. Doctor Thomas Sterling was stuck working the night shift all week long. He joined the nurses in small talk and wandered about the empty treatment bays, completely bored out of his skull. Leaving the busy emergency rooms of the big city for small town life had been his choice. And he didn't regret it.

Discovering the existence of vampires had been an accident. If he hadn't been out rock climbing, if he hadn't fallen off the steep ledge, he would have never known. His body was broken and battered by the rocks. He owed the vampire who offered his wrist to heal his damaged body a great deal. Primarily, his life. In exchange, Thomas kept their secrets and more than a few of his own.

He had a few blood samples in his collection, ordinary blood with ordinary results. But he was still conducting research, gathering information and neatly cataloguing the results. His theory was sheer conjecture. If the blood could heal him, it could heal others. What he needed to support his hypothesis was a blood sample taken from a vampire. How did their blood heal? What was so special about it?

Out of desperation, he approached Dane with his request. The answer was a stern 'no'. The man wouldn't listen to reason. Dane claimed the research was dangerous and forbid Thomas from continuing the work. Dane believed their blood could kill as well as cure. Thomas felt that Dane and the Shaman, who would share with him recipes for his special herbal remedies that did jack shit, were still in the dark ages. Despite his reassurances that he'd never test the blood on a human subject without making certain that it was safe. Dane still refused him. Until he could get his hands on their blood, his research was nothing short of fantasy.

Everyday his mom grew weaker. The cancer was consuming her from the inside out. And unless he found a cure soon, he'd lose her. The chemo did little to spread the rapid progression of her cancer. He tried everything. Conferred with experts in the field. And there was nothing more to be done. The only recommendation was to contact hospice and make her comfortable until she passed. He wasn't willing to accept that. There was something he could do. If only Dane would let him do it.

Thomas's cell phone buzzed against his hip. Thomas crossed the hall to his shared office to take the call. Nurses were a nosy bunch. Gossips. And he liked to keep his private business private. "Thomas here."

"Thomas, hey my man, how are ya doing?"

"Hey Rodg," Thomas answered. The man was the city coroner and a good friend. They became fast and furious companions over a corpse in med school and had been such ever since. They had their differences though. Thomas preferred to work with the living, While Rodg preferred to work on the dead.

"I could use your expertise on a case. I had a couple of stiffs roll in today. Strange stuff, really strange stuff," Rodg said. He was working late tonight, trying to come up with something to put on the blank reports on his desk. He had shit. He loved his job. His patients never complained, and never sued. And the CSI stuff made for great pickup lines to use on the ladies. Dark humor was the only thing that kept him sane as the bodies, some mangled beyond recognition, rolled in one after the other.

"Yeah," Thomas answered, his voice hinged with anticipation. He could never do Rodg's job. Ever. He glanced at his watch. It was a little after ten and Rodg was still at work. Not a place, Thomas would want to be after dark. Creepy shit. But, then again so was hanging out with vampires.

"One dry as the Sahara and the other, hell...I've listed you as an expert consult on this case, brother. I'm e-mailing you a copy of the lab reports as we speak. You've got to see them for yourself. Blood counts off the chart – reds, whites, immune globulins- counts so high the equipment couldn't even register the numbers." He lounged back in his office chair and propped his feet up on the desk. "That aint even the strangest part. I got the son of a bitch in the chiller and he's already in an advanced state of decomposition."