Primal Heat 05 - Darkness Reborn

it. "The original Calydons were created two thousand years ago, from that waterfall tainted with demon magic. You all are descended from those warriors, and you carry their bloodlines." She ran her hand over the mark on her arm, the mark that had erased Mason's. "But in this town, becoming a Calydon isn't genetic. None of these males came from Calydon lines. They were regular people who got turned by living here." She looked at him. "They're the next generation of Calydons, Kane."
    "They're different," Kane agreed. "With the claws and their nocturnal tendencies. Plus, they can all teleport. With the exception of the original Calydon who was the progenitor of our race, I'm the only Calydon I know who can teleport except these guys—" He stopped suddenly, and she knew they were both thinking the same thing.
    Was Kane a creation of Luc's? Was that why he could teleport like them?
    "I don't have claws," Kane said. "And I don't change at night."
    "But you teleport."
    "I do." He rolled onto his back and draped his forearm over his face. "Did the original Calydons who threatened the village have claws? Were they nocturnal? The ones from six or seven hundred years ago? When I would have been around?"
    "I don't know the details. It was long ago." Sarah bit her lip, and for a long moment, there was simply silence between them, the great unknown about what and who Kane really was. If he was Los Muerte, then whatever goodness was in his heart hadn't been enough to stop him from killing his own sheva and child the first time. If he wasn't Los Muerte...then what was he? She felt tension radiating off him, and suddenly she was filled with empathy for him. How terrifying to not know who you were, what you'd done, or what you were capable of. How did one live with that?
    "I have a dream," Kane said quietly. "It haunts me almost every time I go to sleep."
    Sarah turned her head so she could see him. He was staring at the ceiling, his face dimly lit from the spotlights shining outside the shuttered windows, the ones lighting up the grounds to try to keep the night crawlers away. "What dream?"
    For a minute, he didn't answer, and she thought he wasn't going to tell her. Then, finally, he did. "I have a dream that I'm walking through a field. There are people having a picnic in the field. Lots of people. Mothers. Fathers. Children. Dogs. There are flowers. The sun is shining. Music is playing. It's..." She felt his struggle to find the right words. "It's like heaven in a little corner of the earth."
    Sarah propped herself up on her elbow to watch him. "Is it a place you've been?"
    Kane shook his head. "I don't know. I never know." He closed his eyes, and she could feel him willing away the emotions that were trying to surface. She could sense how hard he was trying to remain impassive. "I'm walking through the field," he said quietly, "And there's this little girl sitting by a stream. She's got blond hair and little pigtails."
    Sarah tensed. Her daughter had had blond hair and pigtails. "How old is she?"
    "Around five," Kane said.
    Her daughter had been less than a year. Not the same. Not the same. "What happened?"
    "I walk up to her," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "She looks up at me and smiles. She holds her arms up to me and gives me this huge smile. She's missing her bottom two front teeth, and I tell her she looks like a big girl."
    Sarah's heart began to race at the waves of tension flooding from him, especially the raw terror he was struggling to hold back. "Kane?"
    "She looks up at me," he said, grief thickening in his voice, "And calls me Daddy." He pressed his hands to his face, and suddenly Sarah could feel all his emotions as he got sucked back in that moment. The intense pride, the awe that he could have created someone so amazing, still unable to believe that she was his. "She's so beautiful," he whispered. "Dimples. These bright blue eyes. And so smart. Shit." His breathing became labored, his hands curled into fists. "My daughter," he whispered, and she knew in that moment that the vision was real, at least to him, truly. "So beautiful."
    "What happens in the dream, Kane?" Sarah could feel the grief already welling up inside him. The self-hate.
    "She's reaching for me, to hug me, and I call out my flail." His voice broke then. "I murder her, Sarah. In cold blood. I murder her. And as I'm sinking my weapon into her beautiful heart, she looks at me and says, 'But you promised, Daddy. Daddies aren't supposed to break