Dawn Reclaimed

Chapter 35

"Hell, no!" Grant pounded his fist against the table. Outraged with the vampires' solution to their problem. A scent was something that had to be experienced. Two people could sniff a rose and describe the smell in completely different ways. Grant couldn't help it that the fanged had deficient olfactory receptors. And since his wolf was the only one to pin down the killer's scent with any measure of accuracy, he experience was embedded in his brain. The only way to share his wolf's perception of the scent was to share his blood. Give the vampires a taste and form a psychic link with them. Willingly allow them to pick through his brain. He'd had Tala rattling around in his head for weeks after he'd given her his blood, against his wolf's better judgment. And he was not so open to the idea of sharing his headspace or his blood again. "Not only is my answer no, it's fuck no!"

"Look Grant, we understand your hesitation. And if there were any other options, we'd gladly utilize them." Dane was used to dealing with strong personalities and the temper tantrums that went along with them. This was business, strictly business. The solution made perfect sense. Logical. Forming a blood bond wasn't something anybody else looked forward to either. But, what other options did they have? Time was running out. The link would fade, if not maintained. And he didn't think anyone would find Grant particularly tasty enough to want a repeat.

Patrick tried a different approach, something not revolving around drinking Grant's blood. Which, he didn't want to do in the first place. "Don't you want to get home? Aren't you sick of the city? I know I am. Trust me buddy, I'd rather be home makin...," he cleared his throat and glanced at Sam. The gentler sex, especially since she was one of Janine's inner circle of friends, didn't need to hear what he wanted to do with his wife. He had a tenuous bond with Grant. They understood each other in a basic, fundamental way. "Don't you want to get home to...what's her name? Claire?"

"You leave her out of this," Grant hissed. The mention of her name on a vampire's lips raised his hackles in fury. His body trembled as pack magic surged through his limbs. His wolf was on the periphery of his consciousness ready to jump in and defend.

"Easy, Grant," Sam soothed. She smiled politely at Patrick. The verdict was still out on if it were better to be considered one of the guys or be treated like a female. He'd stopped mid-sentence and considered her. Janine was not so considerate. And Sam knew too well what Patrick did with his wife behind closed doors. Janine was the kiss and tell everybody type. Sometimes it was better to not be one of the girls when those conversations happened. The air was tinged with the sweet hint of wolf musk and wild. They were freaking Grant out. And if they weren't careful about how they handled him. Handled the situation. They wouldn't be dealing with Grant, but his wolf. The Guardians really did have a nice place here. And she was certain the leather upholstery, velvet curtains, expensive Persian rugs, and all the priceless, very delicate knickknacks worth more than the gross national product of a small country would not hold up to a tumble between the vampires and a very pissed off wolf the size of a small pony. "Grant, we're trying to catch a killer. And we need your help."

Grant blinked up at them like they were insane. Swallowing his revulsion at what they wanted to do, not bothering to hide his disgust at the thought of it. Thank God, for his wife. Her gentleness and the confident air that was just Sam, calmed Grant to a degree. The air cleared of the scent of wolf. And Grant had settled back in his seat. He was still wary though and not exactly sold on the idea donating a pint to the cause. "None of us want to do this. But, it's the only way. If we have a map of his scent, we'll find him faster. Before anyone else dies," Marcus said.

"Damn it." Grant raked his hand through his hair in frustration. The vampires blinked down at him as if they had no idea what his problem was. Hell, they probably didn't. To them, drinking blood was no big thing. He didn't quite see it as that. His blood was a very damn big deal. The vampires were right though. The odds of catching the killer much better if they had access to his brain and a scent to follow. He sat back in his chair and extended wrist. Lips on his wrist were bad enough. There was no way in hell he wanted Patrick at his throat. "Hurry up."

Patrick sought out Grant's neural pathways. It was a jumbled, confusing, tangled up mess in Grant's head. Grant and his wolf were hardwired as one being with two separate consciousnesses. Trying to decipher which awareness was Grant's and which one was the wolf was not possible. "Buddy, I can't figure out where you end and your wolf begins. I can't keep this from hurting. I'm sorry."

"Just get it over with," Grant spat through gritted teeth. His fingers were clenched into a tense fist. His wolf prowled the outer boundaries of his mind. Growling low in his throat in protest. Patrick's fingers were cool, almost clammy as he wrapped them around Grant's wrist. Grant pushed his wolf back. His wolf didn't run the show when he was in human form. He did. And his wolf was not going to take control and make a surprise guest appearance. The vamps had a nice place. It'd be a shame for his wolf to tear it to pieces. Grant glared at Patrick. "And remember, I bite back."

Hesitantly, Patrick grasped Grant's wrist. There was no way to make this humane. Oh, vampires hid beneath human facades. But, this was the one time they were anything but human. And the real beast behind the mask came out to play. His fangs extended, Patrick glanced up at Grant in warning. One bite. Aimed true at the radial artery. He and his brothers could drink from the same wound. Quickly. A small taste was all that would be necessary for them to achieve their goal. "Are you in control?" The last thing he wanted was a pissed off wolf using his pretty face as a chew toy.

Carter hung back, watching. Not looking forward to his first and hopefully only taste of werewolf blood. But, as the leader of the Guardians, he had to participate. Duty required it. The dead deserved justice. He hoped Grant could keep his wolf under control. The Sons and the Guardians did not agree on a number of things. The necessity of death was one of them, the time and place for it and who, under their law, deserved it. If it came down to a choice between one of his Guardians, the brothers, or a pissed off wolf, he knew what he'd do, which side he would choose. And it would not go well for the wolf.

Grant nodded and felt Patrick's mouth tickle the sensitive flesh of his inner wrist. The bite was coming. Patrick gave no further warning. Swiftly and painfully, he struck with the wicked efficiency of a cobra. Reflexively, Grant jerked away. Patrick held his wrist held fast in an unyielding grip, cold and hard as iron. Magic flowed through the room, a byproduct of the exchange. Patrick was in his head. Drinking his life with every drop of blood he consumed.

Patrick kept hold of Grant's wrist, maintaining the iron grip to keep him still so the others could drink. Grant looked pale, a little green around the gills actually. Blinking down at the twin dots of blood welling up to the surface from the break in his skin. Patrick could have hurt him a lot worse than he did. Bit deeper. Taken more blood. He'd gone easy on Grant. Sam was dainty as she drank, like a humming bird resting on a flower petal to sample the sweet nectar. Dane just did it as quickly as possible and got it over with. Marcus was hesitant, going for it and drawing lightly on the wound to speed the flow. And Carter didn't want to touch the man at all. He drank because it was expected and it was his duty.

The four of them exchanged a hasty glance and tried to pretend the secrets revealed did not exist at all. There was a power to Grant's blood. Something addictive about the life contained in the crimson drops. The taste was richer than that of a human's. The strength the vampires drew from the taste of just a few timid sips tore through their bodies, fueling them in a way no human blood ever could. It'd be so easy to give in. To force Grant to surrender every last drop, drain him dead. Patrick gathered the bravery and steeled his resistance to the siren's call of Grant's blood and sealed the wound. Shuddering with the life force contained on those last few lingering traces on the tip of his tongue. The Pack was in more danger than they realized. The secrets weren't in Grant's head but in his blood.

The vampires looked at him like he was dinner. Gathered around him like hungry frat boys around a pizza. Grant jerked his wrist from Patrick's grip and clutched it to his chest. His wolf would heal the wounds just fine on his own. Yeah, it hurt. Yeah, the bite and the bruising throbbed like a bitch. But, he'd rather bleed to death than have a vampire put his lips on him again. His head was more than a little woozy. His stomach clenched with nausea. And the vampires, quite frankly, were giving him the creeps.

With a collective blink of eyes, cold and dark with a predator's hunger, the moment was gone. And the vampires were back to their definitively more 'human' states, or disguises. Grant wasn't sure which yet. One thing was for sure though. The vampires had a direct pipeline into his head. And there was nothing about him that was a secret now.

Patrick slapped Grant hard across the back. "Congratulations man! A baby." Someone slid a glass of orange juice into Grant's trembling hand and gently eased the glass to his lips. He swallowed as the juice rolled over his tongue and tickled the back of his throat. The coolness and sweet, citrus flavor helped to clear his head. Sam squeezed him around the neck in a hug. Another hand, big as a paw, grabbed his hand and shook it in congratulations.

"My brother, we will guard her life as if it were our own," Dane vowed. He couldn't imagine it. A child. A new life birthed into the world amidst all this death. Purity and innocence surrounded by darkness. The killer had to be tracked and dealt with quickly. Grant belonged home with his pregnant female, not here in the city, chasing after shadows. Dane did not dwell often on things beyond his control. He preferred to focus on things that were. He could not reproduce. His life of service had taken that option from him. It was truly one of the things he envied the most about the living.

Patrick focused on Grant's memories. Honing in on the wolf portion of Grant's brain. Through the link he shared the animal's experiences. The scent. "I know who we're looking for. I just don't know where he is."

He didn't waste time thinking about things that were impossible. He could not father a child. End of story. Although, he would have taken a backseat to make sure Janine could have the life that had been taken from him. She'd chosen him and everything that came along with the package instead.

He shuffled across the room to the computer. Perhaps, Toby had come up with something based on the description Patrick had given him. Toby was pretty good with technology and could ferret out even the most obscure data from the most bizarre sources. Clicking on the links Toby had emailed him, he shuffled databases and skimmed through hundreds of mug shots. Their best shot in the dark was that the killer had done time. People with violent tendencies usually did end up behind bars at one point or another. Maybe, this time, they'd luck out and get a positive ID. Everyone had a past. But for the killer, his future was questionable.

"At sundown we head out." Dane spread the map across the table, assigning details. Sharing Grant's headspace was a little alarming. He had not one, but two separate beings in his head. He had the killer's scent, thanks to Grant's wolf. But, there were things about Grant he wished he didn't know.

Carter nodded in agreement to Dane's assignments. The more bodies out on the streets, watching the shadows the better chance they had of catching this guy. Dane's disbursement of their numbers, fanning out the patrols to the distant corners of the city left the Guardian's spread very thin and downtown virtually unguarded. Dane thought it unlikely that with the numbers of people in the heart of the city during the evening commute and into the night. And given the location of the previous kills all of which happened sometime after ten o'clock, well after the evening commute.

Dane was willing to risk downtown to the safety in numbers theory and put the patrols to better use elsewhere. Carter agreed, to a point, enough to keep his argument to himself. He didn't have time to debate his concerns with Dane. After ten o'clock, he'd center the efforts of his Guardians in the downtown area. In the meantime, he had other business to attend to. Primarily, he had a downtown area full of lives to protect and a killer to bring to justice. Evil didn't punch a time clock. It just was. And sometimes, it did not take an obvious form. He left the brothers to their planning and disappeared into the heart of his home.

Grant locked himself in the bathroom and dialed Claire's number. Maybe, she was off today. It was too early yet for her to be home from work. But, he just wanted to hear her voice. He needed the comfort of something familiar when he was so far away from home. No such luck, the phone went straight to voice mail. He was tempted to hang up and try again later. But, the sun wasn't cutting him any breaks and too soon it'd be nightfall and his wolf would be out there, hunting a killer. "Claire, I won't be back in town tonight. I'm still stuck in the city on business. I'll be home as soon as I can. I love you, Claire. Please, don't forget that."

Grant hated voice mail but the sound of her voice, even if it was just a recording, soothed his jumbled nerves. He had a couple of hours before the fun started again. Exposed and feeling like everyone knew his thoughts, he pulled the pillow over his head for at least the illusion that he had his mind to himself. Maybe, Claire would return his call. He fell asleep with that thought in mind. How nice it'd be to wake up to the sound of her voice.

Claire's heart jumped as she checked her phone. The day had been long and grueling. Her stomach growled. She was starving, but had been too afraid to eat. On the way home, she planned to treat herself to a Happy burger deluxe and a large fry, maybe a chocolate shake. But, she'd rather hear Grant's message first. Maybe, they could have supper together. She hit the button and pressed her cell phone to her ear. Disappointment bit at her. Grant wasn't coming back tonight again. Stuck in the city on business, or so he claimed. Making a decision, deciding she was ready for the truth rather than believe a lie, she skipped Happys' and went home to change.

She was going to get some answers. Was he really in the city or was he avoiding her? Hiding out. If he wasn't coming back, she'd deal with it, knowing would be so much better than continuing the guessing game. She knew where to get the answers she needed. It was dark when Grant took her to meet his family. And tonight the rain had not slowed one little bit. Everything was wet from the constant downpour. The leaves drooping form the weight of the water. But, she was pretty good at finding where she was going. She knew almost every nook and cranny of this county. And she would find Grant's house and hopefully, the truth.

Chapter 36

Marianne jumped up to answer the door. Company didn't stop by very often. So when it did, it was the highlight of her week. She loved meeting new people. "Auntie Claire!" she squeaked excitedly. Throwing open the door and wrapping her arms around Claire's waist, she hugged her for all she was worth. The soft bulge of her new cousin pressed against her cheek. "Did you come back to finish our game?"

Claire rested a hand on Mouse's head. How to explain her visit to a twelve year-old? She smiled in a noncommittal way and thought about the best way to get the answers she needed. In the little girl, she had an ally. Claire didn't use people. She wouldn't use this little girl so excited to see her to get what she wanted. "Hi, Mouse. Is your Uncle Grant here?"

"Nope. He's gone away." Marianne didn't know where her uncle was. There was a lot of hushed talk on the night he left. And she could only glean so much knowledge by pretending to be a fly on the wall.

"Do you know where?"

"Sorry," Marianne towed Claire into the house. She knew what Claire was doing. She'd seen that expression on adults' faces before. And it never, ever fooled her. Adults smiled like that when they wanted something from you. It was an indulgent sort of smile that didn't reach Claire's eyes and wasn't genuine. Claire was human. And therefore, had no heightened sense of awareness in which to see the world as it truly was. She was suspicious by her very nature and because of her limitations. Marianne could smell a lie. She could scent anger, and fear, and of course, love. She knew what kind of people to avoid, judging by their scents and the subtle nuances their bodies gave away. Claire could not. As a human, Claire didn't trust easily. And Marianne didn't blame her. The world was a dangerous place full of users and dishonest people trying to get the better of you before you got the better of them. Claire was a good person. And Marianne could forgive her this one little oversight. Dragging Claire through the dining room, she remembered her manners before they came to the basement stairs. "Do you want something to eat?"

"No thanks, Mouse." Claire couldn't help but notice the absence of adults. In the living room the kids were gathered around a TV. Mouse's brothers seemed to be in charge of the herd of little ones. She'd blushed under the curious glance of Mouse's older brother. He was a good-looking kid. Well, he wasn't a kid, probably about nineteen or twenty. But, he resembled Grant closely enough, not quite filled out as well as he would be in a year or two though, that she might have been looking at a younger version of him. "Where's everyone?"

"Out in the woods," Marianne answered. She saw Claire raise her eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate. Marianne wasn't going to fill in the gaps. Let Grant tell Claire himself. Eventually, he'd have to anyway. She flipped on the basement lights and led Claire by the hand down the stairs.

"On a night like this?" Claire asked. What would a bunch of adults be doing in the woods in the middle of a downpour? The night was cold and wet, unseasonably cold for the time of year. The rain on the drive over had mixed with little bits of sleet. She should have waited till morning to come out. The roads, especially the rural gravel roads like the one leading to the house could turn nasty in minutes.

"They go out every night," Marianne answered. Once again, leaving her answers vague on purpose. Claire was one of those people, not deceptive or nosy, but just one of those people reassuring enough in their general aura that made you want to tell your every secret to them. She set up the checkerboard, putting the red and black checkers exactly in the spots they had been.

"Why?" Claire wasn't going to find out anything from Mouse. The kid had an incredible bullshit meter for being so young. Claire wasn't trying to be mean or trick Mouse into saying something she wasn't supposed to say. But, Claire needed answers. And Mouse was the only one around to give them to her. At least, she'd managed to get out of Mouse that Grant was in the city. And she supposed that was the best information she was going to get for now. She would finish their checker game and go home. Maybe, try calling Grant later.