Dawn Reclaimed

In a panic she riffled through her closet. Somewhere in this labyrinth of hangers had to be a pair of jeans that would fit. There had to be. Growling in irritation, she yanked out the pair she kept in reserves for special occasions like PMS and bloating, her fat jeans. Claire sucked in her gut as the zipper moaned in protest but zipped closed. She could hardly breathe they were so painfully tight across her stomach. The bulge hanging over the waistband put a whole new meaning to the word muffin top. Whispering a curse and wiping away a frustrated tear, she unzipped the jeans and exhaled as her gut plopped back into place.

She slid into a pair of dismal, frumpy, gray sweatpants. She was expanding rapidly and wouldn't be able to hide her condition from anyone much longer. She was going to have to tell her parents. Her dad, she could handle. She was very much a 'daddy's girl'. Her mom, however, would be less than enthused about the news. She'd never see the baby as a blessing only as a trap her daughter had willingly stepped into. Claire was going to have to face the music, no matter how bad the tune.

Dutifully, Claire sipped her tea and munched on some dry toast. Too afraid that she'd spend her morning in the throws of morning sickness if she tried to eat anything too substantial. She dug through the stack of books in the back of her closet and selected a weighty and thick textbook from the shelf. Blowing off the dust, she hadn't delved through this particular book since graduating from nursing school. According to the nursing textbook she flipped through, she shouldn't have gained but a pound or two. As huge as she felt and evidentially was, she'd probably gained at least ten pounds so far.

The baby should only be almost three inches long and weigh less than an ounce. Claire ran her finger over the glossy textbook photo. Studying the hard, dry, facts. Her baby had fingernails and a heartbeat. She patted her belly. Imagining, her baby doing something cute, like sucking his thumb.

She closed her eyes and imagined what her baby would look like? Devastatingly handsome like his father, of course, with his tanned skin and black hair. Tall and strong, like him. Maybe her baby would inherit her eyes. Perhaps, a little girl, with her hair color, pale blonde. And Grant's eyes, deep, rich, mahogany brown.

Claire gasped and compared what the textbook said should be happening with what was actually happening to her. What if she was getting big so early because there were two babies inside of her belly? What if the baby inherited something more from his father than hair or eye color? Grant had warned her that her pregnancy would not be normal. He'd said there might be complications that defied modern medicine. Her doctor's appointment wasn't for another week. She had to know exactly what she was dealing with. Was a baby growing inside of her or something else? She paced the kitchen, rubbing her stomach. What if she wasn't having a baby at all? What if her baby was a wolf?

Her fingers fumbled with her cell phone. She wanted to call Grant. To hear him reassure her that everything was going to be fine. But, what if Grant wasn't Grant at the moment? She dialed the number and hung up as his voice mail answered her call. There had to be someone she could trust, someone who would believe her, and could help. She flipped through the phone numbers on her phone's address book. Ginger was out of the question. Claire sure as hell couldn't call her mom. And her dad, he was more clueless than her mom. Thomas! He couldn't violate her secret because he was a doctor. He would know what to do. Which tests she should have to ensure that the baby was healthy and developing normally. She punched number and waited for him to pick up.

"Doctor Sterling here." The ER was incredibly slow today. A lull before the summer rush kicked off in a few weeks. All the cooks ran wild between Memorial Day and Labor Day, and each and every one of them flocked to his ER. A smile spread across his face as he heard Claire's voice on the other end.

"Sure, C'mon by. It's dead in here. I'd be happy to talk with you." He snapped his cell phone shut and tidied his Cracker Jack sized office while he waited for Claire. She sounded worried. No doubt, she had baby questions. And hopefully, he had some answers.

Grant slouched at the kitchen table sandwiched between Tala, her husband, and her father. "I told you. Claire knows about us and that's all. I didn't mention anything about the vampires. Not yet. She's had enough of a shock for one day."

"And she's taking it ok?" Tala asked.

Grant nodded, "As well as expected. How's Tristen?" He was eager to shift the subject off of Claire.

Nash shrugged. "Doing as well as expected. He, like Claire, has been thrust into a world that he didn't want to be a part of."

"Do you think he'll come to accept what he is?" Grant asked.

"Shifting takes a bit of getting used to. Hopefully, in time, he'll come to understand his nature." Nash answered. As pack master seeing after the whelp, in Hunter's absence, was his responsibility.

"How is my brother?" Grant asked.

"The last report from the city isn't good. The killer has taken a human female. He's using her scent to lead the vampires and your brother on a wild goose chase. He's playing a game with them and with her life," Nash answered.

"Damn. I should go back to the city." Grant regretted leaving picking up the slack to his brother. Hunter was a loose cannon. He didn't belong in the human world. And Grant shouldn't have put him there.

"No, your place is here with your female." Drew spoke with the authority of the Great White Wolf. The supreme pack master, who gave orders and demanded they be followed without question. Grant's only job was seeing after his pregnant female. She was going to need him in the months to come. Drew had only to take one glance at Claire to sense the life growing inside of her as Pack. And he had no idea what that truly meant. Humans didn't fare well in their world. They were too fragile for the dangers it consisted of.

"As you wish," Grant mumbled. He felt as if he should lie on the floor and roll over in submission. Like a good, obedient, dog should.

"Grant, what Drew means is that you can do more good here. Guarding the borderlands and taking care of Claire. There are more than enough warriors in the city. We'll find the woman and we'll bring the killer to justice," Tala smoothed. "You've already been such a help as it is." Kicking her husband's shin underneath the table, she glared at him. A great leader he was. But, a great diplomat, he was not.

Drew grunted and took the hint. Two hundred plus years as a leader had done nothing to improve his people skills. He should take lessons from his queen. "If there is anything we can do to help you and Claire through this difficult time. Please do not hesitate to ask. Anything you need is yours."

"Likewise, anything you and the Sons need is my honor to give." Grant bowed his head and spoke the words. What he didn't add and didn't say was the unspoken limitation to his proclamation. If the brothers or the Great White Wolf, even the Pack itself demanded his life, he was no longer free to give it. For his life belonged to Claire and their unborn child.

Grant finished his mug of coffee, sucking in a breath at the strong bitterness of the brew. Nash must have made the first pot and added an extra scoop or ten, just because he could. "When will Tristen receive his marks? I'd like to bring Claire to the ceremony. It might help her to understand things better."

"As soon as he consents. The rite has not been arranged, yet," Nash answered. A young pup should be honored to receive the marks indicating his membership into the pack. But Tristen was despondent and resistant to all things having to do with his wolf.

"Perhaps, I should take him out with me on my rounds today." Grant pushed back his chair and stood. "Tristen!" As a senior wolf, Grant could pull rank and force Tristen to come with him. But, he'd rather not use force if he didn't have to.

Tristen heard his uncle bellowing his name from the dining room on the floor below. He hated this preternatural hearing. The heavy metal he usually lost himself to hurt his ears and he couldn't bear the agony of the heavy drum beats and strains of screeching electric guitar. He took his time ambling down the stairs. He refused to cower like a dog in the presence of his elders. "What?"

"Take a walk with me, boy," Grant ordered. Unless Tristen wanted to get a boot up his ass or a set of sharp incisors on his ruff, he'd come along willingly and lose the cocky attitude.

Tristen shot a look of angst at his uncle, but followed. What other choice did he really have? His uncle was on the other side of the garage shedding his clothes, preparing to shift. Tristen rolled his eyes. Nudity didn't bother him. He'd grown up with it his whole life. Now though, things were different, with him on the other side of furry. Used to be he couldn't wait for this day to come. And the only thing he could muster for his wolf was dread.

Grant glanced over his shoulder. Tristen stood with his feet wide apart and his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. "What are you waiting for, boy?"

"Goddamnit," Tristen muttered under his breath. He took his time untying his shoes and pulling his jeans off. Scowling at the brown wolf sitting ten yards away, Impatiently waiting for him to shift and join him. Tristen stood naked in the balmy morning air and closed his eyes. Waiting for instinct to do the rest, and it did. A scream of agony ripped free from his throat as his wolf took over his body.

Claire knocked lightly on Thomas's office door. She balanced two cups of hot chocolate in her hands and tried to twist the knob with a stray finger. "A little help here."

Thomas trotted across his office and pulled the door open. He eased one of the steaming hot cups from her fingers before she dropped it. "I can't believe you actually came in this place on your day off." Thomas took a sip of the hot, sweet, liquid and plopped onto the tacky, gold, vinyl couch. "Contrary to popular belief, some doctors still do make house calls." He shot her a wide, flirtatious smile. "For their favorite patients, of course."

He noticed that Claire shifted uncomfortably on the couch. She wasn't here for a social call. She had something important to talk to him about. Today was going to be a warm one. The first truly hot day of summer, but she sat bundled up in a long sleeved sweatshirt and baggy gray sweats. "Claire, what's on your mind?"

"Thomas, I don't know what to say." Claire nervously wrung her hands. She was sweating profusely beneath the heavy lining of her fleece sweatshirt. Nothing she had fit loosely enough to hide her pregnancy except for the sweats and her pajamas. She was covered from head to toe in the thick material, bundled up for an arctic expedition when she should be wearing cut off shorts and a tank top. Being pregnant and showing it was fine in the confines of her own home. But, out in public, she wasn't ready to face the stares she'd no doubt get. "I think something is wrong with the baby."

"Claire, are you bleeding?"

"No."

"Are you having any pain?"

"No, nothing like that. Thomas, look at me." Claire stood up and lifted her sweatshirt enough to show her belly. "I'm huge."

Thomas forced the mouthful of hot chocolate down his throat in a quick swallow. Stifling a laugh. Sure, Claire was a little bit rounder than what he'd expected for as far along as she was. But, it was nothing major. She still had a decent set of curves. The added girth to her abdomen and the swell of her enlarged breasts made her look all the more beautiful. He pressed a hand to her puffy belly. "Claire, it's just more a few extra pounds of baby fat. Nothing, to worry about."

"Don't placate me. I'm serious. Thomas, I need to know if something is wrong with the baby." She sank back down onto the couch and buried her face in her trembling hands.

"Claire, what makes you think that there is? You know there's nothing you can't tell me." Gently he took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm very good at keeping secrets."

Claire bit her lip and nodded. Would telling Thomas be betraying Grant and his kind? Probably didn't matter, he wouldn't believe her anyway. Who would? Thomas, like her before last night, was firmly grounded in scientific facts. Physiology was a religion of sorts, and the truth by which the medical profession lived and breathed. He wouldn't believe her. His scientific mind wouldn't allow it. "Grant has a... condition."

Thomas's eyebrows knit together in a frown. "A condition? Something hereditary that might harm the baby?"

Claire nodded her head, stifling a sob with shaky breath.

"Oh geez, Claire, don't cry," Thomas pleaded. He now remembered the reason why he chose Emergency Medicine over Obstetrics. He couldn't handle an office full of sobbing, hysterical, pregnant women with absolutely nothing wrong with them. He got up and fished around on his desk for a Kleenex. "Here," he said, thrusting the tissue into her hand.

He sat down next to her and waited for the sobs to dry up. "Claire, I need you to tell me exactly what kind of condition Grant has. I need to know what tests to order and what to look for. I can call in a favor or two from a specialist in the city and arrange for a chorionic villus sampling to be done. There are all sorts of experts in the field that can help you."

"Thomas, I need a friend. Not a doctor. There is no 'fix' for this problem."

"Claire, you don't know that for sure. You have to tell me...everything. I'm asking you to as your friend and as a doctor."

Claire bit her lip. She blurted it out before she lost her courage. Preparing for him to laugh at her. Surprised and shocked as hell when he didn't. "Grant is a werewolf."

"Shit, I should have known. Damn, Claire," Thomas muttered under his breath. Of course, Grant was a werewolf. It explained so much. The way Grant had acted or rather overreacted when they met. Claire was pregnant with Grant's baby. And the man saw him as an unwelcome intruder on what he considered to be his property. Primarily, Claire.

Thomas had treated an occasional werewolf. And their physiology was no different from a human's. At least, when they were in human form. As for when the wolf took over, he'd never gotten close enough to check and had no plans of doing so anytime in the foreseeable future. But, he didn't know dink about what was considered normal during a werewolf pregnancy. The researcher inside of him cheered gleefully at the opportunity to delve into another project. His mind was a blur of possibilities. The werewolves healed unnaturally fast. If he could harness that power without the side effect of going all furry, he could save thousands, perhaps, millions of lives.

Doc had cautioned him about the folly and the dangers of such thinking. There was no way to research the paranormal world and how it might serve mankind best without divulging the secrets and endangering them all. Thomas had the brothers to think about. Claire and her unborn child to think about. And primarily, his mother to think about. Researching the hidden power of the preternatural world had to wait. The millions he so desperately wanted to save had no choice but to die a natural, human death. He would not and could not put the people he loved at risk. Yes, it was selfish of him. Yes, it made him less of a human being and more like the predatory preternatural beings whose secrets he protected. But, what other choice did he have?

"You... you know about them?" Claire stammered. She stared at him unblinking at the proper lack of disbelief and shock in his eyes when she'd spilled her deepest, darkest secret. Apparently, Thomas was very good at keeping secrets. He hid one hell of a secret from everyone.

"Claire," Thomas took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She'd trusted him with her secret and it was time, past time for him to trust her with his. "Werewolves aren't the only supernatural beings out there." He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. "Welcome to the land of OZ, Dorothy."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Claire whispered. Her head spun at the thought of what really lurked, slunk, slithered, flew, and crept around in the dark, hidden from human eyes.

"Not in my office you don't." Thomas bolted for the black, plastic trashcan by his desk. He plopped the can unceremoniously between her feet and went to the mini-fridge in the back of his office to retrieve three bottles of water. "Take a deep breath and drink up. You need a full bladder. I'm going to do an ultrasound. Get a peek at the little guy shacking up with my best girl."

Claire did exactly as she was told. She took a deep breath and began guzzling the water. When she was finished, her stomach waterlogged and sloshing miserably. She drank the now cold, hot chocolate. "Thomas, just exactly what else is out there?"

"Claire, you didn't see a ghost. My mom...she's alive and well."

"Thomas, that's not the least bit funny. And the ghost, it wasn't really there. I just thought I saw something in the yard. I was just tired that night. Your mom couldn't possibly be alive. She is gone, Thomas. I'm sorry to say that. And I know it's terrible of me to do so. But, she was so sick. That time I took care of her, she knew then, she didn't have long left." Perhaps she wasn't the only one who needed long and expensive psychotherapy sessions after all.

"I didn't say that she wasn't dead. Just that she is still alive and well. She's...undead, Claire." Thomas shrugged out of his lab coat and slid the neckline of his scrub top off his shoulder. Stretching his neck and pushing his earlobe forward for Claire to see the intricate design tattooed behind his right ear. He shivered as her fingers brushed over the indigo marks.

"They're beautiful. What are they? But, what do they have to do with your mother, Thomas. And exactly, what do you mean by 'Undead'." She was hooked on cheesy vampire novels and B movie flicks. There was only one definition for Undead. Thomas had gone out on a limb and believed her. But, she really didn't want to believe that there were blood-sucking demons feasting on human blood. Not Barbara, she was too nice for that.

"They indicate my status in an ancient brotherhood of supernatural beings." Thomas eased Claire's fingers from his neck.

"You're not human?" Her world shifted. And she felt dangerously close to giving in and letting the darkness swallow her whole down the rabbit hole.

"Oh no, you're wrong about that. I'm very human. All human, just the same as you are. I am a human donor."

Claire's mouth formed the words. But, they came out barely audible, a whisper. "What...exactly, what do you donate?"

"I was out on the bluffs, rock climbing when I first met them. Or shall I say, they met me. I'd fallen. My injuries would have killed me, if one of them hadn't stumbled across my broken body, shared their gift, and saved my life. Since that time, I've been faithful to the cause. I am a physician, Claire. But, not all of my patients are human.

"Blood, Claire. Their blood heals. It saved me and it gave my mother a new life. She was too close to death for their blood to restore her to health without dying in the process. Too much damage had been done to her frail, weak body, she'd simply been sick too long."

"What are they? Your mother?"

"Vampires, Claire. I'm really surprised that you haven't figured it out before now. You're such a bright woman. You saw a couple of the brothers that night at my house. They scared you shitless. You shouldn't have been able to sense that they weren't human. Too often the human eyes see only what the mind wants them to see. But, you did see them, Claire, for what they are. Or maybe, you didn't see it and your baby did."