Dawn Reclaimed

"Breakfast in bed? How thoughtful." Claire sat up and took a tentative sip of the orange juice. The bacon and eggs were going to have to wait, a long while. She did attempt to nibble on the corner of a square of toast drenched with butter and strawberry jelly. Her stomach bucked and she quickly dropped the toast onto the plate. The orange juice wasn't sitting too well either. Her stomach bucked and rolled with the first waves of morning sickness. "I'm sorry, Mouse. I guess I'm not that much of a breakfast eater. How, 'bout you hop up here and help me eat some of this?"

"Ok," Marianne agreed. Hopping up onto the bed, she snatched a piece of bacon off the plate. Using the crisp corner of the bacon to pop the yolk of the egg, she mopped up the yellow goo with the bacon and gobbled it down in one bite. Her family didn't believe in wasting food. By the time everyone got fed, there wasn't any left to waste. And Marianne rarely got seconds at breakfast time. And like a good Hobbit she wasn't going to pass up second breakfast.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Not too long. Grandpa is downstairs making breakfast for everyone. He tried to help me with yours. But, I didn't need it."

"Mouse, if I could ask, where are your parents?" Claire asked contemplatively over a few sips of coffee. The little girl was attached to her hip. And it made her wonder where Mouse's mother was.

Marianne frowned at the question. Suddenly saddened by her answer. "My mom died when I was born." She downed the orange juice to keep from blurting out her whole awful history. "My dad...well, dad is dad. He's around here somewhere. But, dads can't really be moms, can they,' she said with a shrug.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Claire found herself wishing she had asked Grant about Mouse's parents instead of the little girl. Mouse was right. Dads couldn't be moms. And she could see the loss of Mouse's mother deeply affected the girl. Somehow, instead of the exuberant preteen, she found herself looking into the eyes of someone far older.

"S'ok." Marianne shrugged. "So are you spending the day with me too?"

"Sorry Mouse, but I've got to get home. I have to work tomorrow and I've got a ton of stuff to do today."

"Oh," Marianne frowned. "Grandpa said there was sleet mixed in with the rain last night. I've never seen so much rain. And I've never seen snow before, at least not like this."

"You haven't lived here long?"

"Nope. We lived in Nevada before we moved here. They don't have ice in Nevada. Not like this, anyway."

Claire shuffled to the window and stared out at the thin layer of frost covering her windshield. By the time the sun fully rose, the frost would be melted. Mouse seemed a little put off by the rain and the late season sleet. It happened from time to time and this year summer was getting a late start. Not to worry though, by September when things started to cool off again, the weather would be a welcome change from all the heat and humidity. "I think it's kind of pretty."

Mouse shrugged, "I guess so." She gathered up the tray and gave Claire a smile over her shoulder. The desert was beautiful too. Most people didn't realize how alive such a desolate place could be in the springtime.

Claire gathered up her clothes and checked her cell phone again, just in case.

Grant hadn't bothered to call her last night. Despite Nash's reassurances, she had to give up on Grant. She'd miss Mouse. But, it was better for Mouse if she bailed out now before the girl became too attached to her. And she, too attached to the girl. These were good people. Claire felt it in her bones. But, they didn't need her just hanging around waiting for Grant to come back. Filling her head with feeble excuses for his absence. Her baby was a part of this family. And she'd never keep them apart. But, she had to keep moving forward without Grant.

Nausea rose up in her gut, burning her throat. She covered her mouth and rushed to the bathroom. Barely making it before she heaved her sparse breakfast into the porcelain bowl. Thank God morning sickness only lasted a few weeks or so. Right? But, it seemed awfully early in the pregnancy to suffer like this.

"Aunt Claire?" Marianne caught a glimpse of Claire's blue sweater in the mirror. She was hunched over the toilet. Her skin slicked with sweat and whiter than the porcelain. "Grandpa!" She trotted to the banister. "Come quick. Aunt Claire is sick!" Marianne shook in panic. Illness was a rare thing for the Pack and Marianne didn't know what to do.

"Mouse, I'm fine!" Claire scrambled to her feet. Her legs wobbled like rubber, threatening to give under her weight. She clutched the slick edge of the marble countertop with all her strength, forcing her body to remain upright as waves of black flickered across her vision. Mouse was terrified, trembling in the doorway. Glancing panicked and worried glances down the hallway behind her.

Nash took the stairs two at a time, bounding down the hall at a dead run. The panic in Mouse's voice had him bolting for the bedroom door. "Claire?" He pushed his way past Mouse and into the bathroom where Claire stood, pale as a sheet, clinging to the edge of the sink. "Why don't you sit on the bed for a minute?" He wrapped an arm around her waist and navigated her to the bed.

Claire was grateful for the strong arm and gentle touch guiding her down onto the bed. She felt a little better, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her stomach calmer than it had been earlier. Nash checked her from head to toe, skimming over her with his eyes and that weighted stare of his. Some people didn't handle sick people very well. And given the worried expression on his face and Mouse's reaction to her little bout of morning sickness, they were those kinds of people. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be," Nash said. He was concerned for Claire. But, her bout of morning sickness was a good sign. The baby was growing stronger, strong as any other wolf in the Pack. Unfortunately though, she was in a precarious position. Without the Pack, he had his doubts that she or the baby would survive this pregnancy. Women drew on Pack magic and the ties that bound them to their mates. Claire had no such connection to fortify her through this difficult time. Even the sturdiest of women, fully blooded Pack, succumbed to the rigors of pregnancy and childbirth. Claire was human. Her body might not withstand the demands of the life growing inside of her, especially without a mate and without the magic of the Pack. Gently, he eased her legs up into the bed.

"Really, I'm fine it's just..." Claire cast a glance at Mouse and then to Nash. She wasn't certain how much she was at liberty to discuss with Grant's father. And she didn't want Mouse to overhear. Mouse had obviously gotten her sense of intuition from her grandfather. His eyes glinted in understanding. He turned to glance over his shoulder.

"Mouse, why don't you go make Claire a mug of Nana's special tea to help settle her stomach?"

"O...ok." Marianne's bottom lip trembled slightly as she trotted down the stairs to the kitchen. She'd seen other women in the pack get sick like this. It was never good. The baby inside of Claire was growing, drawing from her life force to fuel its own. Threatening to take her away from her, just like she had her mother's away from her. Marianne bolted into the kitchen and ran into her father. She brushed past him on her way to the canister where Nana kept her special tea. Carefully spooning in the mix of herbs and leaves into a steeper, she set the copper kettle of water on the stove to heat. Her dad said nothing. He stood, silently watching, leaning against the counter sipping his coffee as she worked furiously to contain her fear and her rage. "Dad, now I understand," she said.

"What do you understand," Hunter asked. He braced himself for the insult his only daughter was about to hurl in his direction. These days, it didn't even pay to come out of his room. And often, he didn't. His sons growled at him with nothing but disdain. And Mouse, his little girl, his only daughter, couldn't look at him with anything except for bitter contempt. The Pack gave him a wide berth. No one spoke to him. And he spoke to no one. It was a pretty peaceful arrangement for everyone. He had nothing constructive to say. He glanced at the ceiling, to the room above his head. Claire was up there, feeling the strain of the pregnancy and probably, of her immanent death. His eyes fell to his daughter. She looked more and more like her mother everyday. So much so, it hurt.

The kettle on the stove whistled. Marianne poured the boiling water in the mug. The silence between her father and she was pregnant with too many things left unsaid. The steeper sank to the bottom of the mug, the water darkened to a rich reddish brown color from the tint of Nana's herbs. Marianne tugged on the chain, watching the silver steeper bob up and down. Satisfied she'd let the herbs steep long enough, Marianne dropped the steeper in the sink and picked up the mug. "Why you hate me so much," she said, turning to leaver her father standing alone in the kitchen.

Claire closed her eyes and wished the morning sickness away. Wished that Grant were the one sitting on the edge of the bed comforting her instead of his father. A wayward tear crept out of the corner of her eye. Blinking, she caught the wetness in her lashes before it could tumble down her cheek. "Nash, Grant is going to be a father. You owe it to me to tell me the truth. Is he coming back?"

Nash blew out a long exhale. "Claire, he is coming back. I know there's no place else he'd rather be than here with you. But, he has commitments that can't be broken. He gave his word and he will keep it." Nash took Claire's hand in his, rubbing her fingers in his to warm them. "This is a difficult time for you. Why don't you stay with us while you're waiting for his return?"

"I can't impose like that." Nash's hands were warm. His eyes filled with compassion and understanding. He wanted to help her. His offer was genuine and heartfelt. But, she couldn't stay here. If things didn't work out with Grant, Nash would still extend his hospitality and his home to her. But, she couldn't live under the same roof with Grant, if he didn't want her. She couldn't risk getting attached to these people, not to Mouse, to Nash, or to the family. She had to learn to stand on her own.

"Claire, you're not imposing." Nash saw the doubt and the hurt in Claire's eyes. As much as she wanted to stay, she wasn't going to. He saw how difficult it was for Claire to tell him and perhaps, admit the pregnancy to herself. She didn't understand the danger she was in. And he had no way to warn her about it. Grant, just the reassurance of his presence, would do more for her than any tea or Pack magic ever could. She was falling apart, on the verge of giving up. Without him, neither she or the baby would be able to hold out much longer.

"Nash, I can't. I have to do this on my own. I know you tell me Grant is coming back. And I want to believe you. But, I have to face the possibility that he won't and that I am on my own."

"Claire, you'll never be on your own again. You'll always have us. We'll be here when you need us. You're part of the family. A part of us. And family always takes care of its own." He took the mug of tea from Mouse's hand and pressed the rim to Claire's lips. "Drink this. It will make you feel better."

Nash had taken the news that she was pregnant pretty well. He was calm and not the least surprised. She wanted to protest his command. But, there was something about him that made her want to do as he asked. Pushiness? Maybe. But, also a gentleness and concern, as if he cared about her and only wanted what was best for her and the baby. Obediently, Claire sipped the nutty, mint, slightly pungent and bitter tea. Immediately, her queasy stomach calmed. She took the mug from his hands and downed the rest, eager for a respite from the nausea. Her eyelids felt so heavy, droopy. As if they were weighted down and she could think of nothing better than a nap in the cozy bed that smelled so much like Grant.

Nash eased the mug from Claire's fingers. "Get some rest. We'll talk later." He tugged on Mouse's braid and gently towed her from the side of the bed. "Let Aunt Claire sleep."

"Grandpa, is Aunt Claire going to stay with us?"

"I don't know." His answer, an honest one seemed to placate Mouse, for now. He knew how badly she'd missed having a mother growing up. And there was no way anyone could fill the emptiness in the little girl's heart. Mouse had latched onto Claire. And for once, he didn't warn her off. He might need the help to make Claire stay put. And who could say no to those big brown eyes of Mouse's?

Claire was a natural born nurturer. Nash had no doubt that it was her inborn nature Grant was drawn to. Something within her called to him, soothed him, and completed him in a way only somebody like her could. Her nature would serve her well in the future. It would give her the strength she'd need to overcome her fears. To see Grant for who he is instead of what he is. Her unborn child would not be a full wolf. But neither would he be completely human. And without the Pack, without Grant, the child would be lost to the world of mortals. Not one of them, not fitting in, alone and adrift, and never knowing why.

Nash hated to interrupt Grant while on the mission. Hated to cause any distraction to the investigation. He got nightly updates from Drew and Tala. Grant and his wolf were doing the whole pack proud. But, Nash was going to have to send out another volunteer to replace Grant. Claire's health was beginning to deteriorate. He saw the strain in her eyes. Knew she had barely eaten in the last day. Her skin was pale and chalky. Not the skin of a healthy person, but the skin of a person who was under tremendous physical stress. He needed Grant here to care for her. To do whatever it took to protect the life of his unborn child and his mate before he lost them both.

He had never met anyone who felt so alone in the midst of a crowd of people than Claire. For the moment, she was safe enough. Nana's tea would fortify Claire's depleted body. The baby would grow stronger the closer Claire was to the Pack. Each minute in the Pack's magic the better the odds the baby would survive. Nash cared for Claire, he truly did. He wanted what was best for her. But, the baby she carried had to come first. Claire's death would be the end of Grant. And Nash didn't want to lose his adopted son the way he had Hunter.

Hunter was beyond his reach. Not even the love of his children had managed to fill the void Marianne left in the wake of her death. Grant wouldn't linger as a living ghost the way Hunter did, even if the child survived. Grant would follow Claire, anywhere, into the world beyond and into the one after that. Nash would do everything in his power to keep Claire and the child alive. But, not even he could intervene in the hand fate dealt. So much hinged on one life yet to be born.

Hunter packed for his journey. When his wife had died, there'd been nothing he could do to stop it. She'd bled to death in his arms. With the last spark of life in her, she'd kissed the top of Marianne's head and drifted away. Mouse had it wrong. She thought he hated her. She thought the fault lay with her when it rested solely on his shoulders. It wasn't that he didn't love. He did. Too much. Mouse was the hardest. She was too much like her mother in mannerisms and appearance. Tristen was easier. Looking at him was like looking in a mirror at a younger, less jaded version of himself. And Daniel, he could not even glimpse at his middle son without shrinking back from the hatred in the eyes, so much like Marianne's in shape and color, staring back at him.

He should have drowned Grant in the river. Would have been better that way, for everyone. Perhaps, he should have drowned himself instead. The mission was perfect for him. Grant was too soft. Too involved in the world of the living. Unlike him, Hunter had nothing to lose. He'd lost his wife. He'd lost his children. He was one of the strongest of the wolves. And yet, he was the weakest link in the Pack. And maybe, just maybe, he could do something right, just once before the current finally swept him under. The Pack didn't need him. His father didn't need him. And his children sure as hell didn't need him. But, Grant had someone who needed him desperately.

Wolves had a long history of service in the military. And those strong enough to endure the absence of the Pack were called to serve. Hunter had seen the horrors of war. He knew what hell looked like. And hell had a name. Vietnam. Since he had nothing to live for. He had no fear of dying. Oh no, death wasn't something to be terrified of. It was life that was far more painful and terrifying. Hunter was meticulous, checking and rechecking the cache of weaponry tucked into his duffel bag before finally zipping it shut. He closed the door to his room and tossed the strap over his shoulder. He traveled light, otherwise. A few pairs of jeans and t-shirts, a couple of pairs of socks and he was good to go. His boots made not a whisper of sound as he took the stairs down into the dining room. He stopped for a moment on his way to the front door, pausing to meet his father's stare. And with a brief, silent nod, they'd said all they'd had to say.

The incessant ringing of the cell phone by his bed jarred Grant out of a sound sleep. His eyes felt as if a sand truck had dumped a load of grit beneath his lids. His body was stiff and achy. He must have just fallen asleep when the phone rang. "Talk," he said in a chopped, gravely voice thick with sleep. By the end of his conversation with Nash, Grant was fully awake and pulling on his clothes. Snatching up his keys on the way out of the apartment, he stopped long enough to talk to Dane. "I have to go. Claire is sick. She needs me. My brother, Hunter is coming to take my place. He's a good man. And his wolf is an excellent tracker. He won't disappoint you. Just...just...well, you'll figure it out," Grant said. Trying to explain Hunter to anyone was a waste of time.

"I'm sorry to hear about Claire. If there's anything my brothers or I can do. Please don't hesitate to ask," Dane said. He heard the urgency in Grant's voice when he spoke of Claire and the hesitation in it when he spoke of his brother. Dane didn't know Hunter. He hadn't heard anything about him. The wolves and the brothers lived in a peaceful state of cautious wariness and casual distant closeness. Necessity had made friends out of Grant and he. Seeing the worry on Grant's face explained a lot. The baby, Claire's pregnancy, and thank God he'd kept his mouth wisely shut around Thomas, was Grant's.

Grant didn't know what he was going home to. He paused, resting his hand on the doors to hold the elevator. He would not lose Claire, no matter what. He loved his unborn child. Of course, how could he not love a piece of Claire and he? The life they'd made together. But, he'd risk the baby, if it meant saving her. If he had to choose, he'd choose her. The vampires could help Claire, if there was no other option, no other way. They held eternity in their veins. She'd hate him. But, he could live with that, as long as she lived. "I'm hold you to that," he said.

Chapter 39

Hunter rode in the back of the SUV. Sprawled out in the seat watching the scenery flash past his window. Fresh vampire recruits were driving into the city and he was simply hitching a ride. He didn't do small talk. He didn't want nor did he need to be friendly. It wasn't that his company was vampires. He could give a shit less about that. He had no prejudice against the fanged. He detested everyone just the same.

It'd taken the father and son duo of the undead in the front seat a minute to figure that out and even longer to simply give up on the idea that he was not going to make nice. He didn't do nice any better than he did small talk or friendly. It wasn't that he couldn't. His wolf could be quite the charmer. He just didn't want to.