Dawn Reclaimed

Carter glanced nervously at the lightening sky. They had about an hour or so of true darkness left. Time at the scene was growing short. Soon someone would pull into the lot to open up one of the shops for the day. And it would not be wise to get caught here, standing over the body of a dead girl. They had what they needed. And it was just a matter of finding the killer. He was nearby, watching. Smart enough to stay hidden and out of sight. But, Carter had played this game before. And he would win it. "Keene, we've got to go."

Keene tucked his feelings into that headspace where only his darkest thoughts and memories lived. His mind was off somewhere else. Reliving the past. Roarke, his former master, would do this to young girls. Torture them. Drain them. And then leave Keene to do the clean up. Meeting the Great Father had changed all of that. Now his life followed a different path, one of service and devotion, to The Goddess, to the Great Father, to his brothers and most of all to Lori, his wife. He was too late to save this one. But he'd be damned if there was another. The answer was out there, right under his nose. All he had to do was find it.

The man slammed the hood of the battered white van with extreme satisfaction. The vampires had gone. Melted into the shadows. No doubt, looking for him. But, they wouldn't find him. He was too smart for them. The only way the vampire would get an introduction was at the end of his blade. And that introduction would be brief and deadly, for the vampire.

"Did you get it running?" The guy asked casually as he leaned against the hood and slurped on his drink.

The man was startled at first, not expecting company. "Um, yeah."

"Great. Thought I might offer to help. But, since it's running."

"Yeah, thanks though." The man wasted no time getting into the van and cranking over the key. Something was seriously off about the guy, something that gave him the creeps. Maybe, it was the fact that the guy looked every bit a vampire. Something about the way his eyes stared right through him. Something about the youthful face that echoed lifetimes of experiences already lived. But, the guy couldn't be a vampire. He was drinking, a coke.

Patrick had been posted across the street from the strip mall, under the guise of buying a coke from the gas station while he watched for signs of the perpetrator, the cops, or both. At first, he was mildly interested in the man jacking around under the hood of a van. The man had an unassuming posture, a potbelly that hung over the top of his jeans, and a ball cap covering a head of greasy brownish hair. He was anybody, anywhere USA. But, when the man stayed and pretended to fix a vehicle that ran like a top. And when Patrick caught him staring over his shoulder into the dark parking lot. He became a lot more than curious. Something was off about the man, something a little too interested and too knowing, and definitely too eager.

He slid around the side of the building watching the van turn onto the deserted street. The man didn't smell of blood. Didn't smell of death. His smell was non descript. He smelled like everything and nothing at the same time. Someone who had just committed a murder would reek of blood. And his human eyes were way too weak to see the vampires investigating the murder scene. Patrick had the plate number. Even if the man wasn't a murderer. There was something about him that was worth checking into. Patrick just didn't know what, yet.

Chapter 25

Claire didn't know what Grant's definition of a large family was. But, from the looks of the sprawling three-story house coming into view at the end of a long, twisting gravel lane. Their definitions were decidedly different. Warm, golden light shone from every window in the place, casting squares of brightness into the dull, fading purple-gray of twilight. If the house was any indication of the size of the family that lived inside, Grant's family wasn't large. It was huge.

She licked her suddenly dry lips and wiped her palms on her shorts. Claire was under the misconception that she might meet mom and dad, maybe a sister or brother. But, she wasn't prepared to meet the family, the entire damn family. Thanks to the dimness she couldn't tell if the house was sided in white, gray, tan, or yellow siding. She was too overwhelmed by the sheer size of the house and the family that must occupy its walls to think much about the actual house itself. A wide wrap around porch stretched from one corner of the front of the house to the other. The landscaping and grass in the football field sized front yard had that new, freshly planted look. The grass was short and patchy with spots of brown where the new growth had not taken hold. The flowers in the flowerbed were stunted and fragile looking. There were trees, spindly new trees that would someday grow to tower as high if not higher than the roofline.

The detached garage was bigger than her entire house and yard and large enough to hold an entire fleet of cars. The house and the yard for their newness were tidy and well kept. Thick and foreboding, the dark outline of the woods circled the entire place, adding to the dark shadows of the oncoming night as if the woods held the house in a protective fist.

Claire rested her fingers on the handle of her car door, hesitating. Not sure if she should demand that Grant take her home or if she should get out and march up those porch steps and meet his massive family. She was an only child. Before the divorce there was just the three of them, her mom, dad, and herself. After the divorce, if they ate supper at the table instead of in front of the TV, it was just her mom and herself. Her family had never done the family thing. She'd never been to a reunion. Christmases and holidays were small, quiet gatherings. Maybe, one of her sets of grandparents or an out of town relative would stop by for a visit. But, this...given the size of this house...she was getting everything she'd ever missed out on, having a real Hallmark moment all at once.

She was not in the know around town. And Grant said he was new here. The house was new. And even though it was pretty far off the beaten path. New things and new people were big news in a small town consisting of less than two thousand residents. Last summer when her neighbor had built a mini-barn out back, the entire block had mulled around in his backyard for weeks. She would have thought she would have heard something about a new house and a new family this large. "Grant, exactly how big of a family do you have?" Claire asked.

As if she weren't intimidated enough by the thought of meeting his parents, meeting the family...the whole family was terrifying. To her, more than three was a crowd. She glanced up at the windows and counted them in her head. Even if every room had two windows, she counted that the house had to have at least twenty bedrooms.

Grant studied Claire's reaction. Over the lingering smell of new, the car was tinted with the pungent scent of her nervousness. She sat in the passenger side, her seatbelt still buckled and her hand resting on the door handle as if she didn't know if she wanted to get out or not. He should have prepared her a little better. To him, this was normal. To her, families were more nuclear, mom, dad, kids, maybe an aunt or uncle. There were family members inside the house he was so distantly related to that he wasn't related to them at all. Fifth and sixth and beyond cousins, great, great, great and beyond aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews and they'd all be seated at the supper table. Longevity had its benefits and its drawbacks, such as the twisted branches of his family tree.

He patted Claire's knee as he reached across the console to unbuckle her seatbelt. He might have to drag her out of the car and up the porch steps. Once she was inside, she'd see his family wasn't so scary. Ok, so they were a pretty frightening bunch when the occasion called for it. But, tonight they'd be on their best behavior. At least, he hoped they would. Sometimes, their best behavior was pretty sketchy and subject to interpretation. The Pack would scent her nervousness and, of course, her condition. They'd be more likely to cater to her every whim and treat her with shy curiosity than to terrify her. But, some were better at playing human than others. Some only knew the human world through TV shows. They'd never been out in it. And the TV wasn't the best source of information.

Grant couldn't afford to second-guess himself about his decision to bring her here now. He shook off the tension riding his shoulders. Taking the keys from the ignition and unbuckling his seatbelt, he opened the door and unfolded his long body from behind the wheel. "Don't be nervous. They won't bite," he said with a smile as he opened the passenger side door and extended his hand to help her out of the car.

His stomach growled at the smells of cooking food lingering in the air. He took a deep whiff and exhaled, licking his lips. "We're just in time for supper. Fried chicken night," he said.

Claire slung her purse over her shoulder and timidly looked up at the house towering over her. She sniffed the air and smelled nothing but the scent of pine and the woods. She thought being this far out, surrounded by the majestic beauty of nature there'd be a kind of reverent silence. But, from the windows and the screen door, opened wide to let in the coolness of the evening breeze, she heard the sounds of family settling in for supper.

Children laughed and giggled, engaging in rowdy play as their footsteps pounded across the floor. There were at least a dozen different TV shows playing at the same time from different rooms of the house. From a window on the second floor she heard the ear splitting sound of heavy metal music and the shout of a deep male voice telling whoever was inside the room to get his ass down to supper. And the reply, a string of curse words the likes she rarely heard, in a harsh, slightly higher, irritated voice.

Claire took Grant's hand and let him lead her up the walk. From somewhere in the depths of the house was the clanking of dishes as the table was set for supper. And everywhere, absolutely from every corner of the house was the noise of chatter as his family mulled about waiting for the evening meal. He held the front door open wide and ushered her inside. He bent low, close to her ear, whispering, "Claire, just remember we're all a bunch of nuts from the same tree," as a means to ease her discomfort.

Claire tugged on the hem of her shorts and wished she'd changed into jeans. She studied Grant's family and found herself lacking. Everyone here was so beautiful and so fit. Mulling about the wide living room with a kind of lithe grace that would put a ballerina to shame. These people must live in a gym. She wasn't overdressed by a long shot. There were as many different styles and colors of clothing as there were new faces in the room. Still, she was a little embarrassed by the pudge on her thighs and the softness of her stomach.

The house had an open concept design. In the center of the room was the largest sectional sofa she'd ever seen. Long enough to seat at least fifteen people. And it did. There were groupings of chairs scattered about the enormous living room. All of them filled. Some of his family sat on the floor, some in the chairs, casually talking amongst each other. That was, until she came into the room. Now, every eye in the place was on her. And other than the noise from the big screen TV dominating one wall. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Claire felt awkward and on the spot and dragged her feet as Grant clamped his hand around her wrist and dragged her deeper into the living room. Blushing furiously, she thought about bolting when Grant introduced her to the crowd of faces simply as 'Claire'. The family resemblance between these people and Grant was unmistakable. There was an underlying theme. Dark hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, long, lithe limbs, and narrow waists.

She was the only odd duck among them. Pale, compared to their deep, russet skin tone, even with the bronze of her summer tan. Her blue eyes, and blonde hair really didn't help much either. And worst of all, there was something about his family, the way their brown eyes, appraising her. That gave her the feeling they could see right through her, down deep into the heart of who she was.

After the moment of awkward quiet had passed, some of his family dismissed her totally and returned back to whatever it was they were doing when she'd come into the room. Others met her gaze and greeted her with a courteous nod. Some smiled at her with a warm, welcoming smile and some did not. But, for all their welcoming or down right wary indifference, one thing was for sure. They were curious about her. "Um, hi," she said, as lightly and friendly as she could, lifting the hand Grant didn't have a tight grip on to give a strained, casual wave.

Grant rolled his eyes at his family. They didn't do human very well at all. The Pack mentality ran too deeply in some of them to automatically accept a newcomer like Claire. Everyone was behaved as well as he could hope. Nobody had walked up to her and sniffed her outright. Nobody had growled in warning. And for a pack of wolves, some who still didn't trust him. That was about as good as he could expect. Everyone knew though. Her scent was like the sweetness of roses mingling with that of musk, pine, and leather. She bore the mark of his scent, his wolf's seal of approval. He was alpha enough to keep them in line. And he sent his wolf's energy out amongst the Pack, calling them to heel. Nobody would make Claire feel unwelcome. He'd make sure of that. By virtue of his feelings for her and the life she carried inside of her, she was one of them.

"Claire, hello." A strong male voice called out from the dining room beyond the living room. A man, not quite as tall as Grant rounded the longest, widest, and definitely biggest dining room table Claire had ever seen. He was older than Grant by several years. The long braid trailing down to his shoulder blades was threaded with strands of silver standing out in sharp contrast to the rich blackness of his hair. He was graying at the temples. His bronzed skin was lined with laugh lines around the corners of his eyes and mouth, giving a warmth to the sharp angles of his face. Detracting from the thick scar that ran from the corner of his right eye, marring in a zigzag across his cheek to end below his jaw.

He had a wide, welcoming smile that automatically made her feel at ease. Muscles honed by years of hard work bulged beneath a snug fitting, faded brown t-shirt. He moved with leashed, disciplined power and grace. His faded jeans rode low on his narrow waist, clinging to strong thighs. He was thicker than Grant. Muscular and his shoulders broader in a way that hinted at bruit strength. His feet were casually bare, making no sound as he crossed the wide space between the dining room table and where she stood in a series of long strides. "Welcome. Make yourself at home."

He dried his massive, dinner plate sized hands on a dishtowel. Smiling at her, he thrust a hand out to shake as he tucked the dishtowel into his belt. "I'm Nash, Grant's uncle." His voice was deep and melodic. Commanding as if he was used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question. Timidly, Claire accepted his hand and gave his palm a shy squeeze. She expected him to crush her fingers. His handshake was warm and the pressure even, enough to get her attention but not to hurt. "Good to finally meet you. We've heard so much about you."

Claire automatically knew where Grant had inherited his magnetism. Nash was charismatic in an unassuming, disarming way that had her willing to follow him anywhere. Maybe, it was his eyes. Their color lighter than Grant's, warmer somehow and wise, as if he had his thumb on the pulse of the known, perhaps the unknown, universe. Grant's eye color could only be described as onyx, black and deep as night. Nash's were a rich, shade of chocolate brown, infused with gold and hints of green around the pupil. Nash had eyes that beckoned you to trust him. Kind eyes filled with secrets. He had the strength to bend her in half, snap her like a twig. She didn't know how she knew that. But, she did. Though he was strong, a powerhouse of a man, it was tempered with gentleness. Grant had inherited his softer side from Nash too. "Hi."

"You'll stay for supper," he said in a way that left no room for argument. Claire bit her bottom lip and nodded. She was too nervous to eat. But, it'd be rude to refuse. The house was filled with the smell of frying chicken and the heavenly aroma of fresh baked bread. Maybe, she could manage a few bites. He smiled down at her and released her hand from his massive paw. "If you'll excuse me. I'd better get back to the chicken before Tristan burns supper. Mouse, set an extra place at the table." She blew out a relieved breath as he turned and disappeared around the corner.

"Ok, Grandpa." A cherubic voice chimed from the kitchen. A girl, tiny and delicate as a dancer, dressed in a pair of cut off jean shorts and a t-shirt trotted barefoot across the wood floor, pausing at the dining room table to shuffle the place settings around to make room. She stopped when she rounded the table, pinning Claire where she stood, still clinging tightly to Grant's hand, with an appraising stare.

"This is Mouse," Grant said introducing her to the girl. Mouse? She was a tiny girl, small for her age. Claire guessed Mouse was about ten or eleven years old, maybe twelve. Mouse had that same inane grace as the rest of Grant's family. Mouse would never be an awkward teenager unsure of her body and her place in the world. For a young girl, she had a confident aura around her that went far beyond her years. Affectionately, Grant reached out and tugged on one of Mouse's long, dark braids. "My niece."

"Marianne." The girl corrected with a frown, snatching her braid from Grant's playful fingers. Marianne seemed incredibly mature for her age. As if she'd lived a thousand lifetimes in the course of a few years. "Are you Grant's girlfriend?" she asked. Cocking her head to the side curiously, with one hand planted on her hip as the other slid the braid behind her shoulder in a way that let Claire know the girl was not immune to the uncomfortable pre-teen angst as she pretended to be.

Claire stuttered over how to answer that question. The kid was relentless, going right for the throat and cutting to the chase. Staring at her, waiting impatiently for her to say something. Marianne had her grandfather's golden-brown eyes. But, she could see a hint of Grant in there somewhere. Maybe, not so much in the girl's features. But, in her pushiness and her 'take no prisoners' attitude. She'd seen that in Grant when they'd first met. And looking back on it now, the confident attitude was more for show than actual purpose. She considered her answer and decided absolute honesty was the only thing this far too wise for her age girl was going to believe. Casually, Claire shrugged and mumbled, "I guess so."

Grant placed an arm around Claire's shoulders and pulled her close, providing his own answer to Mouse's question in a possessive gesture. So far so good, Claire was nervous. But, she held her own better than he expected. She was poised and gracious, doing her best to overlook what must seem so strange to her. By now, she'd probably figured out his family dynamic was more than just the usual extension of the norm. He knew better than anyone, how overwhelming his family could be.

Mouse wrinkled her nose at Claire's scent. She hadn't had her first shift yet and wouldn't for several years. But, her senses were keen, more so than a regular human's. Claire smelled sweet, like spun sugar and rich honey. Not in any way unpleasant, just different from the Pack. And Claire was pretty, her pale hair golden, like captured rays of sunshine and her skin smooth and lightly tanned, so different from her own. Claire's teal, blue-green eyes were bright and alight with curiosity and somewhat widened with a slightly overwhelmed expression. Mouse knew exactly how Claire felt. Sometimes, her family was over the top. At least, so far this evening, her brothers hadn't tried to kill each other yet. And her dad hadn't made an appearance. But, the night was young.