Dawn's Path: Completed Work

Angel still had no idea she was being watched. Lance was careful to shield his thoughts from her. She smelled of the brotherhood. The essence of their power radiated from her every pore. Blood was the source of their magic. It linked them together and bound them to one another. She had taken of their strength. Drank of their gift and of their lives. He sensed the spark of her uniqueness in his mind. Shocked speechless by the realization she'd trusted someone at her wrist, Lance understood exactly what a leap of faith she'd taken. The wedding gift he'd bought Bryce and Kayla, although expensive and very nice, paled in comparison. In an ultimate show of trust, she'd given of herself. Her gift had cost her nothing and at the same time, everything.

Shamed by his crystal candleholders, Lance inwardly groaned at the tightening in his groin as Angel wiggled out of her snug, low-riding jeans and stood on the beach in nothing but her matching bra and panties. What in the hell was she doing? Not that he minded the private show in the least. But, damn, it was barely forty degrees out here. He'd be freezing his balls off by now.

He liked her choice in undergarments. Especially since he'd bought them for her. Worth every damn penny he'd squandered out of his stipend. Black lace and bits of clingy silk had never looked so good. Hardened to ripe peaks by the cold, her nipples and the deep berry shaded areola were plainly visible through the sheer fabric of the bra. The lace panties left little to the imagination. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the slit between the juncture of her thighs. She was bare there. Smooth and sleek. Suddenly very, very warm, he tugged at the collar of his Kevlar gear and swallowed hard. It was all he could do to stay put and not crawl across the rocky beach and beg her to have mercy on him. To put her clothes back on before he did something to embarrass them both.

Clad in nothing more than her barely there underwear. Lance gasped as she climbed onto the dock and dove into the icy water. In watching Angel plunge into the stinging cold lake, Lance began to understand her a little better. Angel battled one pain with another. She didn't like to suffer anymore than anybody else did. No doubt, as frigid as the night air was, the water was twice as cold and it hurt. But, the physical pain she inflicted on her body was better than the constant anguish of her battered mind.

He couldn't stand her pain. There had to be someway to pull her out of it. Show her a life where pain didn't exist and there was nothing but joy and pleasure. But, how? On his feet and out of his hiding place he moved to the shore. Abandoning his jacket on the rocks, he peeled off his gear and stripped down. The water would be freezing. It was going to hurt. A lot. But, it wouldn't kill him. Angel had yet to notice his presence. She swam under the water and only poked her head out long enough to suck in a quick breath of air. Cursing at the cold and his general stupidity, he took a deep breath and jumped in headfirst.

Chapter 5

Carter didn't trust the city's dead calm. Even at this time of night, it was never this quiet or the streets this deserted. He'd been prowling the sidewalks for weeks, keeping watch. Roark was dead. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones. The rogues were subdued by the shock of their master's untimely demise. But, nothing held their hunger in check for very long. Gradually, they grew brave enough to creep out of their hiding places. And out of ultimate stupidity, gorged in excess on his fair city.

Nasty fuckers. Carter kicked the corpse at his feet in disgust. The rogue he'd killed deserved to die. He'd love nothing more than to stick the vile thing's head on a pike in warning. It'd been hard enough to hide the evidence of rogue activity when they'd been under Roark's rule. With him gone, it was damn near impossible to clean up the mess they left in their wake. Humans tended to notice things like bodies left in alleys to rot. And damn it, he'd interrupted this rogue's meal. Great. He hated the thought of killing. Humans anyway. Rogues were a different story entirely. What in the hell was he supposed to do with the witness?

Witnesses were a complication he couldn't afford. He ground his fangs in irritation. If he'd waited a few more minutes he wouldn't have had to deal with the woman scrabbling on all fours to crawl away from him. She would have been dead. Drained of blood by the rogue feasting at her carotid. Shit. Damn his sense of rightness and his timing. Where was his policy of non-involvement now? When it might have actually been of some value to him? She'd talk. Wasn't likely that anybody would believe her. But, he couldn't take the chance that somebody would.

Gently sliding his bloody katana into the sheath at his back, he held up his hands to show he meant no harm. He'd been charming random women into his bed for centuries. In the throes of orgasm, they didn't seem to mind it when he sampled a bit more than their bodies. Somehow, he didn't think his charm would have the desired effect on her.

This terrified waif cowering on the concrete had been brutalized viciously. Her trembling fingers protectively guarded her savaged neck. Blood ran in a steady stream from the wound, down her pale hand and onto the concrete. She would not be easily convinced by the deception of a pretty face. As well she shouldn't. He was no safer than the rogue that had attacked her. They were all predators, each and every one of them. And the woman was prey.

She didn't have much time left. If he did nothing, nature would take its course and she'd die. He knew what it felt like to die horribly. If he took her to the hospital, modern medicine would save her life. She would talk. There would be a police investigation. He couldn't risk what the ineptitude of the city's finest might inadvertently uncover. Even if the police found nothing. There was always some crackpot a little too willing to believe and more than a bit too close to the truth. Carter forced a smile he didn't feel onto his lips and tried to look as non-threatening as he could. "Shh, you're safe," he whispered.

Panting in agony the woman stared at him, her eyes darting from the corpse of the vampire he'd dispatched to hell to his outstretched hand. This one was smart. Even on the verge of death, she understood the truth of what he was. The regret of the reality and her acceptance of it stung to the depths of his soul. He couldn't let her live. And she knew it. But, he could offer her an alternative. "You don't have to die." He crouched and approached her. His hand hovered near her shoulder, his fingers stretching to close the distance between them. "I can't give you back your old life. But, I can give you a new one."

He wondered what she saw as she stared at him in wide-eyed terror. If not for her horrified expression, she would have been beautiful in a way few women were. He knew the pain beauty caused. Rogues weren't necessarily picky about their diet. To them, a pretty face was nothing more than garnish on the plate. Pleasing to the eye and stimulating to the appetite. His outward appearance had condemned him long ago. Chosen for nothing more than the blessing of masculine beauty, Carter hadn't had a choice. Granted, he hadn't given the woman much of one either. But, at least, she had the ultimate say over her fate.

He didn't have it in him to force someone into this life as he had been. And he couldn't trust that she'd keep his secret safe. Too many lives hung in the balance. He remembered the days of pitchforks and angry mobs of villagers. The way his kind had been ruthlessly hunted to the brink of extinction and all but driven out of Europe. Vampires could feel pain. And they could die. Horribly.

Hell was full of ravaged souls. And he'd be damned if he'd give Satan one more to add to his collection. Forcing her into this life would only serve to add one more rogue to the number he'd have to kill later. And it was an unfortunate truth. The newborn usually went after family first. There was no point to hide what he was from her. What she would become, if she chose to accept his offer. He elongated his fangs, curling the tip of his tongue around the lethally sharp points. "Demon," she hissed with all the venom she could muster in her dying state. "Death....I want...to die...never...be...like you."

Carter exhaled. He thought as much. No one would choose to become this thing on purpose. Immortality wasn't worth it. He lived in hell everyday. And when he finally died, it was to the eternal pits he'd go. He'd resolved himself to his eventual destination the moment he'd opened his eyes into the bleak darkness of his world. There was no heaven for any of them. "I'm sorry," he said. He fell on her and finished what the rogue started. Choking on the bile rising in his throat, he drank down her life and delivered her soul into God's hands.

Cradling the woman's dead body in his arms, he glared up into the night sky. Even in death, he could not grant the woman peace. Her final thoughts had been of the family she was leaving behind. They'd think she ran away. That she didn't love them and had abandoned them. They'd never know the truth of what happened to her. In taking her life, he'd condemned her loved ones to a living hell. He'd taken away the last act of kindness he could have given her, and them. Closure. There would be no body to unearth. No evidence to uncover. And she'd never be laid to rest. His eyes glossed over with unshed tears of regret for what he'd done. And for what his maker had forced him to become. "Damn you O'Sullivan! Damn you to hell!"

The construction site two blocks away made the perfect place to stash a corpse. Little did the humans know, the city and its towering skyscrapers were a necropolis of unmarked graves and buried secrets. Cursing his maker and every vampire to walk the earth, including himself, Carter observed a moment of silence for the unknown woman. God forgive him for what he'd done, because he never would.

With a bellyful of self-condemnation, empty and starving for vengeance, Carter wiped the blade of his katana clean and returned it to the sheath strapped to his back. Roark's absence wouldn't go unnoticed for long. And he dreaded the one who might come to take Roark's place. The city needed a protector and the rogues, a master. But, it wasn't him. And he'd die before he let O'Sullivan step one foot inside his city's borders.

Bianca hung back, watching her 'brother' dispose the body. Carter was so predictable it was pathetic. O'Sullivan had a particular interest in the city. Especially, since he'd discovered Carter was one of its inhabitants. She could thank Roark for that favor. The bastard idiot had disclosed Carter's location in an attempt to garner Eric's favor. Eric was not so easily impressed. And neither was she. Roark should be glad he was dead. Otherwise she would have killed him for his stupidity and the events he'd set in motion.

Eric had been biding his time for centuries. Waiting for the day Carter stumbled into his sights. The world and all the people in it were not big enough to keep him from eventually finding Carter. And now that he had, Eric was pulling out all the stops to get him back. The city was just an added bonus to what he really wanted.

Bianca had what she came for, information and that was it. Eric didn't want his presence in the city known just yet. He hadn't even begun to make his first move. Carter would know it when Eric did. And then, it'd be best for everyone to get out of their way and let them play the game out to the bitter end.

Glancing up at her companion, she frowned at the haunted expression on his face.

In his fist, he clutched a battered flier he'd snatched from a bulletin board. Buried beneath random postings, out of the hundreds pinned to the board he'd honed in on it almost immediately. He stared at the page, as if the faded, neatly typed words would somehow change. There was no mistaking the picture of the boy on the flier. He very much resembled the teenager so eager to become a man he had been. He looked exactly the same, except for the lack of innocence in his deceptively youthful face.

Bianca supposed it wasn't easy to accept that the people who were supposed to love you had given up ever trying to find you almost five years ago and had written you off completely. He didn't look up from the flier to acknowledge her. Ok, so the world thought he was dead. They were all dead. Animated corpses. Even the living were as good as dead, eventually. "David, come," she said. Annoyed by the way he ignored her and refused to follow the simplest of commands, she tore the page from his trembling fingers and crumpled it into a ball. Tossing it to land in the filth along the curb.

Eric could not believe his good fortune. Imagine returning here and finding the path already cleared. The Sons had done their jobs well and finally eliminated Roark for once and for all. And he could not have been happier when the news of Roark's unfortunate demise reached him. How could he have possibly stayed away once he'd learned the truth of Carter's location? It would be even easier for him than what he'd planned. Roark in his eagerness to impress had handed him the world on a silver platter.

It was time to bring his prodigal son into the fold once again. Carter had been very tricky. Carefully covering his tracks for centuries. Blending in with the crowd. Creatively hiding in the masses. Eventually, Eric knew Carter would slip up. There was too much good left in him to believe otherwise. The rogues had driven him out of hiding by doing nothing other than what their natures dictated they do. And of course, his Carter would never let such deeds go unanswered.

Every great leader needed an even greater command post. And where better to set up a base of operations than one the rogues were already familiar with. Roark's penthouse had needed a bit of spit and polish. Actually, Eric had practically gutted the place to make it livable. Underneath the smell of newness and fresh paint, he could still detect the faint stink of the corpses left behind to rot. He was surprised that Carter hadn't popped by to pay him a visit. But, then again, Carter never did anything that might distinguish him from the herd. Even in picking off the random rogues that got out of hand, he was discreet.

Carter was no leader. And the brotherhood, while in Eric's backyard, was predictable. As long as someone kept the rogues in check, they would not interfere. The city had a lot to offer. But, in it there was only one thing he wanted. And he would have him soon enough.

Chapter 6

Angel paused at the placid edge of the lake. The surface was glossy and calm, with barely a ripple lapping at the rocky shore. Staring into the alien obsidian darkness, she unzipped her jacket and dropped it into an abandoned heap on the rocks. The night air was cold against her cheeks. This was exactly what she needed. What she had been craving. Pain was the ultimate diversion. Only physical abuse would stop the endlessly agonizing torment of the thoughts pounding against the inside of her skull. Wave after wave her emotions assaulted her.

Happiness. Sadness. Fear. Distrust. Memories she'd rather not recall. The makings of tears she'd never dared to cry. Self-pity. Anger. Rage. Hatred. Joy. Confusion. Bitter longing. Emptiness. Over and over again, each of the wayward emotions ripped her heart to shreds. She disgusted herself. The very thing she'd hated Roark for was the only form of solace she desired. He had managed to do what he'd set out to do. And she was broken beyond repair. Stripping off her boots and socks, she teased her body with the promise of pain. The rocks dug into the soles of her bare feet. Her toes stung from the cold and she sighed her first breath of relief.

Cold was a matter of opinion in the vampire world. It would take more than a mild case of hypothermia to cause the kind of escape she needed. Cursing her more durable body, Angel tugged the black turtleneck over her head and dropped it on the ground. The hairs on her exposed arms stood at attention. Her skin goose pimpled and her teeth chattered. But, it still wasn't enough to divert her unwelcome emotions. She needed more pain.

The cabin sat dark and empty behind her. The wooden shutters had been closed and secured in place to protect the windows from the winter storms and ice. Spring was sluggish to arrive. The snow had melted from the warmth of the day, to refreeze and coat the rock with a slick covering of ice once night plunged the world into darkness. The sight of the forlorn cabin and the isolation of this forgotten summer land angered her even more. Anger at the fool she'd made of herself that night slammed home and took root in her mind. Smelling blood and sex, she'd broken down the door to rescue Kayla. Only to realize that Kayla wasn't the one in need of saving and she was.

The black lake water gently lapped at the shore. Angel shimmied out of her jeans and kicked them to the side. Standing in her underwear she stared out over the dark water. More pain. Her limbs trembled from the cold. Out of reflex she wrapped her arms around her body to conserve what little heat she could. Forcing her arms to her side, she balled her hands into fists and squared her jaw in determination. Practically naked and shivering uncontrollably, she still didn't have the escape she needed. Battered by her thoughts and in desperation for a few moments worth of peace from them, she climbed onto the wooden deck. Her feet slid on the smooth surface. But, she managed to remain upright as she walked to the edge and stared down into the water.

Angel was terrified of the dark. Frightened of desolate places. And this remote setting fed her fears. Her mind played cruel tricks on her. Imaging sounds, the rustle of the bushes, the thump of a heartbeat, and the soft whisper of breathing. Her skin prickled from the sensation of someone watching her. The campground across the lake was closed for the season. The gravel road riddled with deep potholes and caked with ice, was virtually impassable. Dane had cut the patrol route short to spare manpower. The outer boundary of the territory was heavily guarded. But, the lake was only routinely patrolled in the summertime. She was alone out here wrapped in winter's relentless fist. There wasn't anyone watching her. There wasn't anyone to stop her. And nobody to prevent her from the ecstasy of the pain she was about to indulge in. Nobody would ever know how fucked up she was.

Gathering her nerve, she stared out over the lake. Thin patches of ice dotted the surface, floating lazily on the gentle current. Moonlight rippled across the water. It looked so peaceful, so soothing. All she had to do was jump. The water was freezing. It would hurt. And it was exactly what she needed. Licking her lips in anticipation for the escape, she ran and leapt off the edge of the dock.

The black water swallowed her up and stole her breath. Forcing her arms and legs to move, she forced her body deeper under the water. Pain unlike nothing Roark had unleashed tore at her. Stilling her thoughts till they focused on the heaviness of her frozen limbs, her sluggishly pounding heart, and her burning lungs. This was the peace she craved. The escape she'd hoped for. She broke the water's surface long enough to draw a lungful of air and then pushed her head back under, plummeting down to the rocky bottom of the lake. And she'd never been happier.

The sudden violent churning of the water and the sound of an agonized inhuman howl shattered the fragile peace of the darkness. She paddled wildly for the surface, clawing at the water with leaden limbs scarcely under her control. Bursting through a thin sheet of ice, she broke free. Blinking she looked around for the source of the unearthly howl. And blinked twice in disbelief at what she saw.