Dawn's Shadow

Stopping to look over his shoulder at the sound of Chris's inhuman wails of terror, he felt a twinge of regret for what he had done. Not enough regret to make him go back into that house and definitely not enough to make him stick around. He thought about taking her car. But, that would mean going back inside to get the keys out of her pocket. He turned his back on her screams and ran for it, as fast and far as his legs would carry him from the guilt of what he'd done.

Chris huddled in the corner of the cold, dark and empty living room clamping her hands down tightly over her ears. She rocked back and forth squeezing her eyes closed to block out the horror of the darkness. Her stomach cramped and reeled with hunger. The likes of which she'd never experienced before. She was so cold. Shivering from the emptiness inside of her, she drew her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth in the dark. Tears flowed down her cheeks to pool into an icy puddle on her sleeve. She wasn't dead. No, death was too kind of a fate for her. She'd skipped dead and gone straight to hell, alive and kicking. Trapped in a waking nightmare of confusion and pain and of darkness so much darkness. Mouthing a prayer, she prayed for and end and for dawn to come.

Chapter 4

Alex awoke as the last few rays of sunlight peeked in around the tightly drawn curtains of her bedroom window. She felt around next to her, but the bed was cold and neatly made. Empty. She cut off the tears before they could flow in an endless river down her cheeks. Once she started crying, the tears might never end. They would just fall and fall and fall.

Her feet landed on the rough braided rug on the floor beside her bed. She had to do this. She owed it to Lucien and to The Sons. Tonight, she would honor her husband one final time. Release his soul from its earthly prison in the flames of the pyre. She shuffled into the bathroom and flicked on the light. The reflection staring back at her from the vanity over the sink was not a pleasant one. She looked haggard and worn down, as if her body bore the weight of her shattered heart. This broken woman reflected in the glass was not the one the Sons needed to see. She had to pull herself together, stuff the remains of her heart someplace deep inside where only she could feel the pain and the burden of it, and pretend to be ok.

*****

Dane tied the buckskin cloth, tightly securing it around his waist. He applied the ceremonial face paint without the aid of a mirror. He had been applying the brilliantly colored paints for over seventy-five years. He hardly needed to stare at his reflection to trace the patterns over his cheeks.

The medallion hung like a weight around his neck. He held the heavy circle of gold in his palm and traced the pattern carved on its surface with his fingertip. The last time the medallion had been worn; it hung around Lucien's neck, signifying his position as the leader. Lucien had accepted it and worn it proudly. To Dane the heavy artifact felt like a noose that was getting tighter day-by-day. He could barely breathe under the strain of its bulk and the ever-tightening chain of gold from which it hung. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be a leader. He knew this time would come, when he'd eventually have to step in. Deep down, he'd always known, Lucien wouldn't wear the medallion for long.

*****

Alex shook off her mother's and Janine's offers to help her get ready. She dismissed a ride in the warmth of her dad's pickup truck. She had to do this alone. This was her goodbye. People were trying to be nice, almost catering to her every whim. Almost drowning her in the tidal wave of their sympathies. Preferring Jack's company and the long ride to the bluffs on his back to one more well meant "I'm so sorry" she headed out.

Fully human without the aid of Lucien's healing blood she felt every bump and dip in the trail as Jack cantered along, his breath making steamy puffs from the effort of carrying her on his back. At least, she didn't have to make idle conversation with the horse. Didn't have to pretend to be ok, for a little while longer. Jack was good like that. He listened, as much as a horse could listen. But, he never gave her any more than what she asked for or needed. And the long ride, as bumpy and painful as it was to her aching right leg and weaker self, gave her time to get her head in the right place before she arrived at the bluffs.

Orange light glowed up ahead from the wide clearing barely visible through the stark woods. Casting her battered feelings aside, she entered the circle of torches and scrambled off Jack's back. Someone took the reins from her, although it didn't register whom. Her body hardly noticed the chill on the frosty air as she took the torch from Dane's hand and moved to the pyre in the middle where Lucien lay, stretched out on top the wood.

His ceremonial shroud covered him from head to toe. To pull it back for one last look would have been too hard to bear. It was better this way, better for the brothers and better for her to remember him as he was, not as this lifeless shell underneath the ornate coverings that hid him from view. She threw her voice high into the night sky and chanted, offering the song to the goddess. She sang what was in her heart and hoped that on some plane, at some level, the words reached Lucien's soul.

Reaching the northern most point of the pyre she lowered the torch's flame to the dry kindling, watching as it caught and spread with greedy tongues of fire. Next she went to the east and did the same, then to the south, and finally to the west. The flames licked at the wood hungry to do their job and consume every bit they touched. With her grizzly task done, Alex exhaled the shaky breath she'd been holding and as tossed the torch into the flames, watching the love of her life and all her hopes and dreams burn to ash.

Strong hands wrapped around Alex's narrow shoulders, quivering with repressed grief, and pulled her back from the pyre. A gentler pair of hands draped a blanket over her head and guided her into their owner's embrace. Her dad was the pillar of her strength. But, right now, she needed her mom's softer, kinder support to keep her upright. She fell into the arms and allowed them to hold her tight. Her job was done. Lucien was gone. And there was nothing left, but the memories and pain. Nothing but ash and smoke, the bitter, acrid taste of it on her tongue and the harsh smell of it in her nose, to remember him by.

******

Janine clutched Patrick's hand tightly and held back her tears. She watched as Alex's shoulders trembled in surrender to her grief. She wanted to go to her best friend and comfort her. But, Patrick held her back. He understood what her heart could not. Right now, Alex needed space to grieve. Time to heal. She'd been so strong, while Janine was the one who fell apart. Janine cried the tears that Alex could not. She cried enough for the both of them, for all of the brothers combined. Felt the pain that they would not allow themselves to feel.

The morning, after the dust had settled and the brothers came home, battered but not beaten, triumphant, but not without the heavy weight of their loss borne on their shoulders. She'd been so relieved to see Patrick, alive and whole, with hardly a scratch on him. She'd rushed into his arms and covered his face with kisses, luxuriating in the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, while Alex mourned silently. She felt a pang of guilt at her happiness. Why hadn't it been Patrick instead of Lucien? And what would she have done...what emotional state would she be in now if it had been? Life wasn't fair. She shouldn't have to choose between her best friend's grief and her happiness. How could she stand by Patrick's side when Alex was standing there alone?

Patrick held Janine in his arms. Since the morning of his return from the battle he had hardly let her out of his sight. And when he did have to leave her, he made sure that she was well protected. He couldn't imagine what went through Lucien's head in those last brief seconds of his life. Those precious seconds between death and life, when you knew death was coming for you and your number was finally up. Had he been thinking about Alex, about leaving her behind? Could he leave Janine or would death have to drag him kicking and screaming into the afterlife? Would he crawl his way out of the pits of hell to be by her side for just five more minutes?

He'd wasted enough time with his bullshit. Their relationship was tenuous at best. He was still terrified by the depth of his feelings for her. Horrified that at some point, she'd leave him behind. And until Lucien's death, until the battlefield ran red with his blood, Patrick had never considered that he might be the one leave her behind. No more. Time was too precious to waste. Janine was too precious to waste one more second taking for granted.

*******

The Great Father watched the small assembly from a distance. He could sense their heartbreak. Their greatest trial had come in their darkest hour. He longed to give them the direction and purpose they so desperately needed. But, his brother, the Prophet, forbade his interference. Wasn't he the boss? Wasn't this his show? His brother advised against his interference. And as usual, his brother was right. The Sons had to learn to get by without him. They had done well enough without him.

His brother warned there might come a time when he wouldn't be there for them. And, as his brother in his usual cryptic babble had said, there might be a time when he had to learn to get by without him. His brother had gone to Arizona, alone.

What was he supposed to do with his time? Without his brother? The goddess had sent her white wolf from whatever plane it lived to comfort him. The animal was splendid, thickly muscled with a coat of the purest white he'd ever seen. Idly, he stroked the animal's head, lost in thought. Wondering what prompted the sudden trip to Arizona and what his brother had seen in his prophetic dreams that he wasn't telling him about.

******

John Mark was so over funerals. So done with the crying and the soul crushing weight of loss. It was a relief to slip into the woods with Robbie at his side. She was quiet, lost in her own head, which gave him plenty of space to sort through his. They were just learning to live again, getting over the death of her parents, when this happened and death hit them and the whole brotherhood with all the finesse of a Mack truck. If death came in threes, as the superstition went, the brotherhood was paid up well in advance.

There were so many unknowns. Without Lucien what would happen to them now? Dane was their leader. But, he didn't want to be. The brothers knew it. Sensed his reluctance. But, never spoke of it. Who would take Lucien's place if Dane...nah, he wasn't going there. But, who would be Dane's second, the one who would take his place...if...the unthinkable were to happen? Did he want the job? Did he want to be Dane's second?

Robbie walked beside John Mark. She gave him space alone with his thoughts. She didn't know Lucien or any of the brothers very well. But, that didn't mean their loss didn't hit home, especially, so soon after the deaths of her parents. She was a warrior, tattooed and named by the Great Father. She was ready for anything, or at least that's what she told herself.

When it had been John Mark's pain filling her head, when she felt him dying on the battlefield, she'd come undone. She understood, perhaps better than anyone what Alex had suffered. To feel the one you love die, to feel him, the presence that kept a vital part of you alive, suddenly ripped away. Alex needed friends and she needed support to get her through this, to move her beyond the point she was at in her head. And when Alex was ready to accept her friendship, Robbie would be there for her.

How much more could the brothers take before they lost the glue that held them together completely? She didn't understand a lot about their internal dynamics. But, it seemed to her, the very balance of everything the Sons were, dangled by a thread. She didn't want to be rootless like the rogues. She didn't want to wander from place to place staying hidden, scuttling in the shadows. Even though John Mark tried to protect her from his innermost worries, she knew he shared some of her concerns. Where would they go? Who would lead them? What would they do if they were suddenly cast to the four winds and on their own?

******

Will offered to help Dane with the grim task of lighting the pyres. The man, his leader, stoically declined and set the last bundle of wood to light with short, clipped movements weighted down by his unspoken grief. The man was doing his duty to his brothers plain and simple, bearing the task alone instead of sharing the load. It was so like Dane to take the burden unto himself.

Will wondered who amongst the brothers would be strong enough or crazy enough to step up and be his second. Did he want the job? Hell no. He was good at what he did and for him, to be good at one thing was plenty. He was content to be what he was, a little worker bee with a big sword. The bigger picture of who he was supposed to become simply hadn't unfolded for him yet. And it wasn't like he didn't have plenty of time to figure it out.

He still could not get the image of Candace out of his head. It couldn't have been her. Sure, she'd aged in the twenty or so years since he'd seen her. But, he could have sworn it was her. Saw it in the curve of her cheek, the honey color of her hair, and in the fullness of the lips he'd dreamed about every night since his decision had forced his life into such a different direction. Sometimes, he regretted simply disappearing from her life without even so much as a goodbye.

That was the way of the Sons. Old ties had to be severed. And she'd only been nineteen at the time, young enough to get over him and move on with her life. Surely, she'd done exactly that. He had a vague idea of her whereabouts. What she did for a living. He wasn't one to pour salt in a wound that was almost, but never fully healed. He didn't bother with the specific details of her life.

Knowing that she had moved on and married and had the houseful of kids they'd dreamed of would have been too hard, too painful for him. He would have been happy for her, of course. But, he would have kicked himself and would have continued to kick himself, because, instead of marrying Joe Blow, she would have married him. Mothered his children. Warmed his bed. And they could have grown old, together. He missed her every day. But, he'd made his decision and that was that. He didn't have time for regrets or dreams that were never meant to be.

Not one inch of the woods had been left unturned. He had searched everywhere for a trace of the woman, who couldn't be his Candy, but who he felt so deeply in his bones, might very well be her. And come up empty handed. She and her two companions had simply disappeared without a trace. Primarily, because he'd let them escape. He'd allowed a rogue, no...three of them... to go free. He hadn't told a soul. He didn't want the brothers to hunt the rogues down...just incase, it was his Candy after all. He'd just have to keep looking. Lock his suspicions up tightly in his brain and hope he was wrong and the woman wasn't her.

*******

Dane moved through the pyres, lighting them one after one until the air was thick and hazy with smoke and the ashes of the dead. There had been offers to help, others willing to light the pyres and shoulder his burden. Alex had done her job. And he had to do his. Now, with the last pyre lit, there was nothing to do but think about the loss and what lay ahead in the blankness of an uncertain future.

Dane stood guard, as was his duty, long after the last of his brothers had slipped away into the dark. The sun was peeking over the horizon, adding a rosy blush to the dark gray of the sky. He would stand here as long as a wisp of smoke drifted up from the smoldering remains of the pyres.

Dane's shoulders slumped and he leaned heavily on his sword as he reviewed his mental "to do" list. First priority was to relocate what was left of their numbers and set up some new digs for the brothers. Rebuilding would take time, and manpower, both of which were in short supply. So far, they had a few cots and a handful of battery operated lanterns. The old mines were the perfect place. But, how to pull it off and remain under the radar?

His second priority was to add to their dwindled numbers, cut down to less than half. The territories were grossly under protected and his brothers were growing weary, physically and mentally taxed by the added patrols, dangerously close to the breaking point with all that had happened. But, only Kokumthena knew who was destined to become a Son, and she'd been pretty quiet throughout this whole ordeal.

The sound of a shotgun rang through the woods, echoing in the trees with a sharp pop. Dane smiled, the hunter in him pleased with the kill. Gauging by the lightness of the smell on the wind, the woods were short a deer. "Not bad, for a human," he muttered to himself. Odd, before his change, he wouldn't have thought about hunting and killing wild animals. Funny, how things changed and necessity was the mother of invention. Luckily, the humans, for the most part, were not a threat to their primary food source. The best most of them would do. The closest they'd come to catching anything would be a case of the sniffles from being out in the cold.

The air stirred in tiny swirls around Dane. His skin tingled as he felt the presence of his goddess coming to collect the souls of the dead and scatter the ash with her mystical hand. He felt her power, thick on the pale morning dawn. It danced along his flesh and made his hair stand up on end. He dropped to one knee and lowered his eyes, patiently waiting. Maybe, she'd drop a set of blue prints in his lap. Maybe, she would tell him what he was supposed to do next in such a time of uncertainty. Tell him how he was supposed to lead the brothers when he was so woefully inept.

"My Psai-wi-ne-noth-tu, my Great Warrior, why is your heart so burdened?" The voice was sweeter, more melodic than any sound he'd ever or ever would hear. Loaded with wisdom and a purity his feeble earthbound mind would never truly comprehend, he breathed in her presence and let it fill all the vacant spaces left by doubt.

The goddess was brazen in her subtlety. She never ever came out and said anything, rather dropped cryptic hints like breadcrumbs at what she wanted you to do. Right now he'd prefer a bossy boss to the dozen or so little whispered suggestions she was about to lay at his feet.

"Alex is to become one of us, my most precious daughter, and your sister. After her time of mourning has passed, offer her my gift."

Dane snapped his jaw shut. Ok, that was pretty damned direct, more so than he expected. Maybe, the higher you moved up the food chain the more blunt the memos that came from the front office. Lucien had tried to turn Alex and failed. If Lucien loved her and couldn't do it, how was he supposed to do it? "I don't have the strength."

The musical sound of Kokumthena's laughter rang throughout the woods, resounding off the gray matter stuffed in his skull. "Do you think so little of me? Doubt the destiny I have given you?" As she rested her hand on the top of his head, he felt the chill of her ethereal touch clear to the tips of his toes. "You have great strength and great abilities. You just lack the faith to use them."

"No, I.." Dane ground his teeth together, stopping himself at the energy of her raw power running along his skin. Not angering a Goddess would be a wise decision, if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulders.