Dawn's End

Carter wanted to hate the wolf. He could not bring himself to do it though. The wolf had given Shayla something precious. Something he never could. A child. The realization rose up bitter on the tip of his tongue. Never in his life had Carter felt more lacking than he did at this minute. Angered by his shortcomings, Carter wished Shayla and the wolf a happy life. He owed her that much, to be a good loser, and wish her well.

Carter found a cozy spot toward the back of the subterranean cavern. The miners were industrious in the day. This spot was deep. The rocky walls marred by the endless scraping of picks and axes as the workers burrowed for untapped seams of coal in the bowels of the earth. Since then, sometime around the turn of the twentieth century, the mine had been picked clean of its precious minerals and abandoned. Someday, the Sons might tame this unclaimed corner of the caves they called home. For now, it made a handy, quiet, respite for a fool and his broken heart.

The light tapping of designer heels against uneven rock drew Carter out of his private misery. Scowling into the darkness and cursing under his breath, he recognized the pace of the steps. Not even in the darkest bowels of the underworld could one escape Bianca.

"Nice place you found here," Bianca said. Wiping layers of unseen ick off her fingertips onto the thighs of her designer jeans, she frowned at Carter. Just as soon as she got back to the artificial light of day she was peeling the jeans off and burning them. She felt filthy just being down here. She hadn't had any idea of where to look for Carter. As she'd guessed he would be, he was in the deepest, dankest, most disgusting and deserted part of the compound he could find. It was a perfect place for him to pine away and wallow in his guilt and self-pity. God, sometimes, he was so predictable. That was exactly what she had been counting on.

At least, the wide cavern was as far away as they could get from prying ears and still be underground. Carter huddled in the corner, drawn far back into the unyielding rock as he could be. "Piss off, Bianca," he hissed in irritation. Bianca paid him no heed. He was melancholy, practically pouting. She would have been happy to leave him to his dark brooding, if doing so didn't interfere with her plans. Unfortunately, he was the main character in her plot. So, she'd have to put up with him and his insults.

"Really Carter, are you still pining away for that girl? It wouldn't have worked out anyway. You know, the whole she has a pulse and you don't thing. Quite a downer, don't you think?" Bianca gauged her words carefully. She wanted Carter annoyed enough by her presence to stir him to action. Not so pissed though that he throttled her by the throat.

Bianca's presence was as grating as nails on a chalkboard. What in the hell was she doing here? Didn't she realize that poking at him was as dangerous as prodding a rattlesnake with a stick? His temper was worn thin and fraying rapidly around the edges. "What. Do. You. Want?" He ground out the words, heating them with infliction and warning.

Bianca sighed and faked her usual nonchalance. She was so used to hiding much of who she was that Carter would not see through her ruse and guess the truth behind her plan. He had to be handled carefully. Be made to think that the idea to kill O'Sullivan and take her place in the city as head of the Guardians was his own doing. If he suspected her hand in the plot, he'd never go for it. Carter was her brother. She had his best interests at heart, along with her own. Doing something, besides his self-destructive pouting over Shayla, would be good for him. He needed a purpose beyond his lost love.

She almost chuckled at the preposterousness of their situation. Here they were, two siblings, crouched in some dank corner of Hell, plotting to kill their father. She could claim a bigger, altruistic end to the whole damned mess, while she did it. Even if she were still the self-serving bitch she once was...ok, to a lesser degree...still was. Things couldn't turn out more perfectly. "It's time to end this. I've arranged to have two of the Guardians to be placed at Eric's cell door tonight. They're loyal to our cause and won't stand in your way."

Carter looked up and stared at Bianca with an incredulous expression on his face. Out of all the ways he'd tried to off himself, he did not envision losing his head to the Great Father's sword as one of them. Eric's sentence would be carried out. The Great Father was a man of his word and one of duty. Would Drew kill him in retribution if he beat him to the punch and put Eric down before he had the chance to do so himself? Carter wondered if Bianca realized that her pretty little neck was on the chopping block as well as his own. Then again, the Great Father was practical. Dead, after all, was dead. Did it really matter who did it or how Eric met his end as long as the deed was done?

Retaliation against Bianca or him might cost Drew his alliance with the Guardians. Hell, it might start an all out war. The Great Father would see that no one man's life or death was worth that much risk.

Carter owed Eric enough to see that he met his end like a man. He'd vowed to Eric that he'd give him a good and noble death. Carter wouldn't kill his sire while he was chained like a dog. Eric would die standing on his own two feet and meet his end with his head held high. Cold that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air around him ran along his limbs. "Tonight then."

Bianca nodded, holding back a breath of pure relief at the fact that Carter had agreed. She should be chipper as a schoolgirl at her maker's impending demise. In a way she was. Life would be so much easier without the threat of Eric looming over her head. She also, had never known a life without him. There had always been Eric. After tonight, he would be no more.

Chapter 71

Maggie had never fully understood the wonder of life until she no longer had it. So many tiny pieces melded together made up her humanity that she'd never noticed them before. She did now. The thirst was awful and terrifying. She'd been hungry before. Her stomach growling and aching in its emptiness, but it was nothing compared to what she felt now. Cole had her safely under lock and key. Unless she got control of herself, he nor any of the other vampires would let her out of this room. Smart. She wasn't sure of exactly how well she would handle the outside world. Now that she was no longer part of it.

Cole had taken her out long enough to hunt. Always under such careful supervision she couldn't have slipped away from his watchful eye if she'd wanted to. In truth, she stayed glued to his side. She was too afraid of herself to stray. Cole was doing his best to reassure her that the thirst would become manageable, in time. But, it wasn't his demon to conquer. The demon belonged to her and her alone.

Everyone was doing their best to comfort her in these bleak hours of her transition. There wasn't anyone at the compound who didn't understand the blinding fury of first thirst. Lori, her poor sister, had broken the news to their mother. Needless to say, mom hadn't taken it well. Even though her mother knew how deeply in love her daughters were. She had still clung to the hope that Maggie would change her mind, find a nice human boy to settle down with, and pump out the grandbabies she so desperately wanted. Wasn't going to happen now or ever. "I didn't think it was possible for my mom to dislike you anymore than she already did," Maggie said to Cole.

Cole chuckled and pulled Maggie closer. She was tense and unsure, stiff as a board in his arms. "She'll get over it," he reassured. He hadn't wanted to let Maggie talk to her mother. Maggie didn't need to subject herself to any upsets in her fragile condition. The first few days needed to be as stress free as possible. The thirst was bad enough without the added complication of an emotional battle between mother and daughter. Maggie teetered on a precarious ledge. Pushed too hard she'd plummet straight to the bottom. What she needed was a healthy dose of self-confidence, not her mother's endless badgering and whining over the grandbabies she'd never have.

Gently, he cradled Maggie's cheek to his bare chest and stroked her hair. She was his creation. Through the blood they shared, he could feel the thirst tearing at her throat. "Are you sorry you did it?"

Maggie shifted her chin to look at Cole. She still couldn't believe how many things about him her human eyes had missed. The highlights of red that wove through strands of rich russet brown and purest gold, she'd never seen them before. The way the light played off the high arch of his cheekbones could mesmerize her for hours. How could she regret her decision when it brought her to see him as he truly was? "No." Playfully, she poked the frowning, corners of his mouth up into a grin. "Now you don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Cole turned his jaw to capture the tip of her finger between his front teeth and gave it a playful nip before releasing it. Her hand slid to the hollow of his throat, roaming over his skin. "I like worrying about you."

Maggie snuggled down into his arms, nestled against his chest and sighed. Other than the nagging thirst that would not leave, she still felt pretty much the same. Her body was different. "Nothing has changed. Not really."

Cole rubbed his cheek over Maggie's hair. "Not a thing. You're still the girl I love."

"And you're still the boy I fell in love with."

Chapter 72

The first light of dawn stung Cindy's bleary eyes with its blinding rays. She hadn't slept a wink last night. Thoughts of Robert and her last words to him, the way she'd all but thrown him out of her house and into the cold and the pangs of guilt besieging her mind had kept her awake. Tossing and turning in bed, she'd finally given up any hopes of sleeping and settled for watching old black and white reruns on TV. She shouldn't have been such a bitch to him. Then again he should have told her the truth before instead after they'd spent the night together. She'd never know how much of that night was really him and his reactions to her and how much was just a byproduct of what he'd plucked, whether on purpose or accidentally, from her brain.

She was so stupid. Stupid. He'd barely explained about his gift before she tossed him out on his ear. He couldn't help the way he was born. Right? He didn't have to tell her at all. He'd said he didn't want any secrets between them. Obviously, since he could garner any information he wanted from just a touch, there weren't going to be.

She got up from the rickety wooden rocker and shuffled over to the coffee pot. The coffee had been sitting on the burner since a little after four in the morning. She thought she wanted it, but talked herself out of having a cup under the vague hope that sleep still might come to her. She was groggy, too bleary eyed, too tired to sleep now, and she had the lunch shift today. Maybe the caffeine would help clear the fog out of her head just long enough to get her through the day.

Cream floated in white clouds, skimming the top of the black coffee. She could have been more understanding of Robert. Telling her couldn't have been easy. He'd half expected her reaction to his news. He had also dared to hope that she would see past his confession and accept him as he was. She had seen the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. Right before she'd kicked him in the ribs like a starved, stray puppy desperate for a handout. The spoon she used to stir the cream clanked noisily on the sides of the mug. God, she really was a bitch.

Robert had an unfair advantage in any relationship, unfair and also unwanted. Who would want to know everything your partner thought? She couldn't fathom not being able to surprise him with an unexpected gift because he'd know well in advance. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have to fake surprise time after time when you knew what was coming. Yeah, being in Robert's shoes had to suck. But, so did being in hers. Where had the thought that they were in any kind of relationship at all come from anyway? They barely knew each other.

She sank onto the rocker, cradling the cooling mug in her hands. She should swallow her pride and her self-righteous convictions. At least call him and try to apologize for her behavior. She had her reasons for why she'd reacted the way she had. Her insecurities did not give her an excuse for making him feel like shit. She had been shocked at Robert's revelation. Felt like she had been laid bare and all her secrets revealed. He trusted her more than she certainly trusted him. For what he'd seen, however great or small the details, he hadn't turned on her the way she had him.

Her coffee had grown disgustingly cold. Disgruntled at the bitter coolness coating her tongue she sat the half drained mug on an end table. The phone, yes, she was still one of the few people in the universe that had a landline and a rotary phone, sat innocuously on its perch at the edge of the end table. She could pick up the receiver and give him a call. Struggle with an awkward apology over the phone like a coward or pull up her big girl pants and do it in person like an adult.

She opted for the coward's way out. If he didn't answer or didn't bother to return her call, or if he flat out hung up on her, at least, she could spare herself the humiliation of facing him in person. Technology really was a wonderful thing. So much easier than facing the music head on. It took her about ten minutes to scrounge through her purse and find the scrap of napkin from the bar that he'd used to scrawl down his phone number. Another fifteen for her to muster up the fortitude to carry out her decision to call. Another three minutes for the phone's ancient rotary dialer, noisily clacking round and round as she dialed the numbers one after the other, to place the call and less than one minute for him to answer the phone.

There was no hint of anger in his voice. Just eagerness hinged with mild surprise that she'd called. She had to be at the bar by nine-thirty to open for the lunch crowd. He agreed to meet her there for a quick chat while she got things in line for the day. Maybe it was possible to surprise, for lack of a better word, a psychic, after all.

Nervous from her anticipated meeting with Robert, Cindy showered and dressed in her usual work attire. Jeans and a t-shirt topped off by a soft, very worn flannel. She took her time, it was just a little after seven in the morning, so she had plenty to spare, putting on her makeup and fussing with her hair. Standing in front of her bathroom's narrow mirror, she practiced what she was going to say when she saw him.

Robert had just fallen asleep when the ringing of his cell phone jarred him awake. He'd spent a couple of hours, after dropping Megan off at her house, just driving with no particular destination in mind. After retuning to the compound, he had found his services, no not his services, just his wrist, in need. Even after feeding a hungry newborn, he wasn't overly tired. Cole had offered to put him out, but he'd refused, settling for staring up at the ceiling before he finally managed to drift off.

Maggie. Robert still had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that she wasn't human any more. His son had an awesome and terrible power. Cole could take life and transform it into something else just as easily as he could end it. All Robert had to do was to give the ok and it'd be him writhing in agony and sucking on an artery like a kid on a slurpy straw. Luckily, Cole had never pushed the issue. He didn't seem the least bit offended by his dad's refusal to join the team.

Sleep hovered at the fringes of Robert's mind, waiting to whisk him off to the land of dreams. The digital display on his cell phone read seven-twenty. He could grab a good hour nap before he had to get ready. But, he wasn't willing to take a chance that he'd accidentally oversleep and miss meeting up with Cindy at the bar. Begrudgingly, he forced his body to move from beneath the covers and shuffle in the general direction of the bathroom. Some days it didn't pay to get out of bed. He hoped this wouldn't be one of those days.

Chapter 73

Megan rolled over and sleepily glanced at the clock. Her eyes widened in shock as the red glowing numbers on the digital display came into focus. Her mother had let her sleep until ten in the morning. Unbelievable. Usually, her mom dragged her out of bed before the sun came up, proclaiming that something in their modest home absolutely had to be scrubbed within an inch of its life before dawn. A grin spread across her face. The social butterfly card she'd used on her unwitting mother had worked like a charm. Nobody had been waiting up to question her. She'd been allowed to sleep in as late as she wanted to. Her mother hadn't drafted her into hours of slave labor.

Guilt drove Megan out of bed, tossing the covers to the side. Sure, she'd pulled a fast one on her mom. Something a lot of teenagers would be proud of. She didn't feel good about lying. Today, she'd scrub something extra hard, just to make it up to her mother. Try to be the perfect daughter, just once.

Mentally, Megan counted down the days left till the end of Christmas vacation. Less than a week remained of her hiatus from the hell of high school She dragged a hand through her disheveled blonde hair and stared down at her painted toenails. Already the weight of the secrets crushed down on her shoulders. Not the need to share them. Only the pressing need to keep them locked away and to herself. How was she supposed to go back to life as a normal high school senior when she knew the things she did?

Chapter 74

Tracker hadn't pressed her. He simply carried her back to the house and deposited her into the bed, tucking the covers up to her chin. He made no comment about her tears or any attempt to dry them. God, he was so much better than she deserved. After seeing to her, he disappeared down the staircase with R.J., fully awake and hungry, in tow. She supposed he meant to give her time to think and to grieve.

Even though the hour was early, she hadn't been able to fall back to sleep. Her body was exhausted and her mind, a fatigued, jumbled up, mess. Shayla sat up in the bed with her back against the headboard and tucked her knees under her chin. She could smell the lingering essence of Carter on her skin.

She had never felt so empty or alone. Even after Ramon's death, she found the strength to pull herself together. Maybe, it was different, this time, with Carter. Ramon had died and along with him any hope of a second chance. Carter was alive, or as alive as he'd let himself be. She had to face the bitter truth that he was just as gone as Ramon. Only, he lived. Someday, someone else would take her place in his heart. She was going on, with Tracker. Why shouldn't he? The only difference, no one, not even with as much as she'd grown to love Tracker, would ever take Carter's place.

She tried to be happy, for Tracker and for herself. She tried to muster up a healthy dose of gratitude that Tracker was a man of his word and hadn't given up on her even though he had plenty of reasons to. Her hand trailed to her flat stomach. She couldn't feel the first stirrings of life yet. But, she knew on some instinctive level, that a baby was growing inside of her.

In nine weeks or so, Tracker would be holding a son or a beautiful daughter in his arms. Out of all the mistakes that she had made in her relationship with Tracker. The baby was one she wouldn't regret. Oh, when the pain of labor began, she had no doubt she'd curse the day she met him. Wolf pregnancies were much briefer than human pregnancies and much more dangerous to both the mother and the baby. Deliveries were no piece of cake either. They were hard, long, and painful. Far too often, the mother and baby did not survive. Shayla wasn't worried. This baby had its father's stubbornness and determination and she had a fair amount of her own.