Dawn's Shelter

"I miss being alive," Barbara confessed. Idly she played with the sugar bowl. Rolling the sticky spoon she'd used to stir Thomas's coffee between her fingers, she blinked and stared up at her baby boy. He didn't get it. She walked. She talked. She went through the motions of being alive. But, she wasn't. She hadn't been since that fateful night when he'd introduced her to the darker side of reality. He saved her life. Begged her to do it, for him. And like the good mom she was, she hadn't given herself a thought. She drank. She lived, for him.

"You are alive," Thomas interjected. He refused to see it any other way. She was walking upright and talking. So what, she had a few handicaps. She was still his mother. He still loved her. And he still had her. Everything else was inconsequential as far as he was concerned.

Barbara smiled hollowly at her son. Her little boy was now a grown man. And she was so proud of him. Being cooked up in the maze of subterranean tunnels and rooms must be getting to her. Usually, she could fake it better. Hide her feelings behind a wall of dark humor. But, today, she had no jokes and no funny musings. Only the stark truth she'd never before mentioned to him. She was alive. She'd sacrificed the death that was coming for her to be with her son for as long as she could. And the fact that someday, she was going to have to let him go hurt. She promised herself she'd give him what he had not given her, the right to choose his fate without any intercession on her part.

"I suppose I am," she agreed. Although, it was a long stretch for her to call lurking about underground and hiding from the world and from people she cared about, living. Everyone she'd ever known thought she was dead, except for a select, trusted few. Legally, she was dead and she was going to have to stay that way, at least for the mean time. Until everyone she knew and cared for topside went to their graves. She was in hers. "If you ever chose this life, I wouldn't stop you," she said, tentatively. Death, mortal death, could be faked. Computer records altered. Thomas could disappear, just as she had. "Do you ever think about it?"

"I don't." He almost added that he wasn't done living yet. But, he clamped his lips tight. That statement would definitely not help to pull his mom out of whatever funk had her so down in the dumps today. The truth was, he was still waiting to get a life. He couldn't live what he didn't have. His life was an endless blur of days. Taking care of sick people. Keeping healthy so that he could help others do the same. He came home to an empty house. And after dinner, he usually fell asleep in front of the TV. Oh yeah, and then, just for chuckles, he'd have occasional casual sex, on holidays and lonely nights with a woman who despised him and hated the fact that he was held to the planet by the same gravity and breathed the same air that she did. Yeah, he had a life, and what a life it was. Thomas Steriling's life was one big party. Day after day, the entertainment never stopped.

Still, as bad as things were, he couldn't see ending it prematurely. Trading the temporary state of living for the semi-permanent state of almost endless days and nights. He simply did not have the stamina for it. One life, seventy or eighty years on this planet, was more than enough for him.

He shared a psychic link with his mother. She had to have human blood to survive. That was the nature of the beast that she was. She could get by, for a time on animal blood. But drinking from him was an unfortunate consequence of her condition. And the link the drinking formed was an unfortunate side effect. He had to fight to keep his thoughts his own and private. She had always been very attuned to him. The way a mother should be to her child. But, now, privacy, not even in his own head, was a luxury.

She snickered, "I think we both need to get laid."

"Mom!" Thomas's jaw dropped and he clutched his chest feigning pretend shock. He returned her smile with a sly grin. "You might need to get a little. But, I've got that department thoroughly covered. This doctor makes house calls."

Barbara snorted. Her son had no life, let alone a sex life. "Boy, I used to change your diapers." She held up her pinkie finger and waggled it, teasing him.

"I've grown since then," Thomas said. Gesturing with his hands, he wished he were half the size he boasted. But, what would a man do with a cock that big? Certainly not get it anywhere near a woman with any common sense. Snickering, he shook his head as his mom pinned him with the look that she gave him when she knew he was full of shit.

Barbara was grateful for her son's attempt to pull her out of her melancholy mood. Her baby boy was one of those sensitive types. She'd raised him right. She just wished he would find some girl and hook up and get busy making those grandbabies she'd always dreamed about. "Ha, I almost sued the doctor. I thought he took too much off when he circumcised you."

"The women should write him thank you letters then. The ladies can barely handle this bad boy as it is. I'm out there tearing it up every night."

"Then, how come I don't have any grandchildren?"

"Who says you don't?" Thomas rounded the counter of the counter and gave his mom a tight squeeze around the waist, lifting her off her chair and spinning her lightly in a half circle before setting her down again. When he was little, she used to do the same to him. He outgrew it and got too heavy for her to spin. She could lift him now and spin him until he puked, thanks to her vampire blood. But, it wouldn't be the same. Nothing was.

Barbara ruffled her son's hair. "You better get over your bad self." Her face lit up as Thomas pressed his lips to her cheek to give her an affectionate peck. "I love you, Thomas."

"I love you too, Mom." He gathered up his coat and slung it over his shoulder. Seeing his mom smile got him right there, straight in the heart, every time. He knew the inevitable hovered between them like a dark cloud. He tried to get her used to the idea of letting him go. Maybe, it wouldn't happen for a long time. But, it would happen. And they both had to accept it. Someday, he was going to die.

"Don't be a stranger," Barbara called after him.

"Ma, they don't make 'em any stranger than me," he retorted.

"True." She laughed. "Very true." Her son was a good man. And she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of self-pride at how well he'd turned out. Raising him as a single mother hadn't been easy. She'd made a lot of sacrifices to get him through med school and to where he was now. He was every mother's fantasy child. Smart. Rich. Good looking. And he was totally devoted to her, too much so. She didn't know when the time came, if she'd have the strength he asked of her, if she'd be able to let him go.

The Shaman hadn't meant to spy on Barbara and her son. He shrank back into the shadows of the rec room and peeked around the corner to watch the playful and loving exchange between mother and son. They loved each other so much. Seeing them together was always bittersweet for him. He felt the pang of longing for the family he'd left behind two centuries ago. When his life had taken him on a different path and he could no longer bear to be part of the mortal world.

Barbara was a loving mother, wholly devoted to her son. And Thomas was a good son, equally devoted to her. There was nothing one would not do for the other. When Thomas had held him at knife-point and taken him to Barbara's sick bed. Thomas had proven how far he would go to protect those that he loved. He'd risked his life to save hers.

The Shaman was a skillful fighter and could have easily have disarmed Thomas. He could have killed him for threatening him. Instead, he'd taken one look at the weak and shriveled woman. Spellbound by the love in her eyes as she stared up at her son and the sadness that reflected within them. She was dying and she knew it. She knew she'd have to leave him behind. That moment, that spark of love that glimmered in her dulling blue eyes, made the decision for him. He could not allow death to separate mother from son. He held the way out for both of them within his beating heart. Opening her vein, he drank, swallowing her death and giving her life as he spilled his blood across her pale lips.

Barbara mystified him. She was a modern woman. And would not conform to his concept of what a woman should be. Ok, so maybe, his notions of proper behavior were a bit out dated. But, she would not even make an attempt at obeying him. He was her mentor. He knew what was best for her. He would protect her, if only she'd shut up and listen. He'd never been so frustrated by a woman. And in all his days, he'd never met one so damnably stubborn and hard willed as her. Or one who could make his blood boil with nothing more than a glance with those round, blue eyes of hers.

He was fine with his life the way it was before she came into it. His life made sense. He dabbled with his herbs and meditated for hours on end. He offered advice and spiritual guidance to his brothers. And they listened. Revered him and his wisdom. But her, she'd thrown his orderly life into complete chaos. She thought he was foolhardy and pig headed. And she'd said as much. There was only one time when she was quiet. When he stilled her lips beneath his. And even then, she communicated much, needing no words to convey her thoughts.

She liked it when he kissed her. And he'd never had a woman return a kiss with such a fevered passion as she did. Perhaps it was her modern attitude that freed her from modesty and shyness. He didn't know the why, only that he liked it. Her openness suited him. It was unfortunate, that they couldn't explore their feelings in depth. He was her mentor, and that made her morally off limits to him. How could he guide her if he were involved with her? How could he protect her if his vision was clouded by passion? The answer was simple. He couldn't.

Barbara sensed that her mentor was near by. She felt his eyes on her back. He could bore holes right through her with the intense heat radiated from his brown eyes. He was a sight. An odd blending of old tradition and new, he wore a long braid of silver hair down his back, kaki Dockers, and a wrinkled, pastel, button down oxford. He completed his eclectic look with a medicine bag securely affixed to the designer leather belt looped through his pants. His simple dress and awkward ways, hid, but did not disguise the warrior that was beneath them.

He never threw anything out. When she'd suggested, even tried to cover up the hideous orange lounge chair from the sixties that occupied the corner of his room with a throw. He'd come unglued and thrown her out instead. She had left it at that. She should be his mentor. Luckily for him, she wasn't. She'd drag him kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century. And the first thing to go would be that ugly ass chair.

"Doc, come on out. I know you're there." She said turning her back to the sink and staring into the shadows from the darkened rec room. She refused to call him by his title, Shaman. Who did that? Doc suited him. He was a doctor, of sorts.

"I didn't mean to disturb you." The Shaman didn't mind Barbara addressing him so casually. He sheepishly emerged from the shadows. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a silky button down blouse of pale silk that showed off her lovely breasts. He couldn't think like that. Not about someone under his charge.

"You didn't." She frowned as he moved silently toward her. She swore he didn't walk but floated on air. Even with her superior hearing, she couldn't hear his feet slap against the tile floor beneath them. He was a wrinkled mess. One end of his collar stood up and his shirt was buttoned wrong. She couldn't help herself. She stepped closer to straighten him up, turning down his collar and setting his buttons to rights.

His hands slid down her silky, cream-colored shirt, latching onto a button and sliding it through its hole, hiding the soft valley of her cleavage from his view. He didn't want to think about her breasts. He didn't want to see them. Who was he kidding? Yes, he did. She was just too appealing, too much of everything, for him. Tending to him, righting his collar with those soft, gentle, efficient fingers of hers as she moved down his chest, rebuttoning his shirt. The contact, subtle as it was, sent a surge of thoughts through his brain. Thoughts, he certainly didn't need. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stilling her hand.

The exchange that occurred between them was not a verbal one. They understood each other. They both wanted what they could not have. The reason real or not, separated them. It had nothing to do with her being a pupil under his care. Or with him being her mentor. The gap that separated them went deeper than the excuses. They were from different times. Born into very different circumstances. Separated by a universe of time. They lived together under the same roof. But, they were worlds apart.

"Things could be different between us," Barbara whispered. Closing her eyes as his finger pressed against her lips, stilling her words.

"No, they can't." The Shaman pressed his lips to the finger that rested on her warm mouth. Her lids opened, revealing the dazzling aquamarine of her eyes. Her eyes challenged him. Her eyes spoke where her voice had not. Burning with a fire he could not extinguish. Giving in would only make it hotter until it consumed them both to ash. "I came to see if you needed anything before I retired to my chambers."

"Nothing you can help me with." Barbara stepped up to lean her body against his. She had no problem with conveying her frustration. She could feel his frustration, sizzling along her flesh.

"I'm sorry..."

Barbara cut him off, "Spare me the speech. I've already heard it." She turned and left him standing in the kitchen.

Chapter 4

Jan dialed the phone. She called Thomas's pager often enough at work that she had the number memorized. If she were lucky, maybe he wouldn't call back. When her phone jangled to life, she wasn't surprised. She didn't have that kind of luck. She didn't have to look at the display to know he was returning her call. "Hello."

"I got a page." Thomas recognized the feminine lilt of Jan's voice immediately. The number he'd dialed wasn't a number he knew. She wasn't at work. Why was she paging him? She'd gone out of her way to avoid him over the last couple of weeks. And he'd reciprocated the favor. But, God knew, he was counting down the days till Valentine's Day. Maybe, there was a holiday he'd forgotten about. Could he be that lucky? Surely, somewhere on the globe, some culture was celebrating a holiday. Druids. Hindus. Freaking Moonies. Didn't matter to him. Any excuse to celebrate in a bit of her holiday cheer was a good one to him.

Damn, and Jan thought it was cold outside. His voice conveyed no warmth whatsoever. He wasn't annoyed, but he wasn't friendly either. "I called to thank you." Screw it. She had taken the time to dial his number and he'd taken the time to return her call. She was going to thank him and get it over with. Say thanks, goodnight, and put him out of her mind. At least, till Valentine's Day.

Thomas puzzled over Jan's reply. She was thanking him? He hadn't done anything. He kept strictly to the terms of their agreement. Oh, he'd seen pretty things in the stores here and there. Something would catch his eye and his thoughts would automatically run to Jan. He'd wonder if she'd like flowers, candy, or scented candles he picked out for her. He'd even thought about buying that satin teddy he'd seen on display in Hanna's storefront window. But, then he'd remembered their arrangement. "For what?" He hadn't the foggiest idea of what she was talking about.

"The roses. That was very thoughtful of you." Jan bit out the words. What was his deal? Did he regret sending them? Maybe, she should mail him a check for the flowers. Maybe, she should toss them and the heavy crystal vase through his front window to remind him of his purchase.

Roses? He hadn't sent any roses. A surge of jealousy reared its ugly head. If he hadn't sent them, who had? Obviously, she didn't know. And if he took credit, he might soften her up and get between her sheets before Valentine's Day. No, he couldn't do that. If she had an admirer other than him, good for her. Maybe, she'd meet someone she could screw who wouldn't kick her to the curb immediately afterwards. He ground his teeth before he said something cruel and hurtful to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't send you any flowers."

Jan stammered, feeling like a total fool. Then panic set in. If he hadn't sent them, she had only one guess at who had. She bolted to the sliding glass door and pulled the plastic vertical blinds closed tightly against the night. Checking to make sure the lock was engaged on the front door, she flicked off all the lights. "I... there wasn't a card. I assumed it was you."

She hated the panicked tone in her voice. She double-checked the deadbolt on her front door. Her heart raced in sheer dread. She had to get out of here. If she'd been found, what were they waiting for? Her family wasn't exactly the type of people to bother with roses or surprises. They'd simply collect their prize breeder and haul her back to Texas. She wouldn't get a second chance at escape. Even if they had to lock her away somewhere, they'd make sure she stayed put for good this time. She'd never get away from them again.

The stench of the roses became unbearable. They sat in their fancy crystal vase mocking her. Teasing her. She picked up the vase and hefted it across the room where it shattered in a resounding crash spilling rose petals and green leaves all over the floor. The vase busted through the thin, cheap paneling covering the walls, leaving a splintered hole to reveal the cinderblock walls of the garage on the other side. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"Jan? Are you ok?" He hadn't meant to upset her. Only to tell her the truth, he hadn't sent the flowers. He'd heard the crash of the vase and the tinkling of hundreds of shards as they fell onto the floor. "JAN!" The display on his cell phone indicated that the call had ended. He couldn't leave it like this. He was only two blocks away from her apartment. It'd be faster to run the distance than to try to drive, given the piss poor condition that the streets were in. He grabbed his coat and slammed the door behind him.

Jan knew this time would come. She was ready for it. She was reluctant to sever the few ties she had to this town. But, if her family knew where she was. She had no other choice. She fished out a shoebox from her bed and pocketed the wad of cash she'd stashed away for a rainy day. God, her family could be coming for her right now. They'd sent the roses to play with her. She stuffed her clothes into a duffel bag and tugged at the bulging zipper with trembling fingers.

She'd make up something to tell Ginger and her employer. Her heart pounded in her chest. She'd been so careful. She'd gotten away with hiding for almost a year. Now it was time to face the facts. Her mother and her damned omegas would hunt her until there was no place left for her to run. Her mother, bitch that she was, would never give up.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, teetering its weight. She'd drive to the city, ditch the car, and hop on a bus. The destination didn't matter, as long as it was as far away from here as possible. She was out of time. Jan paused for a second. Taking a last look at the empty apartment that had been her home for the past year. She flicked on a light. Maybe, they'd think she was home. Or maybe, they hadn't found her apartment yet. She liked her job and didn't want to quit. Maybe, this was a false alarm and she did have a secret admirer. The best thing to do would be to call in sick and lay low for a few days before she gave her resignation. Maybe, the excuses would buy her some time to figure out if her family had caught on or not.