Dawn Unleashed

The air that rushed through the open door to the exit of the compound had the cold bite of winter in its teeth. A bay stallion nervously pawed at the ground and exhaled hot puffs of breath from its nostrils. Cole clumsily scrambled onto the animal's back and gripped its mane with his trembling fingers. Fear, he'd held it back for so long, surged through his body. He knew this was going to happen. This had to happen. Nothing was going to change his mind. Too many had sacrificed too much to get him to this place, but one had given everything she was.

John Mark eased onto the Jack's back and wound an arm around Cole's waist to keep the boy from falling off. Jack knew the way to the bluffs. So many years he had patiently clomped down the trail to carry a future warrior to the waiting arms of destiny. Words tempted John Mark to break his silence, but he held his lips clamped tightly together. Whatever decision, whatever happened next was between Cole and the goddess and he would not influence the boy one way or the other. Really, when it came down to it, what pointers could he possibly have in regards to dying and being reborn? Gently, he nudged the horse forward with a tap of his heel they rode into the darkness of the snow-covered trail.

A bonfire raged high into the night sky, sizzling flakes of cold snow in its flames. The smell of wood smoke and fire was thick in the air. Getting here hadn't taken as long as Cole had thought it would have. Time was out and he was on his own from this point forward. John Mark pulled the horse to a stop and slid free from its back. Cole awkwardly swung a leg over and landed on the ground with a loud thump. A loose semi circle of bodies parted, making way for him to proceed into the center. He shivered beneath the warmth of the ceremonial robe as he walked to the middle to meet what fate had designed for him.

Drew began the chant, singing of warriors fallen in battle and of the mercy of the goddess. He told the stories the old way. The way the stories were told from the very beginning, in his native tongue. Cole stood before him doing his best not to shiver from the cold and the fear that Drew could smell on the boy's skin. "Are you worthy to be one of us?"

"Search my heart and find me so." Cole slid a wrist from underneath the heavy drape of the ceremonial robe and waited. He didn't feel the strike of fangs against flesh as he'd thought. But, he knew he'd been bitten. While the Great Father chanted a prayer. Cole couldn't help but scan the crowd of familiar faces. He was looking for one in particular. David's.

David had promised him that he'd know when the time came. He'd promised that he'd know, but not that he'd come to witness. Cole wondered if David had been feeding him a line of shit or that maybe, the man that was the closest thing to a best friend he had didn't care enough to come. Cole had known this last step was his to take alone and he was prepared to take it. Still, having David here with him, to celebrate or mourn the moment, would have meant so much. Cole wouldn't have felt as alone as he currently did with David here.

"You are worthy," Drew said. Cole was ready to become a warrior, but hesitancy tainted the taste of his blood. Cole was waiting for something.

Cole slid the robe off his back and dropped it into the snow. Bravely, he stood and held his head up. He hesitated to give the crowd one last scan before he gave his final consent. There was still no sign of David. He wasn't going to show. Disappointment hit Cole hard. He looked up to David, as a friend, perhaps his closest and David had stood him up at the last minute. Cole mustered what bravery he could and spoke, "I am ready."

"So it shall be done," Drew answered. The crowd mimicked his words. Cole stood in front of him battling the cold and his fear. The Great Father extended his fangs and drew the boy close, pinning him against his chest.

Cole panted and did his best not to shiver as he braced himself for the inevitable strike. Pain unlike anything he'd ever felt surged through him as fang broke through flesh. He swallowed back the scream building in his throat and struggled to still the bucking of his limbs against the iron wall of muscle that pinned him securely. His body would fight to hold onto its life even though Cole had just sacrificed it as an offering to a greater cause.

Dizziness waxed and waned. Cole wanted to see the world, while he still could, through his human eyes until it faded to blackness seeping into his field of vision. Faces melted and blended into one another. The outline of the trees faded into the starless night. Falling snow became a sheet of white around him. His strength was wavering now. His legs wobbled. Time had frozen into a solid block, yet raced by at a precariously fast pace, fleeting and crawling at the same time. The bites, each one different from the one before, pushed him farther and farther into the blackness tugging at his awareness. Eager gentle arms supported his weight when he could no longer stand. His brothers held him up while his body dropped and his mind waited for death to take him to places he'd never been.

Pain was just a myth in this black place of bliss and silence. Cole didn't know if he was dead or not, and it didn't matter here. Alive or dead were just different states of being. His lungs didn't take in air. The cold no longer bit at his skin. He could hear things. He simply didn't have interest in what they were saying. He wanted the voices to leave him alone and let him drift in the comforting embrace of nothing.

A voice commanded him to wake up and to drink. Drink what? The concept of ingesting nourishment was a forgotten one. Why did he need to drink? The voice was familiar to him. Demanding. Pushy. Annoying. David? Cole battled the fog in his brain. Clawing his way to the surface of consciousness. David was here. He hadn't forgotten him after all. Eagerly, Cole accepted the first sips of life into his body. He drank every last drop offered. Different tastes, different smells, different lives ingested, but they were all life, adding their combined strengths to his and pulling him back from the brink.

Pain, agonizing sheer torture, ripped at Cole's body. There was no pretense of holding back the scream behind his lips. He let the sound of his agony be known to anyone who cared to listen. David urged him to breathe against the torment. Reassured him that it would be over soon. Cole didn't care if he screamed like a sissy or not. It hurt. Ice flowed through his veins, freezing him with a bitter sting. Numbness tore at his fingers and toes. His teeth chattered although there was no warmth to be generated by the reflex. His limbs stretched and popped, reforming into powerful weapons of flesh and bone. Cole grappled in the snow to find something to hold onto and anchor himself to the land of the living. A hand, grabbed a hold of his, locking their fingers together. Cole held tightly to the hand and the owner of the hand held tightly to him.

Finally, the pain began to slowly recede. Thoughts rushed into his head like the din of a thousand voices all shouting at once. He didn't dare open his eyes afraid of what he might see. This could be the hell of the afterlife. Maybe he didn't make it after all and he was dead, serving his punishment in the bowls of hell. Sounds and smells assaulted him. His flesh burned as if it were on fire, alight with the sensation of each pebble, each frozen blade of grass, and the pressure of each snowflake underneath him.

"Cole, open your eyes, buddy. You're ok," David coaxed. He tried to loosen Cole's grip on his fingers, but Cole with his newly found strength refused to let go. "Open your eyes. You made it. You're a Son now. Take a look at your new world."

Gingerly, Cole inched one eye open and stared at the face leaning over him. All the small details he'd missed before with his weaker vision were glaringly apparent now. He saw everything in high definition. Heard every sound in a clarity his human ears could not have conceived. He smirked up at David. "You know, you're an ugly son of a bitch."

David chuckled and pulled Cole onto his wobbly feet. "Take a look in the mirror sometime, Sunshine. Good to have you back." He handed Cole a worn sweatshirt and pair of jeans. "Put these on. I for one don't want to see your bare ass."

Cole pulled on the jeans and was working with the sweatshirt when a smell hit his nose. Something smelled irresistibly good. Hungrily, he licked his lips. Entranced by the smell of fresh blood coursing through the veins of the group of people clustered near the fire for warmth against the cold sleet that coated the world, he inched a few steps closer. His body hummed with awareness and his gums ached painfully. His body refused to heed his brain, his limbs moving like a marionette's. Arms and legs pulled by the strings of something he did not yet understand and certainly couldn't control.

David steered Cole away from the human members of the Sons and pointed him toward the woods. "Dinner." Baby vampires were dangerous and lethal. Far too often, as he well knew, their lack of control got them killed.

"You're not sticking around are you?" Cole huffed as David led him away from the humans. Secretly, Cole was grateful for the interruption. Otherwise, he didn't want to think about what might have happened. He was born to protect life, not to take it. "Damn," he muttered, casting one last glance over his shoulder at the wary cluster. Unconsciously, his tongue skated across his lips. "Damn." The urge to run into the group and take a bite or two was almost unbearable. He dry swallowed painfully and forced his legs to move.

"I know," David said sympathetically. He'd like to lie and say being around humans got easier. But, it didn't. Not for any of his kind. Vampires were like ex-addicts in the fact that the urge was always, always with them. But, the fear of what one slip up could turn a vampire into, a mindless, murder without conscience, a Rogue, was enough to keep most of them on their best behavior. Cole would have to find his own way to deal with the temptation and ever present threat.

"Nah, I don't belong here. My home is in the city." David patted Cole on the shoulder. "I'm really glad you didn't die tonight."

"Me too," Cole confessed. This was one of those awkward moments that guys often shared. He had so much to say. David and he had started out on a rocky path, bitter enemies, in the beginning. Through the pain and tragedy of loss, they'd surpassed the boundary of friendship and became kin through their shared agony. "I'm glad you came."

"What? And miss the chance to see you rolling on the ground crying out like a sissy? Not a chance." Nobody did emotional casualness like David did. He'd heard everything that Cole wanted to say by the inflection in his voice and he shared the sentiment. Neither one of them were ready or able to delve into the pain of the past. But, the past and the pain remained between them binding them together with all the words they could share, but wouldn't.

"Bite me, David," Cole huffed. Being born hurt! His body still reeled from the pain. Another agony was firmly taking root. Hunger. No wonder vampires were such pushy, grouchy bastards most of the time.

David chuckled, "Be careful how you say that. It has a whole new meaning now." He read the expression of epiphany on Cole's face. He pointed Cole toward the woods and gave him a not so gentle nudge. "Go, get out there and pop your cherry. I'll see you around sometime."

Cole watched David melt into the darkness. At least next time they had an ass kicking contest, they'd be on even ground. He turned to John Mark. He'd never hunted anything but quarters in the bottom of his mom's pocketbook in his life. There were a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. Hunger seized his gut and tied it in knots. John Mark simply gestured to the woods, following along beside him, and nature took care of the rest.

Chapter 11

The diner was a hole in the wall, but it was comfortable and warm. Worn, chipped formica table tops that had seen better days and a mismatch of chairs formed a neat aisle. The pale tiled floor was yellowed with age and cracked in places. But, the floor was spotlessly clean despite the snow and mud tracked in throughout the evening. Cheery red and white gingham curtains framed windows black with the early darkness that had settled over the town. The coffee was good, better than Robert expected as he drank from a bone white mug with a crack snaked down the handle.

The waitress, worn out from the day, didn't bother with a menu. She simply surveyed her new customers with her tired blue eyes and brought out two mugs of coffee and two servings of pecan pie. Robert mussed that the sheriff must be a regular, same as most of the clientele in the restaurant. Local greasy spoons were like that. Everybody knew everybody. Curious eyes looked him over and then politely returned to their plates. Since he was in the company of the infamous Mack Brown, everyone assumed he was ok and not worth bothering talking about.

Mack returned Robert's smile of contentment and dug into his own slice of heaven. "Anna is the best cook in town," he said through the mouthful of pecans and brown sugar. "She is our local treasure."

Robert swallowed the bite he'd been savoring in his mouth and washed it down with a sip of bitter coffee. "She knows her stuff when it comes to pies, that's for sure."

Mack nodded in agreement and took another bite. He wanted to ask, and was going to, now that the formalities were over. "Why the gloves?" Nurses and doctors wore rubber gloves. Criminals who didn't want to get caught wore rubber gloves. Not that the stranger in his town would admit it if he were a criminal. But, Mack didn't think that was the case. He had an instinct about these things and Robert didn't strike him as the criminal type.

"Ah." Robert set his fork on the corner of his plate, contemplating how to answer. If he told the truth, he'd be laughed out of the diner. Over the years, he'd grown well versed at hiding his...condition. "Skin allergy."

"Damn shame," Mack answered. He had instincts about other things too, and Robert was lying, hiding something. "What are you allergic to?"

Robert didn't miss a beat on that answer. He'd told the lie too many times for it not to roll automatically off his tongue. "Plastic."

Mack raised an eyebrow, but let it go. He took another bite and sipped his coffee in silence, waiting for the stranger in his town to speak. When Robert failed to spark up a conversation, Mack felt obliged to do so. "You on your way to the city to visit kin?"

Robert nodded and drained his coffee mug. The waitress arrived right on cue with a refill and dropped a handful of creamers in the middle of the table. "Looking for my son."

"He missing?" Kids went missing from the city all of the time never to be found. Recently, the head count was up a bit more than usual. Most of them were runaways that eventually were accounted for. But, more than should ever be, ended up on the table at the morgue.

"His mother doesn't seem to think so." Robert frowned at his empty plate and pushed the crumbs from piecrust around with the tines of his fork.

"You think differently," Mack stated. He eyed the empty spot on Robert's ring finger.

"Divorced," Robert explained, noticing the sheriff's stare. "I think Cole has gotten himself into some kind of trouble."

"Ah," Mack said with a nod. "City is full of trouble just waiting to be found." He gave the waitress a friendly smile as she collected the empty plates. "Thanks, Cindy," he said and motioned to his empty coffee mug for a refill. Once she was finished refilling his empty mug, he turned his attention back to Robert.

"You have a picture of your boy? A lot of strangers pass through here. Kids, on their way to someplace better, mostly. Maybe, I've seen him." Mack was eager to help if he could. His own son had been lured away from small town life by the promise of the glittering lights of the big city. His son was home now. Laid to rest in the local cemetery. No parent needed to bury a child and suffer the way that he had. So many regrets plagued him. Too much had been left unsaid between them that never would be said. Mack took the picture in his gnarled, weathered hands and stared down at the face.

Cole's mother had been dutiful in keeping him up to date with their son's progress through the years. Every year, she sent the newest school photograph and a brief note. This year, in September, right on schedule, she'd sent Cole's senior picture and the usual, hastily scribbled note.

Robert waited patiently while Mack studied the photo. In a way, he wanted Mack to recognize the face in the picture and tell him that he'd seen Cole passing through. Maybe what he feared every night in his dreams wasn't real. Maybe he'd caught glimpses of someone else's present instead of his son's. His gift was damned accurate, but not infallible. Anybody could make a mistake, couldn't they?

Mack didn't need to study the picture very long to make the connection. Although the photo was recent, it was a poor representation. The eyes were wrong. The kid's eyes in the picture were filled with cocky determination, an eagerness to graduate and take on the world. He knew the boy all right. Had met him a time or two. The eyes, not so long ago so youthful, were filled with a loss and tragedy that had transformed them from the eyes of a boy into the eyes of a man. Mack had secrets to protect. He couldn't tell Robert anything. Quietly, he slid the picture across the table. "Good looking boy."

Robert took the picture back and slid it into his wallet. Mack was quiet, contemplating as his fingers fiddled with the rim of his empty mug, avoiding Robert's eyes. Mack knew something. Robert was sure of it. "You've seen my boy. Haven't you."

Mack flashed Robert an impatient smile. "Can't say for sure." He stood and gathered up his coat. "Well, thanks for the company, but I've got to get back on the road." Father to father, he wanted to tell Robert not to worry. That Cole was in the best of possible hands he could be in. His vow, his duty to the secret he protected prevented him from telling the truth. Instead, he said nothing. Reaching into his wallet, he dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table. "Pie and the coffee are on me."

Robert jumped to his feet, ripping at the rubber glove on his hand. Mack's posture had changed from one of relaxed good ol' boy to terse and hurried. "Wait!" He called after Mack. Cold, damp air swirled in from the open door as Mack paused and turned to look over his shoulder. Robert didn't want to do this. He really didn't like invading people's minds. Bad enough to catch glimpses through the imprints they left on everything they touched. But to look, take a deep look inside at the secrets no one should ever see, the worst of all intrusions. "I have to find my boy." He reached out and grabbed Mack's weathered fingers in his and braced himself for the floodgates to open.

Chapter 12

Hunting in the city on a night like this was impossible. The cold and the wet snow blanketed everything with a layer of dingy gray. Any scent trail his wolf would have been able to pick up was buried underneath inches of grime and black filth from the snowplows as they worked tirelessly to carve a path through the maze of streets. Even the criminal element that dwelled in the city's dark underbelly seemed to be taking the night off. Nobody was out except for the workers in their vain attempts to subdue the very forces of nature herself. As if they could. Hunter shivered, not from the cold, but from the dismal cloud of gloom that held the city under its siege.

Occasionally, a car would creep past him. Hunter ducked away from a spray of filthy snowmelt and cursed at the driver under his breath. Right now, he wished for the warmth of the fireplace and his wife more than almost anything else. Almost. His son wasn't safe on his own. Until Daniel was brought back to the pack, Hunter couldn't afford the luxury of wishing for the creature comforts of home.