Dawn's Promise

*****

Chance relaxed beneath the hot spray of the shower, thawing out from spending the day perched on the massive stone with his mother and father. He heard laughter and deep male voices coming from the other side of the door. A few of the brothers stopped by to help him get ready. Glancing at his watch, he frowned. Four hours left. The now familiar scrap of brown leather thumped him in the head as he opened the bathroom door.

"Suit up cupcake," John Mark said with a grin.

"Trying to get me naked again," Chance said, shaking his head as he shut the door and dropping the towel around his waist. Groaning at the stiffness of the leather, he slid into the loincloth, securing it snugly in place. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. A familiar face stared back. The only difference was his eyes. How much they'd changed. Wiser and broader in their view of the world.

Chance stood in the center of the room with his head bowed and his eyes closed. Tendrils of white fragrant smoke wafted around him. His heart pounded in his chest growing louder and faster with each passing minute. He tried not to think about the pain that would be inflicted on his body. He didn't pause to weigh the sacrifices he was making. He focused on the good he would do in serving his fellow man and his brothers.

John Mark led the prayers to Kokumthena and the ancestors on the boy's behalf. His heart was soaring with anticipation for what was to come. He was excited for Chance, not that he would suffer, but that he would join him as a brother.

He eyed the pendant hanging from a scrap of worn leather around Chance's neck. It was Lucien's. He remembered it well, having removed it from his brother's lifeless body on the field. Tonight life would come full circle, his brother and friend, lost in battle. A brother and friend gained through blood. Just another example of Ka-tet, good fate. He finished the prayer and laid the smudge stick in its terra cotta resting place to smolder. "I'll see you soon," he said, grasping Chance's bicep firmly in his grip.

Chance sat on the bed, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs. He was shivering. But, he wasn't cold. Suddenly very grateful he hadn't eaten the donuts, his stomach fluttered nervously. Anxiously, he looked up at his dad.

"Here," Will said, hoping to soothe the anxiety reflected in the hazel eyes staring up at him. He wrapped the white leather robe around his son's shoulders and secured the tie in place. "John Mark will be back soon." He sat on the bed next to Chance. "Try to stay focused," he urged, patting Chance on the back. "Breathe."

******

Candace paced in circles around the clearing watching the bustle of activity around her. Flames from the bonfire danced wildly into the night sky, thawing the frozen earth beneath the thick glowing logs. Chattering and laughing voices echoed into the darkness as the Sons excitedly passed the time.

Dane blew out a plume of white breath into the darkness and called the ceremony to order. The din of excitement ceased. The Sons fell into formation, surrounding the bonfire in a semi circle. Two figures emerging from the surrounding woods sent the members quickly dropping to one knee, their heads bowed in reverence.

"Rise My Sons," The Great Warrior said, lifting his arms in greeting. He nodded to his brother, prophet to the Sons, and the two took their places in the center of the crescent, waiting. He motioned to the female, the boy's mother, nervously pacing in small circles at the edge of the clearing, "Nik-yah Ptweowa, Mother Wolf, come, join our circle."

Candace bit her lip nervously. The man motioned for her to approach him. She wasn't sure what to do. Anxiously, she glanced at Dane for guidance. He nodded encouraging her. Silently, she stepped forward. She'd heard the legends of the Great Father and his brother and dismissed them as mere stories. She didn't believe the men were real until now. Standing in front of her, in the flesh. She kept her eyes low focusing on the ground allowing Dane to guide her to the center of the formation to present her to the Great Father and his brother.

The brother reached out, feeling a draw to this woman. He brushed his fingers across her temple, seeing into the depths of her soul with his mind. "You are worthy as is your son. Through rearing the boy and reuniting him with his father and his people you have proven your loyalty. Through your love and your willingness to offer him to us you have proven your faith."

The Great Father considered his brother's words. "Don't worry, Mother Wolf. All will be well. Your son will be a great warrior, Psai-wi ne-noth-tu." He nodded to Dane motioning for him to take her to the edge of the crescent of warriors.

******

Chance's mind raced, His heart pounded in his chest. He walked through the silent dimly lit corridors of his new home, sandwiched between his dad and John Mark. When they made it outside, his dad, grabbed him up in a hug and abruptly released him, disappearing into the darkness to join the brothers at the ceremony. More nervous than he'd ever been, Chance hefted his body onto the bay stallion's back and clung desperately as John Mark slid on behind him.

John Mark guided the horse through the darkness at a gentle canter. This was the second time he'd performed this duty. Alex was the first. He loved the symbolism behind the gesture. The candidate carried by horseback to the Great Father, meeting fate. Just as the Great Father mortally wounded and dying had been carried to Kokumthena to meet his fate. He pulled back on the reins slowing the animal at the edge of the clearing. "I'll see you on the flip side," he said. Macho manliness forgotten, he hugged Chance and helped him slide off the horse.

Chance wasn't sure his legs were going to carry him the last few yards to the center of the half-moon. He glanced at ring of familiar faces and gathered up his courage, following John Mark into the orange glow of the bonfire. He slowed for a moment, passing by his dad, and again as he passed by his mom, before arriving to the center. John Mark stepped to the side to take his place in the formation, handing him off to Dane. And Dane, bowing low to the men, handed him off to them.

Chance looked up in shock, realization striking him. The hulk of a man who would take his life and offer him a new one in exchange, was the very same man he'd conversed with before the final trial began. The Great Father. A man, almost a carbon copy of his brother, pressed his fingers to Chance's temples and the world blurred.

"Brother, you have seen into his heart. Is it pure?" The Great Father asked.

"Brothers his heart is pure."

"Brother is he worthy?"

"He is."

The Sons recited in unison, "He is worthy. Let him be one of us."

"Will you drink from the cup of the Father?"

Chance nervously cleared his throat. The question was his cue. Trembling from the cold and the sudden surge of fear, he answered, "I will."

"Let him drink. He is worthy." The combined voices spoke.

Chance felt the biting cold of the night and shivered violently. The robe slid down over his shoulders and his arms to land into a pile at his feet. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and his breaths quickened. Strong arms wrapped around his body, pinning his arms and restraining him in place. This was it. He took one last deep breath and stiffened against the surge of blinding pain inflicted by their bites. They wasted no time on pomp and circumstance. Instead, they went right for his carotids. His last thought, or at least, the last thought he was aware of, was how quickly the whole thing would be over. One way or another, there was no going back now.

Chapter 56

Candace felt Will's strong arms hold her upright. His hand rested on the back of her skull, pushing her face into his chest to suppress her screams of protests. It was really happening. The two vampires were bleeding her son dry and she was powerless to stop them.

Will buried Candace's head against his chest. Holding her as tightly as he could. He could sense his son's fear and his pain. He held his breath, clamping his lips closed at the smell of Chance's blood. He heard Chance's heart sputter and clamor for life in a brief final battle against death.

Chance's legs grew weak and the periphery of his consciousness faded to black. There wasn't any pain or cold. And that was good. He drifted weightlessly. A deliciously sweet scent and a decadent rich liquid flowed into his mouth. Pulling him back from the edges of his dream into the cold terror of reality. He couldn't resist the taste on his tongue. As badly as he wanted to remain in the warm comfort of darkness, he wanted more. Eagerly, he gulped down greedy mouthfuls of the intoxicating drink. He grappled at the source as it was pulled away and replaced with a new one. One that tasted a little different, but still just as sweet.

Chance cried out as the first waves of cold rolled through his body. Beginning at his feet and extending to his scalp, the cold burned, frosting his veins on its way up to his heart. Tearing and ripping, the cold invaded each fiber, each cell. His body writhed uncontrollably in agony under the assault of the cold. He wailed at the terrifying sound of flesh and bone, stretching and popping, crunching and breaking, unmolding and reforming into something else. He clawed at the frozen ground, scrabbling to hold onto something as the agony transformed him into something different. Something far removed from a human being.

Tears fell freely in a rainstorm across Candace's cheeks. Helplessly watched her son writhing in agony. His body was changing. Growing. Transforming into that of a warrior. She struggled against Will and Alex, grappling against their restraining arms to reach her son. Her baby boy needed her. "Chance!" she cried out in desperation. Her voice lost in the rhythmic chanting of the brothers.

The pain was slowly beginning to subside, replaced by deafening chanting and blinding light, and the thick choking stench of wood smoke. Gripping his head to block the flood of new sensations, Chance's mind reeled from the invasion. Voices lost to his ears shouted in his mind. He'd survived the transformation only to wish he'd died in the process. A soft voice called to him, gently pulling him back from the edge of insanity. "Mom," he croaked. Shielding his eyes against the orange glow of the bonfire, he stood on wobbly, unsteady limbs, awkwardly supporting his weight with the struggle to remain upright.

Will released Candace, staying close to her side. She rushed to Chance and flung her arms around him in relief. "Chance. Oh my God!" She cried out, stretching up to run her trembling hands along his face as if to prove to herself he was actually there. "You made it. Oh thank God, you made it!"

"Mom?" Chance stumbled clumsily almost toppling the two of them to the ground. "I'm bigger," he said, shakily. He was taller than his mom and had been for longer than he could remember. But, he'd never dwarfed her before. He was freaking huge.

"Yes honey, yes you are." Candace looked imploringly at Will. "Help him," She whispered. The din of chanting continued around her, the party mood evident in the air. But, she was oblivious, focused only on her son.

Will wrapped an arm around Chance, steadying him on his big feet. Chance spouted up eight inches and gained at least fifty pounds of muscle. "It takes a little getting used to." Will bowed to the Great Father and the Prophet and led Chance away from the din of voices and confusion. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, swollen with pride. Chance had survived. He had grown, physically transformed into a warrior's body.

Chance eagerly licked his lips at the scent of human blood. Instinctively, he knew exactly what to do. He felt the sting of fangs punching through his gums, sharp and thick in his mouth. Questioningly he looked up at Will and over to Dane. Damn, he was hungry. An almost irresistible urge to drive his new fangs into flesh doubled him over. Grappling with the instinct to bite and ease his pain, he dropped to his knees. His eyes focused on the man Dane led through the crowd.

Dane guided Mack into a sitting position beside Chance. He'd done the hard part for Chance and put Mack under his spell. Mack was aware, but removed from the situation. He wouldn't feel a thing. Chance focused his eyes on Mack, licking his lips, crouched like a dangerous predator ready to spring on its prey. "I won't let you hurt him." He lifted Mack's wrist to Chance's mouth. "Drink."

Chance didn't waste time getting into a moral debate over a few drops of desperately needed blood. He drove his fangs in to the man's wrist and pulled back a torrent of rich, sweet, crimson bliss. He'd barely gotten a mouthful when abruptly the source of his peace was pried away from his lips. "NO!" Chance hissed, clamoring to reclaim the man's wrist and slake his hunger.

"You don't want to kill him do you?" Candace asked, placing a light hand on Chance's cheek, diverting him as Dane navigated the man away.

"No, but..." Chance shook his head trying to make sense of it. He felt the stirring of the energy he'd taken, tearing its way through his body.

"I understand what it is like," she said softly. "It was like that for me too in the beginning. But, I didn't know any better." She lowered her hand and looked away from Chance, hiding the regret. "I killed, Chance, I killed. You don't have to, ever."

John Mark thrust a wadded up pair of stretchy, cotton gym shorts at Chance. "You'd better put these on. You're giving the ladies quite a show." He shook his head in mock dismay. "There may be truth in advertising. But, the whole community doesn't need to see it."

Chance glanced down. In all the commotion he hadn't realized he was naked. His old loincloth taxed, pushed past the breaking point by his new body. He glanced around embarrassment. Luckily, everyone was so involved in the celebration that it didn't seem like he or his lack of clothes were much of an attraction. He marveled at his new body, everything had grown. Everything. He grinned sheepishly at John Mark covering his embarrassment behind a mask of humor. "You finally got me naked, huh."

Chapter 57

Chance stretched out the jagged wood surface of the stump biting into his chest. Waiting as the Shaman prepared his tools. The sharp needle gleamed in the firelight. A blaze of pain shot through his skin. The transformation was nothing compared to the pain the Shaman inflicted on his flesh. The Shaman worked with vampire speed and lightening fast efficiency, pushing the needle through the skin repeatedly. But, the tattoo still hurt like a bitch. Chance ground his molars and held his jaw tight against the onslaught and did his best to hold still.

Candace watched her son endure even more torture beneath the Shaman's skillful needle. The artistry of his work held her in amazement. The series of swirling patterns interlocking in delicate twists and turns of deep indigo were truly the exquisite work of a fine craftsman. But, she didn't relish the pain her son bravely and willingly exposed himself to.

"You disapprove Mother Wolf?" The deep bass voice asked, reverberating through her bones. She turned, startled to see the deep brown, almost black eyes bearing down on her. She felt as if those eyes could see past flesh and bone into the depths of her soul.

"I disapprove of anything that causes my son pain," she replied softly.

"The pain is of his own choosing. It will serve him well as a reminder. You have experienced your own pain have you not?" he asked, ducking his chin to meet her stare. Drawing her eyes up to meet his. "The harshness of the world you were forced into has been difficult for you to bear."

His voice was soft and deep, possessing an almost wooing quality to it. She held her breath and nodded in agreement. He regretted her suffering wishing he could take it upon himself to release her of its burden. "Share my strength. Become one with us, allow us to shoulder your struggles and take them upon ourselves. You no longer alone."

She trembled as arms wrapped around her waist, the Great Father on one side and his brother on the other. Soft chanting echoed into the night as the Sons encircled them. She felt the power and warmth radiating off of the men, flowing through the brothers to crackle in the darkness, filling her with the courage she needed to finally let go and move on. She couldn't change what she was and there was no reason to fight against it. Not any longer. She relaxed into the arms feeling the chill as her coat was lowered down over her shoulders and her shirt was opened, exposing the skin of her neck.

"You are home at last, Mother Wolf," The Great Father said, sinking his fangs into the softness of her skin. He felt her body buck reflexively in shock. With each pull, he experienced pieces of her life: her love for Will, her love for her son, each second of a mother's worry and every heartbeat of a mother's pride. He shared her soul, seeing the secrets she kept buried within.

Countless times he had performed this very same act and each time the experience of sharing a life was unique and wondrous. Candace lay slack in his arms teetering on the brink, drained. He bit his wrist and shared the lives he'd changed, giving them freely to her. "Drink," he ordered.

Candace opened her mouth, receiving the Great Father's gift, drinking of him deeply. With each pull from his wrist she was flooded with countless and immeasurable experiences. Bits and pieces of individual lives flowed into her consciousness. Each one of them was unique and different, but a bigger part of the whole. They meshed together to form a sense of oneness and belonging there was only one word to describe. Home.

Candace sucked in a deep breath as the brothers withdrew, fading into the shadows. She felt the raw power and energy of their blood coursing through her body. Gripped in a series of anguishing spasms, her body adapted to the physical changes brought about by the purity of the blood. She gasped against the cold. It was almost unbearable, as unbearable as the suffering of her change had been. Gentle hands lifted her off the ground and held her close. His voice and familiar woodsy masculine scent guided her through the torment, pulling her away from the edge. "Will."

"Shh, he whispered to comforting her. He sat on the hard packed, cold earth rocking her gently through the waves of torment. His heart burst with love for her and pride at the great leap of faith she had taken by accepting the Great Father's invitation to join the brotherhood. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent. "I love you," his voice cracked, overwhelmed by emotion.

Candace rested in the shelter of Will's arms, riding out the storm. The sky lightened with the intense purple hue of first dawn. Snow gently wafted from the clouds overhead, dusting everything in a glittering, fine powder of pristine white. The song of the brothers echoed in her mind, making perfect harmony to the sounds of the world opening its sleepy eyes to the dawn. She was at peace. She was loved. And she was home.

Chapter 58

Will filled the oversized marble tub almost to the point of overflowing. He poured a generous amount of bubble bath into the hot steaming water, swirling it around with his hands to froth up the bubbles, infusing the room with a light rose scent. "Candy," he called into the next room, "want to take a bath with me?"

Candace sighed, exhausted from her ordeal. A hot bath sounded good and with Will, it sounded like heaven. But, she was so tired and sore. She doubted if she could muster the energy for a marathon sex session, not after what she'd been through tonight. "I don't think I can," she said, smiling at the sight of him peeking his head around the doorframe.