Dawn's End

He had wished Eric dead more times than he could count. Entertaining visions of his maker's demise had kept him alive and given him purpose these long years. He lifted the sword high preparing to deliver the blow. He had always known he would be the one to end Eric's life. But, with his father stripped of his glory, kneeling on his knees, chin thrust to the sky in resolute acceptance of his fate. Carter couldn't find the strength to complete the task. Eric should die as proudly as he had lived, battling till the bitter end. "No!"

"What?" Bianca gasped. Unbelievable. She'd risked her neck and the collective necks of the Guardians for Carter to pussy out in the end. Absolutely not! "I'll do it myself!" She circled around Carter, prepared to fight, if she had to. A smart lady planned for anything and she had. She drew her own version of Carter's beloved blade from its sheath and tightened her grip on the hilt. Carter was stronger and twice as lethal as her. They both knew it. She'd lose, perhaps a lot more then the fight battling him for the right to kill Eric.

Carter dropped his sword into a shallow snow bank and mimicked Bianca's moves. The air was prickling with sizzles of energy. He countered her attempts to get him out of the way. Fighting to protect Eric, he blocked the swings of her blade. Bianca wasn't the one who had made the promises. She wasn't the one intended to take Eric down. Carter was not so weak that he would casually step aside and let her finish the job for him. But, he wasn't about to kill her either. He wanted her to live a damn long time so that she'd think back and remember this day when she had helped him kill their father.

Eric watched his children circle one another with malicious intent. Bianca was every bit her father's daughter. Circling slowly, aiming her blade with calculated swings, intending to maim, but not to kill. Carter would be dead if she willed it so. Carter moved with the grace of a killer, blocking every calculated blow of Bianca's sword with effortless skill. Unfortunately, Eric didn't have time to watch this little drama of sibling rivalry play out. He was out of time and so were they. The woods practically hummed with energy as the Sons drew closer. He could feel the wolves he was so fond of, near as well. The tingling brush of lesser power from the Guardians pricked the air.

His death had the potential makings of a shit storm. He wanted none of it. One way or another, whether at the hands of one of his children, the jaws of a wolf, or the relentless blades of the Sons, he was a dead man. And he would be damned if he was going to take anyone else to hell with him on this night. Gathering what strength he had left, he did the one thing that would stop his children from trying to kill each other and ensure his death. He lunged for the girl and drove his fangs deep into her flesh.

Megan had been smart enough to stay on the outskirts of the fight. Well out of the path of the woman's swinging blade and Carter's lethal fists. Her heart pounded in response to the adrenaline surging through her body. Mere minutes had passed, but it seemed like hours.

She landed on her back with a thud. Her teeth jarred from the force of her legs being driven out from underneath of her. Cold snow melted against the heat of her skin. Eric's weight pinned her to the ground. She bucked and kicked uselessly against the heavy bulk of his body. Before the scream of agony tore free from her throat and his fangs ripped through her skin, she thought she heard him say, "I'm sorry." After that, all she could think of was the agony of his bite and the sear of pain from the pull of suction from his mouth against her neck.

Hazy and confused, dazed by the agony of fangs working at her torn flesh Megan saw the woods come to life around her. Dark shapes, barely visible from the black backdrop of night, moved across the white snow. She thought they were ghosts or phantoms because of the way they drifted with such swiftness that they seemed to float.

There was a flash of movement to her right, followed by a growl so deep the reverberation vibrated in her chest. And then, the weight pinning her mercilessly to the snow was shoved off of her. Able to breathe without the crushing bulk on her lungs, she sucked in a deep breath and scooped up some snow and pressed it to her neck as she struggled to her knees.

Eric cursed and spat out a mouthful of snow. Megan's blood coursed through his veins, giving him nourishment and strength. The flat plane was alive with bodies. Garbed in various dress, the Sons in their black leather, the Guardians in a mishmash of denim and cloth, and the wolves, in their fur. Megan crouched on her knees, her trembling fingers pressing a handful of melting snow, stained red with the trickle of blood from her damaged throat.

So, this was it, the stand off everyone knew was coming. Carter stood with his feet wide apart, prepared to fight to the death to protect his father. Hell's occupancy would be doubled by the end of the night if something didn't happen to prevent it. The Guardians hovered in a loose formation around Bianca. Daintily, as if unfazed by the upcoming battle, she dabbed at a trickle of blood oozing from her bottom lip with the hem of her coat sleeve. Drew headed the front line. His men were stretched from one end of the bluffs to the other with the wolves flanking them.

Carter held his ground in the middle, between the two similar but opposing forces. He owed loyalty to both the Guardians and the Sons. Above all else, he owed the fulfillment of his vow to Eric. He could sense the reluctance in the air. Nobody wanted a war. Especially one that everybody knew could not be won. Humanity, without their combined protection, was the only loser. There'd be no victors, only death and plenty of it. He met the Great Father's steely gaze with one of his own and wondered, what next?

Drew scanned the number of his opponents. Yesterday he would have called them friends. Today they were enemies. Every Guardian from the city must have been called away from their posts to be here. In his trust, under Bianca's care, the Guardians' numbers had grown. Her men were well armed. Stern faces spoke tales of rigorous training and discipline. She'd done well in her term as their leader and there was no mistaking the steely expression on their faces. They were ready to die, for her and for each other.

Bianca feigned indifference. Dabbing with the hem of her sleeve at a cut that had long since healed. Carter had gotten in a couple of swift blows in his attempt to stop her. Across the wide snowy battlefield, her eyes locked with Michael's. She saw the regret in their brown depths. What choice had she left him? Stand at her side as a traitor and fight his brothers, his own flesh and blood, or join with them and battle against her.

The obvious expression of surprise in the Great Father's eyes hinted that he hadn't known everything she'd been up to. One of the reasons that the city was free of rogues was that she'd taken the time to search them out, give them a place to belong, and a cause to fight and die for. Her numbers rivaled his own. If a battle, the sacrifice of many lives for one that was condemned was what he wanted. He'd get it. The time had come for the Guardians to be recognized as an independent entity. Governed by their own laws and held accountable to no rules, but their own.

Tension coiled and uncoiled in the air like invisible springs. Energy rippled in waves, crackling in the darkness between the two sides. War was about to be fought. Eric saw no way to stop it from coming. Funny, in the end, he mourned the blood about to be spilled. All of his life, for as long as it had been, there'd always been strife amongst his own kind. There was only one way to bring about peace and only one person who wouldn't be punished for doing what must be done.

Eric willed Megan to meet his eyes. He could honestly say, he had never anticipated that a human would be his chosen method of destruction. The Sons and Guardians were so focused on each other that they missed what was right under their noses. Her eyes, rounded with shock and fear, lifted to meet his. With a slight tip of his head to the right, he gestured to Carter's abandoned blade. "You can do it," he mouthed.

Megan had the crawly sensation that someone was staring at her. She lifted her chin to see Eric beckoning her with his eyes. Even in the darkness, she could see the flecks of gold and green in his irises. He crouched in the snow ten yards away from her. So subtly, she wasn't sure she'd really seen him move, he nodded to a point in the snow, not five feet away from where she knelt.

She ran her eyes along the uneven ground to where he gestured. A blade glimmered dully in the pale, light cast by the hazy moon overhead. Its hilt was buried in a drift of snow. She understood the gist of what he wanted her to do. He wanted her to end the war before it ever began. He wanted her to kill him. Horrified at what he suggested, she mouthed the word 'no' and shrank back from the weapon.

"You can do it," Eric mouthed back to her. Tension so thick it sent chills up her spine hung in the air. She had only a vague idea of what was going on between the two parties standing at opposite sides of the clearing. Weaponry flashed in the silvery moonlight. Wolves, as big as small ponies, flanked the brothers. Growling with deep rumbling growls, barring fangs, and eagerly awaiting the command to fight. One thought preoccupied her mind. Eric was right. If she didn't do this, they were all dead.

Luckily, no one paid attention to the little human girl inching her way across the snow closer to the blade or her fingers, wrapping around the cold hilt to tighten in a death grip. The sword was heavy and awkward, too big for her small hand. Her fingers could barely close around the width of the hilt. Carter's blood burned in her veins, giving her the surge of courage and speed to do what she had to do. With the blade freezing her palm into a block of ice, she bolted up right and charged. The onlookers were too stunned to stop her as she exchanged one last pained second of eye contact with Eric and swung with all her might. Carried by the momentum of her fatal swing she fell onto the cushion of snow as his head tumbled from his shoulders in a spray of hot blood.

Time froze as if in shock. Carter was the closest. Riding on currents of energy, distracted by its pull, no one had seen her lunge for the sword. No one had seen the faintest glint of moonlight on the blade until after his sword had begun its deadly arc. Megan rocked back and forth still gripping the weapon as she curled in a ball on the blood stained snow. Covered in a thick blanket of Eric's blood, she cried. The mournful sound of her wails stirred him to action. He ignored his fallen father and gathered her into his arms. Awakened by his contact, she scrambled, pawing at his grip, reaching out to Eric. "He's gone." Carter soothed, "It is done." Stroking her hair, he cupped the back of her head and pressed her cheek into the warmth of his shoulder.

"I killed him," Megan mumbled. Her fingers were slicked with Eric's blood. Bile rose in her throat from the coppery sweet smell of his death. "I killed him!" She trembled in terror, sickened that she'd ended a life. Struggling against Carter, her fingers stretched out to touch Eric, as if she could somehow magically bring him back to life.

Carter held Megan until she fatigued from her struggles to free herself from his grip. Her tear-dampened face was hot against the cool skin of his neck. Her breaths came out in shuddering pants of remorse and guilt, hot against his skin. "No, Megan," he whispered against her damp cheeks. "You gave him peace."

With the reason to fight dead at their feet, Drew ordered his men to stand down as Bianca did the same. Snow fell silently from the sky as the deadly tension faded to a hesitant calm. He walked across the snowfield and met Bianca in the middle. Without hesitation he extended his hand. She paused eying him speculatively. Her gaze fell on Carter and the girl clutched in his arms. "Wait a minute," she said.

Bianca knelt beside Carter, sliding Megan free from his arms. "You did a brave thing today," she told the terrified girl. Loosely she held Megan and stroked strands of blonde hair away from her moist cheeks. "Carter, go. Take your place with your men. The Guardians always have been and always will be yours to lead. All I did was stand in until you were ready to accept them."

Carter rose to his feet. He picked up his sword and held it in a loose grip at his side. His feet crunched in the snow as he crossed the field to Drew. The blade stung as he drew it across his palm to make a deep gash in his flesh. Eric's blood no longer held any power. But, he felt the weight of his father's sacrifice mingle with the blood pooling in his palm. Holding out his hand, drops of blood fell from his cupped palm and spotted the snow red. Drew accepted Carter's offer, digging into the flesh of his own palm with the tip of his dagger and pressing their palms and the wounds together in an unspoken vow more permanent than death itself. Their blood mingled in the promise of a peace hard earned.

Eric got the warrior's funeral he deserved. His body was carefully placed in a position of honor upon a tall pyre. Throughout the night, Guardian, Son, and wolf stood silent vigil over the flames. The threat of the storm passed and a starlit night complete with a fat, silvery full moon shone down on the gathering. Ash and wisps of smoke drifted along on soft currents of heated air, carried up high into the heavens.

Carter still wasn't completely convinced that he owned his destiny. Hell, he wasn't sure any one deity was responsible for the whole of his existence. But, he had no doubt that what Eric had sacrificed for the sake of those he loved had earned his father a place somewhere high in the clouds. "Till we meet again, father," he whispered into the sky as the last hungry flames of Eric's pyre died down to embers.

Shayla's footsteps came up behind him. Her fingers were gentle on his arm as they brushed across the leather sleeve of his jacket. "Where will you go, Carter?"

Carter turned away from the glow of the pyre and smiled down at Shayla. Tracker was nearby and as always watchful and protective of his mate. Carter wouldn't have had it any other way.

He bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around her slight frame. She smelled of smoke from the fire and of wolf musk. He could scent the essence of new life radiating from her skin. He'd always thought he'd done more for her than she had for him. In letting her go, he believed he protected her. In the end, he had come to realize that she had done just as much, if not more, for him. It had taken every bit of strength he possessed to let her go into the arms of another man and it had taken every of strength she had for her to go into those waiting arms. He had sacrificed for her and she for him. They would always have a special place in their hearts for one another. But, they were both the better for the experience. If they'd clung to the love they had for one another instead of having the strength to let go. They never would have become the people they needed to be to travel the very different paths set before them. "I'm going home, Shayla. I'm finally going home."

Epilogue

It was a beautiful glorious spring day absolutely perfect for a wedding. Megan's mother fussed, tugging at the lavender taffeta gown with a critical eye. Megan had been shocked when Maggie had asked her to be a bridesmaid. After everything that had happened and her abrupt introduction into the world of the paranormal. Maggie and she had become best friends. At least, Maggie had never tried to eat her and well, Megan saw that as a token of friendship.

The wedding was scheduled for sundown. Easier on the eyes, Maggie explained. Given that it was a double wedding, Maggie and Cole, and his dad and his girlfriend, Cindy, Megan was extra nervous. Luckily, the two brides seemed to agree on just about everything. Including the lavender gown, which Megan thought was a little too girly and frilly for an outdoor wedding. But, who was she to argue with Janine's fashion sense and the brides' iron wills.

"Have you given any thought to college yet?" her mother asked through a mouthful of pins.

Megan nodded. Graduation was just around the corner. After the night at the bluffs, she researched every college in every city with an average year round temperature of seventy degrees or above. Every college promised pretty much the same thing. There was one thing that wasn't mentioned in the brochures though. Vampires. Every city had them. Carter and the brothers reassured her of that. Instead of going away to some place warm and sunny. In the end she had decided to stick with the vampires she knew. "I think I'm going to stay local."

Shayla loved weddings. The sky was a perfect mix of fingers of pink and gold streaking across a backdrop of pines and tall trees lush with spring growth. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooms. The sound of a love flute drifted on warm springtime breezes. The crowd mulled about casually conversing with one another as they waited for the cue to take their seats.

The little bundle of joy in her arms upstaged the brides and grooms and reveled in the attention such kindly strangers lavished on her. Her daughter had no idea who the people, passing her from one set of eager arms to another were, but she didn't seem to mind being held by her adoring fans. Shayla snickered, once her baby girl grew into her terrible twos, her fan club might thin a bit.

Tracker was every bit the proud papa. He tolerated the passing around of his daughter from person to person with cautious amusement. R.J. had not forgotten Carter, but he had become Tracker's constant shadow. Tracker was good with R.J. and had taken on the role of his father, patiently teaching him all the things he would need to know about the world. Tracker had never insisted that R.J. call him by any name other than the one Eloise had given him. But, Shayla had smiled and blinked back a tear the first time her son had called him dad. As strange as it seemed, the two of them were even beginning to resemble one another enough that no one would ever guess Tracker was not R.J's biological father.

Things were calm between Tracker and she. They had a good relationship, each one of them giving and taking in equal measure. Tracker had made peace with his past and with hers and they had made peace with each other. She loved him more than she would have ever believed possible. Maybe, it was the baby. The spark of life the two of them had created that had finally brought them to this place of settled contentment and happiness. Maybe, it was that she had finally made peace with her own past. Late at night she still had the habit of standing at the window and staring out across the darkness, not waiting, but wondering if Carter had made peace with his.

Carter carefully cradled the tiny bundle in his arms. The baby was singularly the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. She had her mother's smoky dark curling eyelashes, golden whiskey colored eyes, and pointy determined chin. From her father she had inherited his wide proud brow and haughty cheekbones. The baby didn't seem to mind that a vampire held her. She yawned and smacked her full lips, so much like her mother's, before settling down to doze in his careful hold.

He didn't know where the flare of protective instinct rising within him had come from, but it was there deep in the marrow of his bones. Perhaps, it was just a result of his connection to her mother. Perhaps, it was everything this tiny, newborn life in his arms represented. She was perfect, innocent, and the embodiment of every hope for the future. Almost reverently, Carter handed her back to her mother. "What is her name?"