Dawn Reclaimed

Grant quickly showered and changed. He didn't have a wide variety of clothes left at the house to choose from. But, the worn, faded blue jeans and broadcloth button down in a soft, woodsy shade of green were ok. He was in the bathroom dragging a comb through his hair, contemplating let it grow out again when Mouse knocked on his open bedroom door. "Hey, Mouse."

Marianne hopped on the bed, stirring the covers and Claire's scent trapped within them. "Tristen turned into a wolf today."

"He did?" Grant had been so tied up with Claire that he hadn't sensed the newest addition to the pack. "How's he doing?"

"Eh, he's alright," she shrugged. "He's downstairs with Nana and Grandpa. When his wolf came out...it was so awesome! I can't wait for my turn. How much longer do you think it be?"

"Only the Goddess knows." Grant snatched Mouse off the bed and gently spun her. Like he used to do when she was little. She wasn't so little anymore. And sometimes, she tolerated him, when he forgot.

"Are you going to Claire's?" Marianne tipped her head curiously as she asked the question. She personally could see nothing wrong with being a wolf. And she couldn't understand why Claire was so afraid. The Pack was so much easier to understand than people. If someone was pissed at you, you knew it. Nobody held a grudge for very long. Arguments were explosive. But, they were quick and to the point. And afterwards, everyone went back to being family again. People were more complex. They let their emotions get in the way of common sense too often. And that caused them to miss out on so much.

"That's my plan." Grant slid his feet into his boots and tugged Mouse gently out of his room by her ponytail.

Marianne hugged her uncle tightly, unwilling to let go. Sometimes, the world felt as if it were closing in around her. As if she were growing up too fast and sometimes, not soon enough. Everything was changing, too fast. And while she was eager for herself to change, she didn't want the whole world, her world, to change too. If one change were a catalyst for other changes, rather than change, she'd stay a little girl forever. "Bring Claire home to us. This is where she belongs."

"I know. I'm going to try." Grant patted Mouse gently on the back and pried her arms from around his waist. Sometimes, she broke his heart. The girl missed her father. Not the father she knew and called dad. But, the father she'd been deprived of when her mother died. Grant could not take Hunter's place. And he'd never try.

"You don't think she doesn't love me anymore, do you?" Marianne's eyes bubbled with tears. "You don't think she doesn't love me because when I grow up I'll be a wolf too, do you?"

"I know Claire loves you, very much. She's just afraid. She doesn't understand how we live."

"You'll tell her won't you? How much I love her and how much I miss her. You'll make her understand. Right? She won't leave us for good if she really loves us, will she? People don't stop loving you just because they're afraid, do they?"

Grant sighed. If he had his way Mouse would never grow up. She'd spend her life locked away reading books with happy endings and believing in them. Slowly, time was changing the little girl into a woman. And, she would have a woman's heart. Someday, although he prayed it wouldn't happen, that heart would inevitably break. He couldn't lie to her. Things might not work out with Claire. He couldn't build Mouse's hopes up only to crush them later. "Sometimes, Mouse, sometimes they do."

Marianne lowered her face and studied the floor beneath her feet. She wanted Claire to come back and to be her friend. But, more than anything else, she wanted Claire to be happy. Even if that meant that Claire never came back. "You'll try though. You'll really try."

"I will." Grant dropped to his knees and squeezed Mouse gently in a hug. "I don't want to lose her either." He released Mouse and chucked his finger under her chin. "Take care of your brother for me will you?"

Marianne forced a smile. "Okay."

Grant took the stairs two at a time. Slowing when he reached the landing. Tristen sat, slouched at the kitchen table. Looking disheveled and dirty. Wrapped up with a thick quilt around his shoulders, sipping tea. He absently stared out the sliding glass window. The mug shook in his trembling fingers as he attempted to set the delicate china mug on the table.

Tristen held the blanked closed. Pulled tightly around his aching body. His whole body shook and trembled as the wolf clawed beneath the surface. He'd never known such agony as he had when the wolf too control of his body. Bones lengthening and muscles shortening and thickening, skin shedding as fur sprung out of his pores. Utter misery. Tristen knew it would come. He knew he'd shift. And he'd known that it would happen soon. Everyday he spent after age eighteen as a human was borrowed time. And his time had run out. He glanced in Grant's direction and then turned back to stare out the patio door.

Grant recognized the look in his nephew's eyes. It was one of utter despair. In the beginning, he too had that same look. Tristen didn't want the gift of the wolf any more than Grant had at his age. Grant wanted to escape the trap of his heritage. He had big dreams and he was going to live them, until the shift came and put an end to them.

The gift of the wolf was a curse too. The wolf made a man more than human. Preternatural speed and agility, uncanny senses were its gift. The rapid sands of time slowed to a trickle when the wolf emerged. But, it also meant life as a pack member. Trapped in a family, a small part of a greater whole. To escape meant to deny the wolf, to deny the goddess, and to die as a human. Without the magic of the pack and the wolf, time sped by. Days spent as nothing more than a human were brief and gone in the blink of an eye.

Grant remembered the feeling of the first shift all too well. Years spent in pain and confusion. Learning to live and to share with the beast inside. Acceptance was slow in coming. He had to spend time without his pack and his wolf to truly appreciate what it meant to be one of them. He kept his mouth shut. Tristen had many things to consider. Tristen's life was filled with more options than he could begin to fathom at this point. Grant hoped that Tristen took the time to consider them all and choose his path wisely.

A young man like Tristen needed his father. Nash and he were piss poor substitutes for the man who should be guiding the boy on his first steps into this life. He and Nash were the closest thing to a father that Tristen had. Grant paused. He needed to be with Claire, but Tristen needed him too. "Tristen."

Tristen heard the keys jingling and felt Grant's eyes on him. Grant had tried to be the father that his own could not. This time, there was nothing that Grant could do or say to make things better. No pat answer or tidbit of advice was going to be enough to smooth over the gulf that his old man's absence left in its wake. The best thing Grant could do for him was to go and take care of Claire. Be the father to his child that his father could not and had not been to him. "Go, just go."

Grant cast one last glance over his shoulder. The boy was staring into the afternoon sunlight, watching day fade to evening. His shoulders shook violently as the shift threatened to tear his body in two. He'd give Tristen some space. Give him time. Wait and see. He would not allow the nephew that he loved as a son to follow the same path of self-destruction that he had.



Chapter 43

Hunter didn't need his wolf to figure out something had gone down at the train station. There was broken glass scattered across the concrete platform. There were deep gauges in the soft, damp mud, stopping at the edge of the pavement. Boot prints bordered the drag marks. The woman had been hauled off against her will and taken away. He knelt and studied a tire track at the edge of the street. Cursing softly under his breath as he stood and stared into the darkened streets. There was no way he could track the woman.

The abductor had been kind enough to leave her backpack at the scene. No doubt, to taunt them. Hunter took the wallet from Patrick and flipped through the contents. He focused the flashlight's narrow beam on the driver's license. The license was renewed two years ago. A pretty woman with blonde highlights smiled in the photo. Gina Kleinschmidt was her name, although she was better known to the world, at least by the business card tucked into her wallet, as Gina Klein.

He knelt and sifted through the backpack. The backpack contained work clothes. A skirt and blouse, panty hose and a spike heeled pair of pumps in black leather. Hunter lifted the clothes to his nose and drew in the scent of her. Gina smelled of the musk and floral blend of expensive perfume. But, underneath of the sweet chemical blend was the gentle smell of hay and autumn nights. The vampires were fixated on the droplets of her blood, scattered in a trail from the platform to the edge of the street. Of course, blood would matter more to them than it did to him.

The pieces were on the board and the killer had made the first move. They had the woman's scent, her address, her photo, and her name. But, the killer had the woman.

The objective of the game was simple. See if they could find the woman before he killed her. See if they could get in, grab the girl, and get away without getting captured or killed in the process. The rules were the unknown. The killer was the one who made them. How long would he toy with her? What kind of tortures did he have in mind to pass the time while he waited for them to catch up? Would he punish her if they failed to find her in time? How long did she have left to live? That was all his to decide.

As far as Hunter was concerned, there were no rules. At least none that he planned to follow. A woman was missing and every second that she spent in the bastard's hands was a second too long. God help that son of a bitch if he harmed one hair on her blonde head. But, of course, he was already well out of God's reach. He had hurt the woman and for that, Hunter would rip him apart limb from limb and let his wolf feast on the entrails.

Hunter couldn't find the woman, not in his human skin. He was never more vulnerable than when he shifted. During those few seconds of hovering between forms and worlds, when his humanity was stripped away and his wolf had yet to emerge. He found a dark corner as far away from the vampires as possible and began stripping out of his gear and clothes, dropping them onto the concrete into a disorderly heap. Calling on the ancient strength of the goddess and pack magic, he gave himself over to his wolf.

The wolf shook out his shaggy ruff. The noise and stench of the city confused him, at first. But, he quickly caught on and filtered the distractions out. He growled in warning at the vampires and silently padded onto the platform. Wisely, the vampires backed off and left him to it. Nose buried in the backpack, he sniffed the gentle scent of the female. Lifting his muzzle into the cool night air, he tracked her fragrance down along the platform and to the street.

Dane stood to the side and let the wolf do its thing. Truly the animal was an awesome sight. Powerful muscle rippled beneath a thick layer of deceptively soft, dark fur. The wolf's eyes were as intense as the man's who shared its body. Apparently, personality carried over in the transition from man to beast. The trail of blood droplets was just a taunt. Any vampire, even a baby one, could track the scent of blood for miles. The trail ended where the wolf stood huffing in frustration. Yeah, they were frustrated too. The killer was playing with them.

Carter shoved his hands deeply into his pockets. Staring out at the dark towering skyscrapers looming in the distance. He was losing his city. Not to rogues, but to a human. One man threatened the lives entrusted to his keeping. Nobody blamed him or his Guardians. Fault was never implied. He bore the guilt anyway. A fourth woman was out there. Still alive, he hoped. Although, things might be better for her if she weren't. At least dead was painless. The Sons were big believers in justice. He was too. It was just that his justice and the justice his Guardians doled out was a bit different than the brotherhoods. The killer was going to get back exactly what he'd given. And he would make a very tasty meal the Guardians would savor.

Gina struggled to open her eyes. But, they wouldn't cooperate. Her head was fuzzy and throbbed furiously. She tried to shift her position, but her limbs were too heavy to move. Her mouth was dry and felt as if it were stuffed with a wad of cotton. She was laying down on something hard. A cot? Her lips moved fruitlessly. Her voice was raspy and weak and couldn't speak the words.

"Oh good. You're awake." The voice was a man's, cheerful and very congenial as it continued on with an explanation. "I have to get some blood from you. Just a little." Something cold rubbed against her arm and she winced at the prick of a needle. Was she in a hospital? She fought against the black fog swirling in her brain. Nothing made much sense. Surely, she was ok or she wouldn't be getting her blood drawn. Gina tried to relax and go with the lie. But, the pieces she remembered didn't fit with being safe.

"Don't want to waste it." The man said as he pressed a cotton ball against the needle and withdrew the syringe. "All done. That wasn't so bad, now was it?" He was going to take his time. The vampires would smell her blood and follow the trail wherever it led. Wherever he led them. He had no plans to make it easy. This was his moment and he was the one in charge. The trap was set and all he had to do was wait for the prey to come to him.

He popped the plastic top off a water bottle and slipped a straw inside. "Here, love. Take a drink. Can't have you getting dehydrated and dying on me. You're very, very important to me."

Gina felt the plastic tip of the straw press against her lips. She sucked weakly. Drawing the tiniest bit of the cool liquid into her mouth. The water was icy cold and so good. Slowly, with each sip, her mind began to clear. She was on the train platform waiting. And someone, a man, grabbed her. She'd been drugged and was still feeling the effects. Her stomach rebelled at the coolness of the water. Her thoughts were confusing and disjointed. And her limbs felt so heavy. She was in danger and she barely had the wherewithal to care. But, she needed to care, desperately.

She forced her eyes to focus. The man smiled down at her and winked. Her attacker looked so normal. So harmless. He was just a guy you passed on the street, completely ignored, and immediately forgot. There was nothing about his appearance that stood out. Ordinary brown hair, medium build, pale eyes, a good ol' boy smile, straight, white teeth, clean shaven, nothing that screamed maniac. But, that was exactly what he was.

"That's a good girl," the man cooed. He relished the expression of sheer terror on her pretty face. Her eyes sparked with confusion. Her mind couldn't process what she was seeing. And he knew what she saw as she looked at him. His ordinariness was his best disguise. He pulled the straw from her lips and set the water bottle on the floor beside her cot. "Don't bother trying to get away. I've given you just enough length of chain to stand up. The cot is bolted to the floor. Your wrists and ankles are secured with chain. But, like I said, you're valuable to me. So, I've taken measures for your comfort." He nodded to the makeshift toilet, a five-gallon bucket with a toilet seat on the top.

He'd never kept a victim alive before. So, he had to guess at what a victim needed to stay alive. He had a couple of dog-eared novels to entertain her. A stack of snack cakes and beef jerky for her to eat, and a case of bottled water. That should be enough. He didn't want to overstock, in case the vampires found her early. No point in wasting money. But, he wanted her healthy until the right time. "I'll come back and check on you later. Don't bother screaming, no one in this neighborhood would notice anyway."

She was a pretty woman. Everything about her screamed helpless victim from the tips of her porcelain nails to the top of her bleached blonde highlights. She wasn't dainty. No, a wilting flower would not do for his purposes. She was curvy and feminine, not rail thin and tiny. Sturdy enough to survive everything he had in store for her. He'd chosen well when he picked her. She had exactly the qualities he valued most in his victims. And this woman would not go down without a fight. She had that spark in her eyes. This one wanted to live, desperately. She tried to twist away from him as he cupped her chin in his palm and brought her face to his. "You will be my best work yet." He shot her a smile as he left with her jacket tucked neatly over his arm.

Gina was fully awake now and wished she wasn't. She wasn't watching a horror movie on TV. She was in one. Experimenting, she lifted a leg off the cot. He'd given her just enough slack to shuffle over to the bucket. How thoughtful of him. He'd left her with a few bottles of water, a bit of food, and a book to read. The good news, she guessed, was that he planned to keep her alive for now. Alive was good, wasn't it?

Her eyes ran along the gray cinder block walls of her cell and locked on the heavy brown, steel door. He was right, she could scream all she wanted and no one would hear her. She was in a storage room of some sort. Where, she didn't know. She couldn't discern even the slightest muffled sound from the outside world. Her eyes widened at the display across the room. If she could reach the tools, she could probably find something she could use to garner her freedom from the chains and maybe, her cell. The table was too far away for her to reach. Too scary for her to consider what he had in store for her. If she could reach just one of the stainless steel blades glimmering in the garish light of the bare overhead bulbs, she could end her life herself. Beat him to it and spare the torture he had in mind for her.

She was alive. But, dead might be better. And maybe, someone else might be willing to act on that impulse. There were ways to do it. He hadn't taken every possibility away from her. She could work a hole in the mattress cover and make a noose from the torn fabric. Strangulation might be an option. She might be strong enough to work free a piece of the cot's steel frame and slit her wrists with a sharp edge. Make it quick. She could refuse to eat or drink. Lie on this cot in her own piss and simply give up. But, she didn't want to die. For now, she kept the option of her own self-demise planted in the back of her mind. He'd taken her watch and she didn't know how much time had passed. But, it couldn't have been that long. Someone would notice she was missing. There had to be someone out there who cared, just a little. Until there was no hope left, she had to hang on. She hadn't come this far just to die at the hands of a maniac. Headlines or not.

Heavy, thick log chains secured to the wall with thick, eyebolts and locks had her trembling with dread. She wasn't that strong. She couldn't break free of the lighter, thinner chains and the makeshift steel manacles around her wrists and ankles he'd used to keep her secured to the bed. Rolls of steel cabling were stacked neatly in the corner. He meant to do something. Something awful, obviously to her, and that was bad, very bad.

"Think, Gina, think." She had nothing. No conceivable way out of this mess. Her mind still on the blink from whatever he'd shot into her and she couldn't think clearly. Tears of panic and fear welled up in her eyes. She was going to die. No question about that. The question was when. And the worst question, one she didn't want to think about was how. "Shit, shit, shit!" She struggled fruitlessly against her bindings and managed only to rub her skin raw. Oh yeah, Gina Klein was going to be on the news, not as an anchorwoman, though. But she would get her headlines, as a corpse, a damned corpse when or if the cops ever found her mangled remains.