Dawn's Innocence

Last night should have been a lesson for him. He knew how good it would be when they finally did do the deed and make love. He refused to call it sex, not with Kacie. She was something special. She frustrated him. He didn't know which wrench to turn or which belt to adjust to make her run just right.

Hunter stood in the open door to the garage, leaning against the jamb as he watched his son staring down into the idling engine. Something was going on the kid's mind. He had no doubt what it was. Kacie. "You know gas is three dollars and fifty cents a gallon," he said. Reaching into the open driver's side window he turned the key and killed the engine.

"Sorry, I was just thinking." Tristen slammed the hood down and made sure it was locked into place before he started gathering up the tools he'd scattered all over the shop floor.

"I gathered that, thinking about a certain perky, cute, green eyed girl?"

"What else? Dad. She. Drives. Me. Nuts." Tristen sighed as he dropped a wrench into the toolbox and bent to gather up some loose bolts that had spilled onto the floor.

"Uh huh." Hunter picked up the wrench and placed it in the right slot in the box. "You're wanting to..."

"Oh hell yes." Tristen gripped the edge of the workbench with his fists. His dad didn't play or mix words with him it was pretty much no holds barred hit the nail on the head straight talk. "What I wouldn't give to be human for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?"

"Ok, an hour or two. I'd..." He'd make love to Kacie like a wild man. Wild. Crazy. Monkey sex. He'd indulge every instinct he'd ever denied. He'd stop waffling in that no man's land between third base and home plate and score one for the team. He'd slake his need and hers too.

"You can't change what you are," Hunter said. He sensed the storm brewing in his son's mind. "You have to have patience. Turn up the charm. After all, you are your father's son."

Tristen chuckled as he glanced up at his dad. His father...yeah, he was his father's son. They had the same angular square jaw and slightly out of kilter slope to their noses. His dad was something straight out of Soldier of Fortune magazine. He toned it down, paring the black military fatigues with a soft faded flannel barn coat and he'd whittled it down to packing only one or two weapons with him wherever he went. He'd eased up on the clippers and his hair had started to grow out. But, there was a hard edge to his dad that not even Gina could soften. "That's a scary thought."

Tristen shook his head in denial. "I'm not interested in charming her pants off. Ok, so I am. But, I want her to fall in love with me. Is that so wrong?"

"No," Hunter answered. His brows met at the bridge of his nose as he frowned at his son. Tristen had the self-confidence of a flea. He doubted everything about himself. His looks. His choices. His feelings for Kacie and her feelings for him. Hunter didn't think he'd ever been as young as his son. Oh, he vaguely remembered it, the angst and feeling of urgency, as if the whole world and all the people in it hinged on his every decision. When you were young everything seemed so...big. After holding his firstborn son in his arms for the very first time the world somehow managed to shrink down to one fluttering, beating heart, Tristen's.

For all his toughness, Hunter still got a little misty eyed at the memory of holding Tristen and then Daniel after him, and then last of all Mouse, his precious little Mouse. There were no words he could say to reassure Tristen that in the end it all came down to tomorrow and today, as big and awful and scary as it sometimes seemed, looking back, it wouldn't matter for shit. It'd just whittle down to a jumble of indiscernible blurry memories except for a select few both good and bad that would always stand out in crystal clarity. "What makes you think she isn't?"

"Damn it dad!" Tristen slammed his fist, rattling the toolbox on the worktable beneath it. "Wouldn't she say so?" He paced, running his hands through his bristly hair. "I want to be so smooth and every time I try. I come off looking like a complete dumb ass. Nothing I do is right. Everything I say is wrong. Every time we kiss, I completely lose my mind. I can't breathe around her and she's supposed to think that's charming? I am an idiot, Dad. An idiot. She probably thinks I'm pathetic."

"I don't believe she thinks that at all. Kacie has willingly been in your bed every night this week."

Tristen sputtered for a minute and exhaled a huge breath of air. "You know about that?"

"I'm your dad. It's my job to know."

"Shit." Tristen plopped down in a lawn chair and stared at his dad in disbelief. He thought he and Kacie were being so smooth. That nobody knew. He flushed with embarrassment, remembering the feel of Kacie's mouth slicking up and down his cock and the things he'd done to her with his fingers. "We haven't."

Hunter unfolded a lawn chair and set it beside Tristen. He parked his butt in the chair and kicked out his feet. " Tristen, I think this is getting serous between you and Kacie. Maybe, more so for you at this point than for her," he said with a frown. "Son, women are cautious with their hearts and reluctant to hand them over to just any Romeo wielding flowers and pretty words. You're going to have to prove to her that you mean business. If you really think she's the one for you, you're going to have to win her over."

"How?"

"Every woman's heart has a key that unlocks it. All you have to do is find the right key." Hunter got up from his chair and stared down at the top of his boy's head. He beamed with pride. For all the things he'd gotten wrong in his life, he had three he'd gotten absolutely right. His kids were amazing.

"I hate it when you get all cryptic on me." Tristen pondered which key would unlock Kacie's heart and swing the gate wide open for him.

"Tristen." Hunter turned to pin his boy with a meaningful expression. "Don't make me a grandfather too soon. Use precautions."

"I've got it under control, dad." Tristen blushed. Shaking his head he watched his old man disappear from the garage. Becoming a father was the last thing Tristen wanted at this stage of his life. First things had to come first. Primarily, he had to secure a place in Kacie's heart before he could even think about beginning a family. But, how exactly was he going to win her heart?

Chapter 46

"What are you doing spending such a beautiful day moping in the garage?" Marianne placed her hands on her hips and scowled at her big brother. Tristen was kicked back, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He stared off into space, his lips flexing and pursing as if he were trying to make words but somehow lacked the coordination to form the consonants and vowels.

"I'm not moping. I'm thinking."

"That must account for the strained expression on your face. I thought for a minute you might be constipated."

"Get lost, Mouse." He raised a brow as she plopped a blanket and a fully packed Igloo cooler at his feet and then parked her butt in the empty lawn chair beside him. She sat so prim and proper, swinging her feet back and forth across the dusty garage floor. Her expression was one of immense satisfaction and expectance. As if she were waiting for him to thank her. Only he didn't have a clue as to what he should be thanking her for. "What's this?"

"I'm helping your pathetic butt out."

"What do you mean?" Mouse rolled her eyes at him and flung her braid over her shoulder as if she had the answers to life, the universe, and everything in it. Hell, who knew, his kid sister actually might. After all, she was thirteen going on forty. Tristen cringed at the thought of his little sister growing up right before his eyes. When in the hell did she start wearing makeup and an honest to god bra? She'd given up her little girl pink in favor of a pair of black leggings and a long, soft v necked sweater in a vibrant shade of yellow. She no longer wore shiny Mary Janes or battered tennis shoes. Today she had on boots, zipped up to her calf with a bit of a heel on them. She had a stylish scarf with treads of silver woven through the print loosely wrapped around her neck and a thin row of bangles clanging from her wrist.

Marianne scowled at her big brothers absolute ignorance when it came to women. He looked at her as if she were an alien species from another planet, all squinty eyed and shaking his head in disbelief. He wore the same jeans he'd had on the night before, ratty and battered, and frayed at the hems. His boots were smeared with grease and the laces had been knotted and reknotted to hold them together. He hadn't shaved and unless eau d' Quaker State was cologne he hadn't showered today either. His t-shirt was torn and the flannel he wore over the wrinkled future dust cloth was in an equal state of disrepair.

No wonder Kacie was asleep instead of hanging out with him. Who could blame her? Tristen was as smooth as a brillo pad when it came to Kacie. He followed her around with his tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth like a lost puppy. He had the table manners of an ape and her big brother wasn't exactly a brilliant conversationalist. He hid porno magazines under his bed and stayed up half the night playing video games with their geek brother. And he was absolutely clueless. But, for all his flaws, he was salvageable. Tristen cleaned up nice. That and the fact that he was actually in love with Kacie were his only saving graces. "Have you ever taken Kacie out on a date?"

"Ah... no." A date? He wanted to do the V-8 smack with is palm in the center of his forehead. Why hadn't he thought of that? Take Kacie on a date. Duh? Yeah, he was a fucking rocket scientist. He spent so much energy and time chasing her he'd forgotten the obvious. Women needed a little romance. Tristen scraped his fingertips across his stubbly jaw and sniffed his clothes. Um...yeah, he so wasn't all that.

"Well, I think its time you did. No need to thank me," Marianne said, holding up a hand. "You can name your firstborn after me."

"Mouse?"

"Marianne. You dork," she said with a giggle, swatting Tristen's arm. "I did some research and according to the Internet, I've got a bag loaded with aphrodisiacs." She bent and unzipped the cooler to show Tristen the menu. "Strawberries, dark chocolate, two nice salads topped with double-yolked eggs and a sweet-tangy light vinegrette dressing. Do you know how many eggs I had to boil and peel in order to find one with a double yolk? According to folklore and a very reliable source on Facebook, if you feed someone a double-yolked egg, that person will fall head over heels in love with you. That's her salad, there with the blue lid. I've chosen a nice dry white wine for you to share and a loaf of fresh honey-wheat bread. There," she said zipping the cooler in satisfaction. "I think I covered all the bases."

"I think it's going to take more than a handful of strawberries and a double-yolked egg to make her fall in love with me."

"Well, it certainly can't hurt. Besides, Kacie already is in love with you. She just needs a little push in the right direction." Marianne grabbed the blanket and the cooler off the garage floor and tossed them in Tristen's backseat. "This thing is running isn't it?" She grinned at his hesitant, maybe a little unsure nod. A broke down car way out in the middle of nowhere, two people in love...had possibilities. "Go on. Go get the girl. And remember, you owe me."

Tristen snickered and tugged playfully on his little sister's braid. "Marianne it is then. But, I think you're going to be waiting a while to collect your debt."

"That's ok. I'm very patient."

"And very persistent."

Marianne pushed Tristen out of the garage and toward the house. "Go. Oh, and Tristen, take a shower first." Tristen in true older brother fashion flipped her the bird and trotted for the house. So much for gratitude. Chuckling, she folded the lawn chairs and put them back where they belonged. She rather liked her name...not the one her brothers and everyone else tortured her with. But, Marianne had a nice ring to it. And she could not wait to bounce her little niece...her namesake on her knee.

Carter hissed as he tugged at the coils of steel binding trapping his arms and legs. The Sons had taken every precaution to ensure that he'd stay put. His prison was a ten by ten room carved from the natural stone of the caverns. He wrapped his fingers around the length of steel secured to his arms and legs, leashing him by the extremities to a thick, hasp, buried into the wall. He scurried the length of his leash and growled deeply in his throat as the shackles bit into his skin. He was chained and caged like a beast, how fitting.

He glared at his captors as the brothers in charge of securing him inched backwards. Never taking their eyes off of him they got the hell out of the room. With a resounding boom, the steel door, two inches thick and secured with a magnetic lock, banged into place. Oh, yeah, he wasn't going anywhere. Even if he managed to break free of his bindings, he wasn't going to claw his way through the door.

Chuckling and mimicking the madman he'd become he heard the hum soft of electricity charging the door. If he so much as touched the metal, he'd get the piss shocked out of him. Not killed though, no the Sons weren't stupid enough to give him the means to off himself. The current would only temporarily stun him and leave him twitching on the floor.

At least, society was safe from him. He couldn't hurt anybody. Shayla should have had him put down like the rabid beast he was. At least, he couldn't get to her or the baby. He stared at the jagged black walls as he settled on the hard, cold, floor. The place wasn't exactly the Ritz Carlton and there was nothing in here but him and the damn steel coils securing him in place. The darkness soothed him. He had the tiny sliver of glowing light from the observation camera mounted into the rough stone ceiling to see by. The red light flickered as it recorded his movements. So this is where the crazy vampires end up? What kind of therapy would they subject him to an attempt to save his bitter, time weathered soul?

Maybe, the brothers would try to get him to talk about his feelings. Fuck that. The camera and the presence, shouting unbearably loud in his mind, were his only companions. That and the insanity that threatened to pull him under inch by inch until he drowned in its murky depths. At least now he could explain the cause for his insanity. He'd drunk from a pregnant woman. Drank of the child's blood and taken its purity into the deepest recesses of his perversion. Light could not exist inside of him. He was too dark and too twisted for even the slightest glimmer of hope it might cast on his bleak soul. So, now he knew the beauty of a life uncorrupted by sin. And he knew the horror of a life corrupted and so depraved by centuries of performing sin after detestable sin. He parked his ass on the cold stone floor and banged his head against the wall, chuckling maniacally at the irony of it all.

Shayla said she loved him. How could she? She knew what he was. The thing he had become. She tortured him by keeping him alive. Death would have been a mercy. The truest proof of her love. She had denied him. Perhaps after a few weeks of seeing him chained and trapped like a rabid dog, she'd change her mind. He hoped for it. He counted on it. He'd hold onto the last glimmer of sanity he had. Save it back to make his appeal to her. Beg her to end him. End his suffering and let him go. Until then, he gave himself over to the madness and the darkness and let it eat him up.

Choose light over darkness, the Great Father had said. What if the light wouldn't have him and the darkness wouldn't let him go. What then? The Great Father spoke of something he didn't understand. He'd always been light and had never known the draw of the shadows. Choose. Choose what? The light had been done with him for centuries. And no amount of love could change him from the beast that he was. Soon enough Drew would see that and so would Shayla, then finally, he'd be free.

Chapter 47

"Here we are." Erica flipped the turn signal and slowed to make the curve that led to the narrow country lane and to her Aunt and Uncle's house. They stood on the porch bundled against the breezy spring wind, waving at her as her car bumped and shimmied up the drive. The house still looked exactly the same as she remembered. The white ranch had seemed bigger when she was a kid than it did now. Bright and shiny instead of dull with a few pieces of siding missing here and there, the gutters rocking in the breeze, and the shingles flapping like brown tongues from a sudden gust. Basically though, the house hadn't changed one bit. She was the one who had changed.

There were some things that from a distance never seemed to change. Her aunt and uncle were exactly the same. Her aunt, prim and regal, yet managing to be as warm and inviting as a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and her uncle, rugged and windswept, ever present as the rolling planes of pasture and sturdy as rock.

She slowed to a stop and put her car in park at the edge of the driveway. Fallon was already out of her seatbelt and bounding up the walkway, eagerly jumping into Uncle Alexander's arms.

"Why that couldn't be little Fallon could it?" Alexander teased. His back protested as he spun her. He didn't care. A little ibuprofen and he'd be right as rain. He hadn't seen Fallon in over two years and she was a very welcome sight for sore eyes. "You've gotten so big!" And she had. The top of her head hit him mid chest. Had to make him wonder what they fed kids these days. He crouched down and rumpled her hair. The little girl was the spitting image of her mother, all curls and giggly smiles.

"Uncle Alexander. Aunt Leigh!" Erica snatched her purse and slung it over her shoulder. Around here, you didn't have to worry about locking your doors or someone stealing your stuff. Unpacking could wait for a minute. She shoved her keys in her pocket and trotted up the walk. She grabbed onto her aunt and gave her a gentle, yet warm squeeze.

Aunt Leigh had been beautiful when she was younger, and she still was. Strands of silver wove through the once platinum blonde locks. Her hair was pinned tightly in a neat chignon gathered at the nape of her neck, just as it'd always been. Traces of the passing of time lined the corners of her mouth and eyes. She'd slipped on the reading glasses dangling from a beaded chain around her neck for a closer look. Aunt Leigh had never been about pretence or appearances. She was as forthright and honest as they came. She wore tennis shoes, faded blue jeans and a light teal colored sweater over a plain white blouse. There wasn't a hint of makeup on her face. And her wedding ring was a plain, simple gold band.

She was quickly snatched out of her Aunt's arms and grabbed around the middle in a tight bear hug. When she was a kid, Uncle Alexander had been so big and strong, so capable of doing anything short of stopping the world from spinning. She saw the weathered lines time had etched across his face. Gray had turned his carrot top of wild, unruly curls into pale, faded blond. His skin had the bronzed weathered look of too many years spent at hard labor beneath the sun's harsh abuse.

He'd dressed up for her today. He wore a denim button down over a brand new t-shirt in a shade that everyone in town knew as John Deere Green. His jeans, battered and faded hardly had any frayed holes in them and the back pockets were intact instead of dangling from a thread. His boots were laced and tied and there wasn't any mud or horse poo trapped in the treads. He'd brushed his hair and shaved and did she detect a hint of aftershave? Uncle Alexander was the closest thing she'd ever known to a real dad. And on those nights when her mind wandered and she tried to imagine what her father might have been like she envisioned a man exactly like her uncle.