Dawn Reclaimed

"Claire, please don't. I know I should have told you sooner. It was wrong not to. I should have been honest from the very beginning. Claire, I'm so sorry. But, I can't change what I am. This is me, Claire. This is who I am. And inside, I'm still the man I always have been." Grant willed his feet to move. But, they were planted firmly in place. He wanted to touch her and to hold her. Reassure her that everything was going to be ok. Make promises to her. And rebuild everything that had been destroyed by the web of half-truths and lies he'd woven around them.

Claire didn't say a word. She turned her back to him and rounded the car. "Claire!" Grant cried out in a last ditch effort, "I'll tell you anything you want to know. The truth. All of it. Just please, hear me out." He was not too proud to beg. Not anymore. "Answer me Claire, what would you have done if the situations were reversed? Would you have told me the truth?"

Claire stopped in her tracks. Her heart shattered at the pleading tone of Grant's voice. Logic made a very valid argument for her to run for it and get out while she still could. But, she was already in too deep. Running away wouldn't change anything. The truth would still be there, growing in her belly. And that was an unavoidable fact.

She knew from the minute she met Grant that he was the love of her life. But, love seemed like a curse instead of a blessing. A part of her, a very big part wanted to stay and hear him out. She understood why he hadn't told her the truth. He had a secret and a family to protect. But, right now she couldn't force herself up the stairs and into the big house. She couldn't face Grant, Mouse, Nash, Nana, or any of his family right now. The baby was a part of them both. And she owed him at least the chance to explain. "Ok." She glanced over her shoulder, her heart breaking at the uncertainty in his expression. "Be at my house in forty-five minutes. Ready to talk."

"Anything you want, Claire. I'll be there." Grant watched her climb into her car and back out of the driveway, her tires spinning and spraying gravel. Charm wasn't going to win back her heart. If he wanted, if he had any hope in hell of a future with her, only the truth was going to make it happen.

Grant watched her tail lights disappear around the wide curve of the driveway and walked back into the house to shower and change.

Marianne had been watching from behind the lace curtains over the living room window. Holding her breath as Grant and Claire talked. That Claire had left and Grant walked back to the house alone didn't look hopeful. "Does Claire still love us?"

Grant pressed a kiss to the top of Mouse's head and gave her a hug. "I hope so."

Chapter 42

Needless to say the man was deeply and thoroughly rattled to the core. Narrowly escaping vampires, having to ride the city bus, and missing out on both his morning coffee and favorite blueberry sconces would do that to anybody. He'd wandered for hours after getting off the bus. Not really sure if he had a tail or not, he thought it best to avoid home base for a while. By the time he rounded the corner to his neighborhood and saw nothing behind him but poverty and dirty, rundown buildings. He was fairly sure he was completely alone.

Even as a kid, he'd always been alone. He'd never had a best friend or anyone to so much as play with. The other kids avoided him. Oh, his mom would make up excuses as to why the other kids avoided him. He wasn't born different. A mind like his took time to develop. But, as far back as he could remember, everyone with the exception of his mother, knew there was something not quite right about him. His mom was dead. The little boy everyone ignored was long since dead. But, his mind, his brilliant mind was alive. And the party constantly going on in his head took up all the empty spaces friendships, actual real relationships with real people, might otherwise occupy.

He did the things people did when they returned home. Stopping by the row of grimy lock boxes, he fished a key out of his pocket and checked his mail. There was a sales flier addressed to occupant, which he chucked to the floor and a bill that the mailman had slipped into the wrong slot. He sent the bill fluttering to the filthy carpet in a litter of torn scraps. Thinking he might be doing Mora Hernandez a huge favor by taking care of it for her. He didn't know his neighbors. He didn't care. Only a crazy person would hunt prey this close to home. His neighbors were the safest people in the city, at least, from him.

Tromping up the stairs to his efficiency apartment, he ducked under the bill of his ball cap as the old woman next door scowled at him through the grimy peephole in his door. Nosy bitch. He'd told her his name was Tom. It wasn't. He would not associate his God given Christian name with this shit hole. He was born into the world and raised as Little Timmy, Big Tim's son, and of course, as his mama's Little Angel. Big Tim liked to take out his anger on Little Timmy. He'd knock him around their one bedroom rental house. One night, he'd even beaten him unconscious. Big Tim was dead too. And Little Timmy was all grown up and he had grown up to be just like Dear Old Dad.

Using his sleeve to turn the doorknob, he let himself into his apartment. He had more aliases than a two-dollar crack whore had track marks. And not one of them consisted of any version of his real name. This week, the name he'd used to rent the storage locker was Donald Hedge. It was as good of a name for an artist as any. It was about to become the name of someone who would make headlines.

He didn't like to be rushed. But, now that the vampires could positively identify him, he had no option. He would have liked to take a few more weeks to study his prey. Make absolutely certain that he'd picked the right woman for the honor in store for her. She was about to go down a couple of rungs on the food chain and become dinner for the immortals. Once he baited a vampire in, he had to have something to feed it.

The man filled a syringe with the medication, stopping at halfway full. He sure didn't want another fuck up like last time. He wanted this woman alive and healthy. He bathed and dressed in his usual ritualistic manner. Loading up for the hunt, he carefully placed the syringe, zip ties, a blindfold, vinyl gloves, and a gag into the pockets of his cargo pants. The sun was setting below the skyline. The woman was just now getting to the gym to begin her workout. He had about an hour before full dark hit and about a half an hour beyond that to wait for her.

He parked the plain, undistinguishable white van to the side of the dilapidated train platform. It was almost dark and the train station was deserted. Decent people abandoned this part of town before sundown and he had the place to himself. His disguise for the evening was simple. A fake mustache, and a blue ball cap pulled low over his eyes. He slid into position, tucked neatly back into a blind spot between the rusting support beams of the platform's roof and battered a pop machine with a cracked display. He glanced at his watch, in a little under an hour, the woman's fate and his would be sealed.

A knock on Hunter's door dragged him out of the world of dreams and into reality. He'd been dreaming of a happier place and time. Back when his wife was alive, her pregnant belly swollen with the bulk of their third unborn child. He'd considered himself the luckiest man alive, at the time. It'd been a joke, his belief in katet, good fate. Marianne died a few weeks afterwards, after the whispered words he'd heard from her lips in his dream. He threw back the blankets and scrubbed his rough, calloused hand over his stubble-lined jaw. Although the room had the curtains drawn and there was no real way to tell what time it was. His wolf knew that night had fallen.

Hunter dragged his weary ass out of the bed and sifted through his duffel bag. Dressing in black wasn't a problem. He'd been wearing the color of dark and mourning since the day Marianne crossed the Great River. He took the time to add some holsters and weapons to his ensemble and ambled into the bathroom.

"Bus leaves in five buddy," Patrick said. He left Hunter to it. Tonight the patrols were centered in the downtown area. Hunter was right. The killer was drawing them further into his territory. In a city with over eight hundred thousand people, downtown was a lot of ground to cover. And by dawn, they planned to go over every inch of it.

Hunter splashed a handful of cold water onto his face, rinsing the dream down the drain. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. The eyes staring back at him were cold, hollow, and empty, dark as death. The eyes of a dead man who didn't have enough sense to simply give it up and lie down and die.

Marianne, his wife had been gone almost thirteen years. But, he could still smell

her scent and feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. When he closed his eyes, in his dreams, he could recall every detail of her sweet face. Seeing his kids, he saw so much of her in them. The way Marianne smiled. The way Tristen pursed his lips in concentration. The way Daniel's face lit up when he laughed. So much like the mother he'd barely known. Seeing the kids brought her back. And the pain cut him like a knife over and over again.

The dreams were just as bad. And they were the same night after night. Every night he dreamed of her. They lived in his dreams, laughing, smiling, happy. And every morning she died again and he woke up alone. He'd been so unfair to his kids. He hadn't been there for them when they needed him the most. He'd burned his soul with his wife's lifeless body on the pyre. The empty shell containing what little was left of him lived and breathed, ate and slept, but was definitely not alive. And he had not been since the day she died.

Tristen hated him for giving up. Daniel bottled up his hurt and locked it away deep inside. And Marianne, desperately longed for love and affection that he couldn't give her. The Pack tried to compensate for his shortcomings as a father. But, at the end of the day, the failure was his. His couldn't change the past. And he could not resurrect the missing parts of his soul from the dead. But, he could prevent another from feeling the sting of the loss of a wife, a mother, or a daughter. Dressed and weaponed up, he walked through the hall. His steps rang with determination. Lug soled boots striking polished hardwood floors. "Let's move out."

Gina hit the gym. Striving for consistency, so far, she hadn't missed a day. Timing her workouts down to the last second she could manage to squeeze into a very long day, she started her cool off at eight forty-five. The train hit the station at nine ten after that, the last one of the day didn't arrive till eleven forty-five. And there was no way in hell she was standing out there on an empty platform at midnight by herself. She spared a minute to study her butt in the gym's wall length mirrors. Nothing yet, as far as improvements went, her butt stubbornly refused to get on board with her plans for their future. Forcing her practiced TV personality smile, she pulled on her jacket. Gina Klein wasn't anybody, yet. But, someday, she was going to be somebody.

She shivered against the coolness of the night. Tightening the hood of her designer knock off around her head. The jacket had cost her a fortune and it wasn't even warm. Designers might know fashion. But, they didn't know dick about the fickleness of springtime in this part of the country. She glanced at her pseudo designer watch and hustled her pace. Luckily she wouldn't have a very long wait for the train. Assuming that the train was on schedule and hadn't arrived ahead of schedule.

The platform was dark and deserted. Looming ahead of her like a cheesy set from a B movie. Perfect. She was not a dumb blonde with a big set of boobs jiggling for the camera. She was Gina Klein, future news anchor. Hear her roar. A piece of glass crunched beneath the sole of her overpriced leather tennis shoes. Great. Just fucking great. Some gang of thugs had busted out all the light bulbs in the platform. Add to that the mayor, in an attempt to cut the city's overdrawn budget, had reduced the number of streetlights to less than half. She guessed in this part of town it didn't matter if the street corners were lit or not. Probably the less the better people of the city saw, the better, for the mayor's reelection.

Gina rubbed her hands together for warmth and to distract herself from her runaway imagination. Here she stood, in a not so good part of town, on a dark and deserted platform, waiting for a train that was running behind schedule. The neighborhood was unnaturally quiet. She'd grown accustomed to the serenade of gunshots, voiceless screams, traffic, and the wail of sirens to keep her company. Everyone must have called it an early night tonight. The return of unseasonably low temperatures and the chill in the air had driven everyone inside. Tomorrow, when the temperature rose back into the seventies, then everyone could go back to their raping, pillaging, and petty thievery in comfort. For tonight, it was just her, alone on a damn dark and freaking cold train platform. All that was missing was the creepy music.

Gina sucked in a sudden gasp at the sound of glass crunching underfoot behind her. Before she could turn around a hand crushed across her mouth and nose, cutting off her airway. She kicked and thrashed wildly. Not believing what was happening to her. Damn it! She was getting mugged! For what? Twenty bucks, an ancient cell phone, a pair of sweaty panty hose, and a Coach purse she'd lucked into at the Goodwill store. The backpack she used as a gym bag she'd bought for 5.99 at K-mart. She didn't have anything worth getting mugged for. Panicked, she couldn't catch her breath to scream. What if she wasn't getting mugged but worse? Oh shit! Wasn't that a cheerful thought! She fought doubly hard, trying to free herself from her attacker's grip.

The sting of a needle bit through the thin fabric of her jacket and into her deltoid. Her arm felt hot, burning, as the substance surged through her system. Her vision swam and her legs grew heavier and heavier. She didn't have the strength to fight back. She just wanted to sleep so badly. She had to stay awake. She had to fight. Her attacker's breath was hot and fetid on her neck. Her thoughts stilled as the world around her faded from dark to darkest.

The man withdrew the syringe and snapped the needle's safety device into place with his thumb. He pocketed the used syringe and dragged his guest of honor to the van. She went down easier than what he'd thought. Climbing in after her, he shut the sliding door and set to work securing her hands and feet with the zip ties in his pocket. Taping her mouth shut, he took a second to make sure she could still breathe. No mistakes this time. And suffocation really wasn't his style. Pleased with his catch and with his handiwork, he picked up her backpack and purse. Hastily, he withdrew the syringe from his pocket and pulled up the sleeve of her jacket. Finding a vein, he inserted the needle and pulled back on the plunger. Her blood was red. Palming the syringe, her purse, and backpack, he planted his clues at the train platform. Dripping her blood from the needle, he backtracked to the van before ditching the syringe in the dirt and driving off.

Claire pulled in her driveway, surrounded by nothing but safe, simple, familiarity. Nope, nothing weird here. Her house was just like every other house on the block, and the neighborhood looked just like every other neighborhood in town. Nothing weird at all. No werewolves lurking around the bushes. Everything was absolutely weird free and completely normal. She hadn't even gotten her key in the door when her cell phone started buzzing. She hadn't expected a call from Grant this soon. Shuffling the keys in her hand, she dug through her purse to locate her phone. Frowning at the display, she realized Grant wasn't calling, Ginger was. "Hello."

"Hey Chica, hope you weren't already bunking down for the night. I need to ask you a huuuuge favor."

Claire could hear Ginger on the other end of the line snapping her gum. Her Midwestern nasaly twang set Claire's teeth on edge. "What do you want Ginger?" Claire asked in irritation. Usually Ginger's requests were one sided and slanted in her favor. But, that wasn't how Ginger saw things. She'd ask for something ridiculous then balk when you didn't automatically agree with whatever she wanted.

"I know it is short notice. But, I was wondering if we could trade shifts. I could work your shift tomorrow for you and you can work my shift on Saturday for me. Please. Lori wants to take me shopping Saturday morning. Her treat. And you know this poor ol' girl aint got any money. If the kid's willing to buy, I figure why not. Right?"

Claire rolled her eyes. Of course, give up her Saturday off. She should have guessed. Ginger always pulled the kid card. Ginger knew she wouldn't say no. Not when Ginger laid it on thick and gave her some sob story about her kids. Right now, Claire just wanted to get Ginger off the phone and the quickest way to do that was to simply agree with anything she wanted. "Ok, sure. Whatever. But, you owe me big time." Juggling the phone and her purse, the screen door smacked her in the butt as she fumbled with the key in the lock and pushed the front door open with her shoulder.

"You know it girl. I'll throw you the biggest baby shower you've ever seen. Thanks so much. Love ya, girl. Bye bye now," Ginger said, hanging up.

Claire hit the end button on her phone and tossed it on the kitchen table along with her purse. Now, that her schedule was suddenly cleared for tomorrow. She could stay up late and spend her evening grilling Grant for answers. She put on a pot of coffee and kicked off her shoes. Padding barefoot through the house, she opened a few windows to clear out the stuffiness and let some fresh air in. The afternoon had grown long and lazy. She still had over a half an hour before Grant was supposed to stop by. Skipping a nap, she stripped out of her borrowed clothes and pulled a pair of shorts and a t-shirt out of her dresser. She didn't have time for a soak in the tub. Settling for a quick shower to help her get her second wind she thought about what kind of questions she was going to ask Grant and how she'd handle his answers. He'd promised to be honest with her. Showering quickly, she steeled herself for what was probably going to be a very long night.

Ginger winked at Tala. "See, no problem. I told you she'd do it." Ginger shrugged lightly, "Claire loves me. What can I say?" Ginger had performed many favors for the Sons over the years. Membership ran in her family, passed down from generation to generation. And making a simple phone call was really no big deal at all.

Tala smiled politely at the flamboyant woman. Ginger's temperament was as fiery red and vibrant as her hair. "Thank you, Ginger. I owe you." Her dad had phoned her to fill her in on what was going on between Claire and Grant. Apparently, Claire wasn't handling her new version of reality too well. And Grant wasn't doing all that well either. Tonight, the Pack would add another member to its ranks. Tristen's first shift had finally come and tonight the Pack would celebrate in true wolf fashion. Things were changing for them all. And sometimes, it was all Tala could do to keep pace with everything going on around her.

"Did you need ahhh...?" Ginger asked.

"No, I'm good." Tala answered. She really wasn't hungry and Ginger had already done her one favor already. "Besides, don't you have to work in the morning?"

"Oh, I suppose I do." Ginger smiled widely. "Aw hell, it's no big deal. I'm a sucker for love." She was slightly disappointed that Doctor Thomas Sterling was out of the running. But, love was like that sometimes.