After Daybreak

Amy get you some fresh clothes and show you where you can wash up while I get Michael settled in a bed.”

“I’m not leaving Michael.”

“He’ll be in the room through that beaded doorway,” Dr. Jameson says. “You can join him there.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“I’ll be fine, Dawn,” Michael says.

“No. We stay together.”

With a wry grin, he looks at Dr. Jameson. “She’s stubborn.”

“I’m getting that. Come on, then. I’ll have Amy bring the water to you.”

With Michael moving gingerly, we follow her back into the front room and through the beaded doorway into a room with three cots and no windows.

“What is the name of this town?” I ask.

“Crimson Sands,” Dr. Jameson says.

I imagine this place is in a delicate balance, teetering on the edge of oblivion. The harsh landscape can dry out societies, dry out souls. How many towns have tried to be Crimson Sands and failed? How long has this illegal town survived, and how much longer can it?

“We’ll get your horse watered and fed. I’ll have supper ready for you when you wake up.”

“Thank you. How long have you been living like this?” I ask.

“Five years.”

“That’s incredible.”

“We survive by working together. Into bed now.”

“We’ll do what we can to repay you,” Michael says.

“No need. Crimson Sands has flourished, relatively, on the kindness we offer each other. It’s only right that we extend that kindness to those who wander our way. You could say it’s our little way of reclaiming the world after such a devastating war.”

“By showing that you never lost your humanity,” I say.

“Precisely. Now please, no more talk. You need your rest. Just make yourselves comfortable and sleep as long as you like.” She leaves, the wooden beads clacking in her wake.

With a deep sigh, Michael sits on one of the cots. “I think I’m safe here. You could get to Denver faster without me.”

“You are turning me into an echo. I’m not leaving you. Now get some sleep and I’ll keep watch.”

“But—”

Before he can finish, the beads are clicking again. Amy sets a large bowl on a small table. “Brung you some water and clothes.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll help him put on the shirt I found for him.” She gives Michael another shy smile as she walks toward him. “Don’t want to undo Dr. Jameson’s handiwork.”

While she’s tending to Michael, blocking his view of me, I quickly remove my shirt. I wash my hands, face, neck, and chest. The gray T-shirt she brought for me is soft and faded with age, somehow comforting.

The beads smack again. Dr. Jameson is holding two mugs. “Decided you should have a little soup before you sleep.”

She hands me one, then takes the other to Michael before leaving, ushering Amy out of the room as well.

I ease onto the bed across from Michael. I take a sip of the thick, creamy, tomatoey soup. “It’s good.”

“Yeah.” He barely opens his mouth to take a long swallow.

“Are you in much pain?” Stupid question. I know he is.

“I’ll be all right.”

If he were dying, he’d say the same thing. Not only because stoicism is part of his training as a Night Watchman, but because it’s in his nature to downplay his own suffering. Even when we broke up after going together for several months, he contained his anger and pain as much as possible.

I’m just grateful that we were able to become friends again after we separated.

Once we finish off the soup, I set both mugs on the table and return to the cot. “You try to get some sleep.”

Reaching across, he touches my leg. “Are you okay? Sin and that old vampire in the cave laid some heavy stuff on you. Just so you know, I don’t believe any of it.”

I don’t either. It’s just not possible. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

“I mean, your dad would have told you if you were . . . you know, a vampire.”

If I was a vampire. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly against the obscene thought. I shoved back everything I was told. I wasn’t ready to deal with it—not while Michael was bleeding, not until we were safe. Octavian, the ancient vampire in the mountain, claimed to be the last full-blooded vampire of the Montgomery clan. He claimed I was one of his descendants.

“Sin said I was a dhampir. Not exactly a vampire. More like some half-breed freak. But Sin has done nothing but lie to us. Why believe him now?” Especially when the truth could be so painful.

Michael pulls back his hand, rubs it on his jeans. He probably doesn’t even realize what he’s doing—wiping me off his skin. He still hates vampires as much as I used to. He lies down. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.”

“Me either.” I hear him snoring before I’m fully stretched out on the mattress, my eyes on the beaded doorway. I can’t sleep, not for a while yet. I want to trust these people, but Sin has destroyed my ability to trust. He let us go so easily. What if he knew about this place? What if he has already made its citizens his disciples?

But if they answer to him, then why not just admit it? Take us captive?

Beyond the walls that surround us, I can hear the movement of people as they work: hammering, scraping, shuffling feet over the ground. It all sounds normal, safe. I fight to keep my eyes open, to remain on guard, but the past few days and the horror of last night have taken their toll.

If I give in and sleep, I could also reach out to Victor. Victor, the Old Family vampire who changed my life and worked his way into my heart. After being terribly wounded during a fight, Victor was forced to drink my blood in order to survive. Now we have a connection where we can visit each other’s dreams. I shy away from the thought that this bond may be proof of my vampire heritage. What’s important now is finding Victor.

I relax and succumb to sleep.

I feel like I’ve been floating forever. Then I find myself at a place that starts my heart racing.

The mountain.

I’m inside the cavern where Sin brought us, where I met the Old Family vampire who claimed to be my ancestor. The area is awash in blues as the moonlight spills in from a hole in the top. I see the throne where the ancient vampire sat. Now there is nothing except a pile of ash. The sun poured through earlier and destroyed his body.

A forlorn figure is kneeling before the throne, his fists clenched, his head bent.

“Victor!”

He turns toward me, and without a second’s hesitation we embrace each other. Although I’m in his dream, I can feel him. He’s solid, comforting.

“Dawn, you’re alive. I was so afraid.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “But how are you here?”

Releasing me, Victor paces before the throne, combing his fingers through the ash of the vampire who once sat there.

“Jeff and I were here,” he says. Jeff served as my bodyguard at the Agency. “After you came to me in the dream and told me Sin had taken you, I left Denver with him as soon as I could. But we were too late.”

He throws a handful of ash onto the ground in frustration.

“We were so close . . . ,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Our blood kiss has brought us together again. In this