Dawn's Promise

He exhaled, relieved and surveying his handiwork. The wound was already beginning to knit closed. No real harm done. He'd missed most of the tendons and managed not to sever any major arteries in the process. His energy spent from his body's efforts to repair the missing, jagged slice of flesh. Hunger ripped through him, tearing at his insides. He needed sustenance. Fast.

Partially hobbled and tearing up like a girl, he didn't bother cleaning up the mess. Tossing the bloodied knife into the kitchen sink. He snatched up the tracking device from the floor and wiped the blood on his pants. Marcus peeled off the borrowed sweats, rolling them into a ball. He planned to use the scent of his blood to create another false trail to confuse the trackers. Hurriedly, but meticulously, he showered, washing the trickle of blood oozing from his healing wound down the drain. Swiping another change of clothes from Chance's closet, he dressed and dropped the tracking device and the bloodied sweats into a plastic grocery bag.

He frowned at the blinking light on the answering machine. The number two flashed on the display. He pushed the button and played them one last time, just to hear her voice before he turned his back on her for good. No, he could never disappear and leave her like that. Once he got where he was going, he'd buy a phone, one of those pre-paid disposable numbers, impossible to trace, and call her. She'd panic at the blood and the knife left in her kitchen. She'd assume the worst. And he couldn't do that to her.

Lance sniffed the air, catching the scent of vampire blood, sweet with earthy undertones. The blood scent was similar to his, not rogue. Rogues fed solely on humans, giving their blood an unmistakable sickeningly sweet smell. One he detested. He heard the front door open as Marcus rushed out with a small gym bag tucked under his arm. Lance followed closely behind the man, sticking to the scanty shadows, hiding against the revealing light of the early afternoon sun.















Chapter 30

Chance was quick with a blade. The years he'd spent in training were obvious. Will leapt away from the swinging arc of a blade. Keeping well out of reach of the mock daggers they used for practice. "Not bad," he praised. He spun, sending out a swift kick, knocking the boy flat on his ass and disarming him with preternatural speed. "But, not good enough."

Chance scrambled to his feet. Snatching up the weapon he'd dropped when Will dropped him in a heap on the mat. Will was quite a formidable opponent, unnaturally fast. But, Chance had one thing on his side. Will couldn't predict what he'd do next. Chance flung the knife, aiming at the warrior's chest. Even if the 'play dagger' somehow found it found its mark in the center of his father's black heart, it wouldn't hurt him.

Will dodged out of the path of the weapon Chance hurled at him, landing with cat like grace on the mat behind his son. He wrapped his arms around Chance's waist lifting his feet off the mat and slamming him onto the mat, pinning him face down. Will could feel the boy's body tiring, weakening as he struggled beneath him. "Call a truce," Will demanded out of concern for the racing heartbeat and thick layer of sweat coating Chance's skin. The kid was done. Exhausted. Fatigued.

"Forget it!" Chance hissed, struggling to free himself from Will's bulk. He bucked and shimmied wildly. But couldn't wiggle out from under the iron force pining him face down to the mat. Chance knew he was beaten. He wasn't ready to give up, not yet. He hadn't inflicted even the least about of pain in retribution.

Chuckling at Chance's tenacity, Will released him. "Want to go another round eh?" He stepped back, keeping his eyes locked on the boy. Chance pursed his lips in determination, a habit Will had observed in Candace. His feet were shoulder width apart, fists clutched tightly to his side, his knees loose and muscles quivering with fatigue. Unfortunately, the kid was a chip off the old block and had his stubborn streak. "Well, let's at least take five. You need a break."

Chance took a deep breath and steeled his reserves. He was going to hurt this man. Badly. "I don't need a break. Let's rock." He motioned with his hand, egging Will on.

Will shook his head and deliberately turned his back to Chance. "You got some sort of a vendetta against me or something?" He bent and grabbed a water bottle from Chance's bag, turning to toss the bottle to his son.

"Something like that," Chance answered. He sidestepped the water bottle. Determined not to take a thing from this man and took a defensive stance, waiting for Will to get a clue that he meant business and return to the mat.

"What'd I do?" Will circled gracefully around the outer border of the mat, bidding his time. Waiting for his son to strike. He was finally getting somewhere with Chance. Even if the words were angry and laced with disdain, at least they were talking.

"Why'd you have to come back into our lives? We were fine without you," Chance countered. He narrowed his eyes and followed Will's movements, turning in small steps to track his circling movements.

"Is this about last night?" Will asked incredulously. His son was pissed because he'd caught the two of them together? Somehow, Will doubted that was the only reason for Chance's obvious hatred of him. Seeing his mother kissing him might have been the spark that lit the tender. But, there was more than witnessing a few kisses and a passionate embrace feeding the fire.

"How'd you guess, Romeo?" Chance struck out at Will, unable to control his rage. He fired a rapid series of punches at his father's jaw, each of them failing to find purchase as Will danced lithely out of their path.

"Get this straight. You're not a kid anymore. You're an adult and so is your mother. I'm going to be around for a very long time and you'd better learn to deal with it." Will blocked Chance's punches with his forearm and advanced, backing him to the center of the mat.

"What if she's wrong and you're not my father?" Chance was out of breath. Panting in exhaustion and sucking deep mouthfuls of air, blinking against the stinging sweat that dripped off his brow and into his eyes. He threw out a weak punch, cursing in frustration as Will spun, ducking out of the way.

Will's patience dangled on a thin tether. He secured Chance around the chest, trapping his arms to his sides and dragged him to the mirror. Grabbing a fist full of sweat soaked hair. He pulled Chance's head up. Forcing his son to stare at their combined reflections and see the truth. "Look!" Will shouted, shaking Chance's head by the roots of his hair. "Why are you fighting against me?"

Chance stared at their reflections. Standing side by side, there was no denying the truth. His father stood three inches taller, broader in the chest and shoulders than he. Eyes roughly the same shape, capped with similar dark, thick, heavy brows, met through the glass's reflection. With sweat dampening his hair, the strands were the same deep brown-black shade. Staring at his father's image reflected on the smooth, silvery surface was like looking at his own reflection.

Will was right. Chance was merely grasping at straws. He knew in his heart Will was his father. Slowly, Chance felt his rage drain away. His strained muscles relaxed and Will released his fist, giving him his head. Chance stood in his father's arms. Facing the mirror and the truth. He wasn't fighting Will. He was fighting the awful reality he didn't want to confront. There was no going back.

Chance didn't hate his father. In fact, he was coming to like him and respect him. It was just that things were happening so fast. Changing so rapidly. He wasn't a kid anymore. His mother wasn't human and neither was his father. And Chance felt his humanity gradually slipping away. Spiraling him toward a destiny he wasn't certain he wanted. Chance wished things could be simple, like they were before. But, those days of ease were over. "I'm sorry," Chance said, closing his eyes against the reflection.

Will held on to Chance. His arms wrapped tightly around his son. He no longer restrained the boy. Holding him, not in a casual man hug, but in a genuine embrace, too long denied by time and circumstance. Will fisted Chance's hair and drew him to his chest, relishing the sound of his heart beating and the subtle intake and exhale of his breath. Today, the foundation had been laid. They were one step closer to forging a true father and son bond.

"Hey." Will stepped back to give Chance a little breathing room. "Why don't you hit the showers and afterwards I'll buy you a beer."

Chance exhaled and grinned at his dad. "I'm not twenty-one yet," he scolded.

Will snorted at Chance in humor. If the kid was old enough to put his life on the line by facing the trials, in his book that made him old enough to drink a beer. "We won't tell your mother," he said, nudging Chance toward the showers.

"Nah, I don't want to get you in trouble. Why don't you go find mom while I'm cleaning up and we'll make it a threesome. I'd kill for an orange juice."

Will cocked his head and wondered what in the hell he'd done to deserve such a good kid. At that age, if someone would have offered him the choice of an orange juice or a beer, he would have chosen the beer hands down. At Chance's age, he was a father. "Do you always do what your mother tells you to?" Will asked, teasing Chance.

Chance turned and grinned. His dad had an expression on his face like he'd won the lottery or found the goose with the golden egg. "Sure Dad, always," Chance snorted. What his parents didn't know wouldn't kill them. Not wanting to divulge all his secrets, he flipped the towel over his shoulder and watched his father walk out of the gym.

Chance guessed Will was going to be a good dad. He hoped so. Not that they were going to join the Cub Scouts in an attempt to make up for lost time. But, it would be nice to at least come to a comfortable peace with the man. Especially, since his mother was hopelessly head over heels in love with him. Chance shuddered, not wanting to think about what his parents did behind closed doors. Definitely important to block out that mental image since his dad didn't look any older than he did and his mom, although gorgeous for her age, was pushing the big four-o. Cougar anyone? Smiling and shaking his head, he grabbed his bag and headed into the locker room.

Will bumped into Candace in the main corridor. She must have been on her way to the gym to find Chance. "Hi," he said, winding his arms around her. "I was just coming to get you." He paused and stared down at her face, noticing her frown and furrows of worry wrinkling her brow. "Hey, what is it? What's the matter?" he asked. She was on the verge of tears, her chest hefting with the effort of holding back her sobs.

"Will, I have to go after Marcus. He's in trouble. I can feel it." Candace rested her cheek on Will's chest and lifted her chin to stare pleadingly into his eyes. She couldn't explain how she knew something was wrong. Maybe, it was just a woman's intuition that lodged the feeling of dread in her heart. And it didn't matter. Until she knew Marcus was safe, she wasn't going to let this rest.

"Shh, it's ok," Will said gently. "If that's what you feel you need to do, I'll take you." Perhaps, he'd underestimated the bond between Candace and Marcus. He did his best to see past his protective instincts and the twinge of jealousy eating at his gut. Candace and Marcus spent months together in a hell he could only vaguely imagine, watching one another's backs and keeping each other alive.

Trying to talk her out of going to the city would only serve to drive a wedge between them, especially, if she was right and Marcus was in danger. She'd never forgive herself or him if anything happened to Marcus and they'd done nothing to prevent it. Will was a warrior and part of his duty was saving peoples' asses. And that included Marcus's.









Chapter 31

Anna strolled along the downtown sidewalks, enjoying the lazy afternoon lull between the lunch crowd and rush hour. She'd decided to take the rest of the afternoon off for a little 'me' time. Work was slow and it was Friday. She figured she was entitled to such a luxury. The storefronts were loaded with goodies displayed for Valentine's Day and although she loathed the holiday and saw it as a useless waste of time. This year was different. The big event was in a few weeks. And she looked forward to it in almost giddy anticipation.

She swung her bag in her hand as she walked. She'd splurged and bought a lace and satin teddy from one of the ritzier downtown shops in hopes of getting to model it for Toby on his next visit. All she needed was a new pair of spiked heels and silk stockings to make the seductive number complete. The shoe store sat at the end of the block, away from the malingering crowds mulling about the coffee shops and busy crosswalks. She had her mind set on a pair of black patent leather stilettos she'd seen in the window a few weeks ago. Definitely, fuck me shoes. Not that Toby needed any such encouragement to do exactly that.

So preoccupied with the shoes and the triple digit price tag attached, she didn't notice the man hulking in the dark, narrow causeway between the buildings until an arm reached out to grab her and his fingers locked around her wrist, dragging her into the deserted space. Grubby fingers settled over her mouth, cutting off her screams. Her heels scraped against the snow packed asphalt, dislodging pebbles, mud, and debris as she scrabbled to regain her footing.

Roughly, her attacker forced her back against the uneven brick wall at the end of the alley and pinned her beneath his weight. Anna thought the man was a mugger after her purse and cursed herself at not being more aware of her surroundings. But, her eyes widened as she recognized the characteristic pale skin and blazing eyes of a vampire. Wonderful. The twenty dollars and some odd change in her wallet was not what he wanted from her. Trying to quell her panic at being lunch for the undead, she closed her eyes and did what Toby taught her to do. Think of him.

"You're in with them aren't you? I can smell them all over you," the man said, running his mouth along the curve of her neck. Anna's mind went blank, paralyzed by fear and the desperation in the man's voice. "I need your help. I've been injured and I need to feed. I know you can help me. You're a donor. Don't try to lie to me."

Anna blinked in disbelief. He wanted her help? The man's appearance was disheveled. His expression bleak, twisted with pain and hunger. His eyes bounced from her to the narrow opening at the mouth of the alley. His fingers flexed around the sleeve of her coat, hesitating in uncertainty. She didn't know, out of the two of them, which one was more afraid, him or her. "I...," she stammered.

"Let her go," Lance growled in warning. No offence had been committed yet. And he was going to ensure that one wasn't. Marcus was a slick son of a bitch, losing him in the maze of downtown streets and dead end alleys. Using the stink of exhaust and the overwhelming flood of humanity to cover his tracks, Marcus led him on a wild goose chase. If not for the receiver in his pocket, and the tracker stuffed in the rumpled plastic bag stuffed in Marcus's jacket, Lance would have lost him completely.

"Shit," Bryce panted, rounding the corner at the mouth of the alley. He'd been following Anna at a casual distance for hours. Somehow, she'd given him the slip in between her many trips to the ladies fitting room. Not that he would have minded accompanying her and watching her try on the bits of lace. But, he didn't think Toby or her, for that matter, would have approved. The sight of her manhandled by the vampire rankled him. The pretty scraps of lace and satin she'd so painstakingly selected ruined when the bag fell from her fingers and landed in a deep, icy, brown mud puddle.

Anna felt sorry for the man. If he'd wanted her dead, she would have been. She understood how dangerous The Sons could be if provoked and didn't want to make trouble for him. Judging by the hardened jaw lines of her private guard force, he was in enough trouble as it was. "It was a mistake...really," she said, nonchalantly shrugging out of his grasp. "He thought I was... ah...," she floundered for an explanation. "He didn't realize I wasn't... available." She smiled up at the trackers innocently and batted her long lashes like a helpless female. "There was no harm done, was there...um," she paused, shooting the man a pleading look.

"Marcus," he stammered, filling in the blank. He stared at the woman, humbled by her courage. Absolutely dumbfounded that she wasn't calling for his head on a platter. He winced against the spasms of hunger and bent to pluck her soggy bag out of the mud puddle to distract himself. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, handing her the dripping bag. He needed nourishment. Now. A warning growl escaped his throat as a tracker eased wrapped his hand around her elbow and eased her away from him.

"It's all right my friend," Lance said. Slowly, he advanced and guided Anna out of Marcus's reach. "We'll hook you up." He handed Anna off to Bryce and carefully corralled Marcus to the fire escape at the end of the alley. "There's no need for a fight."

Marcus couldn't believe he'd gone through the pain of cutting himself free from the tracking device for nothing. He hadn't realized the trackers weren't fooled by his attempts to give them the slip. He needed nourishment too badly to argue with the man. "No, no need for a fight." He held his palms high in surrender and hedged to the back of the alley. "Ma'am, I apologize," he whispered, nodding to the woman. She'd saved his hide, literally.

"Anna," she said to Marcus. Inwardly she cringed at what the trackers might do to him, or worse, what Toby would do to him when he found out. She allowed the gentle tug on her arm to lead her back onto the sidewalk. "Thanks," she muttered breathlessly to the tracker affixed to her side. The ruined bag clutched in her fingers dripped a trail of muddy water onto the sidewalk. Frowning, she looked down at the bag and up at the tracker. Maybe, she could still salvage her purchase, distract Toby with the silky bits, and buy Marcus some time. "Can we not tell Toby about this?" she asked, biting her bottom lip in doubt.

Bryce smiled down at her apologetically. Toby was going to go ape shit when he found out. Marcus would get the brunt of his wrath. But, there'd be plenty left over for him. And he didn't exactly relish the thought of getting his ass kicked by a tech geek. "Sorry. Rules are rules."

He navigated her through the throng of people obliviously going about their busy day and stood at the curb to hail a taxi. Today, thanks to the newly fallen snow blanketing the roads, she'd taken the train into work. And she'd been trough enough without having to deal with the metro. "My treat," he said, guiding Anna inside the yellow taxi that pulled to the curb and climbed in behind her.

Strains of Elvis's Hunk A Hunk A Burnin' Love, Toby's special ring tone, sounded from the depths of her purse. "Great," she muttered, answering the call. During the foray in the alley, she'd missed three calls, all from him, and two from Chris. "Hi, Baby." She patiently listened, waiting to get a word in edgewise as he launched into an endless tirade, prattling on and on about her safety. "Toby I'm fine. Just had a little scare that's all. Nothing to worry about."

Her attempts to reassure him failed miserably. He wasn't buying her story. He demanded, unreasonably, that she pack a bag and come spend the weekend with him. "No, I'm not going to do that. Really, I'm fine. The whole thing was a misunderstanding." In annoyance, she held the phone away from her ear and spit her tongue out at Toby. Resting her head on the seat in front of her, Anna handed the phone to the tracker in the seat next to her. Ignoring the amused expression on his face, she shot him a pleading look.