Dawn's Path: Completed Work

"I'm not a child," Tala fumed. "I'm a fully grown woman." She immediately regretted the retort as his eyes locked on hers in a heated stare that suggested he was more than aware of the fact.

He closed the door gently behind him, leaving Tala in the confines of the room. She was as fierce as any warrior he'd ever met. Hot in temper and more volatile than a stick of dynamite. Where she was concerned, he did not do stoic, authoritarian leader as well as he ought to. She had come to him for more than what her stated purpose suggested. There was an urgency to her, almost an edge of desperation to her voice when she spoke. She expected him to do something. To be something more than what he thought he was and she, for some unknown reason, saw in him. He wanted no part of it.

The brotherhood had survived so much. Taken heavy losses over the last few years. And it wasn't fair to drag her or her people into their fight. He had the feeling though, she wasn't going to give him any other choice. Their worlds were so different. Yet, they were one. He just didn't know what his brother had expected him to do about it. Or what help she'd been sent here to ask him to provide. Hell, at this point, he wasn't even sure about what he was.

Tala's vague answer was little help. Not when for so long he'd been so many different things to so many different people. He'd spent his life, and this version of the afterlife, in service to others. The faith he saw in her eyes when she looked at him gave him chills. He did not want to disappoint. But, he feared he would. For the fangs, the centuries of life, the goddess's gift and all that went a long with it, he was still only a man. Limited, by a name that no longer served anybody. Bound to a cause and to a fight, he and everyone else in the brotherhood knew they'd never win.

His second fell in step beside him. Dane was a good man. Faithful and true, and even better than that, one of his finest attributes was, he knew when to keep his mouth shut. Wisely, he did so now. Waiting for him to speak as they walked down the corridor to a room the Great Father had never used and had never planned to. His bedroom was pure masculine in its décor. The finest of everything, from the linens on the bed he'd never slept in to the clothing neatly hung in the closet that he'd never worn.

"See to the female. Provide her anything she requests. Have the women attend to her comfort. She requires clothing and food. Guard her well, my brother. And if I see so much as a frown on her face or hear a word of displeasure uttered from her lips, do not doubt, there will be hell to pay." And with that, he left Dane to his tasks and closed the door.

Dane stood in the hallway, staring at the door the Great Father had slammed in his face. Oooookkkk. Food. Clothes. Protection. Got it. Confused and baffled by the Great Father's demeanor more so than the presence of the female. He wasted no time getting down to business. And he did the only sensible thing a man could do in this situation. He called for his wife.

Chapter 48

Lance pulled out his phone and shoved it back in his pocket. He didn't need to call and check up on her. Thanks to his telepathic link to Angel, he had a pretty good lock on her location. Due to the distance though, the connection was a little fuzzy around the edges. And the uncertainty made him nervous. He rationalized the purpose behind his call as one of civic duty. He wasn't spying on her. He was keeping her safe. He ripped his phone free from his pocket and hit speed dial. Tapped his toe impatiently, he waited for Marcus to answer. Marcus knew Angel's scent and he knew the city. Once he scented her, he'd be able to track her anywhere. She'd never even know he was following her. And even if she did clue in, Marcus was the king of bullshit. He'd think of something completely feasible to explain.

Lance would wait for her. He had yet to go back on his word about anything. And in this, he had no intentions of doing otherwise. They were mates. They belonged together. And he wasn't wrong in stubbornly clinging to his beliefs and keeping the home fires burning bright. Angel wouldn't be gone long. She'd figure out there was nothing out there and everything she was looking for was right here in his arms. He cursed himself for being so pushy and selfish. He hadn't given her the time she'd needed. He'd been in a rush, too eager to fill the emptiness inside of him with the essence of her. She was too young to understand his urgency. Time hadn't stood still for her yet. So much of her was still too human. She still measured her life in terms of days, months, and years. He marked off the passing of decades as if they were days on the calendar. And time had stopped for him a long time ago.

Finally Marcus answered the call. Given the tone of annoyance in his voice, Lance assumed his intrusion was an unwelcome one. He didn't want to go into a lengthy explanation and settled for a 'just the facts ma'am' request. "Take care of Angel." Marcus was a smart guy and he'd figure it out without Lance filling in the blanks for him. Lance just didn't have the energy or the desire to hash over his love life with anyone. Ending the call with a swipe of his finger across the screen, Lance pocketed the device and found his way into the tech room to watch the tiny blip flit across the screen tracking the progression of Angel's movements in the city.

Chance dropped his bags at the foot of the twin sized bed and surveyed his old room. "I feel like I'm living in a National Geographic Magazine," he said to nobody in particular. His room, devoid of any personal effects, was decorated in shades of white and pale blue. And he shivered from the arctic like effect the colors had on his psyche and meandered through the house he'd grown up in.

Marcus and Sam wasted no time reclaiming the space and making it theirs. Ok by him. This house had ceased to be his home the minute he ran head first into the brothers. And he was glad someone was putting the house to good use. He passed through the forest of the living room and shook his head in wonder. Each room had a different nature theme and the over all effect was, well, it was...unique. Pausing in the desert oasis of the master bedroom, he decided to keep his lip zipped about the whole decorating scheme. His mom was a Martha Stewart kind of girl and she would not appreciate that her sense of style had been eradicated.

"So, what's the situation?" Will asked Marcus. He didn't like to be so far away from the compound or from his wife. And there was something very off about the general vibe of the city. As if there were an energy building like an oncoming storm. He wasn't the only one who felt it. Sam was on edge, pacing a path across the dining room. Marcus ended the call on a grunt and dropped his cell phone on the kitchen counter. And Chance whistled low under his breath as he wandered from room to room.

"We spent the night out on patrol and encountered no one. They're around, I can assure you of that. But, the rogues are hiding," Marcus answered. He needed time to think about Lance's call before he added even more work to the agenda. Obviously, there was trouble in paradise. But, he wasn't sure what or exactly how much Lance was willing to share with the brothers. And as for keeping Angel safe, the woman had a knack for finding trouble.

"No reports of dead bodies?" Chance interrupted. He poked his head in the dining room and snickered at the plastic palm tree towering over the dining room table. His mom would shit if she saw how Marcus and Sam had decorated her previously homespun, country craft style dining room.

"No. They're laying low."

"Interesting," Chance said. Wrinkling his brows in curiosity, he asked the question on everyone's mind. "What are the rogues eating?"

"We don't know. Rats perhaps?" Marcus guessed. He hoped like hell his guess was right. But, he knew better. They all knew better. The rogues were eating more than rats and stray pets. Even though they hadn't found evidence to the contrary, they would. And they'd better be well prepared for it when they did.

"Its more likely that they're hiding the bodies or randomly sipping off people. I'll have Toby patch into the police and campus databases. See if there are any reports of muggings or assaults," Will countered. The city was a big place. Contained within a circle of interstates, the city spanned over sixty miles in circumference. That was a lot of ground for the four of them to cover. And there were plenty of places for the rogues to hide, both themselves and the bodies they left behind.

Sam had already tried scanning databases and all other possible sources of information. The city was blessedly crime free. No murders, no missing persons, not even as much as a cat stuck up a tree. And that in itself was unusual in a city of this size. People were always killing other people. And that they weren't had her more nervous than if they were. The rogues weren't exactly known for their morals. Especially when it came to their dining preferences. They were eating. Of that, she was certain. It was just a matter of time before their luck ran out. Sam hoped the brotherhood had the good fortune of corralling the rogues before it did and the human authorities got involved. "There simply isn't any activity. My guess is that someone is cleaning up after them."

"Maybe, they've got a contact. A way to keep their activities out of the mainstream." Chance was grasping at straws and he knew it. He toyed with the leaves on the plastic palm tree and kept the bigger part of his thoughts to himself. Nobody agreed with him anyway. Everyone believed the rogues were evil. And maybe, they were. The few he'd encountered hadn't exactly been up for any citizen of the year awards. But, he simply could not believe that they were all bad. There had to be more than just a few that were good people caught in a bad situation. People like his mom and Marcus who had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. His mother never spoke of it. But, he knew his mom. And when she let her mom mask fall, when she thought he wasn't looking, he could see the reflections of guilt and horror in her eyes. She'd done things, terrible things, to survive. "Maybe, they've got donors," Chance suggested.

"Possible. But, where are the rogues hiding?" Marcus countered. "Sebastian and Starr haven't had any luck finding solid leads to a location. Apparently, rumors have already circulated through the rogue community. They know Starr and Sebastian are helping us. And because of it, nobody is talking."

"The rogue we encountered in the alley hasn't shown his face since then. We've been combing the city looking for him. And have come up with nothing. It's almost as if he's vanished without a trace. But, I don't believe that is the case. And for some reason, I don't think he's in hiding with the rest of him," Sam said.

Marcus ran through their various theories about the rogues. They had a whole bunch of nothing but pure conjecture and leads that led nowhere. The rogues, no matter how quietly they hid for the moment, could not be allowed to gain a foothold in the city. Their numbers had to be kept to a minimum. Possibly eliminated, if they posed a big enough threat. Another Rogue Master could not be allowed to rise from the ashes to control the city. And unfortunately, the vampire he and Sam had encountered in the alley was the most likely candidate for the job. "There are simply too many unanswered questions."

Marcus dragged his hands through his hair and tugged on the strands in frustration. Not that he wanted to add any more to the growing 'to do' list. But, he had to tell the crew about their latest task. "Guys, we have another complication. Angel is in the city."

"Lance is here?" Sam asked.

"No, just Angel. Lance wants us to stay under her radar. But, keep an eye on her just the same," Marcus replied. He understood that Angel had unresolved issues and that perhaps returning to the city was the only way she could put them to rest. But, if he had his way he'd find her and snatch her up and return her to the safety of the compound. Angel was inexperienced. If left to her own devices, she would get herself into trouble. And he really didn't want to think about how much trouble she could get into in a city full of rogues.

Angel was a liability for a number of reasons. She knew first hand about the temptation and allure of human blood and the sweet bliss of giving in and letting the inner beast free to roam and devour. She could easily turn her back on their religion, their way of life, and go rogue again. Or worse, the rogues had no outlet for their rage. And Angel, through her previous association with Roark would make too easy and too good of a target.

Chance cleared his throat and didn't ask any more questions after that. Sounded like relationship trouble to him and he wanted to stay clear of that. The less he knew the better. Alex was not happy that he'd accepted the mission and they had parted on the heels of a brewing argument. She was the brotherhood's prophetess and she sensed trouble ahead. Her visions were vague and shadowy. She'd wanted him to stay behind just because she had a 'feeling' about the mission. Wasn't happening. This was his world, his job. And yeah, maybe he shouldn't have. But, he'd thrown it in her face that she'd known what she was getting into when she said 'I do' and became his wife. Needless to say, he had a lot of apologizing to do when he got home. And his spitfire wife was not exactly the forgiving type. "Shall we head out?"

"Sounds like a plan," Marcus begrudgingly agreed. He didn't like sending his wife or anybody else out into the city. Gut instinct had served him well since the day he was born. His instincts were rarely wrong. Alarm bells clamored in his head. And it was a stupid idea to ignore them. But, he had a job to do. They all had a job to do. Sitting at home on their collective asses wasn't going to get it done. First order of business was to find Angel. He could call Toby and track her through the chip implanted in the heel of her boot. But, he didn't think he'd have any trouble finding her. He knew where she'd be because he'd gone there himself. It was the same place every vampire went when there were more questions than answers. Back, to where it all began.

Chapter 49

Angel stood in the alleyway, shivering in the wake of her memories. Cold gusts of wind ripped through the manmade cavern of brick and mortar, stirring up cyclones of debris and dust. Abandoned wrappers, cardboard, and crumpled newspapers moldered in wet, forgotten heaps. The air was ripe with the scent of decaying trash, rat droppings, and unwashed humanity. The building that housed the seedy club had fallen into a state of disuse and had that empty, almost hopeless feel to it so common to the lesser areas of downtown.

The rusty backdoor stood ajar, the hinges groaning as bursts of wintry gusts howled down the alleyway. Mounds of filthy snow, packed down by the relentless shuffling of feet across the threshold as the homeless sought a night or two of shelter in the dark bowels of the building's interior, formed an icy welcome mat. Angel stuck out her booted foot, as an empty can clattered across the uneven pavement. Steeped in shadows and the echoing, silent, background noise of the city, the alley was devoid of life. Not even the rats traversed this barren stretch of nothing between the two decaying buildings.

She was the only thing alive in the alley. And not even she was technically alive. But, she wasn't exactly, technically or otherwise, dead either. She was a ghost, as all vampires were to a degree, ethereal in a sense, but with substance and body, corporeal in form and function. Angel smashed the empty can beneath the sole of her boot and pushed her hands deeper into her pockets to ward off the chill. Toeing at the mud and freezing puddles of snow and ice, she scanned the pavement for some sign, some trace left behind that she'd died here in this place of shadows, despair, and winter cold.

The pavement beneath her feet, for all the filth and decay left to rot in the alley, had been washed clean. And of her death or her birth, not a trace remained. She'd killed three times in this narrow manmade cavern of concrete and brick that God forgot.

Thinking back, maybe she would have chosen differently. Maybe, death wouldn't have been the worst thing that could have happened to her. Life, or this shadowy version of it she found herself trapped in, was far more difficult than death.

At the time, all she'd wanted was to live. And she'd been so desperate, desperate enough to kill. The rogue deserved to die. And he would have killed her, if she hadn't killed him first. She hadn't been willing to sacrifice her life to the rogue, or to Roark. Taking her own life in this dark alley had been better than waiting for Roark to take it from her. Gasping and dying, bleeding out onto the pavement, she'd still not wanted to die. She'd drunk deeply from the rogue. And died with the sweet taste of vampire blood on her tongue.

Hell wasn't just a place for the dead. As she'd found out when she opened her eyes. Hell had special levels reserved solely for the living. And even worse places for those like her, who could not die. The thirst had been its own special brand of fire and brimstone. And she'd killed to ease the burn. The bum was already dying. He had only a matter of days left. In her, he'd found his angel of death and his own special brand of mercy in the agony of her bite. He had been so ready, so eager to die. Welcomed an end to the suffering of living. He hadn't even put up a fight. He died, by her hand. She'd taken his life. And even though it was at an end. It had not been hers to take.

Angel was not going to find what she was looking for here. The answers, the absolution, and the courage she needed to move forward were not going to be found in the dark shadows, moldering debris, and the filth of any alleyway.

Her skin tingled and nerve endings buzzed with awareness. Turning to glance over her shoulder, she scanned the darkness. Searching out a visual on the presence she sensed. Angel suspected there would be rogues around. How could there not be? There was no better part of town to hunt. The occupants of the inner city's worst places were easy pickings for a vampire. Nobody would miss the dregs of society too much, if at all. She ought to know. She'd been huddled in the dark corners and doing things she'd rather not think about for a hot meal and a safe place to spend the night.

Angel hustled out of the alleyway to Anna's car. Probably not the smartest thing she'd ever done, to leave the keys in the ignition and the engine idling in this part of town after dark. But, it wasn't exactly thieves or a pack of delinquents she was worried about. Encountering a rogue, such as the one permeating the air with his sweet scent and ripples of power, wouldn't go well for her.

She was on a mission and needed to stick to the plan. She was armed. But, she had no intention of using the dagger tucked in her boot unless she had to. There'd been enough killing and death. And the last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself. She did not bear the brotherhood's trademark tattoos on her back. But, her scent was enough to give her allegiances away to the rogues.

She wasn't an idiot and she knew far too well that her past had already put a bull's eye on her forehead. The rogues might not be so happy to see her again. She had turned on Roark. But, her brief period as his second would not be easily forgotten or forgiven. And she might end up dead as a consequence of it, in a permanent sense of the word. She had no intention of being captured. And sure as hell of not being taken alive if she were. The rogues would rip her to pieces. And just for fun, for old time's sake, throw some good old-fashioned torture and a bit of maiming before they did so.