Dawn Reclaimed

Patrick's eyes narrowed. The feeling in his gut went beyond curiosity. So far, the man had been present around the general location of two of the murder scenes. Coincidence? Perhaps. He slid through the shadows cast by the row of towering buildings lining the traffic congested, narrow downtown street. He tracked the man, careful to keep his distance, hating the feeling in his gut. There was something about this man he didn't like. Maybe, it was just that the man appeared to be so damned ordinary in such unordinary circumstances, as if corpses in alleys were everyday occurrences. Patrick didn't like it. It was quite possible he was chasing a blind lead. Possible. But, not very damn likely.

Chapter 31

Claire propped her feet on the coffee table and cracked open a book. She'd gotten home from work at her usual time and showered. After not hearing from Grant all day and trying like hell to give him the benefit of the doubt. She prepared to spend the evening alone, reading. It was best to keep her mind occupied and completely off the fact that Grant hadn't called like he'd promised he would. He was a busy man. He had a full time job, a huge family, and a life that didn't revolve around her. And really, they hadn't agreed upon anything. She was still speculative, at best, that she could trust him at all. Claire wasn't a pessimist. She wasn't an optimist either. She liked to consider herself a realist. And reality was that she still might end up going through her pregnancy and raising a child all on her own.

He'd called her his girlfriend. Hell, even asked her to marry him. She wasn't sure if she could call what they were doing dating, let alone an engagement. Letting out a strangled breath between her gritted teeth, she snatched her battered cell phone off the coffee table and double checked for missed calls. Yes, the battery was charged. Yes, the phone got a signal. And no, there weren't any messages from Grant in her inbox. Iron willed, she set the phone on the coffee table. She would not call him. She. Would. Not. Half-heartedly, Claire forced her eyes from the phone to the first chapter of the book. The title of chapter one had her swallowing hard. The first sentence had her fingers numb with almost panic. The black words on the white page danced in front of her eyes. "So, you're pregnant? Now what?" Yeah, wasn't that what she'd like to know.

Claire almost slammed the book shut. But, she had made a decision. She was going to have this baby with or without Grant. Avoiding the issue wouldn't change a thing or stop it from happening. In nine months or so, she was going to be a mom. She couldn't focus well enough to get past the first paragraph. The word pregnant kept leaping off the page at her. Her eyes were glued in place, staring at the black typeset in gross fascination.

Pregnant. The word loomed in front of her, big, scary, and filled with the unknown. Was she really ready to shape a future generation? When she was a little girl, she'd wanted a puppy. Her mother had quickly squashed the idea. Said she was too young to handle the responsibility. Her dad, trying to make peace between her mother and her like he always did, went out and bought her a goldfish instead. It wasn't a puppy. But, she'd loved Bubbles with all a little girl's wide-eyed enthusiasm. A week later, the whole thing hadn't really turned out too well, for the goldfish.

Was she ready to handle the responsibility that came with motherhood? Ready? Was anybody ever ready to become a mother? She rubbed her belly, imagining the life inside of her. It was strange. The baby wasn't much bigger than the head of a pin at this point. But, she already felt a connection to him or her. Her life no longer belonged to herself. There was another person depending on her to do what was right. Gulping a deep breath of air, she forced her eyes to focus. Ready? She had to be.

Grant woke to blackness surrounding him and the sleek, coolness of satin sheets. He took a minute to register where he was. Scowling as he realized, the last thing he remembered was returning to his seat on the sofa and watching the expressionless vampires process his summation. He sniffed the sheets and wrinkled his nose. The bedding was clean. But, just like everything else in the place, laced heavily with the sweet smell of vampire. He must have fallen asleep on the couch. And someone had been thoughtful enough to tuck him into bed. Not just tuck him in. But, thoroughly and utterly tuck him in. He was bare assed naked under the covers.

Bianca flipped on the lights and resumed leaning against the wall. Upon seeing their mysterious guest, for a moment, she'd thought Carter might have reverted back to the old ways and left her a tasty treat. Oh, Grant was delicious to look at and in his weakened state, she'd had no trouble coaxing him into her bed and removing his clothes. Too bad, he was dead to the world...everywhere. That was the problem with non-vampires. No stamina. But, wasn't he simply a beautiful package to unwrap. She chuckled at his shocked expression. He glanced beneath the covers and back up at her. He was just too cute for words. Snickering, leaving him to wonder exactly where she'd put her hands while he'd been asleep, she set his clothes on the foot of the bed and sauntered out of the room.

"God damn vampires," Grant muttered under his breath. His clothes were clean and neatly folded into a tidy square at the foot of the bed. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful in a way that should be illegal in the lower forty-eight states. Big blue eyes the color of London blue topazes, a curvy body that said 'oh hell yeah,' in all the right places, lush, full, red lips and a teasing smile, and hair the shade of black, no man could ever replicate. And that sultry chuckle of hers promised a very, very good time. He didn't know who she was or how much of him she'd seen. He'd thought after all the years of changing in front of the Pack he had no modesty left. Seems that was wrong. He blushed as he threw back the covers and dressed.

Grant didn't worry that he'd done the deed with her. Hell, he didn't remember climbing into the bed. And unless someone had picked his big ass up and carried him there, he wouldn't have been capable of doing a thing. He was a mated wolf. And Claire was the only woman who tripped his trigger.

"Ah, the wolf boy lives!" Keene chastised. "My God, we thought you were going to sleep forever."

"Nah, he doesn't smell bad enough yet. Want some breakfast?" Patrick asked. He held a cell phone and a wad of cash in one hand and a phone book, turned to the pizza delivery pages in the other.

"I see you've met Bianca," Carter said. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile.

"What time is it?" Grant asked. Surely, he hadn't slept all day. He had plans to go home to see Claire for a few hours this evening before the party started all over again.

"Nine." Dane answered as he looked up from a map of the city sprawled out across the table. He was busy, rerouting patrols. Doing his best to anticipate the killer's next strike. In a city of this size, all he had was a guess to go by. And a guess wasn't good enough.

Grant slicked a hand through his sleep-tangled hair. "Nine? Fuck! I gotta call Claire." He felt in his pocket and laced his fingers around his cell phone. He wandered through the sprawling high rise apartment and settled for the bathroom. The most private room the place had to offer. Hitting speed dial, he waited for an answer. Hoping she wasn't totally pissed off and had written him off for good.

The ringing of the cell phone jarred Claire awake. The book fell from her lap in a loud crash as she felt around on the coffee table for her phone. This evening, when she'd started reading. The living room was light with pale golden light. The house was pitch black. Sometime in between evening and night, she'd fallen asleep. "Hello," she answered sleepily.

"Claire." Grant exhaled at the sound of her voice. Frowning when he realized he'd woken her up. "It's me, Grant."

"Grant? Hi."

"Hi. I got stuck running and errand in the city today. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to stop by and see you tonight."

"The city? Are you still there?" Claire's brain was coming online now. She was tense. Eased by hearing Grant's voice. But, tensed by his location. He was in the city, might not mean a thing. Didn't mean he wasn't coming back. She heard a long sigh on the other end.

"Yeah, I'm going to be here for a few days, Claire." Grant heard the tension in Claire's voice. Clearly she believed him. But, she was still wary of him. She thought he was going to disappear and never come back.

"A few days?" Black thoughts entered her mind. Was Grant coming back at all?

"Claire, it's ... it's a family matter. I'll be home as soon as I can." He wasn't exactly telling her a lie. But, he was not telling the whole truth either. He couldn't.

"Is everything ok?" Her thoughts ran in a panic to Mouse and elderly Nana. Was something serious wrong? Had Mouse fallen and gotten hurt? Had Nana had a stoke?

"Everyone's fine. Claire, there's no need to worry. I promise I'll be home as soon as I can."

"You'll be home soon." Claire repeated the words, not as a question but as a statement she clung to. That she had to believe. Hope was all she had. Hope and a promise made from over one hundred miles away. It wasn't much.

"I. Promise." Grant heard the doubt in her voice. The worry and the panic were punctuated in her voice, even though she tried to hide them. He thought hopping in the car and forgetting the whole vampire mess. But, he had to see this through. If there were something he could do to prevent even one more death, he had to try. "I can't stay on the phone. I've got to go." He paused before he said goodbye. Her voice was a beacon, a tiny glimmer of purity in the darkness looming all around him. "Claire, I love you."

"Goodnight, Grant." Claire snapped the phone shut, ending the call. She couldn't say that she loved him too. Admitting it would be giving him her heart and she wouldn't do that. Not when the future stretched out before her dark and unsure. And the possibility that he wouldn't come back and she'd have to face it alone loomed over her head like a black storm cloud loaded with rain. She didn't bother climbing into her empty bed. She dragged the throw off the back of the couch and curled up onto her side.

The unfamiliarity of sleeping on the couch was better than going to bed alone. But, it served to remind her that she could have many, many more nights just like this one. Alone. She couldn't depend on Grant. She couldn't rely on anyone, but herself. Her eyes forced shut. She tried to dream. Instead, she slipped away into bleak nothingness of a dreamless and restless sleep.

Grant stared at the blank display on the cell phone. Tempted to dial her number again. Just to hear her voice. He closed his eyes and did something he rarely did, he prayed to the goddess for strength. Tonight the vampires would ask for his wolf again. Use him to sniff out clues, blood, and death. He was exhausted and giving himself over to the wolf and pulling himself back into his body when they were finished with him would take every bit of will he possessed.

He ducked from beneath the curious sets of eyes locked on him as he walked across the living room. The view of the city glittering underneath the wide, tinted, wall of windows was exquisite. But, the panorama paled in comparison to the view waiting for him at home. Claire. God he missed her so much it hurt. "What's the plan?"

"Buddy," Patrick said guiding Grant to the table and parking him in a chair. "We need to borrow your wolf." He hadn't forgiven himself for losing the man's trail. He'd tracked him as far as the train station and then lost him in a flow of commuters. Following a human should be simple. The scent unmistakable, easily distinguished, no two humans smelled alike. But this one, smelled like everyone.

Grant dug into the paper bag containing his supper. Disappointed that the vampires had made his food choices for him. He kind of had his heart set on a double cheese pizza with extra garlic. The extra garlic was going to be a smelly treat for the vamps. A joke. But, food was food. He unwrapped the grilled chicken salad and stuffed a forkful into his mouth. "I figured that," he mumbled as he chewed.

Chapter 32

The man went through his nightly ritual even more meticulously than he had previously. The bleach bath had worked. The vampires hadn't been able to smell him and he'd escaped. Bleach was hard on the skin. And after that dousing his skin felt dry, tight, and itchy all over. Vinegar would work. He filled the bathtub with warm water and poured in a couple of gallons of vinegar. He'd already showered, using unscented soap. He climbed into the tub and soaked, dunking his head under the water, coming up for air, and doing it again. Over and over until he was sure he was clean.

After the bath he towel dried and sprinkled his skin with baking soda from head to toe. Reaching into the bag of clothing he'd purchased earlier today from the thrift store, he pulled out a wrinkled, worn pair of jeans and a faded, threadbare t-shirt. The clothing smelled of poverty and unwashed humanity. But, for his purposes they were perfect. Apparently, since no vampires had come knocking at his door. He'd done a good enough job of masking his natural scent.

Today he'd wandered about the city. He'd taken great care in the planning and walked for miles, taking his time to find exactly the kind of place he was looking for. After he'd spotted it, he spent hours doing nothing in particular but trying to dodge the prickling sensation tingling at the back of his neck. He'd felt eyes on him all day. Following him. Tracking his every move. He'd dilly-dallied around until the evening downtown commuter rush and then ducked onto a crowded platform, shuffling with the crowd into an overstuffed train.

Once he'd exited the train. He'd taken the long way back to his apartment. A matchbox sized efficiency in the low rent district of the city. The building's only elevator didn't work and his bed and toilet combo was on the ninth floor. The converted hotel was absolute hole in the wall only the desperate would call home. Hotter than hell in the summer and colder than shit in the winter, reeking of decay from leaking pipes and moldering wallpaper, not a place for decent people to live. But, the cheap rent gave him means to dedicate his funds to bigger pursuits. Around here, it was easy to remain anonymous and unseen. He could easily snatch any one of the dozens of people lurking around the hallways. Take his time with his art. And nobody would be the wiser. Nobody would care. But, hunting the desperate and the already dead and too dumb to know it. There wasn't any fun in that at all.

The man kicked up his feet and rummaged through the phone book. Time to set the wheels in motion. Pick a victim. He wanted a blonde, of course. That went without saying. He needed a pretty girl fit enough to endure a little blood loss. One with something to live for that would cling to life instead of simply surrendering it to him.

He'd lived in the bad part of town his entire life. And he had a place in mind to do his handiwork. A place where she could scream all she wanted and no one would hear her. And even if they did, they wouldn't care. The old warehouse converted into storage units was perfect. He'd been scooping the building out for weeks. No body came to check on the storage lockers. He hadn't seen any new tenants moving stuff in or anybody moving stuff out. The place was secure, no windows, only one-way in and one-way out. He could make sure she wouldn't get out and the vampires could get in.

He skimmed through the addresses listed in the phone book. The health club was only a few blocks from the warehouse. Perfect. The less he had to move his victim, the better. This time though, he'd be more careful. Study her for a while. Wait, until he'd found the perfect one. A blonde, definitely. But, he wasn't going to be picky. The main thing that interested him was her ability to stay alive and how well she bled. Whistling a tune and jotting the address onto a crumpled scrap of paper, he set out for an evening hunt.

Gina pushed back her sweat slicked bangs and turned up the treadmill another notch. Her waistline hadn't expanded since college. Competition in her line of work was brutal. It wasn't fair. She wasn't old. She wasn't fat. She spent the kind of money necessary to make sure she was pretty by conventional standards. But, at twenty-seven, she was already starting to lose her edge.

She did everything in her power to stay competitive. Invested in anything that would give her an advantage over the rest of the pack. She worked for the local TV station. She wrote the news. But, she had bigger aspirations than just writing it. She wanted to be in front of the cameras. Her dream was to land a position as an anchorwoman. And, of course, get that big pay increase that went along with it.

Hardly a trendsetter, she did everything by the books. She was more like a trend slave. Her hair was cut short and styled in the latest trendy style. Her natural hair color was dark brown. But, she paid good money, a lot of money, every month to have the blonde highlights expertly streaked through the strands. Her bland green eyes were transformed into brilliant emeralds. Thanks to colored contacts she didn't need to correct her vision. Her teeth were perfectly straight and bleached to gleaming white. She was still paying off the braces and the twice a year whitening treatments to get them that way.

Thank God, her parents had passed down a few good genes. Enough of the right ones to bless her with ample breasts, high cheekbones, a strong jaw line, straight nose, skin tone dark enough to avoid spending hours in tanning beds, big almond shaped eyes, and a decent metabolism.

Hell, she even had a new last name. That one cost her a fortune. And her parents had been less than enthusiastic about her decision. Gina Kleinschmidt didn't make news. But, Gina Klein would. Turning up the speed on the treadmill, she huffed and puffed out one more mile. Her legs ached and her chest felt like it was going to explode. Sweat dripped off the ends of her hair and trickled down the back of her neck. Glancing up ahead of her into the wall of grimy mirrors, she smiled her well-practiced 'anchorwoman' smile. "Gina Klein reporting for Fox news."

She would have loved to go to the new fitness center at the edge of the city. However, her finances were what they were. And she'd barely scraped together enough money to afford the membership to the older downtown facility. A bonus was that she didn't have to take a taxi to get here. She could hop the train from work, walk the block to the gym, hop back on the train, and be home by ten. She spent...no invested...all of her paycheck into her career.

She lived in the trendier apartments in the trendiest section of downtown. She had closets full of clothes, all of them the cutting edge of fashion. She had more bottles, tubes, and pots of beauty products lining the counters of her bathroom than any woman should ever need. Shoes. Purses. Jewelry. Perfumes. She owned all this stuff, not because she was self-centered or vain. But, because Gina Klein was going to make headlines, someday.

The gym was almost deserted by the time she finished cooling down. She was tempted to call a taxi. Skip the commute home by train all together. But, that defeated the purpose of going to the gym in the first place. Walking was healthy and the money she saved on the taxi could go toward something better. Maybe, gel wraps for her nails or that power suit she'd seen in the boutique window on her way to work this morning.