Dawnbreaker

Epilogue

Music screamed from the dance floor, throbbing against the walls with its deep bass, moving dancers who longed to forget about their broken hearts and disappointing lives. I stared at the black-clad people crowding the Dark Room. The dimly lit dance club was packed, but that wasn’t surprising for a Friday night. I had come here to forget about what had happened among the white-gray stones of Machu Picchu. But I wasn’t having much luck. The memories seemed to lurk around every corner of my brain. A phantom pain had even developed in my back from where Rowe stabbed me, even though the wound had healed, leaving behind only a pale white line to match the one on my chest left behind by Cynnia.

Two months ago I had awoken in the caves linked to the Temple of the Moon alone and sore, but still “alive.” A testament to my own dumb luck. Stumbling down the mountain, I’d gotten back to Cuzco and grabbed a private plane back to my beloved Savannah. The world shuddered and bemoaned the loss of so many lives at the historic site, but the public relations engines were already churning. A group of political insurgents were blamed for the deaths at both Machu Picchu and Ollantaytambo, and any questionable evidence, like the charred bodies of the naturi, was quickly swept under the rug. Questions were still being asked and the Internet hummed with speculation, but our secret was safe for now.

Yet even that certainty now hung perilously close to destruction. While the doors had been closed between our world and that of the naturi, many had still slipped through and were lurking in the shadows. Aurora was in our world. I knew she wasn’t dead, no matter how much I wanted it to be so. Her people would have found a way to heal the wound. I cursed myself and my own weakness. I should have ignored Rowe and finished the job. I should have cut out Aurora’s heart, leaving Rowe to cut out my own. But I was weak.

The queen of the naturi had yet to act, but I knew it was only a matter of time before she formulated a new plan of attack. She had her own kind to contend with at the moment. But I had no doubt that I was at the top of her to-do list. I awoke with a start every night, half expecting to find a naturi standing over my bed with a stake in its hand.

For now, my only concerns were staying “alive” and my newly formed family. Tristan remained sullen and dejected about Sadira’s death. He was accustomed to playing the role of the doting servant. I didn’t want anyone under foot and didn’t need a servant. But I let him stay. Something in his eyes reminded me of Michael, whose body had yet to be found. I couldn’t imagine who had taken it, and a part of me was waiting to see it suddenly appear, grossly mangled and decayed. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t save my angel, but I could try to teach Tristan ways to save himself. It would have to be enough.

Amanda and Knox had resumed their lives in Savannah with little change, even though they seemed to watch over me a little more closely than before. We all seemed more cautious now that the naturi were lurking in our world. No one appeared willing to hunt alone, and our relationship with the shifters was irreparably torn and shredded.

The song on the dance floor changed to something slower, more melancholy. I scanned the crowd. I wasn’t in the mood to hunt and didn’t particularly need to feed. Strangely enough, I was growing bored. I had missed my city, but now that I was here, I felt restless. I shut myself away from the rest of my kind but Tristan in an attempt to be alone, but I now felt an eagerness to be moving again. Too much had been left unanswered after Machu Picchu, and I was forced to wait for others to act. A part of me wished to see Danaus stride through the door, a frown on his dark face, with news that something horrible had happened. But even he disappeared after Machu Picchu.

A new emptiness had swelled in my chest when I thought of him. The world had grown colder in his absence. Somehow I’d become accustomed to the warm brush of power that emanated from him, the feel of his thoughts and emotions standing on the outskirts of my mind.

With a sigh on my lips, I was about to leave the Dark Room to look for a quieter spot to pass the evening when I felt someone vaguely familiar enter the dance club. Tristan stepped through the entrance and visually scanned the dimly lit club for me, but he wasn’t the one that had piqued my attention. I paused and sniffed the air, catching the faint hint of a cologne I hadn’t smelled in a while. Slowly, I lifted my feet from where they rested on a chair and placed them on the floor as I sat up. My eyes immediately fell on a slim face that put a smile on my lips. James Parker sidled past a large tattooed man with purple hair, his hand nervously straightening his dark blue and red tie. The gold-rimmed glasses of the Themis researcher glinted in the pale smoky light.

My tongue flicked across my teeth and I smiled, fangs slipping past my lips. Danaus would never have sent the Themis researcher into my domain. He would have come himself if he wanted something. However, the white-haired warlock Ryan could be interested in playing, and he would be the one most likely to send an emissary to fetch me.

Maybe my night was looking up after all.