Dawn Reclaimed

He left the body sprawled out in the alley. Now was not the time for negative thinking. He had to think positive and keep his head on his shoulders. Eventually, the vampires would smell her blood and come looking. His grandfather used to take him fishing when he was a kid. The old man was a believer that live bait worked best to lure in the fish. Even as a child, the man had just liked stabbing the worms, watching them wiggle on the hook. He searched for a place to hide while he waited for the vampires to find his work. Next time, he'd have to stalk a gym. Choose healthier bait, a victim that would fight and stubbornly cling to life, instead of dying so damn quickly. "Damn it." He scrambled up the fire escape and kicked in a darkened windowpane.

The SUV rolled to a stop. The red signal regulated a non-existent flow of traffic in a deserted downtown that wouldn't breathe its first breath of life for another hour or so. Carter cast a glance at Grant through the rearview mirror. The man looked like shit. His head lolling on the window frame, half in and half out of the SUV, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The cool breeze riffled his lank hair. But, Grant didn't seem to notice.

Carter, Sam, Keene, and Marcus wrinkled their noses at the same time. The smell. Strong, fragrant, and fresh, filtered into their nostrils through Grant's open window. Blood, fresh and less than a block away. Carter slammed down on the gas pedal and steered the SUV around the curb. Gunning the engine, he floored the gas and screeched to a stop at the mouth of a dark alley between two tall buildings.

Grant was almost asleep when the jarring motion of Carter slamming on the brakes shook him awake. He didn't need his wolf to smell the scent of death, thick and cloying. Choking. He peeled off his clothes. If this was a fresh kill. If the murderer had struck again, the trail would be there waiting for his wolf. He gave himself over to his wolf. The wolf was sluggish to respond. The magic tie between them flickered weakly as Grant called on the ancient power. One more shift, he had it in him. He had to. He bit back a wail as waves of agony assaulted his burning flesh, yielding to fur. His body twisted and contorted, changing into that of his wolf with a series of sickening crunches.

The wolf ran at top speed, following closely on the vampire's heels. The scent of death grew closer and closer. Rounding a corner he dug in his nails into the pavement. Stopping at the feet of a human female. The stench of Evil clung to her lifeless body, filling the alley with its foul aroma. Ears pinned to his scalp, the wolf curled his top lip over his sharp, white teeth and issued a low growl from deep in his chest. The growl was not one of warning but one of promise. Whatever was emulating the stink of evil was close. Nearby.

Carter knelt at the dead woman's head. Her body was still warm. Blood soaked the ground beneath her corpse. This kill was different, the throat intact. The wounds on her arms weren't deep or life threatening. The killer, and he knew that their killer was responsible for this death, had intended to bleed his victim out slowly. The blood smelled corrupted. Hesitantly, he ran a finger across the wound and lifted the smear of blood to the tip of his tongue. He tasted it and spit on the pavement. Her blood was toxic, laced with chemicals.

Sam searched the perimeter. The only scent that she could get a clear fix on was that of blood and death. She kicked around the trash and filth lining the narrow paved alley, looking for a purse, a clue, something.

Marcus wondered if they were on the right trail. The woman was blonde, but that was the only similarity between this murder and the others. The killer hadn't taken his time with this one. Her arms were slashed, not her throat. For some reason, the killer wanted this victim alive. Suffering. Her blood was laced with drugs. And her past, while the other victims had been squeaky clean, was checkered to say the least. The scene was messy. The killer's scent hung in the breeze.

The wolf sniffed the dead body. The scent of Evil covered it like a blanket. But the scent left behind was fresh. Trapping the essence in his nose he inched carefully through the cluttered alley. The scent led someplace that the wolf couldn't follow, up a rusty fire escape and in through a window. Leaning heavily on his front paws he stood on his hind legs, balancing on the lowest rung. Barking.

Carter looked up at the brick surface towering over his head. His eyes tracking where the wolf pointed. Several stories up, a window hung open. Broken glass dangled from the frame like jagged teeth from an open maw. The scent of the woman's spilled blood clung to the rungs. "I'll go check it out." He was up the fire escape before Marcus or Sam could issue a complaint. Better they stick together. They had a future. He was alone, with nothing of real value to loose.

Sam cursed under her breath and stared at the wolf. Obviously, the wolf was not going to climb a fire escape. And the rapid shifting back and forth from human to wolf was too hard on Grant. They still needed his uncanny sense of smell to track the killer's scent once they got inside. "We've gotta find another way in."

Marcus trotted after Sam. He was good with the breaking and entering thing. But, he was not good enough to pick the high security lock at the building's front door. "Wait for back up, Sam!" He dialed his cell phone as he ran to catch up with her.

Keene left the wolf and climbed the rest of the fire escape up to the roof. There was a chance the killer hadn't gone into the building as Carter suspected. The problem with narrow spaces and high canyon like walls was that scents tended to be everywhere and follow no clear path.

The wolf whined nervously. Confused, without the clear direction of a pack master. Tired and weary in an unfamiliar place, he sat next to the woman's dead corpse and rested his muzzle between his paws.

The man ran through the maze of corridors and closed doors. Shedding his blood soaked clothing as he ran. If the vampire caught his scent, he was a dead man. He wasn't ready to die. Not yet. Not until he'd achieved his crowning moment. He abandoned the stained blade he'd used to kill the woman and pushed his way through a door. A stairwell, always a good option in a pinch. And he was definitely and undoubtedly in one.

Carter tracked the scent. In the confines of the building it was easier to get a lock on the trail. Bolting down hallway after twisting hallway, he shoved open the stairwell doors. Fisting a soiled jacket in his grip. Hurried footfalls bounded and echoed off the concrete walls. Down. Jumping over the railing, he landed on the stairs closer to the sound. Dropping several floors, he gripped a rail and swung over to a landing. Balancing precariously on the balls of his feet until he got his balance. Somewhere several stories below a door opened and banged shut. Eyes narrowed, Carter darted after the sound. Which floor had the killer fled to?

The man had seriously underestimated his prey. Damn, they were fast. The sound of flesh skidding across metal somewhere above his head flushed him out of the stairwell and into a hallway, housing a bank of offices. He didn't know for sure which floor he was on. Wasting a few precious seconds he desperately searched for an illuminated exit sign. Another stairwell. An elevator, anything he could use as a means to escape his tracker. He was stripped down to his running shoes and boxers. Not sure how much of a scent trail he was leaving behind. He needed clothing and something to mask his scent.

The man ran as fast as his aching legs and wheezing lungs would allow, searching for an escape. He didn't appreciate this whole hunter turning into the hunted scenario. To his left, he found something that might be of value. A door marked with a sign, a janitor's closet. Gathering his strength he kicked the door in and stumbled inside. The smell of chemicals hung heavily in the air. Perfect. An old radio sat on a shelf. The vampire could hear him breathe, could hear his heartbeat. Of that, he was certain. He turned on the radio full blast for background noise, masking the sound of his heartbeats beneath a heavy techno beat.

Plugging the drain, he poured bleach into the sink and turned on the tap. A uniform, an ugly, one-piece navy blue jumper hung on a peg on the back of the door. Today must be his lucky day. He splashed cupped handfuls of the bleach water mix over his head and down his bare skin. The cold water goose pimpled his skin while the bleach stung his pores. Hurriedly, he changed into the jumper, reeking of sweat and chemicals. Dressed in a disguise, certain the vampires wouldn't smell anything but bleach and sweat. He left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. The stairwell wasn't an option. But, daylight was on the horizon. All he had to do was hole up somewhere safe and wait for the staff to show up for work. Then, he'd waltz right out of the building, right through the front door.

Dane had no trouble finding the brothers. Rather than put up with his restless energy and frustration at doing nothing Drew had sent him into the city to coordinate the Guardians' and Sons' efforts. The home fires were burning bright enough without him. Sometimes, Drew underestimated the capabilities of the women at the compound. If shit got critical at the compound, the girls could handle it. Anna with that wicked gift of hers would make sure of that. Besides, he hadn't exactly left them defenseless. Lance and Bryce, Toby, and John Mark had things well under control.

For once, trouble hadn't knocked on their front door. Trouble was here in the city. And damn it, they had to find it, soon. It wouldn't bode well for either group if they didn't. The rogues were out here, watching, evaluating, and plotting. What was to stop them from organizing again and starting a war? After all if the brothers and the Guardians couldn't stop one human, how effective could they possibly be?

The Guardians claimed they had the city in check. And, to a degree, they did. It was a fragile peace though. Carter could claim whatever he wanted to claim and believe whatever he wanted to believe. But, Dane knew better. The city would never be completely free of the rogues. The rogues had just gotten better at hiding. And the Guardians-Carter- had a certain level of tolerance for them the brotherhood did not. As long as the rogues played nice, the Guardians had a more live and let live stand on things. There were more rogues in the Guardians' numbers than Carter wanted to admit. The Guardians outnumbered the brotherhood. And the only thing standing between the brotherhood, the Guardians, the rogues, and an out right war was Carter and Drew.

But, things changed. And in a world of beings with nothing but time. Things changed fast. Sometimes, it seemed the only thing that kept the tentative peace was the sheer force of Drew and Carter's will. That and the knowledge of assured mutual destruction. A war would not be pretty. And in today's crowded world of humans and technology, secrecy had never been more critical. If the humans found out what they really were, Guardian, brother, or rogue wouldn't matter much. It'd be the end of them all. Everyone knew it. And that fact in itself kept the scales in check.

Dane ran his hand through his spiked hair and threw the SUV in park. He left the engine idling as he climbed out from behind the wheel and rounded the corner into the mouth of the narrow alley. The smell of death and blood was unmistakable. A dead woman lay in the depths of the shadows. Her guard, a wolf, snarling at him with raised hackles, bared teeth, and his sights pinned on him. "Easy, brother. I am a friend. A child of Kokumthena, as are you."

The wolf edged closer. His nose worked, inhaling the newcomer's scent. The fresh fragrant smell of earth and pine invaded his nostrils. The wolf sifted through the scent. The man was not Pack. But, he smelled of home and family. The man's soft speech was calming. Slowly, the wolf snaked timid tongue between his black lips and sampled the back of the man's hand. The human in his mind pounded against the borders of their shared consciousness, grappling to take control. The wolf resisted. Danger was in the air. Death and blood and the stink of the city were too close for the wolf to relent his hold on their shared body. The taste was sweet against the tip of the wolf's tongue. His human recoiled in revulsion at the sampling. The man tasted like friendship and family. Conflicted between his human's reaction and his vampire cousin, the wolf sat on his haunches, his eyes bouncing between the man and the body on the ground.

Dane was a little wary of a predator every bit as lethal as he in his own right. The wolf was huge, not a creature of nature but one of nature and spirit combined. Powerful and broad across the chest, with long, spindly legs, and, lest he forget, a mouthful of sharp teeth that could easily rend flesh from bone. To him, all the wolves looked alike. Other than the obvious, that the wolf was male, Dane had no idea who the wolf was. Shaggy with brown fur the color of a drying mud puddle and hints of tan fur on the tip of his muzzle and scattered through out his big, muscular body, anybody could be behind those eerie golden eyes, looking out.

Dane knew better than to make eye contact with the wolf. The wolf was dominant, surveying him with an almost haughty, egotistical air. As if the man inside, sharing that powerful body, was almost offended by Dane's automatic show of submission. For him, the verdict was still out on the wolves. What part the magnificent creatures of spirit and flesh had to play in his world. He had no way to communicate with the wolf or with the man while whoever was inside was in wolf form.

Dane was on his guard in the alley. His head reeling due to the close proximity of his brothers and their shared emotions bouncing around in his skull. Things were bad. The killer was on the run. And for vampires capable of snapping a human neck in two with a flick of a wrist, they had shit on his trail. He needed information. Not the vague emotional lead and random thoughts of his brothers, but intel and facts. And unless he spoke canine, the man inside of the wolf was the only way to get it. "Brother, can you call forth your human?"

The wolf sank onto his belly, resting his nose between his paws. There was nothing more he could do here. Dawn would be coming soon and the hunt would end. He'd done his job, guarding the woman's body and it was time to rest. Wearily, he eased into the transformation, surrendering his hold on his shared body to the man inside of him. The city was noisy and it stank. Death was everywhere. The wolf was eager to return to the side of his goddess and leave this awful place of darkness. As his consciousness faded, his body bent and twisted, reforming into human form.

Dane glanced away, unable to watch the molding of flesh and bone take human shape. The sound of it was bad enough, fluid and thick, sticky sounding and sluggish, like the slow flow of glue dripping off the edge of a piece of construction paper. The scrape of fingernails against pavement and bits of gravel, shuddering gasps of pain and labored breaths, and the grating of molars as the man emerged from fur was the single most gut wrenching noise Dane had ever heard in his life. He swallowed back his revulsion, wondering why the wolves put themselves through this agony. But, then again, he already knew. It was for the same reason seventy-five years ago and everyday since. He'd suffered his own sacrifice for something bigger, something greater than himself.

Grant jolted to awareness. Beyond cold, dazed, and his body aching as if it had been ripped to pieces and the shredded bits of flesh shoved back together again. He awoke naked in a dank alley that reeked of death. The pavement hard beneath his shoulders and pebbles of pea gravel dug into his skin. God, he had no idea of where his wolf had left him. Only that this wasn't a good place. Strong hands gripped his biceps and helped haul him to his feet. He startled at the sight of the woman's dead corpse and the blood congealing on the concrete in thick puddles around her. For a moment he had the terrifying thought that he'd...that his wolf had done the unthinkable...and they'd killed her.

He didn't recognize the vampire guiding him out of the mouth of the alley. Politely stripping his trademark black leather jacket to protect Grant's modesty. By this time probably half of the brotherhood, certainly everyone on this mission, had seen his naked ass. So, the gesture was a moot point. But, Grant accepted the offering anyway, pulling the leather tight over his shoulders to stop his shivering. The sidewalk was cold, the roughness biting into the soles of his feet as he was guided to an idling SUV. He was confused, disoriented, and so weak he could barely stand. His hair stuck to his brow, glued in place by a fine sheen of clammy perspiration.

"So cold," Grant gritted between chattering teeth. He didn't resent being stuffed in the back seat and was grateful for the blankets the vampire piled around him and the force of the hot air blowing from the heater vents. The vampire didn't bother with introductions or questions. Grant supposed, saved time that way. Besides, now was not the time for pleasantries. "Murderer in the building. Carter on trail." His teeth clanged together from all the chattering. "Sam and Marcus trying to find way in."

"That's enough, my brother. Rest easy." Dane cranked the heater up to nuclear fusion and closed the wolf inside. He cast a worried glance up at the lightening sky. The first gray streaks of dawn would come soon. In the distance he heard the rumble of garbage trucks and the hum of traffic. The night was gone. And the mission was out of time. Trail or not, he had to clear out his people.

The man reeked of bleach. The lining of his nose burned with the harsh smell. But, so far, or as far as he could tell, no vampire followed him. An exit sign glowed above a door, marking a stairwell. As quietly as he could, he pressed the panic bar and opened the door and slipped out onto the stairs. Tiptoeing carefully, step by step, he took the stairwell down.

Carter searched the empty hallways for a sign of life. Closed doors and the offices behind them lined the corridors. Everything was neat and orderly. The walls a bland gray with inoffensive, inane paintings interspersed at intervals down the sterile walls to break up the monotony. Not really sure if he was even on the right floor, he made his way down the hall, rounding every corner. Peeking behind every unlocked door. And he found nothing, not even the faintest trace of a scent. He knew the bastard was here, hiding somewhere. Keene was on the roof, not as easily convinced as Carter that the killer wasn't up there instead. It never hurt to be thorough, Carter supposed.

The office building smelled of ink and paper, of too sweet perfume and pungent cologne. His footsteps were silent as a breath down the empty corridors. His senses on high alert and growing more and more tense with each step. He'd spent his life hiding. Made a career out of becoming invisible. And he knew better than anybody, how easy it could be to hide in plain sight.

Keene's flaw was that he was used to dealing with paranormals. The brotherhood's was that it was used to defending the public at large from maniacs and complete whack jobs. This killer was neither. The son of a bitch was completely sane. Of that, Carter was certain. And he understood how completely insane sanity truly was. He'd spent his entire life running from it.

Finally, after several attempts at being covert, trying to pick a lock, Marcus simply kicked in the door at the back of the loading docks. He and Sam had no idea of where to begin their search. As far as he was concerned, human or not, the killer was dangerous in a way the brotherhood didn't comprehend. He hadn't quite put all the pieces together yet. But, his instincts were rarely wrong. There was a flaw in the motives behind the killings. This wasn't the work of a sociopath. Oh, the killer was a sociopath. No doubt about that. But, he wasn't as crazy as the brothers believed. Marcus had lived out here on the streets. He knew the difference between crazy and careful planning.