Dawn's Promise

Chance leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. "How?"

Alex smiled coyly. "I'm not going to spell it out for you." She plucked the book she'd been looking for off the pile and skimmed through the pages. Marking the story with a scrap of paper, she handed the book to Chance.

Chance groaned and threw his body back into the soft padding of the chair. "I've been here for hours and I've found nothing." He scrubbed his hands across the rough stubble on his chin. And took the book from her hand. "Alex, please. Spell it out for me."

Alex beamed and her grin widened. "You're asking for my help?" She stood turning her back to him, hiding her smile of triumph. "Tomorrow, the brothers will be in ceremonial dress. Pay close attention to their tattoos. Their similarities."

She walked out the door, turning to peer back at him as he stared down at the book she'd placed in his hands. "Did you ever stop to think that, maybe, asking for help is part of the trial?"

Alex couldn't believe she'd helped him. Wouldn't it be better for him to fail the trials and remain human than to have him follow in Lucien's footsteps? He might live longer if he failed. Even though he thought he was weak and small when he compared himself to the vampires. She didn't see any fault with him the way he was. "Chance, good luck tomorrow," she said, gently closing the door.

Confused and disappointed, Chance slammed the thick book shut, baffled by the blurred words on the pages and Alex's vague attempt to help him. He clicked off the lamp and made his way back to his room. The best thing he could do would be to try and get some sleep. If he faced the men as tired as he was now, whether he had a clue as to what Alex was trying so desperately not to tell him and tell him at the same time, he would get his ass kicked.

Chapter 44

Candace paced around the room, stopping to huff at Will, cross her arms over her chest, stare him down with a hard glare, and then pace some more. "You intend to go through with this? You're willing to put your son...our son's life in danger... for this," she said. No matter how many times or how many different ways she posed the question. The answer was still the same.

Will patiently watched Candace pace back and forth across the room and shoot him full of daggers with the condemning glares. "Yes. This is how it is done." He finished dressing and turned away from her in an attempt to collect his thoughts. His mind needed to be clear on the subject of their son. Chance would face the brothers. And if he failed...he failed. But, if he succeeded a life beyond anything he'd ever dreamed awaited.

"But, he's your son. You can't hurt him. You can't let them hurt him," Candace hissed pleading with Will. How could he strike out at his own son? Betray his own blood? "I thought you loved him."

Will sighed heavily, "I do. That's why I have to do this." Candace didn't understand. There was no way she could. If he deliberately held back, Chance could ultimately suffer a far worse fate. A fate that might get him killed. The Sons was no place for the weak or half-committed. Chance had to prove himself. Will couldn't do it for him.

Candace sighed as Will caught her in his arms and pulled her close, setting her firmly on his lap. "What if he gets hurt?" she asked hesitantly.

"Then he gets hurt." Will rocked Candace in his arms, relishing the feel of her soft body wrapped up against him. "Chance won't be in any real danger. He won't be pushed beyond what he can handle," Will said gently.

"Well, that's reassuring," Candace mumbled, not entirely convinced. Sighing in defeat, she climbed off Will's lap and ran her hands through her chin length brown hair. "I don't think I can watch." The brothers had no idea what Chance could handle. Each time she'd seen him fight, he'd terrified her, taking far more punishment just to win some stupid trophy than anyone should have to. He won, sure. He was fast and nimble. But, he was only human. And this time, the prize wasn't a trophy. It was his life.

"He needs you to be there for him. You don't have to watch. I wouldn't put that at your feet. But, he needs to know you're in his corner."

"I'll try," Candace replied in a small voice. She crawled up into the bed, resting her head on the cool satin pillows, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to push the images of what tomorrow might bring far from her mind.

******

John Mark spent the night in prayer and contemplation. He inhaled the pungent mix of white sage and lavender, cupping the smoke from the smudge pot and wafting it over his head. He was the boy's mentor and more than that, his friend. It was his job to ensure Chance's safety, even if it meant letting him fail.

Dane sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged across from John Mark. He cupped a handful of smoke in his palm, watching the white tendrils drift through his fingers. "You're worried about the boy."

"Yes."

"You and I both endured the same trial," Dane reminded him softly.

John Mark snickered bitterly, "How could I forget." He shook his head at the memory. "I got my ass handed to me."

Dane scoffed, " I did too, but we made it." He sat silently with his eyes closed, giving John Mark time to compose his thoughts.

"I made a mistake when I took the kid on. I was supposed to be his mentor, not his friend. What if I hold back?"

Dane opened his eyes and shook his head. "You won't." He knew John Mark's commitment to his brothers. He wouldn't make it easy on Chance, not in the least. If anything, his friendship with Chance would make him push the kid harder. He started chanting, sending his voice up to Kokumthena in prayer. A few moments later, John Mark added his bass voice.

******

Chance got to the gym early, before anyone else arrived. The place was dark and quiet. He flipped on the overhead lights. The buzz of fluorescent tubes coming to life filled the silence. Since no one was around, he slid the muscle shirt over his head and began his warm up exercises. He concentrated on the routine of stretches and yoga poses, exhaling and inhaling deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth. Struggling to find calm, he pushed thoughts of the upcoming trial out of his mind.

He always got this way before a big meet. Nervous and jittery. Usually, the exercises helped him focus. Today, his palms were damp with sweat. His body stiff and muscles tremulous, refusing to cooperate. This was just another day, just another meet. Nothing he hadn't done dozens of times before. At least that's what he tried to convince himself. This time was different. This wasn't just another meet. This was his destiny. His life. Everything in his life led him to this moment. He saw that now. Clearly, as though he were viewing the past through a glass pane. What waited for him, he didn't know. Only that win or lose, he could never go back.

John Mark stood in the corner of the gym, silently watching Chance work his way though the routine. Chance was light on his feet, agile, and fast. John Mark rubbed his jaw in contemplation. The kid's left hook would be something to look out for. The predictability of Chance's fighting style was a weakness John Mark had been working with him to overcome. Chance had improved, learned some new moves. But, when pushed, he reverted back to a more traditional style. "Morning, Sunshine," he said, tossing the square of folded brown leather to Chance. "The Shaman is waiting on you."

Chance caught the smooth lightly tanned leather with his fist. "What's this?" he asked, unfolding the unfamiliar garment and shaking it out. He laughed at the scanty bit of leather draped across John Mark's hips, barely covering his groin. Seriously? They wanted him to fight in this? "You're always trying to get me naked," he teased. Walking out of the gym with the loincloth in his fingers, he shook his head. The loincloth was definitely something he hadn't anticipated. But then again, nothing around here ever was.

Chance found the Shaman in his room, lounging in his orange chair, reading a dog-eared paperback. After careful instruction on how to don the loincloth, the Shaman left him alone to change. Chance's fingers shook nervously as he shimmied out of his warm-ups and slid the smooth cool leather into place. He groaned, looking down at the miniscule bit of animal hide that hung low on his hips and covered way, way too little. "Might as well go naked," he grumbled under his breath.

He fought the urge to cover himself as the Shaman entered the room and began to tug on the leather straps holding the loincloth in place. If the thing slipped, the Shaman was going to get one hell of a show. Chance exhaled in relief as the Shaman finally nodded in satisfaction. At the Shaman's urging, Chance knelt on the braided rug beneath his feet and bowed his head. White plumes of pungent smoke wafted over his head and down his torso. Listening to the Shaman's voice, Chance breathed in and out, in anticipation to have this whole thing behind him.

The Shaman motioned for Chance to stand. He reached for one of the clay bowls lining the surface of the counter behind him. He took the first of the five terra cotta bowls and ran his fingers through the thick yellow paste. Drawing designs across Chance's face, feet, and hands, he beckoned the power of wind to give Chance speed and lightness. The second bowl contained a similar herbal mix. But, was a rich, brick like red color. Calling on the power of fire for strength he drew arcing designs across Chance's biceps and thighs. The third bowl held a thick gooey green-pigmented mix. Gathering the mixture in his palms, he ran his hands in long sweeping movements along Chance's rigid abdomen calling on the earth for stability.

Chance closed his eyes as the Shaman summoned water and smeared the forth bowl's bluish paste over his back. The final bowl was filled with a plum colored mix. The Shaman traced a circle on Chance's forehead and another over his heart, calling on spirit with his deep chanting voice.

The Shaman took a white feather, wafting it over the boy's head, down in a circular pattern along his chest, abdomen, thighs, knees and finally to his feet. The purification ritual complete, he stood back to survey his work. He nodded, pleased. The boy was as ready as he was going to get. "You're ready. Go to your mother until its time," he said, shooing Chance out of the room.

Chance left the Shaman's quarters, eager to spend a few minutes quietly talking with his mother while he waited to be escorted to the gym. "What do you think?" he asked, spreading his arms wide to show the Shaman's handiwork.

"Wow," she stammered. Decked out in the hash marks and swirls of vibrant color, his face hardened in determination, he looked like a warrior ready for battle. She saw the faintest glimmer of fear in his eyes, although he tried desperately to hide it from her. After twenty years of being a mother, she knew her son far too well. Candace bit her lip, suppressing the urge to snatch him up and lock him in his room for the rest of his life. This was his decision, not hers. She'd rather he finish the last few semesters of college, settle down, and give her lots of brown haired, hazel eyed grandchildren. But, it seemed that he had different plans for his future. "Are you nervous?"

Chance shrugged. He didn't want to scare his mother or give life to the doubts that drifted through his mind. But, he couldn't lie to her either. "A little," he admitted. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "Actually, I feel a bit underdressed."

Candace snorted and eyed her son. God, he looked so much like his father had at that age. "You are." Careful not to smear the stripes of yellow, she gave his cheeks a light pinch. "But, you're just so damn cute," she teased.

Chance snorted. Not caring a damn bit about messing up the Shaman's hard work, he pulled her into a tight hug. "Love you," he whispered. Closing his eyes, he stood, letting her presence and her 'mom' scent wash over him like a soothing balm and tried desperately to savor the last few minutes they had together before destiny ran his ass over like a Mack truck.

"Love you too, baby," Candace whispered. She held him close. His bare skin was so smeared with paint, she hardly knew where to put her hands and settled them in a comfortable place around his waist. His chest expanded and contracted with breath. His heart beat against her cheek. Her most cherished memories of him danced behind her closed eyes. So many moments, both big and small, accumulated in a lifetime that passed far too quickly. So many firsts. His first fluttery movements inside of her. His first breaths. His first cry. His first words. His first steps. His first tooth. His first crush. Candace held back the tears for his sake and held him tightly in her arms.

Robbie adjusted the thick straps along her shoulders and frowned at the itchiness against her skin. She should have known better than to allow Janine to design her outfit. Embarrassingly snug and miserably uncomfortable, the form-fitting, black leather, one-piece cat suit clung to her like a second skin. At least, Janine hadn't been completely impractical, sadistic definitely, but not without vision. There were plenty of sheaths incorporated in the suit to house a wide array of blades and other various goodies.

Robbie approached the pair, purposely making more noise than she needed to by scuffling her booted feet across the floor. She hated to interrupt the tender moment between mother and son. But, it was time. As part of the rite, she was forbidden from speaking to Chance. She motioned with a wave of her arm, looking away as he gave his mom one last, harried and desperate hug.

Chance took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, falling in place beside Robbie. His palms sweated and dressed as he was he had nowhere to wipe them dry. This was it. The moment he'd been training for all his life, even if he hadn't known it at the time. Tempted as he was, he didn't dare risk a glance over his shoulder at his mom. He was not a little kid and he'd face this like a man.

Chin thrust out in defiance, he entered the gym. The lingering pungent smell of sweat on the air helped to clear his head. Forgetting his doubt, he walked through the living corridor of humans and vampires to the mat. Over thirty sets of eyes trailed him as he walked through the center and took his place.

Dane, Patrick, John Mark, and Will stood in a semi-circle in the center of the mat, watching Chance, led by Robbie, approach. They were all dressed similarly, except for the medallion draped across Dane's bare chest. "Which one of my Brothers will vouch for this man?" Dane asked, stepping into the circle to face Chance.

"I do," John Mark replied, his voice steeped in pride.

"You find this male brave enough to undergo the final challenge?" Dane asked.

"I do."

Dane lifted his arms in a wide swooping motion. "May the Goddess and the Great Father find him worthy of the blood. Let the trial begin." He dropped his arms and removed the medallion from his neck, handing it to the Shaman for safekeeping. Whoops from the crowd echoed off the gym's white cinder block walls as the brothers took their places at the edge of the mat. Solemn eyed, the four men faced Chance, prepared to battle. And Chance, feed spread shoulder width apart, took one last deep breath, and clenched his fists, ready to fight with his life for the right to be called 'brother'.

Chapter 45

Candace, Anna, and Neil were the only ones not invited to the assembly. The only outsiders. Candace paced nervously around the kitchen, ignoring Anna and Neil's concerned stares.

Anna jabbed a fork at the piece of pie on her plate and left the bite dangling from the tongs. She couldn't eat. Not because she was self-conscious about eating in front of the two vampires. Just because she was too worried about Chance to force a single taste past her lips.

Neil pouted at the fact that he hadn't been asked to join in with the brothers. They'd left him here, in a useless kitchen, with the women. "Candace, please sit down," Neil and Anna pleaded simultaneously.

"I can't. Not when my son is fighting for what might be his very life." She sighed and sank wearily to a chair, resting her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands. "How much longer?" she moaned. "I can't take this."

Neil suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at Candace. She should be thankful the brothers even considered letting Chance into their ranks. It was more than they'd done for him. Sure, Dane had placated him by pretending to be interested in his proposal to sign up. Since Marcus had taken his abrupt exodus, Patrick had begun working with him on his tracking skills. But, the whole damned thing was a ruse. None of the brothers truly believed he belonged here. And he didn't. He stuck around, played the game, because, for the moment, it was his best bet.

Placating Candace, he reached out across the table and patted her hand. She was a sure bet. They were tight, thick as thieves, and she was in good with the brothers. Made the whole pretend friend thing that much easier to swallow. At least it would get him something in return. Even if that something was the right to keep his head firmly attached to his neck. "Relax, it's only been a few minutes. I hope you worry like this when it's my turn in the ring."

Candace gaped up at Neil in disbelief. "You're going to do it too? Become a Son? You're staying?" She half expected him to make a hasty exit any day. Without Marcus, there didn't seem to be much point in him sticking around. Even though his announcement took her by surprise, she was happy that he'd found a place he could call home. She only wished Marcus had felt the same and not abandoned them.

"Yeah, after this is over, I'm going to talk to Dane. Tell him that I want to join up."

"Good for you," Anna said. Raising her fork loaded with a bite of dripping cherry pie to her mouth and forcing down at least one bite. She rested a hand lightly on Candace's arm and hesitantly asked the question burning in her mind. "Haven't you drunk from your son? If you have, you're linked to him. You'll know if things turn for the worst." Maybe it wasn't the brightest suggestion to plant in Candace's mind. But, at least, it would put her at ease.

Candace nodded her head. She hadn't thought of that. She felt Chance's emotions as if they were her own. Most of the time, she focused so hard on blocking them. She hadn't thought to let them in. "You're right. I had forgotten about that." Concentrating, she dropped her shields and forced her thoughts to her son. A bolt of pain shot through her, jolting up from her stomach and causing her breath to rush out of her lungs. Biting back a scream, she held on to his mental signature and weathered the pain, blow after blow. The brothers struck hard and fast, and Will, struck the hardest of all.

Anna and Neil wrapped their arms tightly around Candace as she shook and panted from the force of Chance's pain. She cried out an agonized wail, gritting her teeth against another wave of punishment. Tears ran down her cheeks. Chance was taking the beating of his life. And he wasn't in it alone. Candace was there with him, at least in spirit, suffering. Nope, it hadn't escaped her that she was the only human in the room. She just hadn't thought of that tidbit either. Agitated as Candace was, she might attack her. And Anna only had Neil to come between her and the agonized woman. Whispering, she shot Neil a worried glance, "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the link."

Neil rolled his eyes at Anna and bit back the smart assed comment hovering on his tongue. No shit Sherlock. Anna should have kept her big mouth stuffed full of cherry pie and left the thinking to him. Leaving him to come between Candace and the only woman in the room with a heartbeat, what did the brothers expect him to do? Nice way to put him in the middle of a shit storm. If Candace lost it and attacked Anna, Will would come after him if he hurt one hair on her head. And if he did nothing and Anna suffered as much as a paper cut, Toby would have his fucking head on a platter. Damn Anna for opening her big mouth. Damn Marcus for leaving him behind, holding the bag. And damn him for being dumb enough to think he'd ever fit in. He scrambled for a plan.