Dawn's Promise

Marcus cursed his stupidity. Why hadn't he realized that something was keeping Kore alive? She was eating something. Once in a while she'd throw them a half-dead human to feed on. But, it was imperative to her to keep a low profile. Oh, she played the martyr, pretending to suffer along with them. Feasting on animals while they'd starved. The bitch! He should have figured it out. He regretted killing. Regretted attacking humans. And he had to drink from them. Patrick had made sure he understood that. But, not nearly as often as he had been. He could have offered Candace so much more, if only he'd figured this out for himself, sooner.

Chapter 10

Chance eagerly grabbed at the water bottle Will pulled from the wet bar and tossed in his direction. He assumed it was safe, since the plastic safety seal was firmly in place. In thirsty gulps he swallowed the cold liquid down, easing the scratchy, parched sensation in his throat. His eyes darted around the room. Looking for possible exits, weapons, anything he could use.

Lush, dark red carpet with thick braided throw rugs scattered here and there, decorated the floors. The walls were inlayed with rugged looking, natural stone in hues of brown, gray, and black. Thick beams of walnut and oak met at a peak at the top of a cathedral style ceiling painted a soft hue of rustic cream. The room held many comfortable looking plush and overstuffed couches and chairs. A huge plasma screen TV hung on one wall. And a blazing fireplace, took up the entire length of an adjacent wall. The room, although large and luxurious, felt stuffy and confining without draperies or windows. Nothing but walls, and no other way out except the way he'd come.

Chance knew he'd gone down once inside the entrance Will had to practically threaten him through. The hallways wound and twisted around. Lined with heavy oak doors and echoing in silence. There were cameras everywhere recording his movement. The place had a hollow, creepy feeling to it like a catacomb buried deep below the earth's surface.

"You hungry?" Will asked trying to ease Chance's apprehension. "I'm sure there's something in the fridge." Will gestured to the kitchen. "I could probably fix you something." He wasn't sure about his offer to cook. He could barely cook before he was changed. And it had been twenty years since he'd stepped foot in a kitchen. Maybe, he could remember how to make, something.

Chance's eyes narrowed in thought. A kitchen would have knives. It might give him a chance to get his hands on a weapon. "Sure." He followed Will into the kitchen, blinking against the bright fluorescence reflecting off gleaming stainless steel appliances and countertops.

Will looked into the fridge, he wasn't sure what the kid would want. It all looked repulsive to him. Janine was in charge of stocking the food. After all, she was the human. And it wasn't like they cared what was in the fridge. Unfortunately, Janine sub-existed on snack foods and junk. She ate at Alex's house, sympathetically fed by Alex's mom. "Ah..., here why don't you take a look?" Lumpy milk couldn't be a good thing. He stood back, holding the door open for Chance to peek inside.

Chance selected an unopened package of thin sliced ham and a block of sharp cheddar cheese, still sealed in the wrapper. He grabbed some mustard, to make the act look convincing. The makings of his sandwich were things he would need a knife to prepare. He plopped the items on to the counter and pretended not to notice Will watching him tear open the packages.

"Why don't you look around for some bread? I'll get these started." Chance slid open a drawer, finding only spoons and forks. He went on to another and found a drawer full of wicked looking knives. Perfect.

Chance watched Will, clumsily forage through the cabinets in search of the bread. As soon as Will's back was turned, he grabbed the thick handle of a long, pointed tipped knife and tucked it into his sock. He had practiced knife throwing for a martial arts exhibition at the college. He wasn't too terribly good at it. But, how good would he have to be to sink it between the forth and fifth ribs straight into someone's heart, or their liver, or any other vital organ? He grabbed the slicer and began working on the block of cheese. He ignored his quivering fingers, itching to drive the blade into Will's back. He'd wait for the right time, and then strike. Wait until the men told him about his mother. "You want one?" He asked, taking the loaf of wheat bread from Will's hand.

"Nah, I'm good. But thanks." Will replied taking a few steps back. He was watching Chance as he twirled a knife in his fingers before using it to cut the sandwich in half. Of course, his kid was a martial arts nut and could probably make a weapon out of anything. Will cursed his stupidity at leading him into the kitchen where Chance could actually get his hands on something that could potentially injure him.

God, he was going to have to wrap that kid in bubble wrap to keep him from getting as much as a scratch. He felt what Candace must have experienced, the worry for her child she must have felt every time Chance did something to put himself at risk. Which, if Will had to guess was at least a hundred times a day. "I'll need that knife when you're done."

Chance hesitated, had Will seen him shove the knife down his sock? Not willing to tip his hand, he finished cutting his sandwich, shrugged, and handed Will the butcher knife handle first. "Naturally." He took a seat at the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room and game room. "Not bad," he said, chewing and forcing the bite down his throat. "You sure you don't want half?"

Will shook his head and sat on the stool across the bar from Chance. The kid had guts, Will admitted silently. Will had seen the bulge in the leg of Chance's sweatpants. Down where the elastic met his sock. While he wasn't looking, Chance had taken the opportunity to hide a knife in his sock. He sat and watched Chance chew the bite in his mouth. He'd wait it out, play dumb, like he hadn't seen a thing. The blade was sharp and wicked. But, Chance wasn't fast enough to do any real harm with it. No matter how good, how fast he thought he was, Will was much, much faster. He wanted to see what the kid had in mind. "Your mother should be along shortly."

Chance chewed in silence. Occasionally washing down his bite with a soda he'd found in the fridge. He didn't believe a word out of Will's mouth. Where the other half of the dynamic duo wandered off to, Chance didn't know. He couldn't think about that now. He was having a hard enough time pretending to wait patiently for his mom and not bury the knife tucked into his sock in Will's black heart.

Candace clutched her hands together, wringing her fingers as she walked the last few steps into the game room. "He's here," she whispered, sniffing the air. She practically shouted with excitement at the smell of the fabric softener on his clothes, and the familiar smell of his deodorant, soap, and shampoo, tinted with the underlying unique scent that was just simply her son's natural aroma. Nothing in her entire life had ever smelled better than the essence of her little boy perfuming the air. Candace could barely restrain herself, grabbing onto Dane's hand, she whispered, "Don't worry, I'm ok."

Dane looked down at Candace and nodded. Although, she was excited to see her son, Dane could sense no danger. And she was in control, for now. Awkward in her concentrated attempts at slowness and to conceal her fangs. "He's in the kitchen." He motioned to Patrick who tightened the gap behind Candace. Dane had learned his lesson the hard way, twice. And he would never put a human at risk, not again.

Candace gasped, clutching her hands to her face as she came around the corner into the kitchen. She cried out in a squeal of delight. "Chance!" Darting to her son, forgetting the rule not to reveal herself, she grabbed him off the stool and clutched him in an embrace. "Oh my god, look at you! My baby!" Tears rolled down her cheeks as she buried her face in his neck, inhaling deeply of his familiar scent.

"Mom!" Chance sputtered dumbfounded. One minute, he'd been eating a sandwich, the next he'd been yanked off the stool and he was now, getting the life squeezed out of him by his overly zealous mom. She held him so tightly it hurt. His ribs groaned in protest, but he'd never complain. She could crack every damned one of them and he'd be happy about it. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and buried his face in her hair. His mom! He had given up on ever seeing her on this side of the grave again.

She was squeezing the air out of his lungs. He wiggled, loosening his body from her embrace. His cheeks were slick and wet with tears of relief. At the moment, being the man and holding them back in front of Will didn't matter for shit. His mom was alive. That was the important thing. She was healthy and whole, and for the most part, looked unscathed. Maybe, he wouldn't kill Will and Patrick. He was just so glad to have her back.

"Mom I missed you so much! What happened?" Chance ran his hand along her back and through her hair. He finally worked his way free from her embrace and frowned at the tears spilling over her cheeks. Defensively, ready to die to get her out of here and away from this place, he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her behind his back. Crouching low, his hand hovered near the handle of the blade stuffed in his sock. "Mom, did these men hurt you?"

Candace grabbed Chance's hands, dragging him into the living room. "Oh no, these men are trying to help me. Everything is ok, I promise." She cupped his cheeks in her palms and squeezed them together giving him the fish lips he used to giggle over when he was a little boy. Quickly, realizing she was probably embarrassing him in front of Dane, Will, and Patrick, she released his face. "There's so much to tell you. I don't know where to start." She guided Chance over to a beige leather sofa and sat, refraining from pulling him into her lap, settling for pulling him down beside her instead.

"Easy there, mom, " Chance said, rubbing his bruised wrists. In twenty years his mom had never laid a hand on him in anger, much less bruised him by the subtlest of touches. "You're so strong." Yeah, she was stronger than he remembered. He hadn't been able to stay on his feet for the force she used to pull him onto the couch beside her. "Mom, are you sure you're ok?"

Chance adjusted his position on the sleek leather, rubbing his throbbing wrist with his good hand. He kept the knife in his sock, within reach of his dominant hand, ready for action. Now that he had his mom back and in apparently excellent health, better than before, he could spring his plan at any minute. "Can we talk alone?" He narrowed his eyes at Will and the other two guys hovering over the sofa. Frowning when the three shared a glance and shook their heads 'no'. Though they did back up a little to give Chance the illusion of privacy. Their eyes never left his mother.

"I'm so sorry," Candace said, fighting back the tears. "I'm so sorry I couldn't call you, or write. But, I had to keep away. There's so much I need to explain." Candace wrapped her arm around Chance's shoulder and pulled him into her arms again. Hugging him. She abruptly let go when Dane shot a warning glare in her direction. She'd forgotten how strong she was and Chance grunted in pain.

Chance grabbed her hand holding it tightly in his. He cracked his achy shoulder joint and took a deep, painful breath. His mom had squeezed him so hard that he thought she might have accidentally broken his rib. "Its ok mom, you don't have to explain anything to me." He glared at the men, his eyes pinned on the stranger towering over Will and Patrick. He had to bet he was mastermind behind his mom's kidnapping. Will and Patrick didn't do anything, didn't make a move, unless he said so. "I'm so glad to have you back. It doesn't matter what happened."

"My brave, brave, boy." Candace planted a kiss on Chance's forehead. She swallowed against her fangs, which had sprung out in response to the contact of her lips against his warm skin. She took a deep breath, drawing them in. "No, you need to hear this. I need you to understand." She grabbed his hands, gently holding her fragile son. "I was abducted by someone unspeakably evil."

Chance stiffened. Withdrawing his hand, he lowered it to the leg of his sweats. Ready. These men were behind her abduction. He was sure that she was speaking to him in code. Trying to clue him in. The tug on his hand had his focus back on her and off of the men.

"No Chance, not them. Listen." Candace commanded. "The woman who took me changed me somehow, I can't explain what happened. She drank my blood and gave me hers. And now I've changed into something different," she hesitated, "a vampire. I've been wandering, trying to keep you safe by staying away. But, I couldn't stay away any longer. I had to see you. These men have been helping me. Myself and a couple of others like me."

Chance's head spun, what was his mother trying to tell him? Surely, there was something more to her message. But, she looked so serious, like she believed every word she was saying. "What are they?" Chance asked, nodding to the trio that stood in the way, blocking the only exit out of the room.

"Same as me." Candace answered. She was trying to follow Dane's advice and tell him the truth. Chance didn't believe her. She could see it in his expression. He thought she was experiencing some sort of breakdown.

"Vampire."

"Yes. Chance, please, try to understand," Candace pleaded.

"I understand that they're somehow involved in what happened to you. I understand that you think you believe what you're telling me. I understand that I was brought here against my will. But now, understand this mom, it's time for us to go." Chance sprung onto his feet, withdrawing the blade from his sock. He stood at the ready, his legs spread wide the knife clutched in his left fist.

"Chance no!" Candace jumped to her feet behind him. Clutching at him, trying to restrain him with her hands without hurting him. Fear for her son raced through her. She had to stop him before he hurt himself or accidentally hurt one of the men and brought Dane's wrath down on all their heads.

"A lot like his father isn't he?" Dane whispered to Will, eying the blade clutched in Chance's left hand. The kid stood defensively, twisting free of his mother's grip. Eyes loaded with piss and vinegar, fists clenched and ready to unleash hell's fury.

"Too much," Will whispered back. He approached head on while Dane slipped to the right and Patrick to the left of his son. Chance had a lot to learn. And unfortunately, he was going to get the Cliff Notes version. Patrick and Dane cut off any route for escape from the sides. He stood in front of Chance. The only way he was getting deeper into the compound and possibly out, was through him.

"Three against one," Chance laughed sarcastically. " Yeah, that's a fair fight." He had to get on the other side of the sofa before he and his mother were boxed in. He darted to the right, but the big one with the short hair blocked his escape. His mother stood trembling and crying behind him. The young one, Patrick approached on his left. Chance was saving Will for last. Somehow, Will was at the heart of whatever was going on with his mother. Not the leader of it, but the heart and soul of it.

"Aw man c'mon!" Patrick whined. "This is a new shirt. Dane, just let me put him out." He dodged Chance's awkward swing with the knife barely missing getting skewered like a shish-kabob. The kid was fast. Not lethal with the blade. But, fast.

"No. Will, you handle this." Dane replied, motioning for Patrick to back off. Dane took several steps back, pulling Candace along with him. "Let them fight it out," he whispered. "Will won't hurt him."

Will stepped forward sliding his tee over his head. His tattoos stood out in contrast against his dark skin, indigo interlocking patterns with a life of their own splayed across his back. He walked straight into the sharp edge of the knife, pressing its tip into his belly. "Do it."

"What!" Chance's hands shook forcibly. This man was asking for the kiss of his blade straight into his gut. His eyes darted between the deadly serrated edge of the blade and the hard expression in Will's eyes. The guy meant it. He never flinched. Never so much as batted an eyelash as Chance adjusted his grip on the handle.

"Do it!" Will stepped forward leaning his weight into the blade. This was going to hurt, no doubt about it. But, it would convince the boy of the truth. Some people just had to see to believe. The tip of the knife wasn't pointed at anything too vital. The angle was wrong for the edge to pierce too important. And he wasn't about to let his son run him through hara-kiri style. He was going more for showmanship and effect with this little demonstration. Will hoped Chris wasn't too attached to this carpet. Most likely, the bloodstains would never come out.

"You asked for it," Chance muttered. He could not believe this guy just stood there with the point of a six-inch boning blade pointed at his gut. Insane. Gathering his strength Chance rammed the blade deep, piercing through layers of skin, muscle and viscera. He twisted the blade and withdrew, releasing a torrent of blood from the hole in Will's gut.

Will grunted in pain, but never wavered. He sucked back a wail of agony as his body worked to heal the damage. Already the hole was knitting shut and the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. Damn, this was a hell of a way to pop the kid's cherry. But, Chance might as well get used to it if he was going to survive in his world.

Chance stood there, holding it in his trembling hand. waiting for Will to drop. His eyes widened with fear as he watched the bleeding cease and the layers of severed tissue knit together, healing, before his eyes. "What the hell?"

Will blew out a deep breath. One singular blow wasn't enough to kill him. That would take repeated insults, spilling pints of his precious blood. But, as he guessed, it hurt like a bitch. "Now do you understand?" He looked down at the sticky red pool already drying on the carpet and lifted his eyes to meet Chance's.

"Vampire." Chance dropped the knife, letting it fall silently to the floor.

"Yes."

Chance felt hands strong as steel guide him, lowering his body to the couch. His mind teetered on the brink of awareness, threatening to shut down completely. Sending him spiraling into the sweet blissful peace of unconsciousness or at the very least, insanity. How? How was this possible? Vampires? Figures of myth and legend, alive and well and real, very, very, real and here he was, surrounded by them.

Candace raced to Chance's side, lifting his head she rested it on her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, whispering, "Honey, it's going to be ok. Don't be afraid. No one here will hurt you. You're ok. I promise. We're going to take care of you."

She glowered at Will. How could he scare his son like this? Chance's skin was so pale and cool. He stared up at her with unseeing eyes. She frowned down at him and then lifted her face up to Will's again, meeting the concern in his eyes.

Chance slipped into the comforting darkness of unconsciousness. His mind unwilling to accept the truths that surrounded him. He felt the leather cushions give under his weight as he fell into them and that was the last thing he knew.

Patrick stepped forward running a finger along Chance's temples. "Wake up."

"Mom?" Chance's eyes fluttered open. He rested his cheek against her warm fingers. The feeling was so comforting, so familiar. He'd been dreaming, it was the only explanation. He was safe with his mother. It was all a dream, a nightmare. He blinked as he lay there staring up at her face. "We've got to get out of here. Vampires are here."