Dawn Reclaimed

"To hunt. Why else?"

"Hunt? You mean deer and bunnies, right?" Claire gulped. It certainly looked like fried chicken on her plate the night she joined them for dinner. She found herself suddenly grateful that she'd declined Mouse's offer for supper. She couldn't forgive herself for eating deer, not matter how unwittingly she did it. Claire stood on no moral high ground when it came to hunting. She just didn't understand why someone would go through all the trouble to hunt when they could go to the Super Center and buy a neatly wrapped hunk of beef or a chicken from the meat case.

"Of course, silly." Marianne rolled her eyes. Sometimes, Claire asked some silly questions. And the expression of horror on her face when she'd mentioned hunting. As if Claire couldn't comprehend doing such a thing at all. Maybe, she couldn't. "You can go first."

Claire absently moved the red checker into a red square. Impatiently, she waited for Mouse to study the board and make her move.

The gray-muzzled wolf sniffed the tires on the unfamiliar vehicle parked in the gravel drive. He recognized the scent trail leading to the front door. Claire.

Nash blinked his eyes and shook a layer of cold, slick sleet off his skin. Naked and freezing, he hightailed it to the garage to change into clothes. He'd be glad when Grant finally came clean and told Claire the truth about him and his family. There was nothing more he hated than pretending. He smoothed down the collar of a flannel shirt and tucked the tails into his jeans. His hair was a tangle of bits of leaves and mud, soaked with rain from the run. He did the best he could with it and slicked it back into a damp ponytail at the base of his skull. Actually, he was glad to get the opportunity to talk to Claire without having Grant around. He stomped up the stairs leading to the back patio and went in through the mudroom. "Mouse!"

"In the basement, Grandpa!" Marianne grinned innocuously. She had Claire trapped. No matter how Claire moved her checkers on the board. She was going to get jumped and lose all her pieces.

"Hi, Claire." Nash kept things casual and light as he walked down the stairs and across the carpeted floor. "Is Mouse keeping you hostage down here?"

"No, she's kicking my butt." Frowning, Claire slid her checker in place and groaned as Mouse snatched it off the board. Normally, she wouldn't mind letting a twelve year-old beat her. Sometimes, when she got assigned to take care of kids, she'd let them beat her on purpose. But, it was a bit troubling that this time, she wasn't trying to lose.

Nash sank into an easy chair, propping his feet up on the edge of the coffee table. Studying the board, he grinned at Mouse's strategy. Kid was going to grow up to be a fine leader someday. "What brings you all the way out here for a visit?"

"Actually, I was looking for Grant," Claire admitted.

"Oh, he's in the city on business. Shouldn't be gone much longer. A couple of days, maybe less."

"Oh, I was...," Claire blushed. She was what? Being possessive? Being nosy? Being intrusive? Being mistrustful? "Um," she mumbled. She had nothing. No good excuse for her driving all the way out here on a night like this. She fingered her checker and ducked, avoiding Nash's stare. The man had a way of seeing right through her, exactly like Grant.

"Checking out his story." Nash finished the sentence with an understanding nod.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Let me know when you're ready to go and I'll drive you home." The weather had taken a turn for the worst and in that little car of hers she'd slide off into a ditch before she made it to the highway. If anything happened to her, Grant would never forgive him. He wouldn't forgive himself.

"Don't be silly. I can drive myself. I can't drag you out on a night like this."

"Have you looked outside recently?"

Claire glanced at her watch. Her eyes widened in surprise. She'd been in the basement playing checkers with Mouse for over an hour. "No, I guess I haven't. I didn't realize it was so late."

"It has gone from rain to sleet. Roads are going to be bad. In May people aren't prepared for it. By morning it'll be cleared up, I expect. But, tonight, it could be slick in spots, especially out here. I don't mind giving you a ride. I'll pick you up in the morning and you can come back and get your car."

"Or, you could stay." Marianne batted her brown eyes at Claire. Oh yeah, she could do manipulation too. In the way that a girl simply too cute for her own good could. Excited at the thought of a slumber party, she poured on the charm. She'd seen slumber parties on TV. Read about them in books. But, she'd never had one of her own before. "Please. Please."

Nash spoke with such authority. He left no room for debate. There was no way Claire was going to escape in her little car. She felt like her checker on the board. No matter which way she went, she was going to lose the game. "Ok, I'll stay. If its okay with you Nash."

"Of course. You can sleep in Grant's room."

The game forgotten, Marianne jumped up. "I'm going to change for bed and find something for Aunt Claire to sleep in. A slumber party!" She scrambled up the stairs in high gear, taking the steps two and three at a time.

Claire laughed after her and gathered up the spilled checkers, dumping them in the box. "She's an adorable little girl."

"Mouse is something special. So much like my Tala was at her age." Nash rose from his chair. "You look a little peaked. Would you like some tea?"

"Don't go to any trouble."

"No. I was going to make myself a cup before turning in." Nash fished two mugs from the wet bar, filled them, and put them in the microwave to heat. He popped open the canister. The nutty aroma of The Shaman's special mix filled his nostrils. The Shaman boasted that his tea could cure anything from the common cold to broken bones. Claire looked like she needed a little boost and her nerves a little soothing. She missed Grant. Nash recognized the look. He saw it every time he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Every time, his heart ached at the loss of Tala's mother. Although it had been many years ago, he never stopped loving her.

"Here you are," he said handing a steaming mug to Claire.

"Thanks." Claire carefully sipped the steeped brew. The tea was dark and strong. A mix between a hazelnut and mint, with a hint of sassafras, the flavor took a little getting used to.

"You don't have to worry about Grant's feelings for you. I know my son. He loves you very much," Nash said as he sipped his tea.

"How can you tell?"

"He wouldn't have subjected you to us, if he didn't. Claire, I know this is all a bit overwhelming for you. Grant can be that way, sometimes too. But, I want you to know that you're always welcome here. I want you to consider us your extended family. You can always come to us, for anything."

"That's very nice. I appreciate your family's kindness. I just wish I had as much faith in Grant as you do."

Nash smiled. Claire was fighting her feelings for his son. Searching for reasons not to love him. But, finding herself inexorably drawn to him. "Grant's got a strong personality. All the men of the family do. He comes by it honestly. And he's got a bit of a wild streak. But, that too, unfortunately, was inherited. But, do not doubt for one second that he's coming back. Don't second guess what you feel for him or what he feels for you."

The sound of feet bounding down the stairs at a hurried clip interrupted their discussion. Mouse appeared at the foot of the stairs, dressed in a faded pair of hot pink pajamas and fuzzy slippers.

"Come on," Marianne tugged on Claire's hand. "I've got our bed turned down and a story picked out."

"Mouse, you wear me out," Claire said. She got up off the floor, wiggling her toes to get the circulation in her feet again. As she stood, she placed a hand sub-consciously on her belly. She hoped her child was as friendly and open to life as everyone here seemed to be, grasped onto every experience as eagerly as Mouse did, and enjoyed every minute of his life.

She smiled at Nash and set her empty mug on the corner of the bar. "Thanks for the tea and the advice."

Mouse tugged at her dragging her up the stairs. "Ok, I'm coming. The bed isn't going anywhere," Claire chuckled.

Marianne snuggled next to Claire in Uncle Grant's big bed. Aunt Claire was fast asleep before she read the first paragraph. Gently, Marianne slid the book out of her hands and clicked out the light. Closing her eyes, she sighed happily and snuggled in tighter against Claire. This was what she'd always dreamed of. Claire would never be her mom. But, she was the next best thing.

Nash made a round of the house before he turned in. The rooms were quiet. The wolves were out on patrol and the ones who weren't, rested up for their shift. Morning came long before sunrise in the woods. Everything and everyone was safe and secure. He peeked into Grant's room. His little Mouse and Claire fast asleep. Carefully, he eased the door shut. Claire was going to make an excellent mother and a loving wife. Grant had managed to do one thing right in his life when he chose her.





Chapter 37

Grant rolled over and glanced at the red digital display on the clock sitting on the nightstand beside him. Midnight. It was too late to call Claire. She'd already be in bed. He missed her. Missed seeing her. Missed her voice. Smelling her scent. Closing his eyes he rolled onto his back and shook off the lingering fatigue of too many nights away from the Pack. He could hold out a few more days before he had return to the Pack and the magic that made them what they were. The vampires helped hold his wolf to him. They were conduits for the magic. But, their magic was cooler and had a slightly different flavor than the Pack's. It'd sustain him. The truth was, he wanted, no, not wanted. He needed to see Claire.

He wished that for once, he could wake up to her instead of to an empty bed. He knew how she'd feel pressed against him as she slept. She'd be soft. Comfortable. During those awful nights when his world had been so dark. She'd been the only bright spot in them. His brave Claire. He'd held her captive. Forced her into the bed beside him. And while she'd slept and dreamed the dreams of the brave and innocent, he'd stayed awake watching her. Stroking her hair, tracing the outline of her cheek when she was unaware, and wishing, just wishing he was a better man, for her. And he was that man, the man she needed him to be, because of her.

To Claire everyday was a new adventure. When she woke, her eyes fluttered open like twin butterflies spreading their wings in the first light of dawn. She was one of the rare people who greeted everyday with a smile on her lips. Even though she didn't know him and to her, he was a criminal, a desperate kidnapper. She still had hope. It would have been easier for her to give up. But, she hadn't retreated into herself. Instead, she'd reached out to him. Her courage and her hope grounded him. When everyone else had abandoned him, she'd given of herself and pulled him back from the brink of his own destruction.

His wolf would not have survived without her. He would not have wanted to survive, if it hadn't been for her. Exiled and without a home, his wolf fading without the bonds of Pack magic, he had few reasons to try to make a new life for himself. She'd given him the only reason he'd ever need. Things were better now. Before, he'd always thought a piece of himself was missing. And perhaps, it had been. But, she'd filled the emptiness inside of him. Completed him and brought him the peace he couldn't find in the Pack or within himself.

It seemed like a lifetime ago since he'd held Claire in his arms. He'd give almost anything to hear her voice, even if it were just over the phone. But, he wouldn't wake her at such an ungodly hour by calling her for such a selfish reason. Oh, underneath all the sugary sweet softness of newly found love, Grant knew he was still a very selfish man. He'd like to blame it on his wolf. But, it was all him. He was here, hunting a killer in a cold city for his own purposes. He wasn't the best tracker the Pack had. Not even the most skillful hunter in the Pack. That honor belonged to his brother. Hunter was a powerful wolf, perhaps in a lot of ways more powerful than Nash. But, Hunter wasn't stable. He was a loose cannon and nobody knew when he'd go off. Not even that though was the reason he'd agreed to come on the hunt.

He was here to earn his redemption and to make amends, to the Pack, to the brothers, to Nash, and most importantly to himself. To prove he was man enough, good enough for Claire. She'd never know what he'd been doing. She didn't need to know. Grant wanted nothing more than to protect her from the awfulness of the world. No, this little mission was all for him. And if he managed to save a few lives in the process of proving himself to himself, more the better.

Grant should be dressing, readying himself for another long night of hunting. He stared up, wishing it were a canopy of leaves over his head instead of the stark white of a ceiling over his head. Claire was soft and warm, everything good in this world. He wouldn't allow evil to share the same headspace as his daydreams. And tonight, he'd rather languish in his fantasies than face what was out there.

Claire was his first. He'd risked his freedom for her. Gladly and willingly surrendered everything he was to her. Nature was cruel to the wolves. When a wolf mated, it was for life. Losing a mate was akin to losing a piece of your soul. The bond could be broken, but not without pain and suffering. Only the strongest could endure the crushing loneliness of the loss. Most didn't try. Hunter had survived the loss of his mate. Surviving was a loose term for how he endured from one day to the next. He existed. Barely.

Sex hadn't bonded them together. Grant knew better. It'd been a risk, making love to her. But, he'd been more man than wolf then and incapable of bonding as a consequence of scratching a physical itch. No, this was more than an itch, more than a result of nature he couldn't control. Love had bonded them as one. He didn't deserve her. His story could have condemned him. And rightly, it should have. But, she hadn't judged. Only treated him with kindness and understanding. Her compassion had been his salvation. Claire was as brave and giving with her body as she was with her heart. She gave herself fully and openly. Her kisses washed over him like a cool stream. Her gentle sighs of joy were the air he breathed. Her body burned his flesh with the fires of passion and delight. And her heart grounded him, holding him to the earth with every cherished beat. Claire was elemental to him. Without her, he'd cease to exist.

Grant threw back the covers and heaved his body out of the bed. His wolf was restless and on edge, pacing beneath the surface of his consciousness. Like the trapped animal he was. Grant pulled on his clothes and stalked out of his borrowed bedroom intent on finding something to eat before the night began. The city was no place for a wolf. Without Claire was not a good place for him either. His wolf needed the woods. And he needed her.

"Mornin' Princess."

Grant stalked past John Mark and flipped him the bird. He hoped the vamps had stocked the fridge. He was getting tired of eating his meals out of wrappers. No such luck there. He settled for the lone carton of orange juice on the shelf and studied the map spread out on the kitchen table as he drank. The patrols were marked in different colors on the map. The murders circled in red ink. Grant ran his finger between the three sites, tracing a lopsided triangle. "Everyone out?"

"Yeah," John Mark said as he peered over Grant's shoulders. "First patrols went out a sundown."

Grant studied the colored areas. The vamps were sending teams of two out to cover a grid equaling about one eighth of the city each. "The patrols are spread pretty thin."

"Best we can do."

Grant polished off the orange juice and tossed the empty carton into the trash. He studied the areas where the murders took place. "What's in this part of town?"

"Mainly warehouses, prostitutes, drug dealers, and low rent housing. A few cheesy strip malls scattered here and there. Not much."

"Who's out there?"

"Keene and Patrick are here," John Mark said, pointing to a green square on the map. "Dane and Carter, here." His finger trailed to a yellow square, he said, "And here, Marcus and Sam." His finger trailed down to an area shaded in purple marker. "The Guardians Carter could spare, here."

"Found anything yet?"

"Nothin."

Grant felt the familiar tingle that came with bad weather snake along his spinal column. His wolf sensed the precipitation in the air. "Been raining all day?"

"Most of it."

"Any trail the killer would have left is probably gone by now."

John Mark sighed, "I know. There's not much we can do but try to lock in on his scent or hope one of us spots him. We may not have any choice but to wait for him to strike again."

"That's not a very good plan." Grant moved to the wall of windows and rested his forehead on the cool pane of glass separating him from the sprawling city below. Grant was a hunter. He knew the thrill of the hunt and the sweet taste of the kill. He imagined the killer as a hunter, one of the wolves. A wolf was patient. Methodical. As long as the hunting was good, a wolf would stay put. The killer didn't need to expend energy bouncing around the city. Humans were plentiful. Everywhere. And where a human bled, a vampire would follow.

The killer knew exactly what he was doing. He knew the vampires were hunting him. And he was hunting them in turn. Time was the deciding factor, the unknown element. It was just a matter of who would find whom first. The killer was enjoying the game, playing with the vampires. Taking his time to wear them down.

. Grant studied the map again. "No. Tighten your search perimeters." Grant snatched a red pen off the table and drew a big ink circle on the map. "Focus here."

"What makes you think he'll strike again there?"

Grant looked up at John Mark with steely eyes. "Quit thinking like a human. The killer is a predator. And I know what I'd do if I were him."

The man stood beneath the shelter of an overhang. He loved clueless people. Especially women. But, the woman's obliviousness kind of took the sport out of the game. He'd waited for her at the gym. She'd arrived right on time. After her workout, she'd left, just as timely. Taking the same route she had the day before to the train station and standing on the platform alone. Following her was easy. Hell, he'd even been as bold as to sit across from her on the train. She was so plugged into her I-pod, intent on ignoring everyone and everything around her that she hadn't noticed him. And hadn't noticed when he followed her off the train, lagging about a block behind her, following her home.

All he had to do was hang out and wait. A few minutes after she stopped in the foyer to retrieve her mail from the bank of mailboxes and disappeared into the heart of the building. A light from the third floor shone down on the streets from a window above. He saw her in the window, pulling the drapes closed. Shutting out the night, she thought she was safe. People always did when they were in their homes. Not hardly. He could pick the lock and get into the building in less than a minute. In five, he could be in her apartment. And in ten, she could be dead. But, that wasn't his plan. He was simply studying her. Getting acquainted.

Gina sank wearily into bed after her shower. She should have been asleep an hour ago. But, she was too jazzed up to sleep. Her mind wouldn't shut off and her body ached in places she didn't know existed. Didn't matter that her daily routine, the commute from work to the gym and then home, played hell with her schedule and her body. Someday, when she landed a position as a news anchor and everyone in the city knew her face and her name, it would all be worth it. Finally, she fell asleep. Dreaming of her face plastered all over the city, on TV, on billboards, on the front page of the newspaper. Someday, the name Gina Klein would mean something.