After Daybreak

of the mountain through my own eyes one night, and I’d simply forgotten. But when I was there, I traced my hands along the wall, just as you told me you had, and I knew exactly where I was going.”

“There’s so much about the vampire world I don’t understand.”

“Even we don’t understand it all.”

Looking back out the window, I try not to think about my possible vampire heritage and how—if it’s true—it will change everything, like a massive earthquake centered beneath my life. What will remain standing once it passes? Will it even be recognizable?

Even though Victor pushes the car as fast as he can, he can’t outrun the sun. The car’s windows are tinted, so the sunrise doesn’t hurt him, but he’s noticeably uncomfortable and has slowed down considerably. His vampire eyesight must be diminished even in the gentle predawn light.

As the sky begins to lighten, I can see the massive wall that surrounds Denver in the distance. I know we won’t get there ahead of daybreak.

The gates into Denver are closed. They used to open when the sun rose, but that was before we knew about Day Walkers, before Sin came to our city at the behest of his father, Lord Murdoch Valentine. We thought he was a new student at our school. We befriended him.

“Jeff, are you close enough to get cell reception?” Victor asks. “I’d rather not lower these windows at the guard station to go through an inspection.”

The city has one cell tower, located in its center. Its range is limited, its service sporadic.

“I’ll give it a shot,” Jeff says, pulling out his cell phone. He presses a button, waits—

“Clive, hey. We’re about two minutes from the gate—yes, we’ve got Dawn and Michael. They’re safe. . . . Great! I’ll let them know.” He moves the phone away from his ear. “The others arrived safely on the Night Train last night.”

“Oh, thank God!” I feel like I’m floating up as a heavy weight lifts from my chest.

“Yeah, so listen,” Jeff continues into the phone. “Victor’s driving. Need you to alert the guards to wave us through . . . Okay, good. We’ll see you soon.” He hangs up. “We should be good to go.”

The gate rises and a guard lets us pass without any trouble. Victor continues on to the more populated part of Denver. The center of the city. The rebuilding efforts began there, and they haven’t quite reached the wall yet. Ten years since the war ended, and recovery is slow. But then with Murdoch Valentine ruling over us, we had little optimism or hope. Life under Victor will be different. Having seen Crimson Sands, I think by working together we can right all the wrongs of his father.

Jeff makes another call. “Hey, Rachel. We’re back in the city. Dawn’s with me, babe. She’s okay. So is Michael. We’re going to the Agency first and then I’ll bring her to the apartment. . . . Yeah, okay. Hold on.” He extends the phone to me. “Rachel wants a word.”

“A word? I bet she wants more than that.”

Jeff grins.

I take the phone and press it to my ear. “Hey, Rachel.”

“Dawn, oh God, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too.”

“I’m going to head to the Agency—”

“No, wait. I don’t think we’ll be there that long. I’m really dirty, tired, and hungry. I just want to come home. But I want to see Tegan. Can you track her down?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, Rachel.”

“Just know that you are never again leaving this city.”

“I hear you.” But I can’t promise her that I won’t leave. I don’t know where fighting Sin might take us, and I still feel Crimson Sands calling to me.

We say goodbye and I hand the phone back to Jeff.

Victor slows the car to a crawl, not hindered by other vehicles but by people walking the streets, heading to work and school. I realize how little I’ve thought about my homework and tests and assignments. I’m not even sure if I’m still enrolled. Although it hardly matters. I’ve learned plenty of lessons out here.

In Los Angeles everything sparkled, but it was all fake. Here the buildings are drab, but I can see the sweat that was poured into each brick laid. Store windows display merchandise and signs written by hand. There’s an authenticity to it and evidence of creativity. Michael eases up from the back.

“I didn’t think anything would ever look so welcoming,” he says.

“I’ll be glad to be home.”

“Words I never thought I’d agree with. I wanted to leave so bad.” He thought things would be better away from Denver.

“We always think life will have more to offer somewhere else,” Jeff says. “Sometimes leaving is the only way to appreciate what we have.”

We pass by the massive Works, a series of buildings and generators that provide lights to the city but also give it a dark foreboding feel as the smoke from the burning coal coats everything in soot. Then I see the Agency building with its glass and steel. It’s the tallest and most pristine element in the city.

Victor enters the underground parking garage and pulls quickly into a vacant spot. The Agency has cars, but few others do. Gas is scarce. And there are no longer automobile factories. We just have to keep repairing what we have—which is the way of a lot of things these days.

We step out of the car into the well-lit concrete structure. We all walk to the elevator and ride it straight to the top. When the doors open, we’re quickly whisked past the single receptionist and into the director’s office. The large window that encompasses an entire wall, normally providing a perfect view of the city, is covered by thick blinds. No sunlight peeks through—in preparation for our arrival.

A few dim lights on the walls allow me to see the director. Clive looks as if he’s aged ten years since I last saw him. He has less hair, his wrinkles have deepened, his tweed jacket drapes over his torso as though he’s lost weight. He’s always looked like a man who shouldered responsibility until it bent him physically, but now it looks like his back is broken.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he says. “You have no idea—”

“I do,” I say. “It looks like you haven’t slept since I left.”

“Not a lot, no. I started second guessing my decision to send you, but when the others got back last night and told me what was going on in Los Angeles . . .” He shakes his head. “I fought alongside Matheson during the war, comrades in arms. I can’t believe he’d allow himself to be turned by Sin.”

Matheson was the Agency director in Los Angeles.

“I don’t know if I can blame him,” I tell Clive. “The alternative wasn’t very pretty. The humans along the outer wall live a miserable existence.”

“Given the choice between a miserable existence as a human or becoming a vampire, which would you choose?” he asks.

I don’t say anything. The choice may no longer be mine. I may already be a vampire.

“That’s what I thought,” Clive says, misreading my silence. “Nothing would cause you to be turned. So I can blame him.” He clears his throat, and I can tell that while he might not understand Matheson’s choice, he still mourns his friend. “Although losing the Night Train in Los Angeles has been a blow, I have to admit I’m grateful that Ian is in Denver to offer his unique perspective on things.”

The Night Train is the only mass mode of transportation allowed by VampHu. One train that services all the cities.

I glance over as Ian Hightower approaches. A legendary vampire hunter, he guards the Night Train. Or at least he did before everything except its engine got left in Los Angeles. Much like Clive, he seems to have aged years overnight. He’s wearing different clothes, his others surely covered in ash from the furnace of the engine as it howled across the lonely stretches of isolated desert. But his eyes hold the same scars of a hunter’s life, maybe even a few more after what happened in Los Angeles.

“I thought you were a goner,” he says.

“Me too.”

“I would’ve stopped the train and gone back, but I had to think about the others, and I thought you’d want me to protect them.”