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Dawn's Promise

By: msnomer68



Native Dawn Series Part 2/ Rogue Dawn Book 1 Candace and Will's Story




Dawn's Promise





By: J. Lynn Scott

Prologue

The night was filled with the sounds of battle. The unearthly moans of the dying shattered the peaceful sanctity of the woods. Screams of terror echoed through the darkness. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the cloying, sweet stench of death. Although their opponents were out numbered, defeat hung like a shroud over their heads. Optimism at Her promise of victory was far too quickly replaced by terror. 

Bent on conquest and vengeance, Her message was clear. Fight or die. Some followed Her out of fear, some out of loyalty and some, because they had no escape. No other way out but to fight or die. Perhaps, death would have been easier than living under the shadow of Her promised retribution. Death, at least, would be merciful. 

And so, the brave, the courageous, those blindsided by their devotion, and the ones willing to take their chances, who saw the hopelessness of the battle and stepped out on the blood soaked field anyway, fought. There were a few, not willing to die and not willing to fight, who bided their time, went into the heat of the battle, and when the time was right, slipped away into the shelter of the woods. Willing to take their chances, they ran and they kept running, and running, and running. Never knowing when their day of reckoning would come. Only that one day, it would. 





Chapter 1

Candice looked up at the orange glow high up on the horizon. She heard the shouts and cheers of celebration echoing from the walls of the bluffs. These were shouts of joy and triumph. Not the voices of the evil they were taught to fear and ordered to fight. For weeks she'd grappled with the small kernel of guilt buried deep in her soul. Guilt at running. Guilt for not trying harder to save anyone else but herself. Did she have some measure of guilt for not dying with the others? Hell no. She only wished that she'd been able to save more. 

Marcus absolved her of any guilt. He was her Father Confessor. And her guilt, the cross he willingly bore. He hauled her out of the woods. Came up with the plan. And kept her feet moving, always moving, when all she wanted to do was stay still and die. He was a good man, and she, the bruised spot, the imperfection on his otherwise perfect flesh. There was one guilt he could never bear in her stead. Her guilt for dragging him back to the place where it all began. And her reasons were selfish, beyond selfish. 

Before, she'd been so naïve about the world, an innocent lamb that didn't know any better. She was innocent and naïve. Devout in her belief, that the world was good. That people were good. But, then again, the people who were the darkest and most evil weren't always people at all. And what they'd done to her, to them all, was beyond inhumane. 

Nervously, she ran her hand through her chin length brown hair and bit her bottom lip, a leftover habit from before. Marcus encouraged the habit. He thought it made her look more human, more approachable. After all, disguise was the only thing that kept them alive. And after the many weeks of running they'd become masters of the craft. 

Her green eyes darted to her companions, flicking between the two faces that had come to mean life to her. To their knowledge, which was limited at best, the three of them were all that managed to find their way out of the woods alive that night. Three out of thirty or forty, so much for Neil's brilliant theories of the odds, because at the time, and as always, they were stacked against them. 

The numbers kept changing. Candace was never exactly sure of how many there were. Everything depended on Her mood. She'd kill and replace with equal efficiency. Hers was not the kind of attention one wanted to draw. But somehow, the three of them had managed to stay connected. Actually, it was Marcus who kept her in one piece. It was his idea to run. Neil only tagged along for the ride. And it was a lucky thing for him he did. He was still alive. 

Each facial expression was different. Marcus's eyes were shrouded with doubt and had become somewhat resigned to the fact that her insistence that they go back was going to get them killed. Neil's were cautious, never betraying what he really thought. He never said a word when she'd decided it was time to hit the road and come back. He must have thought there was something in it for him. Otherwise, his feet would have never hit the pavement. 

Unanswered questions hung in the air around them. Coming back was dangerous, might be suicide. And Candace would have agreed, except for one thing. She had no other choice. Yes, she was selfish. And yes, she felt guilty as hell for dragging them along. Maybe, she should have slipped off. Traveled the long journey back alone. Would have been safer for Marcus to leave him behind. But, after moving heaven and earth, and facing the pits of hell to keep her alive, he wouldn't have let her come back on her own if she'd tried. "Well?" she asked.

Neil merely shrugged and adjusted his position, crouched against the base of a shaggy pine tree. His eyes fixed on the orange glow of the bonfire on the cliffs above. If he was afraid, he didn't show it. To him, life was a gamble. And on the outcome of her decision, he'd anted up the only thing of value he had left, his life. He always said there was nothing as uncertain as life. Candace begged to differ. Even life had one sure outcome. Death. And death, in her opinion, was sure as hell more uncertain as life. 

"I guess it's now or never," Marcus said. He lay on his belly on a thick blanket of damp leaves, resting his weight on his elbows, his head extended up, looking at the craggy outcropping of rock overhead. His hand reached for her fingers. Candace gave them to him without hesitation, lacing her fingers through his and locking onto them as if they'd be the last solid thing she'd ever feel on this earth. Who knew? They might be. Wasn't it nice to know that if death, the true death and not this in between Shadowland in which they existed, came for them; they'd face it hand in hand? 

Images of her son flashed through her mind. Chance. He was her motivation, her reason for being so selfish. Marcus prided himself for keeping her in one piece. It wasn't him, though. It was Chance. Although, he was an adult, he was still her little boy, always would be. Her Chance. She hadn't run that night because of Marcus or because of herself, but because of him. By this point he probably had given up. He had to believe that she was dead. And Marcus with his street savvy sense of survival had tried to tell her that it was best if he did. But, she just couldn't disappear into the great unknown. Live this life, if that's what it was, without giving him the only gift she could. Closure.

She hoped her absence would keep him safe. The bitch that took her life threatened her, coerced her into obedience, with his. Marcus held her son over her head, like an intangible object, dangling him just out of her reach. 'Do it for Chance,' he'd say. She'd done things she never thought she would do. Horrible things. Evil things. Each and every one of them, she'd done for Chance. Just as Marcus knew she would. 

He understood her motivation. If she had only herself to think of, she would have willingly died that night. She wouldn't have let Marcus risk his life for her. She would have been happy do die, welcomed the end with open arms. But, she didn't have that choice. She didn't have any choices. Not when it came to her son. All her options were moot. There was only one, to see her son. Try to explain why she couldn't stay. Tell him goodbye.  

"Well, are we going to do this thing or not?" Neil huffed impatiently. Was he really in such a hurry to die? Candace turned her head and scowled over her shoulder, silencing him. Marcus merely squeezed her hand, letting her know where he stood on the subject. They'd move when she was ready. Forwards. Backwards. They'd go wherever she said they'd go. He was simply waiting for her to decide. And her courage, her will to press on, had suddenly abandoned her. She didn't know what to do. Lead them to their deaths or keep running.

There was only one word to describe what it was that she and the others had become. Vampire. Along the way the three of them had come up with their own set of rules. Being taught nothing by the one who turned them into these things, the rules were a combination of what they had read in books, seen in movies, and experienced for themselves first hand. Sunlight wouldn't kill them. Holy water and crosses had no effect. But, blood was an entirely different matter all together. Without it, they'd die. And they'd killed to get it. 

What other options were there when it came do to it? Keep running? Always on the move, existing in the shadows while the world they'd once been part of kept on living? She wasn't willing to go on existing like that. The hiding. The lies. Watching, but never taking part. Neither were Marcus and Neil, no matter what had driven them to this point, to the insanity of following her back. One thing was apparent. They were all tired of running. 

She hoped there was more to the supposed enemy than death and blood. She hoped somehow she could find her way home again. Get back the life and the son she'd lost. Candace didn't know if she was right. But, something in her gut told her the only way to Chance was with the help of these men. Neil called her a fool. Marcus probably agreed. And it really didn't matter. All three of them were in the same awful predicament, risking their lives because of her love for her son and the blind hope that she'd hold him in her arms once again.

The sky over their heads was lightening with the paleness of the oncoming dawn. Inching out of hiding, she whispered, "Come on." And prayed to God, if God still loved her, that she was right. 







Chapter 2

Marcus, Neil, and she anxiously scrambled up the steep, rocky hillside of the bluff as the sky brightened from gray to pale blue above them. Candace hesitated for a minute before she clamored over the jagged top of loose, slate gray, shale. "This is for Chance," she whispered and took the final steps. 

She felt rough hands wrap around her shoulders and heavy weight pressing down on her, pushing her face first to the ground. She bucked and wiggled beneath the knee planted in between her shoulder blades, pinning her in place. Uselessly, her fingers grappled with the loose shale and winter stubble beneath her. She could barely catch her breath from the force of the weight holding her down. Her body trembled at the sound of cool steel dragging across a leather sheath and the feel of the blade's sharp edge resting at her throat. Swallowing lightly her Adam's apple bobbed against the blade. So, this is how I die, she thought. Without explanation. Without a second chance. Without seeing her son one last time. 

Candace lay perfectly still on her belly. The cold steel pressed against her throat and with the hot breath of her captor skating across the back of her neck. "Please," she rasped. As if her begging would have any effect on the man above her or the blade's position. 

In her mind's eye, she saw her son. And imagined herself telling him goodbye. His hazel eyes were a mix between her green and his father's brown, always glittering in curiosity. His hair, a cross between his father's rich black and her ordinary mouse brown, was a luxurious shade of deep walnut. And his full lips, like his father's had been, were always turned up in a smile. She was proud of the man he was becoming. Strong and tall, and so headstrong, and so much like his father it frightened her.   

The unplanned pregnancy had taken her by surprise. At nineteen, having a baby had been the farthest thing from her mind. She was going to college. She was going to change the world. Instead, along came Chance. And he'd changed her world. Chance never knew his father. His father had never known he had a son. Chance was going to be all alone in the world. She should have tried harder to find his father. She should have done something, so many things differently. But, at forty, she hadn't expected to die. Somehow, the time she always thought she'd have to make things right, had suddenly run out. 

Around her the sound of shouts and feet scrabbling on the loose ground added to her feeling of dread. Horrified, Candace saw Marcus, standing defensively, his feet spread shoulder with apart and his hands balled into fists, his eyes shifting from her, to the man perched above her, and to the warriors closing in on him. "No Marcus, Don't!" she shouted. He paused at the sound of her desperate plea. Just long enough, for the men to sneak up on him, wrestle him to the dirt, and bind his hands behind his back.  

"Honey, you just saved his life," the man perched over her hissed in her ear. Candace blinked against her tears. How would they do it? Would it be quick? Would they torture her first? Make her watch them torture Marcus? Or would Neil rat them out in a vie to save his own skin? Another man came up behind her, roughly grabbing her wrists and securing them behind her back with steel cable. Her ankles were similarly bound. And any hope of escape, of running again, gone.  

The blade tightened against her throat. "Are there more of you?" the man demanded. She gasped as the cold steel bit into her skin. Pinned on her belly, she couldn't even see his face. Had no idea what her killer looked like. He was big and merciless. She had gathered that much. And he had no love, no compassion, for what she was. "You'd better tell me now. Are. There. More?" he hissed menacingly, pressing his blade tighter against her throat.

"No," Candace croaked weakly. "Just us," she panted. The blood from the healing wound on her throat dried in a sticky rivulet on her skin. With a flick of his wrist, he repositioned the blade, the sharp, wicked, serrated tip digging into the hollow of her throat. If she so much as flinched the point would cut her. 

Biting off her scream with sheer determination, she rolled her glance toward Marcus. He knelt with his hands bound behind his back and thick coils of chain wound around his ankles. His neck extended up at an unnatural angle, held in position by the blade resting at the base of his throat. His eyes met hers. His hardened, determined stare gave away nothing. Showing any affection for her might get him killed and her right along with him. 

Not daring to so much as breathe, she scanned the bluff. Neil grunted in frustration. Flat on his back with a warrior's boot resting on his chest and a blade pointed at his throat, he kept his eyes pinned on his captor. His hands held palms up, extended away from his body in a position of defenselessness.

They were so fucked. And it was her fault for going with her gut and seeking out these men. They weren't going to help them. Hands grappled at the base of her scalp, harshly locking on her hair and yanking her head back. Candace couldn't help the squeak of pain that escaped her lips as the blade across her throat dug into her skin. Already, in her mind, she'd said goodbye to Marcus and Neil and to the rest of the world. She was letting go of Chance, telling him how sorry she was, wordlessly telling him she loved him. "God help you if you're lying," the man growled in aggression. In a lightening fast move, he withdrew the blade and slammed her face into the dirt. 

With the toe of his boot, he nudged her onto her back to face him. He wasn't at all what she expected. He was young, perhaps a year or two older than Chance. At least, he looked young. With vampires it was hard to tell. Youth was the biggest deception they had in their favor. Towering above her, he scowled down at her. His lips drawn into a hard line of distrust and his eyes hard, black as obsidian and so cold, his stare chilled her to the bone. He wore his hair loose, flowing in a sleek black curtain around his shoulders. Dressed in Native American buckskin and not the black leather battle gear she'd seen the night of the battle, he was no less intimidating. "What are you doing here?" he asked. The blade gripped in his fist dug into her chest, as if he planned to carve the answer out of her with its tip. 

Through the haze of her tears, hot on her cheeks in the chill from his gaze, Candace focused her eyes on his. There was something rippling beneath the surface of his hard exterior, maybe a wavering hint of doubt, of compassion, of feeling, or regret. He didn't want to kill her, at least not right away. He would, of that she had no doubt. But, it was a small consolation to know that he wouldn't enjoy it. "We were looking for help," she answered. 

John Mark blinked at the rogue's answer. Help? He towered over the woman helplessly bound on the ground. She was harmless, incapacitated, now. She and the two men had snuck up on them. Who knew what their intentions were. Captives had a way of bending the truth to suit them. The woman could be lying to save her own skin or the hides of her companions. He lowered his blade and dug the tip into the hard, frost packed dirt. Leaning on it heavily, he crouched on one knee and stared her down the way Lucien had taught him. Eye to eye. Sniffing for a lie. "Help from whom?" he asked.

She looked more like a soccer mom than a killer. From the highlighted tips of her conservative hair cut to the toes of the battered Keds on her feet, she practically screamed Suburbanite. He bet, before whatever happened to her to land her in this mess, she drove a mini-van and was a charter member of the book of the month club. He could see the beauty she was as a younger version of herself. Laugh lines spider webbed out from the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her face was devoid of makeup, smudged by mud. Dried autumn leaves littered her hair and worn clothing. Nervously, she blinked back tears and tugged at her bottom lip with her top front teeth. The gestures made her look all the more harmless and demure. Too bad, he didn't buy it for a second. 

That night on the battlefield, there'd been gray haired old ladies and wrinkled up old men fighting like tigers on the enemy's side. Kiros and Kore chose their army well. They hand picked anonymous people, grandmothers and grandfathers, wives, husbands, and coeds, normal looking people who wouldn't stand out in a crowd. Ordinary people who might be missed, but whose families had no other means of searching for them beyond what meager assistance the police could provide. People who looked harmless and that anyone with a bit of conscious might hesitate to kill. The brothers had hesitated that night on the bluffs, and it had cost them plenty of lives. 

"From you," Candace answered. She was unable to control her fear or hold back the torrent of her tears any longer. They broke free falling in a downpour, spilling over her cheeks. If they were going to kill her, they should just do it. Anything beat laying here helpless. Just do it and get it over with. Bordering on the edge of hysterics, she cried shamelessly, choking on her sobs. Poor Marcus and Neil they didn't deserve to die like this. They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. She hoped she'd die first so she wouldn't have to watch them suffer for her stupidity. 

John Mark dragged the woman to her knees. He held her upright by the shoulder to keep her from losing her balance and toppling over. Damned women. They knew his only weakness and they exploited it every time. Tears. He could not stand to see a woman cry. Even if she was a rogue, he balked at the sight of her tears and the choking sounds of her sobs. She claimed they came here for help. Help? The fact that they'd arrived unarmed and apparently alone, was the only reason he hadn't killed her first and asked questions later. 


Dawn's Promise



Of course, corpses told no tales. And he was curious about what tales she had to tell. Maybe, she knew if there were more rogues. And if she did, he'd find out. There were those among the brothers who excelled in extracting information, in a variety of creative and painful ways. Something he personally didn't have the stomach for. "Tell me your name." 

"C...C...Candace," she finally managed to stutter out. She weaved on her knees. With her hands and ankles bound she couldn't maintain her balance on her own. His hand rested firmly on her right shoulder, keeping her upright. He leaned closer, searching her with his hard eyes. Discerning as to if she told the truth or not.

"Mine is John Mark," he answered. Names had power and she'd turned hers over so readily. That had to count for something. He stood and grabbed her jacket. Tearing a swath of fabric from the hem, he covered her eyes. With her blindfolded she wouldn't be able to lead any one to the mines and once inside she wouldn't find her way out. He hefted her over his shoulder and carted her through the woods to the tunnels.

Rogues disgusted him. Feeding solely on humanity without regard or thought of the lives they consumed. He could smell it, nauseatingly sweet and thick in the air, rogues the stench of his enemy. "Split them up and blindfold them. Take them back and secure them. Two guards per rogue." He said the last word with a hint of repugnance. "Patrick, set up a team and scour the woods." He glared down at the men captured by his brothers. "Don't try anything stupid. I'd love to have an excuse to kill you." 

Marcus was bound so tightly he couldn't move his fingers much less come to Candace's aid. He knew this was a bad idea. Knew it. But, there was no way to reason with her. No way to talk her out of coming back. No way to convince her to give up on her son.  

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he saw himself as her knight in shining armor. He'd swoop in and save the day, reunite her with her son and they'd ride off into the sunset. What a stupid thought. He couldn't even keep her alive. The minute their feet hit the bluffs they were over powered and captured. Trussed up like a hog ready for the spit. The best he could hope for was that they killed her quickly. 

He twisted his neck, trying to evade the blindfold dragged over his eyes. And got a swift punch in the jaw for his trouble. He felt a strong pair of arms grip him underneath his armpits and haul him to his feet. Unlike Candace, his captors didn't have the courtesy to carry him. They dragged him along, stumbling blindly over the uneven ground. Tripping over every unseen object, he impeded their progress to wherever it was they were taking him. The blindfold provided a reprieve from the stinging light of the dawn and gave him time to think of ...something. 

He knew people pretty well. Reading people was one of his special talents. These men weren't the bloodthirsty killers Kore made them out to be. The bitch had lied, big shocker there. Oh, they were killers. He knew a killer when he saw one. They just weren't the murders She said they were and they took no joy in carrying out punishments.  

Marcus wasn't the sunshiny optimist that Candace was. The woman deceived herself on so many levels. It was almost nauseating to hear her Rebecca of Sunny Brook Farm view on life. Perhaps, that was why he fought so vehemently to protect her. She was so innocent, clean, and untainted by the world. So unlike him. He'd grown up on the streets. He knew better. He saw the world for the filthy, unclean, piece of shit that it was.

Candace had probably already fooled herself in to believing there was a way out of this mess, and if she found one, good for her. He sure as hell couldn't think of one. Oh, there was one. But, he'd rather not explore that option. Death had such a ring of permanency to it. And he'd earned a one-way ticket to straight to hell long before any of this vampire shit happened to him. He'd rather put off dying as long as possible. 

Neil didn't resist the bindings. He didn't fight the gag thrust in his mouth or the blindfold fitted tightly over his eyes. He did everything he could to make himself appear as harmless as possible. He was the runt of the litter and it'd been the way he'd been avoiding bullies his entire life. He did exactly what his captors wanted. He would have bent over and taken it with a smile and a thank you, if it would prolong his life. 

Fucking Candace. Why had he ever agreed to tag along? He should have kept his ass planted in Vegas where it belonged. There he was king, because money talked and bullshit walked. And he had plenty of both. All he had to do was roll a few victims and wisely invest whatever he plucked from their pockets at the craps table. Lady Luck took care of the rest. Well, today she'd taken a big healthy shit right on top of his head. And right after Candace little Lady Luck was number two on his list of least favorite people. God, he couldn't believe he'd let Marcus talk him into this jacked up mess.

It'd been early or late. Who the hell knew? A glittery whore like Las Vegas had her legs spread wide anytime, day or night, for the right price. They'd been standing at the floor to ceiling window in a luxury suite paid for by yours truly when Marcus laid it on him. Of course, Candace was tucked into her bed like a good little girl should be and Marcus and he were enjoying the life. 

'Candace wants to go back,' he'd said. Go back to what? WHAT? Neil could have bought her anything her goodie-goodie heart desired. But no, she wasn't content with what his hard earned money could buy. She wanted to go back to this godforsaken place. And for what? Her son? Some snot nosed twenty year-old who probably didn't even notice dear old mom was gone. 

The only reason that he'd agreed to make this useless trip back to the heartland was because of Marcus. The man had mad survival instincts and Neil had need of them. Marcus had an uncanny sense of smell when it came to trouble and how to avoid it. He bet Marcus hadn't seen this one coming. Or maybe he had and he'd let Candace drag him into it anyway. The bastard had no common sense when it came to that woman. Neil would have dumped her wholesome white bread ass a long time ago, if it'd been up to him. 

Well fuck it, he'd anted up all his chips and there was nothing more to be done but wait to see where the dice landed. He always bet on the underdog. And there was no one more of an underdog than him. Scratching at the fleas behind his ear with his hind foot, sniffing his ass, and pissing in the flowerbeds. Woof. Woof. Luckily, he still had an ace up his sleeve. He'd just have to hold it and wait for the right time to play it. 





















Chapter 3

"Really, John Mark, did you have to be so rough?" Robbie chastised. The "rogue" as her husband sternly called the poor thing locked up in the makeshift holding cell wasn't going anywhere. Robbie tried to rein him in, just a little. But, he'd gone into warrior mode the minute the trio popped their heads over the side of the cliff. She was lucky she'd stopped him before he killed the woman and her two companions. 

"They're rogues," John Mark replied through clinched teeth. "Do you remember what happened the last time we had a visit from their kind?" He would never forget Lucien's dead, sightless eyes. Or the heat of Lucien's blood as the rogue, without pity or mercy, cut him down. "They should be lucky I stopped to ask questions at all and didn't simply finish them off."

"Chris was a rouge too," Robbie gently reminded him. 

"That doesn't count. She was an infant. Innocent." He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose at the sickeningly sweet smell of rogue. "This one has killed. I can smell it on her. And on the other two as well."

"What about Patrick?" Robbie prodded. They didn't know the whole story about their mysterious visitors. If a rogue was content to keep killing why come to the only place that could get them killed? Out of all the places on earth to hide, why did they come here? Why turn themselves in? 

"That's different. It couldn't be helped." John Mark remembered Patrick's captivity. Starving and tormented by the rogues in the worst way possible, Patrick had killed a human. But, he had no other choice. The girl knew she was going to die. She'd only chosen how. She'd given her life to save his. The situation was totally different. And besides, Patrick lived with the guilt of killing that girl everyday. John Mark doubted if the rogues felt any remorse over the lives they'd taken. 

John Mark stared down at his wife amazed by the compassion she felt for the rogues. What had he ever done to deserve the love of such a beautiful creature as this woman? She'd been brutally attacked by the man who was responsible for the rogues being here in the first place. Either Kiros, or his demented sister, Kore, probably created those three to begin with. They were made to kill. Turned loose to murder his brothers.

Yet, Robbie still had it in her heart to forgive what they were and the man responsible for their creation. Kiros was wrong when he said his blood flowed through Robbie's veins. He claimed she was a descendant of his, the last of his mortal line. It simply wasn't possible. She was too good, too loving, to ever have had anything or any part of her originate from him. DNA be damned. John Mark didn't believe it.  

"John Mark," Robbie hissed, elbowing him. "You don't know anything about them." Robbie was curious about their visitors and anxious to hear their story. Hopefully, it was a redeeming one.

"Robbie, neither do you," John Mark grumbled, pinning her with a meaningful look. He hoped she didn't get too attached, too hell bent on saving the rogues. Their outcome might not be a good one. As Second, John Mark had done his job. Everything else hinged on Dane's decision. If Dane felt the rogues were salvageable, they'd live. If he felt there was no redemption for them, they would die. Bitch of a way to spend a honeymoon, deciding the fate of three living beings. Rogues or not, John Mark didn't relish the thought of taking them out. But, if Dane ordered it, he would and he'd do it and do his damnedest to sleep at night afterwards. 

*******

Will slunk back into the shadows of the darkened hallway as Robbie and John Mark walked past. They were so busy verbally sparring with one another they didn't notice him. He had seen them, dragging in a woman. Rather John Mark carried her and deposited her into a storeroom before locking the door and posting guards outside. Two males had been taken into custody as well. Locked down tightly someplace deep inside the tunnels. 

Will could have cared less about the males. But, the female, she was familiar. Too familiar. In the confusion on the bluffs that night, he hadn't been one hundred percent certain. He'd recognized her then. And he'd recognized her now. Candace. She was supposed to be safe. Bad things weren't supposed to happen to her. But, they had. 

Casually, he made his way to the guard post and zoomed the camera in on her face. Time had changed her. The wiry girl's body he remembered was replaced with soft, supple feminine curves. Her once long waves had been cut and styled into a neat chin length bob. Here and there strands of gray streaked through the rich brunette color of her hair. 

He still couldn't get a good enough view of her face. He pressed a few buttons on the keyboard and zoomed in for a closer look. Thankfully, Toby insisted on color monitors and state of the art equipment. Her eyes were the same shade of green he saw every night when he closed his eyes. Vibrant like a spring meadow, but tinged with fear and uncertainty. Faint laugh lines webbed out from the corners of her mouth and her eyes. Beneath her woman's body, the laugh lines, and the faint strands of gray, he could still see the girl she'd been. And he was amazed by the woman she'd grown up to be. She was still just as beautiful now as she had been the day they met, twenty years ago. 

Will shooed everyone out of the control room and fed her name into the computer's database. He skimmed the data flashing across the screen. Mundane stuff. Her address. Her phone number. Her employer. Then, a missing person's report popped up. The report was filed over a month ago, by Chance Anderson, her son. A son? Candy had a son? 

He sat at the desk, perched over the monitor. His fingers impatiently tapping the keyboard as more information rolled across the screen. He ran his finger across the picture on the screen. Her driver's license photo didn't do her justice. She was forty now. To him, only moments had passed, time had come to a stand still. But to her, it had been two decades. Two decades since their last kiss. Since he had held her in his arms, felt the softness of her hair and the warmth of her skin. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he blanked out the computer screen. 

********

Candace struggled against the steel bands biting into her wrists. Her wrists were sore and the flesh torn, healing and then ripped again as she wiggled her wrists to free herself. "Damn," she hissed. Coming here was a bad idea. She didn't know what had happened to Marcus and Neil. Were they dead all ready? Were they saving her for last? Or would she be the first one they came for? She scooted into a corner, resting her head against the hard, cold, concrete wall. Closing her eyes, she recited a prayer and waited. She didn't know if God answered prayers to those like her, but she prayed anyway. She prayed for Marcus and for Neil, and for her son. The last few words of her prayer were selfish. She prayed to see Chance, just one more time, before she died. Maybe, even if her captors did consider her a rogue, they'd grant her this last request.

*********

Marcus cursed as he surrendered to the confining bands that held his limbs fast. There was no escaping. His newfound strength was useless against the thick, cold, bands of steel. He should have fought, ignored Candace's pleas and fought. Killer, that's what they had called him. A killer. His blood chilled as he thought of the many ways he could be killed. He could out last a human in terms of longevity and what his body could take before it finally succumbed to death. And so could Candace. Though, if she truly believed she would never see her son again, she wouldn't last that long. She wouldn't want to. 

Marcus looked around, appraising his surroundings. Bare concrete walls and floors and a droplight suspended from a single cord in the ceiling high above. Lacking finish work, he guessed his "cell" was still in the construction phase. The smell of new hit him as soon as his captors dragged him into wherever in the hell he was. They hadn't taken the blindfold off until they shoved him in this little room. He hoped Candace and Neil were faring slightly better than he was. For a plan of how to get out of this mess, he had jack shit. 

When Candace first told him of her idea to come back here, he thought she was crazy. Go back? Go back to what? He was a forty-five year-old bachelor with a crummy job, a dingy postage stamp sized apartment, and no family to speak of. He was on the fast track to nowhere. For god's sake, he made minimum wage working as a grill cook in the grungiest diner in town. Not even he would have eaten the food that came out of that dump. He smoked like a freight train and spent a good half-hour every morning hacking for his trouble. Hell, he didn't even have looks going for him. He was too ordinary, too Joe Schmo Nobody to stand out much to anybody. 

When he met Candace, he thought his luck had changed. Finally for once, getting even better instead of worse and worse. She was the only thing that kept him sane when the bad time came and grabbed him by the balls. If not for her, he would have gone insane from the hunger that never left and the nightmare that never, ever ended.

Reflexively, out of habit, he stretched his fingers far enough to reach the hip pocket of his jeans for a cigarette and a light. Funny, he'd been trying to quit for years. Seemed like dying took care of that little problem. Not that he had to worry about cancer killing him. The Sons were going to do the job quite nicely and probably just as agonizingly.

Neil hit it on the head that last night in Vegas, when he called him pussy whipped. He was. It was all about Candace and trying to make her happy. Not that they'd ever gone there. They were too busy trying to survive from one day to the next to think about sex. Maybe, he should have tried harder to get a little sack time with her. But, after a few sessions with the "mistress" and her special brand of loving, the damned thing had practically crawled up inside of him, like a turtle in its shell and refused to come out of hiding. 

Talk about psychological scars. He might never get over the things the "mistress" had done to him and made him do. Candace had saved him then too. Held him. Made him feel whole again after the "mistress" had damaged him so severely. Thank God, Candace had never asked him about what happened on those nights when the "mistress" summoned him into her chambers. 

Marcus came back because of Candace. He would have followed her into the depths of hell, if it were where she wanted to go. She'd done her best to protect him. And he thought he could return the favor and protect her. Yeah, he was doing a bang up job of that wasn't he. It seemed his luck hadn't changed one bit.

*******

Neil rested his chin on his knees, sitting with his back to the wall, watching the door. Waiting for something, anything to happen. He was the youngest, barely twenty-three. It was so unfair to have his life taken away from him so young. Now, he was going to die. He pounded his head against the wall and cursed the day he listened to Marcus and followed Candace and he back to this damned hellhole. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

********

Dane scowled throwing a towel across his bare skin and padded across the carpet. Something was wrong. He could sense it. He heard it in the hushed voices that echoed down the corridors. He felt it through the psychic connection he had with his brothers. They were trying to handle it, trying to keep it from him. "Chris, I'm sorry," he said, pulling on a pair of jeans. He'd just take a quick check of things and then be right back to bed to his eager and willing bride.

Chris sighed and pulled the covers over her head. She had spent the better part of the morning in the perfect bliss of love making with her new husband. But, she wanted more. "They promised us twenty- four hours," she groaned. Dane's instincts were never wrong about these things. If he sensed something was off, it was. She peeked over the covers and watched as Dane bent over to tie his bootlaces, admiring the view. 

Dane bent over to land a kiss on her forehead. They were married. But, he still couldn't believe the woman in his bed, curled up on his sheets, was his. All his. "I promise I'll be back ASAP." 

Reluctantly, Chris got out of bed too and grabbed the sweats hanging on the back of her chair. "Hang on, I'll come with you." 

*****

"You've done what!" Chris couldn't believe what she heard coming out of John Mark's mouth as he gave Dane the low down. Yeah, things were off, way off. "Dane, you've got to do something! You can't leave people tied up like that! It's inhumane!" Chris crossed her arms, ignoring John Mark's disapproving scowl.

"They're not human! They're not people!" John Mark roared. He had already gotten an ass chewing from Robbie. He didn't need one from Chris. No disrespect to Dane's bride, but between Robbie and her, this bunch of bleeding hearts was going to get them killed. What was he supposed to do, whip out the good china and serve them tea and crumpets? He winced at the warning hiss escaping Dane's lips and the flash of white fang. John Mark took a breath and toned down his voice a notch. "Chris, you don't know what it was like. What they did. You didn't see it. You weren't there."




Dawn's Promise



"Why didn't you do that to me? Tie me up and leave me abandoned in a dark room." Chris stomped her foot to get her point across. Who did John Mark think he was tying people up and locking them in the storerooms? "Was I much different than them? I was a rogue too." She rested a hand on Dane's shoulder, pleading with her eyes. "Please Dane."

Dane sighed and scrubbed his hand through the short bristles of his black hair. The honeymoon was over. He'd been married a grand total of ten hours before life was pulling him back in the game. "Ok, I'll move the r...the vampires into better accommodations. And I'll release their bindings. But, I won't put them together in the same room. Not until I'm certain of the situation." 

"Fair enough," Chris said, nodding in approval with his plan. She turned her head toward John Mark and smiled triumphantly. "Let's go."

"Oh no you don't." Dane protested. "I don't want you anywhere near them." 

"But.." Chris protested, quickly clamping her lips tightly as she saw the look in Dane's eyes. She'd won one battle tonight It was best not to push her luck. Not yet anyway.













Chapter 4

Candace shifted position on the floor, twisting around toward the sound of the lock sliding back and the soft groan of hinges swinging open. They were coming for her. She scrabbled back, pressing her body as far into the corner as it would go. Curling her knees into her chest to make herself as small as possible. A man walked in with John Mark tight on his heels. 'This is it,' she thought, her turn to die. Had they already killed Marcus and Neil? "Please," she pled weakly, cowering in the corner. Trembling at the thought of what might come next. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," Dane said. The woman cowered in the corner, protectively shielding her body by curling up into a tight ball. Her clothes were filthy, tattered and torn. Dirt smudged her tear stained cheeks. And he could see the shadows of fading bruises on her jaw. The cabled steel bindings had cut deeply into her wrists and ankles. Blood from the wounds, where they'd healed and torn open again and again flaked in a dried mess on the steel. 

Gently and slowly, he reached down and cupped her chin with his fingers, lifting her face. Fresh tears filled with terror flooded the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over in a deluge down her cheeks. Reflexively, she tried to jerk her chin out of his grasp. "Easy there," he said softly. He studied her face and her eyes and saw no hint of menace on her expression or in their mossy green depths, only terror. He released her chin and stood. She reminded him of a mouse cornered by a cat. Quivering and huddling in the corner the way she was. "My name is Dane." He extended a hand, patiently waiting for her to place her bound hands in his. 

Candace bit her bottom lip in doubt. Should she trust him? He was big, taller and broader shouldered than John Mark, if that were possible. With his short spiked black military haircut and stern expression. His appearance was threat enough. He didn't need words to terrify her. Clad only in jeans and thick-soled combat boots, his upper torso and limbs bulged with tightly honed muscle. He could easily hurt her. Kill her with his bare hands, if he wanted to. She was bound and defenseless. What choice did she have, but to trust him? "Candace," she shakily replied. Taking a leap of faith, which was the only thing she had left, she placed her bound wrists into his hands. Gently, he hoisted her into a wobbly standing position. 

Without a word, John Mark bent and released the bindings at her ankles. Cutting through the thick metal cable with a pair of bolt cutters. Candace winced as he pried the cut cabling free from the dried blood and healing flesh on her ankles. He looked up at her menacingly, his expression filled with unspoken warning. His fangs were extended and a short sword was strapped across his hip. Even fully fanged and armed, his unspoken warnings might have wall as been a cheerfully worded greeting card in comparison to the danger promised in Dane's expression if she dared to take one step out of line. 

"Come with me," Dane said, wrapping his fingers around her bicep and leading her from the storeroom. He saw the fear and trepidation in Candace's eyes. Meek and demure, so much like the mouse, he didn't see her as a threat. He didn't need words to intimidate her into obediently following him out of the storeroom. Her fear was enough to keep her in check.

"I thought you said you wouldn't hurt me?" Candace said in a small trembling voice as she walked beside Dane. She blinked back a shower of fresh hot tears. Her captors wouldn't see her cry. No matter what they did to her, she wouldn't cry. John Mark hovered a few feet behind her. His boot falls in step with Dane's. The hallways were barren and gray. Smoothed concrete stretched on for what seemed like miles. Without a landmark, Candace wasn't sure she could have found her way back to the storeroom on her own. 

The hallways twisted and turned and then changed from the hard utilitarian concrete to something lush and inviting. A warm umber color decorated the walls. And the flat stretch under her feet changed to terra cotta tiles. Lights recessed into the ceiling bathed the room in a soothing yellow glow, certainly easier on the eyes than the fluorescent fixtures in the adjoining hallway. Richly carved oak doors, spaced far apart lined either side of the long aisle. And here and there pictures and murals of serene scenes dotted the walls. Candace didn't know where Dane was leading her. But, the décor certainly didn't lend to the death chamber scenario she'd pictured in her mind. It might be premature, but she relaxed, just a little. 

"I won't, unless you give me reason to," Dane replied. His voice was firm and honest. Automatically, she believed him. This was a man who didn't lie, because he didn't need to. He was used to everyone doing what he wanted and had no use for threats to get people to do exactly as he said. She wasn't about to challenge his authority. He navigated her through a series of twisting, winding hallways and stopped at a heavy oak door. He turned the knob, guiding her inside.

Candace hesitantly stepped inside the room and around Dane's massive shoulder at what might be waiting for her. She gasped as she took in the room's attributes. The nautical theme was so prevalent in the room's furnishings. She could practically smell the sea in the air. Thick, lush, navy blue carpet cushioned her footsteps as she walked deeper into the room. She kind of felt bad for walking on such a nice carpet in her battered Keds. 

A massive king sized bed was the main focal point of the room. Tastefully decorated in shades of blue and plenty of fluffy pillows covered in bright, cheerful primary colors, the bed practically begged for her to come and try it out. A plasma screen TV rested against the pale sand colored walls. And in the corner a loveseat sized sofa upholstered in red and decorated with blue, yellow, and white throw pillows promised comfort on its springy cushions. Through another open door she could see the light gray marble floors and countertops. Fresh clothes were neatly folded, resting on top of a creamy off white distressed dresser. "What is this place?"

"Our home," Dane replied simply. He slid the bolt cutters through the binding on her wrists, snapping them, cutting her free. "I'll give you time to clean up and then I'll need to ask you and the others some questions."

"They're ok?" Candace gasped. She didn't doubt that Neil was. He was so laid back and adaptable to any situation. An air of charisma and charm surrounded him and made it hard to dislike him for any amount of time. There was almost nothing he couldn't talk his way out of. He wouldn't fight against the men. He'd do exactly what they told him. It was what had kept him alive this long. 

Marcus though, he was a hot head with a hair trigger. And if he thought she was in any danger, he'd fight to try to save her. He knew how to read people. Knew exactly what they wanted to hear. And he'd use that to his advantage. But, somehow Candace doubted that these were the kind of people who would fall for bullshit. Marcus was going to have to be careful. They'd know if he lied. 

"Of course. Please make yourself at home. There's a shower through there," he said, pointing to the bathroom. "And clean clothes laid out for you." He gestured to the clothes on the dresser. Before he left, he turned and pinned her with a hard glare. "I strongly recommend that you not try anything. Don't make me regret my decision." He closed the door bolting it behind him. Turning to John Mark, he said, "I want this room guarded at all times."

Candace sank to the floor in relief. Neil and Marcus were still alive. She was still alive. She let loose the torrent of tears that she had restrained. Once she cried it all out, she ventured into the bathroom. The bath was simple but elegant. Eager for a hot shower, her first one in she couldn't remember how long. She turned on the tap and stripped down. 

The hot water soothed her frazzled nerves. As she lathered up, she thought about how normal such a simple action as bathing felt. She rinsed off running her fingers through her wet hair. She didn't want to ever get out. Reluctantly, she slid the glass shower door back and reached for one of the fluffy towels that hanging on a heated rack beside the shower. 

The outfit was uncomplicated. New. A white cotton bra and panties, a pair of soft indigo denim jeans, and a long sleeved blue t-shirt, new fluffy white socks and a pair of tennis shoes, stiff and new, completed the ensemble. She almost started crying when she thought about how long it had been since she had anything new. Since she had a change of clothes at all. 

Neil was always offering her money, trying to buy her things. Trying to buy her contentment with possessions. She'd never felt right taking a dime from him and she did so only out of necessity and then only purchased what she absolutely needed. He played the tables. The money he used for the bets was stolen. Robbed from his victims. And he had not batted an eye while doing it. He said it was survival plain and simple. She hadn't agreed. Accepting money from him made her feel dirty and tainted. 

Marcus was more subtle in the ways he took care of her and did his best to see to her happiness in the small ways that she'd allow. He never tried to push his winnings from the table on her. He did things, simple things, meant to make her feel at ease. They went sight seeing. Mulled in the crowds along the strip. And they talked, about life, about death, and mostly about her son. 

After her shower, she curled up onto the center of the bed and allowed herself a few moments to bask in luxury. How long had it been since she'd been alone? Truly alone? The suites Neil booked for them were luxurious, far more luxurious than this room with its nautical theme. But, they'd always felt borrowed and cheap beneath their glitzy surfaces. This felt like home. She intended to do her best to enjoy the simple comfort of a soft bed and a few moments to herself in her own head. They might be her last.











Chapter 5

"Are you sure this will work?" Dane eyed Toby suspiciously as he fingered the gadget in his palm. He understood the idea. But unlike Toby, he didn't put all his faith in technology. How could a tiny box fastened around someone's ankle submit a radio signal powerful enough to allow the wearer to be found anywhere?

"Boss," Toby grinned, "trust me." Toby slid the band around his ankle and secured it in place. "Let's try it. I'm getting ready to take Anna back to the city. I'll wear it the entire time. See for yourself." He punched a few keys on the keyboard and started the program. A red blip appeared on a map of the United States. Narrowing down on the signal, he pulled up a map of the state, and then the county, honing in on his position. 

Dane grunted and stared down at the monitor. If the gadget worked, one problem would be temporarily solved. He could allow the rogues to go out to hunt with an escort, without fear of them escaping. That was only one small piece of the puzzle though. What was he going to do with them long term? He'd have to deal with that later. If Toby's solution passed Dane's scrutiny and if the rogues passed their first trial, all kinds of solutions might be possible.

"Ok then, I'm out of here." Toby pressed a series of keys on the keyboard. "Here you can track me on the monitor or the hand held device." He sighed in longing at his new toy. He would have loved to strap it on someone else and stayed behind to play with his new gadget. But, Anna was waiting on him. Probably pacing somewhere impatiently tapping her nails on her watch. He snatched up a set of keys and walked out the door. The drive to the city usually took about two hours, but he was going to try to stretch it out to three. Give him a little one on one time with the ice princess he was just beginning to thaw out. 

Will frowned as he entered the control room. The place was crammed full, packed with his brothers studying the blip on the computer monitor. One of Toby's new toys obviously. The man went after technology the way an alcoholic went after a cheap bottle of wine. Will was anxious to get access to a terminal and find out everything that he could about Candace and her son. "Damn," he muttered softly to himself. He needed privacy for this. There were other PCs, other terminals. But, only this one, only Toby's had the kind of access he wanted. 

Since when had the tech room become such a popular place? He walked over to the monitor and stared over Dane's shoulder. "Dane, I'd be happy to take over. It's your honeymoon. Wouldn't you rather be with Chris than watching a blip on the screen for hours?" 

Dane stretched and grinned. Yeah, he would love a few more hours of alone time with his new wife, if for nothing else than to smooth things over with her. She wasn't happy about having their honeymoon interrupted. And she wasn't happy with the way John Mark had handled the rogues. "I think I'll take you up on that." He turned to John Mark. The kid was making progress. Taking his job as Second very seriously. But, it never hurt to make sure he knew who was still in command. The kid could be cocky and arrogant and needed to be reminded of where his place was now and again in the order of things. "Make sure the rogues don't cause any trouble." 

"I'll make sure John Mark doesn't cause any trouble either." Patrick grinned elbowing John Mark in the ribs. He stared at the monitors, watching the quiet woods through the surveillance system. "We'll let you know if anyone comes knocking." His team had found nothing in the forest, not so much as a footprint besides those of the three that had shown up earlier. 

Will sighed in relief, as the brothers filtered out of the room, leaving him alone with Toby's PC. Cracking his knuckles, he bent over the keyboard, typing at a furious pace. He scanned over the information flickering across the screen. 

Chance Anderson was the kid every parent wished for. An honor student in high school. Full scholarship to State University. Top of his class both freshman and sophomore years of college. A volunteer at the local youth league. Spent both Thanksgiving and Christmas serving dinner at the homeless shelter. Hell, he even donated blood every forty-five days like clockwork. He had received several trophies and twice as many ribbons for placing first in MMA amateur kickboxing meets. And he worked part time at the gym in his neighborhood for peanuts when he could have been charging far more for his time.  

Chance was a good-looking kid. Sleek dark brown, almost black hair, cut in a shaggy skater style, long in the bangs and shorter in the back. With high, broad cheekbones and an angular square jaw, wide deep-set hazel eyes and expressive brows, and well-defined muscles, the kid had the looks to be on the cover of GQ. Chance had his mother's mouth and definitely her smile, as well as her gently sloping nose. No wonder Candace had risked her life to come back to him. Even Will couldn't help bursting with pride at what the kid had accomplished so early in life.

Will's eyes widened as he skimmed through the kid's vital statistics. On the birth certificate, Candace hadn't listed the father's name. Chance was twenty, with a birthday in early September. Doing the math in his head, a frown formed at the corners of Will's mouth. My God, they were so young and impulsive at the time. Candace and he had fallen into bed as easily as they'd fallen in love. Hadn't they used precautions? Had they even talked about it? 

At the time between classes, working at the hardware shop, and being so head over heels in love with her, had he given that little detail any consideration at all? They'd only been dating two months. And one cold night in November, the day before Thanksgiving break, they'd spent the night together. It was just one time, just one night. And damned, if he, at the age of nineteen, horny as hell and eager to prove his manhood, deep in the thrall of first love and the heat of the moment had thought to slip on a condom, or to ask if she was on the pill. She was only nineteen. 

He remembered waving at her, glancing back in his rearview mirror at her as he pulled away from the curb the morning after. She stood on the front stoop of his shared apartment building, smiling and waving goodbye at him. Bundled in an old pair of his sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed with the cold, she'd never looked more beautiful than she had that morning. 

He had every intention of coming back to class that Monday and picking up right where he left off. Only life didn't go as he'd planned and had taken him in a completely different direction, one he could have never anticipated. He'd never returned to complete the semester. Never gone back. Never called her. Never checked up on her. And worst of all, he'd left her alone and pregnant with his son. And he'd never known. 

Will enlarged the BMV photo on the monitor's screen, scanning the image intently. His eyes tracked every detail of Chance's face. He saw it now. The same tanned skin tone, the same shape and thrust to the jaw, and the same high cheekbones. The boy didn't have his mother's eyes. Chance had his father's eyes and heavy dark brows. His son. Duty forgotten, Will stomped through the dimly lit halls. He needed to know. To hear it from her lips, why hadn't she tried to find him? Why hadn't she told him he had a son? 

*******

Toby rested his right hand casually on the gearshift. His fingers gently brushed across the soft denim covering Anna's knee, accidentally on purpose, as he tapped his fingers on the plastic knob. She kept her gaze pinned on the scenery whipping past and pretended, probably very much on purpose, not to notice the subtle contact. He knew better though. He sensed the layer of permafrost she hid beneath was slowly warming. 

Anna glanced at the speedometer; it danced around sixty miles per hour. Toby certainly was a careful driver. Either that, or he was stalling for time. She for once didn't mind the miles of interstate that stretched out ahead of them. Playing cat and mouse with him was fun. Flirting shamelessly and then retreating behind a cloud of pretend disinterest. Idly, she stretched and dragged her fingers across the top of his hand and then dropped them into her lap. Who knew how long it'd be before they got to play the game again?

"You have to work tomorrow?" Toby asked, smiling lightly at the warmth of her fingers brushing over the top of his hand. He sucked at small talk. He wished for something profound to say. But, he came up blank.




Dawn's Promise



"No, but I need to get things ready. There isn't a scrap of food in the house and I've gotten behind on my cleaning," Anna answered absently. She had a hundred reasons why she needed to go home. Stuff she needed to get done before Monday. 

"Ah, the quest for food." Toby nodded sympathetically, remembering his recent trip to the grocery store. "Did you like the Count Chocula?" he asked coyly. He'd gotten the cereal to poke fun of Anna and maybe a bit at himself. 

"Well, I didn't at first. But, it seems to have grown on me," Anna replied, coyly returning his smile. His boyish sense of humor was one of the things that appealed to her the most about him. His general happy demeanor was a breath of fresh air to her serious and critical nature. And his good looks, the carefree 'skater dude' exterior that hid the warrior and technical genius, didn't hurt either. 

She still had a little trouble buying into the fact that he was nineteen years her senior when he didn't look a day over twenty-one or twenty-two. The outside world didn't know, wouldn't ever know. They'd see her as a cougar with her claws out, toying with a much younger man. And they'd judge her for what they didn't understand. Not that she cared. She did have fun playing with Toby and flexing her claws once in a while. 

"I wouldn't mind tooling around the city. I could go with you." Toby didn't relish the thought of wandering through aisle after aisle of decaying vegetable and animal matter, preferring his food somewhat fresher. But, if he could be with Anna just a little while longer, he'd do it. Every minute they spent together was another minute he could use to work his way under that cold exterior of hers. Besides, deep down beneath that icy external layer, she was hot, smoking hot. Hot enough to burn him alive. 

"You don't need to do that," Anna said, turning him down in that hard tone of hers she saved for board meetings and negotiations with clients. She needed to buy things, private things. There was no way she was purchasing Tampax with Toby hovering over her shoulder. 

"I could clean your house for you while you shop. You know, save time. I'm pretty fast." Not fast enough obviously. He'd only just begun to warm her up and the drive was almost over. His excuse for hanging around was almost gone. 

How well she knew how fast he was. She had seen him in action a time or two. Darting through the woods for the sheer pleasure of it at a blinding pace. "That's awfully generous of you. But, no matter how fast you are, the washing machine and vacuum cleaner only work so quickly." 

Toby sighed in defeat. She had him on that one. The slow pace of mechanical equipment sometimes drove him to the point of madness. Often, he made minor adjustments tweaking things, here and there, to increase their speed to keep up with his. "So ready to be rid of me?"

"Of course not!" Anna chastised. Actually, quite the opposite, she'd be happy if he'd stay. But if he did, she had no doubt her laundry would never get done. She had gotten used to having Toby hovering over her the past week. But, she had her life and he had his. And she wasn't ready for anything more. She was just getting used to his...uniqueness. 

The bond that had been spun between them when they exchanged blood out of necessity was difficult enough to bear. And in part, she blamed the bond for her reluctance to send him packing. He was always with her, in her mind. Unfortunately, she had grown accustomed to it, almost fond of feeling the buzz of his presence skittering around her brain. She just didn't trust her feelings, the single mindedness she shared with him, as genuine. 

Toby sensed the wall she had thrown up between them to keep him out. Anna was an expert at building walls. No wonder she had chosen to be an architect, and she could certainly build a wall, thick enough, high enough, and impenetrable enough to keep everyone out. He was determined to find a way to break through her walls. He had seen her with her guard down. She was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside, but fragile and very afraid. "So you'll miss me?" he asked, playfully, pulling to a stop in front of her house.

"Well naturally, you've become a good friend, over the past week." Anna tugged on her coat and gathered her purse. Feigning distraction, she dug in her purse for her keys.

"A friend," Toby muttered, frowning at the distaste of the causal way she discounted what was budding between them. Friend. He'd show her how good of a "friend" he'd like to be. He sent mental images their bodies locked together through the one-way turnpike of his thoughts straight into her head. He imagined them bumping and grinding against one another in a sexual frenzy of lust. And then he daydreamed of the completion, his climax shooting deep within her soft walls, sending her spiraling out of control beneath him. Grinning at the blush spreading across her cheeks and the uncomfortable way she squeezed her thighs shut, he hopped out of the car to grab her bag out of the trunk. Yeah, take that, 'friend'.

Anna shifted uncomfortably in her seat as an aching need spread though out the deepest part of her being. What was wrong with her? She could almost feel his bare skin as it brushed along hers. She could taste him as their tongues tangled, stroking and teasing. She could hear her cries of passion as he drove himself hard into her core stretching her. Anna shook her head, this was nuts. She felt like a lust struck teenager again. Which, she definitely wasn't. She didn't have sexy dreams period. Let alone sexy daydreams that hit her out of nowhere. "Are you doing that?" she asked, rounding to the rear of the car to collect her bag from Toby, prepared for an out and out war with him if he was the cause of these...images.

Toby pretended to be preoccupied with rearranging the trunk. "What's that Anna?" he asked, acting as if he'd just noticed her standing there. He could have heard her heart pounding from a block away. Smelled the desire radiating from her pale skin from a mile away. And the prickles of awareness he'd planted in her mind, he could have sensed them any distance. He loved chipping away at her icy exterior and watching the cold veneer melt to reveal the woman beneath. 

"Nothing," she murmured. She sucked in a breath fresh cool evening air fighting to regain control of her rampant lust before she acted on the impulses flooding her mind. Thank God, she was home.

Toby grinned triumphantly when she wasn't looking. "Do you mind if I come in? I want to check things out. Make sure you're safe." He'd been inside of her house twice before. Once when he'd gone in to erase all traces of her best friend, Chris. And again when he'd picked her up for the party Christmas night. 

"No not at all," Anna replied in her usual well-controlled, cool tone. She could handle having him invading her space for a few minutes. What the hell, she had him in her head which was much more private. She walked up the sidewalk and onto the porch, sliding the key into the lock on the front door and opened it wide, letting him in. 

























Chapter 6

"Go ahead and take off Robbie. I've got it," Will said, approaching the newest and certainly smallest warrior in their group. He'd had to stop before rounding the corner to Candace's room to gather his composure. The woman was terrified enough without him yelling and accusing her of things when he didn't know the whole story. He couldn't deny his outrage at being denied access to his son. His son was a grown man. He'd missed Chance's entire childhood. Which led him to the question, what had Candace told him about his father? Why had she decided to take raising him upon herself when he gladly would have helped to bear the burden? 

"Are you sure? There hasn't been so much as a peep out of her." Robbie was bored, eager to be relieved from her post. Guarding the closed door was tedious. The worst. But, part of her job nonetheless. Not every task she was going to be asked to do would be action packed and full of glory. She grinned eagerly at Will's casual nod. Great! Now she'd have time to hit the gym before she met up with Alex for a quick hunt later on this evening. 

Will watched Robbie trot down the hall, headed for the gym. Convincing her to abandon her post in favor of the gym was the easy part. Now came the hard part. Confronting Candace. He had so many questions. He took a minute to rest his hand on the brass doorknob, unsure of which one to ask first. Which question was the most important when they were all so important? The only question that kept reverberating in his mind was why. Why had she done it? Why had she taken his son away from him without him even knowing it? 

Candace wrapped her arms around the satin encased throw and brought the smell of new up to her nose. The sound of a key turning in the lock had her sitting up on the bed unsure as to if she should scrabble for some sort of a weapon to defend herself or keep her ass planted on the bed to look as meek and harmless as possible. Her eyes grew wide with shock as they surveyed the man letting himself into her room. "Will?" 

She couldn't believe it. He hadn't changed at all. Standing in the doorway, his frame blocked the light from the hall. He ran a hand through his jet- black hair, sending the ends sticking up into a fury of disarray. His brown eyes locked with hers. And Candace had no trouble reading the accusations in his weighted stare. Chance! He'd figured it out! He knew the secret she'd been so careful to hide. 

"Yes, Candy," he said, using his nickname for her. "It's me." Will closed the door with a gentle shove of his heel on the heavy oak surface. He advanced to the side of the bed and stood at the foot. Cool and calm, any increase of emotion would alert the brothers and frighten her into not telling him a damned thing. He winced at the sound of his voice. His voice sounded tense and sharp, hinging on bitter sarcasm at the infliction he put on her once familiar name. He took a deep breath and forced his shoulders to relax. 

"Please don't call me that," Candace said in a whisper. No one ever called her that, not before Will and not after. He was the only one. 'His sweet Candy' he used to whisper in her ear. The sound of his voice, the deep bass softness in which he said her name sent her heart racing. She clutched the throw pillow to her chest and wrapped her arms around it, curling her legs tightly into the pillow. What was he doing here with these people? Will and she were the same age, give or take a few months. Why did she look like she was forty when he had barely aged a day since the last time she'd seen him?

No, that wasn't entirely true. He had aged. Lived every one of his forty years hardly a mark on his body or his face to show their passing. But, his eyes hinted at the years that had passed, telling his true age beneath the deceptive façade of his youth. He was taller and broader than she remembered. Hard muscle gave his body an angular, lean look, almost that of a predator. "What happened to you?" she gasped. 

He ignored Candace's question. His mind was too full of his own. "I need to know," Will said in a low soft voice, hedging on a growl. "Is the boy my son?" 

Candace nipped at her bottom lip with her front teeth the way she did when she was nervous or pondering something deeply. In this instance, she was both, nervous and pondering her answer. Of course, Will had found Chance. Her act of despair had condemned not only herself, Marcus and Neil, but now her son. She could deny it, or deny she'd even had a son. Or perhaps if he knew the truth, he'd keep her son...their son... safe. Will owed her for all the years she'd struggled to raise Chance on her own. He owed his son at least this small courtesy. Closing her eyes, not willing to meet the condemnation in their dark stare, she nodded and whispered, "Yes."

Will drew a sharp breath. His mind was numb with shock. He sank to the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands, gripping at the strands of his hair with his fingers. As if pulling painfully on the strands could somehow yank him out of this nightmare. He was so sorry for all that she had suffered alone. Regretted all the years he'd missed out on being a father. If only he'd known that she was pregnant, he would have chosen differently. He would have chosen her and their unborn child over the life the Sons had offered him. He would have willingly chosen to grow old and die an old man with her at his side, surrounded by his sons and daughters, his grandchildren and great grandchildren, maybe even great-great grandchildren, rather than being deprived of the son he knew nothing about. "Why?" he rasped. 

"Please, keep him safe." Candace whispered. She winced at the anguish in his voice. "I don't care about myself. But, you owe him. No matter what you do to me or to the others, promise me my son will be safe." 

Will lifted his head from his palms and pinned Candace with a hard stare. "Do you really think I'd hurt you?" He got up from the bed and began pacing the room. "Why didn't you tell me about him?" He pulled her up off the bed and onto her feet, locking his hands around her biceps and giving her a hard shake. As if he could rattle the truth out of her. "Why Candy. Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

Candace winced against the pressure of Will's fingers digging into her arms. "I tried," she rasped. "I tried. You didn't come back to class after Thanksgiving break. You didn't call me. You didn't come back to your apartment. I called your phone and left dozens of messages with your roommates. They told me you left your part of December's rent on the kitchen table, packed your stuff, and left without an explanation. It was like you disappeared. And by the time I figured out I was pregnant, I'd already given up on finding you.

"A part of me didn't want to find you. When you didn't return any of my calls, when you walked away without a word, I thought you'd lied to me, about everything. I felt like a fool. I was hurt. Angry. And so ashamed that I'd let you use me like that. I was so young and stupid back then. I know I should have told you I wasn't on the pill. I was still a virgin. And I wanted you to be the one. I thought I was in love. I thought at the time, that we were in love. Looking back, I guess it was short sided of me. But, then again hindsight is always 20-20."

Will reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Candace's ear. The gentleness in his touch surprised him. He hadn't thought after so long all the old feelings he'd battled so hard to control would come back so easily. "Candy, we were in love. That night, I could have taken precautions. And I should have. I shouldn't have left you like that. I should have called to explain things to you. I don't know what I would have told you. But, I shouldn't have left you hanging like that. If I'd known, I would have done things so differently." 

He slid his thumbs down the sides of her cheeks, tracing the pattern of tears across their porcelain surface. Gently, he cupped her chin in his palms and lifted her face. There was his girl, hiding behind a mask of time, smiling, through the wash of regrets rolling down her cheeks, up at him. "I don't consider Chance a mistake. I'll never, ever think that. He's a blessing. A gift. The most precious gift you ever could have given me." He pressed his lips against her forehead and rested them there for a minute. "Thank you, Candy. Thank you for taking care of our son."

Candace leaned into Will's body, letting his strength carry the burden of her weight. His gentle 'thank you' was the last thing she expected to hear. The softness of his mouth, brushing across her forehead was the last thing she expected to feel. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the warm shelter of his embrace. And she let him. Softly, she sighed, "You're welcome," against his chest. 

Things were hardly right between them. But, at least now he had the chance to tell her everything. Things he could have never have told her for fear of risking her life, if she hadn't already experienced them for herself first hand. She was a vampire. She knew his darkest secrets, because they were hers as well. "Would you like the explanation I should have given you twenty years ago?" he asked. 

Candace slid free of his embrace and ambled over to the loveseat. Did she want to hear? Yes, she did. She wanted to know what happened to the boy she'd fallen in love with. And she wanted to get to know them man he'd grown up to be. And hopefully, in the process, she'd learn a little more about herself, the origins of this thing, this rogue, as he called her, she'd been forced to become. 

Candace listened to Will's explanation. He was honest, holding nothing back. If she hadn't experienced it first hand, she would have never believed him. The story was too fantastic. Classic good versus evil. The Sons, the good guys, faithful to their Goddess and the Great Father, were protectors of human life. The Rogues, the bad guys, were self-serving killers without a conscience. The Thanksgiving he'd disappeared from her life, he'd been asked to make a choice. It hadn't been easy for him to give up his human life, leave his friends and family behind. But, it was the only way he could do what needed to be done and keep the secret safe. 

His story was so different from hers. He had chosen this path, proving himself worthy in a series of trials and tests. Earning the right to be called a Son. She on the other hand, had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Snatched up and drug off into the darkness. This life forced upon her, branded a rogue. 

In a way, it was a relief, to finally know. For years her emotions for him ran hot and then cold, bouncing between hatred, to love, and everywhere in between. So many of the things she believed or forced herself to believe, weren't true. "You didn't abandon us."

"No. I didn't know," Will answered. He was still human at the time of Chance's birth. He would have still had a chance to turn back and pick up his human life right where he'd left off. And he would have, if he'd known. In his ignorance, once he'd trained and passed the trials, he left the human world and Candace behind, for good. 

"Would you like to hear about your son?" Candace asked. Talking about Chance was her favorite pastime. She never grew tired of flashing pictures, telling tales, recanting every moment of everyday of her son's life. Half of the women in the office ran the other direction when they saw her coming. Neil wouldn't even discuss her son with her. And Marcus only listened because it served to remind her of what she had to live for. Everyone had him pinned for a Mama's Boy. And that wasn't true. Chance was everything she said and so much more. 

Will smiled broadly, still getting used to the idea of having a son. "Our son," he corrected. The name Chance still sounded unfamiliar on the tip of his tongue. "Yes, tell me everything."

Will listened as Candace told him every last detail about his son. He heard her love and pride for him, echoing in her voice and dancing across the expressions on her face. As a boy, he'd caused his fair share of mischief, a trait, she blamed solely on his father. He'd grown up happy, healthy, protected, and loved. Although, he regretted the years he'd lost with his son, he didn't begrudge Candace for the years she'd had. He doubted that at twenty, Chance would curl up on his lap and let dear old dad read him a bedtime story. Those years were lost. But, there were plenty more good ones still ahead. 

Will toyed with the idea that his Goddess, Kokumthena, was behind this some how. Locking their destinies. And making sure that Candace, Chance's, and his paths crossed. His son, fit, strong, and already highly disciplined, was a perfect candidate for the trials. He kept his ideas to himself. There was no need to tell Candace, not yet. He should probably at least meet his son first. "Chance sounds like an amazing kid. You've done a wonderful job of raising him. I'm sorry, I wasn't there for you." 




Dawn's Promise



Candace didn't doubt the sincerity of Will's words. He'd missed the first twenty years of his son's life. And her explanations to Chance about his father were vague, at best. For so long it had only been the two of them. And now, his father shows up out of the blue. And she had so many things to tell her son. She wasn't sure where she should begin. How was she going to explain her disappearance and what had happened to her without scaring him half to death? She hazarded a request, "If you could just let me use a cell phone, I could call him. Let him know I'm ok." 

"I'll see what I can do. Just stay put. I'm going to have to tell Dane and the brothers about Chance. They need to know about this." Will stood and walked to the door. "Don't worry, Candy. I will keep him safe." He closed the door, locking it behind him, leaving a hopeful Candace sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Will walked down the deserted corridors, mulling over what to say to Dane and to his brothers. He knew what he was giving up when he signed on for this life and drank the blood. He never imagined anything different for himself. He had a gift beyond imagining. Something enviable, so rare and sacred, that a part of him wanted to keep it locked away. Hold it so close to his heart that he never breathed a word to anyone. 

Since the early days, when the first brothers had come across, no brother had mortal children left behind in the human world. The Great Father had a family once, and the Prophet a wife and children of his own. They knew the pain of watching them grow old and die. It wasn't forbidden. But, it wasn't exactly encouraged either. Will hadn't stopped to ponder that fact. One day, his son would grow old. One day, his son would die. Or, perhaps, not. 





















Chapter 7

"I'll be damned," Patrick muttered in disbelief as he stared at the proof on monitor. Will had a son. A bouncing baby boy. The kid looked enough like Will, that he could have been picked out of his proud papa's ass. "Son of a bitch," he breathed out, dumbfounded

Will stood behind John Mark, Patrick, and Dane who were gathered in a cluster staring down at the monitor, glancing up to him, and then turning to stare down at the monitor again. Will had never seen Patrick speechless in his life, but he was now. John Mark narrowed his eyes in disapproval and a good measure of disbelief. Dane, at least, had the courtesy to be ambiguous about his reaction long enough to hear him out. "Gentlemen." He postured, bouncing between dread and pride, waiting for the question and answer session to begin.

John Mark looked at Will. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "The female rogue is the child's mother? You're certain of this? The kid is your son?"

"Absolutely."

"And we're just now finding out you've got a kid?" John Mark prodded. Rogues were crafty, sneaky, and devious. Ok, so the kid looked like Will. No doubt about that. There was enough of a resemblance to Will that the kid could be his son. But, why hadn't he told the brothers sooner, like say twenty years sooner? What kind of person was Will before he joined the brotherhood? Were there more unclaimed rug rats running about? 

Will ground his molars in frustration. What the hell? Did John Mark take Hard Ass 101 classes from Dane or did he see it his personal mission to make Will's life a living hell? Dane sat there staring at the monitor, speechless. Ignoring the grief that John Mark shoveled out on his head. Patrick was simply amazed, flicking back and forth from the various snapshots unearthed from the World Wide Web. "I told you, I just found out about him," he grated, answering John Mark's question for the tenth time. 

"You disobeyed a direct order and went to speak with rogue?" John Mark's fury was building. Will had risked the safety of his brothers and their home by going to the woman alone and unarmed. She wasn't to be trusted. He planned to punish Will for his disobedience. Being second in command to Dane, he could deliver punishment and demand obedience. He could make an example of Will, and he should.  

"Yes." 

"Don't you think it's odd that after twenty years she shows up here and conveniently claims to be the mother of your child? She's a rogue, Will. You can't trust her." He opened his mouth about to unleash a tirade, when Dane reached up and clamped down hard on his shoulder, silencing him.

Dane put a hand on John Mark's shoulder, hinting at him to back off. Computer equipment was expensive and fragile. The last thing he needed was these two going at it like a couple of junkyard dogs in the nerve center of the compound. "What do you plan to do?" Dane asked, turning to Will. 

"Candace needs to see her son." 

"Out of the question," John Mark interjected, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. He was not turning a rogue loose on the street for any family reunion. 

Will glowered at John Mark, itching to put the little twit in his place for once and for all. He got it. The rogues had done terrible things, burned their home, killed their brothers, and murdered their leader. He had no love for the rogues himself. But, Candy wasn't a rogue. "Patrick can you hack into her e-mails and cell phone records?"

"I think so," Patrick answered. He began furiously plunking on the keyboard, hoping he'd learned something from watching Toby. He was by no means the computer whiz that Toby was, but he'd try. Her e-mail account popped open. Thousands of e-mails scrolled across the screen, all from the sender Chance20@e-net.com. Her son. Skimming through them, the messages were pretty much the same. 'Mom where are you? Mom I miss you. Mom, please come home. Mom I love you.' The messages got Patrick in the heart. Hard to do. Considering how jaded he was about the world. 

"I will not deny my son." Will's jaw was tight, his muscles clenched in determination. "Or his mother." He was ready to fight his brothers, if he had to. If necessary, he'd disobey direct orders and risk the consequences, anything to make up for the years he'd lost and the suffering Candace and Chance were enduring.

John Mark stiffened, ready to defend his leader from any attack. He didn't trust the rogues. Now, he wasn't sure if he could trust his own brother. He dropped his fangs and growled in warning, stepping between Will and Dane.

"Chill out, both of you," Patrick said, swiveling in his chair, casually rolling between John Mark and Will. The air crackled with the heat of warriors ready to go WWF smack down on each other. "Obviously, we have a situation here. We can't use the tracking devices till Toby gets back from the city." He pointed to a blip on an adjacent screen and snickered. The blip hadn't moved from its position in over an hour. A little tidbit of information he intended to save for later to razz the hell out of Toby. "He's still at Anna's," he said with a snicker and a knowing wink.

"John Mark has an issue with letting a rogue go free, and I agree. So, my brothers, what do we do?" Patrick asked, leaning back in his chair. 

"Bring the boy here," Dane answered. "Patrick can you track him?" 

Patrick memorized the address on the boy's driver's license. "Sure, no problem."

John Mark scoffed. "You want to bring another human here. We've already sent Janine to Alex's parents' house to stay. Are you willing to risk the life of our brother's child? Here, with all these rogues?" 

Dane's eyes narrowed to slits. His second in command was treading in dangerous waters. Questioning his leadership. John Mark was insubordinate, undermining Dane's authority, and close to getting put back in his place. "I trust that you'll keep the rogues in check," Dane said his voice tinged with warning.

"I'll double up the guard," John Mark grumbled. Turning he walked away from his leader. Unhappy with Dane's decision to bring the boy to the compound while its walls were occupied by the rogues. Could he ensure the boy's safety? "Why not open a damn daycare while were at it," he muttered under his breath as he slammed the door shut behind him. 

"I think it's time I went and interviewed our guests." Dane got up from the chair. "Will, take Patrick and go to the city. I think its time for you and your son to get acquainted." He patted Will on the shoulder and said, "Congratulations," as he left the room. Will needed this. The brothers needed to learn this lesion. No matter how far removed they thought they were from the mortal world. They were still very much a part of it. 

******

"Well," Toby said as he leaned against the doorframe. "Your house is boogeyman free." He leaned low, his face mere inches from hers, tempting her, but not giving chase to the game.

"Isn't that a relief? "Anna shuffled her feet. She wanted so badly to kiss him. But, she held her ground. She felt certain that he wanted the same from her. Not just a light peck on the cheek. A sloppy, spit swapping kiss. She waited for him to make his move. He stood, annoyingly planted on the doorstep. 

Toby watched Anna's feet nervously shuffle. He wanted to kiss her. He was sure she wanted him to. But, he waited for her to make the first move. He smiled down at her. "The patrols in the city know you're back so they'll be popping by, just to keep an eye on things." 

"That's good." Anna bit her bottom lip and looked up at Toby in hesitation. Why wasn't he making a move? Maybe, she was wrong and he didn't want to kiss her at all. She sighed. Still waiting.

"Well, I guess I should be going." Toby wasn't about to be the one who caved first. "Look me up next time you're out my way. Our link should be fine. If it gets weak, I'll arrange to come out." He grinned coyly. It was good to keep her guessing. Toy with her a little longer.

"Ok." Anna dropped her head dismayed. "Well, I guess I'll see you around." She watched as he sauntered onto the sidewalk. Was she really going to let it go? Hell yes. Before she could step back to close the door, he grabbed her up in his arms in a blur of movement. His mouth landed on hers, hard and demanding. His tongue probed the inside of her parted lips, begging for entry. Oh, this was much better. She opened her mouth, granting him access.

Toby ran his palms along the curves of Anna's waist. She was so soft beneath his fingers. Perfect. He wrapped his arms around her hips, grabbing her and lifting her up high enough to see eye to eye. When she wrapped her thighs around his middle, a shudder of desire ran through him. "Maybe I should stick around, just a little while longer. To make double sure you're safe." 

"Score!" the trackers hid in the shadows, watching over the tiny, immaculate red brick home. Toby in his haste had forgotten to shut the door and now the whole neighborhood was getting a show. "Easy there, boy." The vampire whispered to himself. His brother was going to end up in jail for indecent exposure if he wasn't careful. Unable to resist, the male hit speed dial. When a very annoyed voice answered the call, he said, "Either give me an air sickness bag or shut the door. You're corrupting innocent eyes out here." He cackled as a string of explicit language erupted from the other end. 

"Toby put me down," Anna whispered. Toby snapped his phone shut, muttering curses. 

"I forgot to shut the door," Toby admitted utterly embarrassed. "We had an audience."

Anna rested her forehead on his chest. She could feel the heat of her blush spread across her cheeks. Shyly, she waved out into the lengthening shadows, only to hear a loud burst of laughter in reply. "Rain check?" she whispered.

Toby grinned, lowering Anna to the floor. "Next time I'll make sure we're alone. Really alone." He growled as his cell phone buzzed in his hip pocket a second time. "Why don't you take a freaking picture? Give a guy some privacy!" he shouted into the phone. Pausing, he listened to the voice on the other end and cleared his throat. "Oh, sorry Dane. Yeah, I was just leaving." He hugged Anna, kissing her on the forehead. "I'll be back to collect on that rain check." 

"I'm counting on it." Anna hugged Toby around the waist and then withdrew. She watched while he bounded in a half trot down the sidewalk. Bolting the door against the night as soon as he pulled away from the curb. 

She turned to her little empty house and set about her chores. He had a job to do and so did she. It was just so easy to forget that he wasn't human. And where did the fact that he wasn't, leave them? Was it even possible? Nah, it wasn't. At least as far as she was concerned, it wasn't. She had already lost her morning coffee clutch to the dark side. Monday mornings weren't the same without Chris. She could have a best friend that wasn't human. But, date someone of the fanged persuasion? Someone who could get inside her head? She wasn't so sure about that. 

Dane sat across from the young male vampire named Neil. "Now tell me again, how is it that you came to travel with Candace and Marcus?"

Neil ran his hands through his newly washed brown hair. "I told you. I bumped into them while I was on the run. The bitch that made us was crazy. Everyone, well, almost everyone thought so. But, we were too afraid of her to leave. She was merciless, hunting down deserters and making examples of them." He drew a line across his neck with his finger. "I didn't want to end up like that so I played along and when the getting was good, I split. Ran like hell."

Alex leaned against the wall, watching as Dane interrogated the poor guy. She was in training, learning to spot a lie. In humans, their bodies gave away their lies. Pupils dilated, heart rates sped up, and their blood rushed through their veins. In vampires, it was much more difficult to tell. She stared at Neil, watching for the subtle differences. As far as she could tell, he was being honest. Luckily for him.

Dane leaned in close. "Tell me, are there others like you out there?"

Neil shrugged. How the hell should he know? He hadn't exactly stopped to interview anyone along the way. "Yeah, I guess so. What happened to the rest of them, I don't know. There are others out there, sure. But, when we'd bump into them, we didn't stick around for tea and cookies, if you know what I mean." 

Dane smiled and nodded in reply. It was hard not to like this guy's candor. "I know exactly what you mean." Rogues could be vicious and territorial, often fighting amongst themselves for land and hunting rights. More often than not, they kept their own numbers down and killed each other. Made life simpler for the Sons. "Why did you come here?"

Neil crossed his arms uncomfortably. "Candace had this crazy idea that you could help us." He was trying to be honest, knowing the guy could spot a lie. If he got caught lying, it wouldn't take much imagination to figure out what would happen.

"Help you? How?" Dane lifted his eyebrows. His story was almost identical to Candace's. What were they expecting from him? Did they really come here seeking sanctuary? He surveyed the young man, carefully honing in on the subtleties of his body language. 

"You know, teach us things. Help us get our lives back." Neil looked eagerly at Dane. Wide-eyed and innocent, was how he was going to play this particular hand. "Can you?"

"Things will never be the same as they were before." Dane wasn't going to lie to the young man. There was no point. Things were what they were. "You can't go back to your old life. It doesn't exist for you anymore." Dane tried to picture where the man had been in his previous life. The man was wiry and slight, smaller than Patrick, and hard packed with a firm, muscular build. 

His facial features and non-descript shade of brown hair made it easy for him to fade into a crowd and not be noticed. The man could have fit in one of a thousand different occupations and blended in easily in any setting from the beach to Wall Street. Too bad, the guy had the unfortunate luck to be ordinary, just like Candace. Just like the ones left dead on the battlefield. God, he was glad Kore and her demented brother Kiros were dead. Who knew how many more they would have made right under the Sons' noses. 

"I know that. I'm not a dreamer like Candace. But, surely, you can tell me where it is that we belong. We must fit in someplace?" Neil shifted, swallowing a dry empty swallow. Hunger wrenched at his gut. "Hey, what have you got to eat around here?"

"It won't be long." Dane reassured him. "I'll take you and the others hunting." Neil nodded eagerly. He was ready for some chow. Serious chow. Dane and the woman, Alex, he thought was her name, left, locking the door behind them. "Hey thanks for the new duds!" he called out after them.

Dane was certain that Neil was genuine, telling the truth. Alex concurred with him. Now, they were on their way to interview the other male. Hopefully, by the time they done, Toby would be back to fit the rogues with the tracking devices. Dane had spent hours watching the tiny red blip flit across the computer screen. He was confident in the device's ability.



"Now Marcus, you expect us to believe that you put your own life at risk to protect Candace?" Alex repeated his last statement, leaning in close, gauging him analytically. Dane and she were playing good cop-bad cop. This time she got to be the bad cop, badgering the witness. Trying to make him slip up. 

"It's the truth. I thought I could protect her." Marcus held his ground, unwavering. He thrust out his jaw and stared into his questioner's eyes. "Some lot of good I did huh?" The redhead was direct and to the point, surveying him through narrowed brown eyes that seemed to bore right into his soul. He didn't care. Let her stare. He had nothing to hide. He didn't even so much as flinch as they sat across the table from one another, studying each other. 

Marcus knew their game. He'd been hauled in for questioning a time or two and knew the routine. And truthfully, he had no reason to lie. Dishonesty wouldn't protect Candace. And they already had him where they wanted him. So, what was the point in wasting his energy? 

"Hmm." Alex rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Marcus hid nothing with his body language. He sat with his arms resting lightly on the table. His hands still, palms up on the surface. Kore knew how to pick her army and she'd chosen well, when she'd chosen him. He had a charisma about him. A magnetism that drew a person in. 

He was forty-something, with brown hair, cropped short over his ears and a little longer to curl over the edge of his collar. He'd had a rough life, pre-Kore, there was no doubt about that. A fighter even before he'd had the misfortune to cross her path. There was a hard edge to him, beneath his veneer of openness and friendliness. A scar stretched across his left brow, another on his chin, and his nose was just a little crooked. He'd taken more than one punch in his lifetime. A scrapper. A survivor. 

Marcus was medium built, probably about five-ten and one hundred and eighty pounds, none of it flab. Although, he lacked the well-defined musculature that spoke of hours of training in the gym, he was solid without an ounce of fat. He earned his build the hard way, through a life of backbreaking labor, probably in construction or warehouse work. He had an easy smile that automatically disarmed a potential threat. And his shrewd green eyes missed nothing and there was a haunted hollowness to them. They'd seen a lot and the memories of it kept him awake at night. He knew she was watching him watching her. Looking for the lie behind his story. 

Dane stood in the corner watching her as she questioned the male. She felt no malice or deceit from Marcus. Just a hesitancy and a deep desire to get the hell out of here. But, she needed to make sure. "What is it that you're expecting from us?"

"Candace thought you could help us." Marcus scoffed, "I was beginning to believe her, to hope. I didn't have much of a life to go back to. But, I was starting to hope for an opportunity to do something with this one. I was beginning to think that maybe this new life was my second chance. I haven't ever been an extremely bad man. But, I haven't always worn a halo either." He looked away from the girl's piercing brown eyes and up to the man who stood behind her.