Dawn's Shadow

Dane scowled against the golden rays of dawn, cursing his limitations with both the sunlight and this stubborn scrap of a woman. He wanted to be gentle with her. Coddling. But, his worry for her well being was too great. If anything happened to her, Lucien would move the heavens to cross the barrier between the worlds and kick his ass. That wasn't what scared him. He had to honor his brother's last wish. Sending Lucien to the spirit world was Alex's job, her final task. And he didn't envy the burden of lighting the pyre that would set Lucien's soul free. His job, his final task to his brother, was to keep her safe. "Alex," he said, latching onto her mental signature. "Sleep."

Gently, he bent and pried her cool fingers from Lucien's death stilled hand. Cradling her limp body in his arms, he carried her to her parent's house. She could hate him for what he'd done, taking advantage of her human state, later. Once she was warm and bundled up in her parent's and Janine's love, she might forgive him. Once she moved through the awful task ahead of her, she might find peace, in time.

With Alex delivered safe and sound at home, Dane traversed the paths of the trackers. Ok, so he was a bit, no a lot of a micromanager and had to check and double check everything for himself before he declared the job done.

Having checked miles and miles of woodlands and brush dusted with the early morning frost, he was finally satisfied, there were no traces of a battle left for human eyes to find. This time of year was tricky for The Sons, sharing the woods with the hunters. Competing for the same food. If only the hunters realized how precarious their situation was and how easily they could become the hunted.

Dane darted over the hardened ground, his feet barely touching the fallen leaves as he trekked back to the mining shafts The Sons now called home. Their previous home was a ruin of ash and charred wood. By this afternoon, their former home would be flattened, all traces that there was ever a dwelling there at all, erased. He approached the shafts cautiously; the guards posted at the entrance were edgy with hair triggers and bad tempers. Of course, these days, who could fault them? There was plenty to be pissed off about. He nodded in greeting and walked past them, cringing as they bowed to him the way they had once bowed to Lucien.

The tunnels were dark, dank, and musty. Lit by an occasional battery operated lantern. Their dim light barely cut through the blackness that surrounded him and sure as hell didn't do a thing to lend to an inviting or homey atmosphere. The place was more like a tomb than a home. He turned a sharp corner, cursing as he scraped his head on a low part of the cavern's roof. Laughter echoed through the deep tunnel. Turning, he found the old Shaman, Doc, chuckling at his expense. "What's so damned funny?" Dane asked, rubbing the sore spot on the top of his scalp.

The old Shaman chuckled and regarded the warrior chief scrunched down in the tunnel. Patting the Dane's chest with a firm hand he said, "Our Father made good medicine when he made you. Big and strong as an ox." He pointed to Dane's head with a finger. "Good mind and strong heart. But, I think he made you too big for such a tiny place." Pointing to his own small stooped frame, Doc said, "I was too old to grow so big when I was made."

Doc looked up at Dane with wisdom twinkling in his eyes. Everyone agreed living topside wasn't safe anymore. Their lodge had been too easy to find and too easily destroyed. The brothers looked to Dane for leadership. Little did they know how reluctant he was to take the helm and do what needed to be done. The younger ones needed home and hearth to feel normal, to have a sense of belonging and roots. If something wasn't done soon to set things to rights, there might not be a brotherhood to house. "Maybe, you'll find a comfortable place for this old man soon. One with high ceilings for you too, I think." Cackling he wandered off into the darkness leaving Dane alone.

"Crazy old coot," Dane called after Doc. His voice echoed through the darkness back to him. He looked around at his bleak surroundings. This place, dug so deep into the bowels of the earth wasn't fit for bats, let alone the brothers. He got it. He took the Shaman's hint. But, damned if he knew how to turn this place into a home.

Chapter 3

Chris punched the accelerator to the floor, navigating her environmentally friendly hybrid onto the interstate. She had hoped to make an earlier start, but it seemed that her work schedule for the day had other plans for her. Now, it was rush hour and she was under the very real threat of being squashed like a bug by the endless flow of bumper- to- bumper traffic.

She shuddered as a semi, blazing past her at warp nine, blasted its horn and flew past her driver's side window in a huff of exhaust and grinding gears. She grinned, cranked up the radio to drown out the noise of the traffic and adjusted her sun visor against the last rays of the setting sun. She was going to be tired and pissed off by the time she got there to pick him up. And she looked forward to the opportunity to subject him to three plus hours of nagging hell on the drive back. Determined to make the most of her time, she settled for a book on CD instead of the radio's fuzzy reception, and watched the odometer tick the miles away.

Chris flipped on her turn signal, glad to see some sign of civilization after an hour or so of driving in the total blackness of the interstate at night. Her butt was numb and her legs were stiff. She pulled into the gas station just off the main highway, eager for a stretch and a desperately needed bathroom break. Groaning in sheer delight of being out of the car, she let out a long yawn and shuffled across the parking lot. God, she hoped the bathrooms were clean and the coffee, hot and fresh. Given nasal twang of honky-tonk music blaring from the speakers and the grime encrusted windows of the station, she didn't hold out much hope for either.

Sighing as she took a sip of something that was coffee in name only, Chris buckled her seatbelt. Even though the gas station wasn't much, the guy behind the counter made up for it. Tall with broad shoulders and arresting dark eyes, the kind that almost bore through a girl's soul and left her shivering in her skinny jeans, he was the complete opposite of her loser ex. She took one last second to study her hurriedly scribbled directions and slid the car in reverse. Whatever her ex's story was, it'd better be good. She couldn't wait to hear his explanation of how he ended up out here in the middle of BFE without a way home.

According to her directions, she was supposed to drive through town and turn left on County Road something or other and then hang a right on some deserted stretch, and then another left. Great. She edged the car out into traffic, not that there was any, and putted into town. The speed limit was only twenty-nine miles per hour. Twenty-nine, not thirty, she rolled her eyes in irritation. Who did that? Talk about a speed trap.

Main Street was a stretch of non-descript shops closed down for the night. But hey, the town had its merits. Commerce was alive and well at the local bar, judging by the row of beat up pick-up trucks lined up outside. Besides the bar, there was a cafe, a clothing store, a jewelry shop, a florist, a bank, and oh, and an ice cream shop bordering the edge of the bustling "metropolis". Hell, there was even a hospital, boastfully serving the "tri-county's" healthcare needs. What more could anyone want?

"Geez, where am I the Twilight Zone?" Chris muttered. Nervously, she chuckled to herself and returned the redneck's wave. Yeah, the town had everything, including friendly local nut jobs to boot. Who in the hell waved at random passersby anymore? Was she in Mayberry and she'd missed the sign? Maybe, she'd stop and have a piece of pie with Aunt Bea on the way back. Really?

She punched down on the accelerator when the town's only stoplight turned green and drove the whole two seconds through the remainder of the Town That Time Forgot. The black highway stretched out in an endless ribbon in front of her. Keeping her eyes peeled for the only landmark visible in the darkness, the county road whatever in the hell it was sign, she drove, clutching the steering wheel with her sweat-slicked palms, growing more and more nervous as she thought about coming face to face with her ex for the first time since he'd disappeared off the grid.

Wearily, Chris rubbed her eyes, cursing as her car bumped and shimmied down the narrow stretch of gravel road. At first, she didn't think she would be able to find her turn off from the highway and now she wondered if she would be able to find the house she was looking for. "What a pain in the ass," she grumbled. Gritting her teeth as the front wheel of her car sank into a crater-sized pothole. If her car suffered any damage, she was going to make her ex pay for the repairs in blood.

She hadn't passed another house for miles. There was nothing out here but endless stretches of barren cornfields and menacing looking patches of dense black woods. The red glow of a reflector at the end of a long lane shone like a beacon. "That's got to be it," she whispered, hoping she was at the right place and wouldn't end up with a shotgun shoved in her face. She slowed the car to a crawl and matched the weather worn, barely visible, address on the mailbox to the ones on her directions. Signaling out of habit, it wasn't like there was another breathing soul out on the road but her, she turned up a long, bumpy, gravel lane.

She pulled up beside a house at the end of the lane and slid the car into park. It was difficult to make out any details about the tiny farmhouse in the blackness that engulfed her. The headlights of her car barely penetrated the inky night around her. She scowled realizing that there were no lights shining through the windows. But, after all it was almost midnight and she was supposed to be here hours ago. "Maybe everyone is in bed," she guessed. She didn't care if she woke up the entire town. She'd driven all this way and she was not going back until she had her wayward ex in tow.

Ignoring the tiny hairs that stood straight up in alarm along the back of her neck and the tops of her arms, she turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car. Something wasn't right here. Or maybe, it was just the general creepiness surrounding this place and the darkness that had seemed to swallow her whole was getting to her. Either way, she shook off the feeling of dread and stomped up the uneven walk to the porch.

In the pitch black, with only a thin sliver of moon to light the way, she stumbled up the steps and made her way to the front door. He should have been watching for her. Any considerate person would have turned on the porch light the minute she pulled up. Then again, anyone with a conscience wouldn't have dragged her out here to the middle of nowhere after a month of no contact. But, the house was dark and silent. Everything was too quiet, almost as if the woods and barren fields were holding their breath in wait for something.

Questioning her sanity for the umpteenth time, she gingerly knocked on the rickety wooden door. Unable to shake the feeling that something was "off", she waited for someone to answer. The house had that unlived in feeling to it. As if it had been uninhabited for a long time. Just as Chris was about to give up and go back to the car, the door opened. The creaking hinges added to the air of unease hanging over her like a dark cloud.

Chris tightened her grip on her keys. She had the sudden sensation that she should run for it. It was him, her ex, standing in the doorway, smiling. But, there was something...different about him. Something not quite...right. He still looked the same. Short and stocky, his hair mussed to hide the thinness of his receding hairline. But, something about him, about his appearance, set her sense of self-preservation jangling at high alert.

Not being one to pass up a second chance at a possible relationship. Or, if things turned out to be unsalvageable, to pass up the opportunity to give him what for, she stepped through the open door. She couldn't figure out why her inner voice was screaming at her to run. Why adrenaline pumped through her system, sending her heart racing and her knees knocking. After all, she had known him a while and it wasn't like he was an axe murder or something. But, the closing of the door behind her had her wishing she hadn't come.

Chris shivered in the cold and looked around. The place was empty. Not one stick of furniture, no personal baubles, no photos, anywhere. Peeling wallpaper hung from the plaster walls in long strips. The air had that musty, closed-in smell that houses got when they had been empty for a long time. She couldn't make out the print on what little wallpaper stubbornly clung to the walls. What little light managed to find its way in through the moth-eaten tatters of curtains left on the windows was lost in the darkness. Overhead, from the second floor, she heard the scuffling of dozens of tiny feet on the floorboards. Mice, she thought. Ok. So, sissy or not, she was going with her gut on this one. Whether he came with her or not, she was getting the hell out of here.

"Ah, it's really getting late. We should hit the road," Chris said, whispering, almost afraid that the sound of her voice would awaken whatever monster waited in the closet. She flinched at his insistent tug on the sleeve of her coat, pulling her further into the room. He said something...she couldn't make out the words falling from his mouth. Her feet faltered, stumbling and tripping over the warped floor beneath them, reluctant to let her body follow his insistent pull deeper into the darkness. She went...willingly. But, she shouldn't go with him. Her body knew what her fuzzy mind had suddenly forgotten at the brush of his lips across her throat and his cold embrace, tight and unforgiving, locking her in place. She should run. But...she just couldn't remember why.

"How I've missed you, sweet Chris," he whispered against the hollow of her throat. She'd been the first person he'd thought to call. His escape wasn't easy. He'd damn near died trying to get away. And he hadn't gotten far. Not far enough. He was cold and hungry. So damned hungry it hurt. He knew she'd come.

The breathlessness of his voice sent a chill up her spine. Something was definitely wrong, very wrong. She needed to wake up! Get out of here! She was in danger. But, she didn't have the physical strength or the emotional will to break free of his embrace. "I need to go," Chris whimpered in protest. "Please."

"Do you love me?" he asked, sliding her coat down her shoulders. He didn't know why it was important to him to hear her confession. The words would not change the outcome. In this, he was just as much of a victim as she. He hadn't asked for this to happen to him anymore than she'd asked for him to share it with her. He just didn't want to be in it alone.

The sensation of his fingers along arms made her legs tremble and her knees threaten to buckle. She shivered from the cold. Not from the cold of the air around her. But, from the cold that radiated from him and dug its way deep into her soul. Her fuzzy mind grappled for an answer to his question. Did she love him? Did she? "I...I...I," she stuttered, unable to wrap her head around what was truly happening to her. She couldn't wake up. She couldn't run. She couldn't answer the question.

The pain, hard and sharp as a thousand needles, was everywhere. Ripping away any thought except those of agony and death from her mind. He was hurting her. Hurting! Biting! Drinking her blood! The scream that replaced any reply she could have given, died in her throat.

Eagerly, hungrily, he bit down. Overcome with the sweetness of the liquid rolling over his tongue and down his parched throat, he dug his fangs in and widened the wound to hasten the flow. She felt so good in his arms. She eased his pain and filled every hollow molecule of his body. He meant...never mind what he'd intended to do with that one phone call. This was everything. This was the missing piece to his miserable existence. Bliss.

Her warmth surged through his system, leaving the awful thoughts in its wake. She was warm because she was alive, truly alive. He was cold, so damned cold and empty, because he wasn't. He hadn't been alive for...he couldn't remember exactly how long. Someone had taken his life and left him like this, hollow and aching for more.

Her life was in his hands and he was swallowing it down. Gulp by gulp, taking everything away from her. He swallowed with needy gulps. Her heart sped along, slamming against her ribs, its' pace growing rapid and thready, steadily weaker and weaker as he drank. He should have waited for her answer. Out of curiosity, waited to see if she loved him or not before demanding she made the ultimate sacrifice to him. But, he couldn't say no to his instincts on second longer and holding her was hell. Maybe, he should have asked himself before he placed the call that sealed her fate, if he loved her.

Chris's heart beat erratically in her chest now. She was going to die; he knew that. He lowered her body to the cold, warped, wooden floor and watched what little blood seeped from the wounds drain in a thin rivulet of crimson damnation across her pale skin. Did he love her?

He had done exactly as he was told. Kept out of sight. Not hunted any humans. Reigned in his hunger until it became intolerable. And Chris, almost dead on the floor, was a result of his never-ending obedience to his maker. He learned fast out of fear of Mistress Kore's cold, all-seeing, all-knowing eyes and the terror of her swift retribution for anyone who failed her. She would know he had killed.

Scrabbling to come up with a plan, he watched Chris wither on the floor. No, he hadn't loved the woman. But, he didn't wish her dead. And, not knowing where he, or anyone else stood in the outcome of the battle, he sure as hell didn't want to incur the Mistress's wrath. Just in case, she wasn't dead and her blood-thirsty henchmen were still on the loose, he didn't want a rotting corpse to lead them straight to him. Maybe, it wasn't fair to Chris. But, he came first. And no one had certainly asked him his opinion before the deed was done.

He understood how it was done. He remembered his own conversion into this life in vivid, agonizing detail. Nervously, he bit down on his wrist, hoping he was right. Hoping, that he was vampire enough to make it happen. "Drink Chris. Please drink," he uttered in desperation. She would blend in with the others. Her scent would lead the Sons and his mistress's henchmen off his trail. He could get away. His mistress made so many, she'd never know the difference. And the Sons, to them the only good rogue was a dead one. Better it be Chris than him.

Chris screamed out in agony as the biting cold raced along her limbs replacing the sweetness she had tasted just moments before. She heard the sound of footsteps retreating farther and farther away. Across the hollow sounding wooden floor, crashing haphazardly into the woods, swiftly as if hell were on their heels, abandoning her. She opened her mouth to cry out for help, but found no voice only whimpers of searing pain. Her body was dying, shuddering and convulsing in spasms, each one more agonizing than the one before. Couldn't she die faster? Less painfully?

Death was so cold. So black. So painful. Not the happy place she imagined, but one of sheer terror, blood, and agony. Pitifully helpless, her blunt fingernails clawed at the moldering floorboards beneath them. Finally, able to find her voice, she wailed, releasing the horror inflicted upon her body into the darkness. Floating in an endless sea of pain, she begged for death to find her and the darkness to swallow her up.