Dawn Reclaimed

"Enough!" Grant had about all he could take of this woman. She had insulted him and her daughter. Dismissed their love as infatuation. And viewed their baby as a curse, an embarrassment, and an inconvenience. He wrapped an arm around Claire's shoulders and handed her a napkin to dry her tearstained cheeks. She shrank like a deflated balloon, the color draining out of her face. Her chest heaved as she tried to swallow back her sobs. In less than two minutes the bitter and hurtful words from Dena's mouth had reduced Claire to tears. And he thought he could like this woman. That somehow, Dena was misunderstood and Claire was overreacting, she wasn't. Claire's mother was a bitch. And he did not use that word lightly.

"I'm not marrying Claire because she's pregnant. I'm marrying her because I love her. The baby, my son, is going to be born into a loving, caring family. And if you choose not to be a part of his life or of ours, that suits me just fine. I'll make sure you get a wedding invitation and a birth announcement. But, as far as anything else, that's entirely up to you. However, I'd recommend that you keep your condemning, self-righteous, judgmental attitude to yourself. Or you will not be welcome in our lives." Grant scooted back his chair. Standing to fish two twenties out of his wallet, he slammed them on the table. "That should cover lunch."

"Wait. Please, sit down and let's discuss this." Dena locked a hand around Grant's wrist. "Please. I overreacted. But, my daughter is precious to me. This is all a bit of a shock. Please," she asked. She did not want to lose her daughter to a man. And it was so obvious that was where this was headed. She was a good mom. And Grant's fierceness had taken her completely by surprise. She'd expected him to cower and back down as soon as her claws came out. He hadn't. He'd gotten in her face and dished out as well as she'd given. "Please."

Claire's eyes darted from her infuriated fiancée to her humbled and frazzled mother. It was her mom's last fleeting please that did her in. Her mom was just being her mom. She couldn't help it. "Grant, please. Sit."

Huffing with displeasure, Grant complied with Claire's request and sat. Scowling angrily at her mother, but by some miracle he managed to keep his mouth shut. Claire blew out a deep breath. "Mom, you're right I should have told you sooner, about everything. It just all happened so fast. I'm sorry to spring it on you like this. I really am. But, mom, can you please try to be just a little happy for us? I need you to. I really, really do."

"Oh baby, I am. I just don't want to see you make the same mistakes that I did. History has a way of repeating itself and I'd hoped... you're so much smarter than I was at your age. I'd hoped this time... history wouldn't happen twice." Dena forced a bitter smile on her face and reached across the table to take Claire's hand. "Maybe, you two will do better than your dad and I did." She reached across the table and squeezed Claire's hand. Blinking away a tear before it ruined her mascara, she dropped her eyes away from Claire's hurt expression. "I just...I want so much better for you."

"You still have feelings for dad don't you?" Claire asked. Returning her mother's squeeze, she saw through the tears and bitterness to the shattered remains of a twenty-something girl's tender heart. She'd always believed her mother held a general disdain for the entire male species in general. She'd never realized that her mother ever thought about her father until now. And that the anger her mother fostered for men was deeper than the superficial. She'd blamed her mom for everything, for the divorce, for her dad leaving. But, there was more to it than what met the eye and a little girl's memories. Her mom was the way she was out of fear. If she didn't feel, she couldn't get hurt. And her dad had hurt her mom. Through the glimmering sheen of unshed tears in her mother's eyes, Claire saw it. There was still something there. Her mother felt, deeply, perhaps, too deeply. Something she'd thought didn't and couldn't exist in the cold, stony, depths of her mother's heart was indeed there. Love.

"You don't have to like someone to love them. That's what makes it all the harder," Dena admitted. Of course, she still loved her ex- husband. She just couldn't live the kind of life he offered her. She hadn't wanted it for herself and she didn't want it for her daughter. "We were too young."

Grant didn't have to be Freud to understand what was going on here. Claire's mother nursed old hurts. Her anger was a byproduct of her pain. Forgiveness was a two way street. And while he wasn't certain if Claire needed to forgive her mother or her mother had someone else to forgive, perhaps her self, healing needed to happen. He kept quiet and munched on a few fries while the women came to a tentative and very fragile peace.

"So, when's the wedding?" Dena asked. She switched to ice water after she'd drained her second martini dry. The salad sat untouched on the plate in front of her. She couldn't bring herself to take a bite. She had a one o'clock appointment scheduled on the outskirts of town. Some big wig had pulled up stakes and was selling properties left and right. Made for a nice profit, assuming she ever managed to find a buyer. Some of the property was in good shape, some not. The showing was just an open plot of flattened land. There used to be a house on it, a bit dilapidated rotting farmhouse that burned to the ground sometime last year. She'd been romancing an investment brokerage for months. The flat acreage would make for a nice housing subdivision. But, not if she didn't show up to that appointment and sell the idea. Her appointment would wait. She reminded herself that money wasn't everything and kept her ass planted in her seat.

"Not sure yet."

"So, you're having a boy. What are you going to name my... grandson?"

"Not sure yet."

Dena rubbed her temples with the tips of her brightly polished porcelain nails. Claire was so much like her father that it gave her a migraine. Procrastinating till the last damn minute on everything. "Well, on your next day off, let's go do some baby shopping, and some wedding planning. I won't have you putting any grandson of mine in a dresser drawer because you haven't bought a crib yet."

"A dresser drawer?" Grant scoffed.

"That's what we did with her when we brought her home from the hospital. We were poor as church mice and her father had this crazy idea to build her a crib. Surprise, she came early and therefore, the necessity of a dresser drawer until we could afford something better." A winsome smile crossed Dena's face as she remembered. Those were trying, but very happy times. Back when she'd been desperately and madly in love with Claire's father and had believed that love could conquer all. "I don't think your father ever did finish that crib."

"You didn't," Claire gasped as he mother nodded. Playfully feigning shock, she pressed her hand to her heart. Her mother's laughter tickled her ears. That was the first time she'd heard her mother laugh since, well, as long as she could remember. "No wonder I turned out the way I did. A dresser drawer? Really?"

Dena chuckled and shrugged. "Sorry." She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin and draped it over her uneaten salad. A comfortable silence had settled over the three of them and there really wasn't much else to say. "I should get going. This afternoon, I'm showing some properties." Dena smiled as Grant rose from his seat as she stood. She patted Grant on the shoulder. "It was really very nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Grant nodded.

Claire exchanged a warm hug with her mother. Her fist real hug from her mom in as long as she could remember. "I'll give you a call and we'll go out and spend some money."

Dena gripped her clutch and walked out of the bar. She stopped long enough to knock on the glass window and waved at Claire and Grant on her way to her car. She wished them the best. Maybe, they'd make it. Maybe, they had something she and Claire's father hadn't.

"That went better than expected." Claire waved to her mom and sank into the booth. Her fries were cold and the chicken tenders were extra greasy. Not wanting to risk it, she pushed her plate to the side.

"I'm glad. I think your mother and I are going to get along just fine."

"I hope so. You want to meet my dad? He's home from work by now and probably puttering around in the garage. After surviving my mother, dad will be easy."

Grant smiled. "Sure."



Chapter 54

"Fuck!" Patrick hissed. He'd stumbled upon a mix of scents coming from an alleyway, behind a dumpster. Hunter. The woman. A backpack, Hunter's backpack, was stuffed in a narrow crack between the rough, rust colored brick building and a puke green metal dumpster. Patrick riffled through the backpack and pulled out an envelope reeking of blood. He shuffled through the pictures of the woman and clutched the lock of her hair in his fist. "Goddamn it!" The woman's suffering made him ill. She wasn't going to make it and neither was Hunter, if they didn't hurry.

John Mark stared over Patrick's shoulder, eying the snapshots. Rage filled his mind with black thoughts. "That son of a bitch. He's toying with us. And now he's got the ultimate bargaining chip. Hunter."

"You think a human is a match for a wolf?"

Carter landed on silent feet in the alleyway from his drop off the rooftop above. "Apparently so." He extended his hand, holding a scrap of blood soaked black T-shirt in his fist. "We found it about two blocks from here."

"He's hiding them right under our fucking noses." Dane dropped down from the roof and landed behind Carter. "But how?"

The man leaned against the corner of the building. Smugly watching the baffled vampires volley questions like a ball. He had called the cops, an anonymous tip from a concerned citizen, left on the crime stopper's hotline. Any minute this area would be swarming with black and whites. The vampires wouldn't dare risk an attack. "It's quite simple really. Bleach. Vinegar. Ammonia. Stings a little. But, it covers any scent. Especially the smell of blood."

The man blinked. One minute the vampires were in the back of the alley. The next they stood toe to toe with him. Surrounding him. He'd underestimated how quickly they could move. Faster than a blink of an eye from one spot to the next. "I wouldn't if I were you," he said, nodding to the patrol car idling toward them. "I think I have something that belongs to you." he said with a grin. "I'd be happy to return your pet in exchange for something I desire."

"Can we just kill the son of a bitch already?" Patrick hissed. He was done playing games with this fucker. He was sick of finding scraps of blood soaked cloth like a trail of breadcrumbs, leading him absolutely nowhere.

Dane stretched out an arm and held Patrick back. Oh yeah, they could definitely arrange to send this man on a one-way pass straight to hell. He'd had illusions that he could do the right thing and deliver this killer into human hands. Let the humans do justice their way. At this point, his previous thoughts weren't even an option. After seeing those pictures, the killer had crossed the line. And he was going to die slowly and painfully. And Dane didn't care which preternatural group got to the bastard first as long as he was dead as the end result. "And what would that be?"

"Give me the blonde and I'll give you the woman and the werewolf. I hadn't even suspected a thing about the werewolves until now. Amazing creatures. But, the werewolf isn't that much fun to play with. Plus my tastes don't range to men. Think about it. What a deal I'm offering you. Two lives for the price of one. I think that's rather generous of me, don't you?"

"Why would we willingly turn Anna over to you?" John Mark asked as he leered down at the man. Damn. He could reach out and snap his neck in less than a second. Or he could spend days, cutting and draining Hunter and Gina's location out of him. Either option sounded extremely doable right now.

"Because I'll kill them both if you don't." The man jumped away from a meaty hand reaching for his shirt to pull him closer. "That mistake will cost you. Perhaps remove one of her delicate fingers or one of the werewolf's balls. Maybe both, I can't decide. Touch me again and they die. Kill me now and you'll never find them. Your choice." He straightened his shirt as the smaller one of the bunch released him. "I'll meet you back here tomorrow for your answer. I'll keep them alive till then." He turned his back and ambled down the street, faking coolness in contrast to his shaky insides. Meeting the deliverers of his death face to face was enthralling. The blonde beauty would be his savior. And if she failed him, if she spared his life, it would be the last mistake she ever made. He was ready to die. Fall victim to her fatal kiss and in that kiss, live forever.

He climbed down through a vented grate in the sidewalk. The various buildings of the warehouse district were connected by a series of subterranean pathways. Intended to reduce traffic on the streets above when this part of town and production facilities were in their heyday in the Seventies. Occasionally, some homeless person would stumble across the tunnels. But, for the most part, they were abandoned and forgotten. These tunnels had saved his life. He could traverse the entire downtown area in less than an hour. And they were the easiest way to get back to his special visitors without risking the vampires trailing him. The tunnels stank like decay, rat droppings, and stagnant water fetid with contagion. And in them, he felt right at home.

Gina twisted on her cot. The man, Hunter, had been tirelessly tugging at his bindings and making one hell of a racket for hours. "Would you please stop it! Get a clue. We're not getting out of here."

"I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you. And it bothers you so much that I prefer to try rather than lie down and wait to die like a sheep. Like you seem so content to do" Hunter bit out the words. If he could work an eyebolt loose he might be able to get a hand free. If he could get that hand around the man's neck. He could strangle him.

"Don't you think I tried? It's no use." Gina held up her badly abused wrists for Hunter to see. "What were you thinking anyway? Busting in here alone. What is wrong with you? Do you have a Rambo complex or something?"

"Do ya' think you could be a little more constructive here? I'm trying save our fucking, collective necks." Hunter panted against the strain of pulling against the chains. There had to be a way to get free. His wolf did not do well in captivity and it was just a matter of time before he lost control. And if he weren't out of his current predicament before then, he'd strangle to death. And that was not how he intended to go down.

"Oh, you're doing a real bang up job." Gina snorted. "At least you do improve the view around here." She was really beginning to crumble under the stress. Another day or two, if she had that long, and she'd be a cackling psych case drooling on herself and reciting poetry. Even if by some miracle Hunter did manage to rescue her. Her mind would be beyond salvageable. "Why are you naked anyway? What'd he do to you?" She shook her head. "Never mind, I'd rather not know."

"It wasn't anything like that," Hunter gritted. "Nothing like what you're thinking. But still, I'd rather not say."

"Fine by me." Gina crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs together. Fighting her bladder, she'd been holding it for hours. But, she was not going to drop her pants in front of a stranger.

"What are you doing?" Hunter asked. Gina was squirming on the cot like she had an itch in a bad place or ants in her pants.

"I've got to take a piss."

"Well. He gave you a bucket. Go."

"Not in front of you."

Hunter blinked and gave her an incredulous stare. "What? I'm standing here stark naked spread eagle and you're embarrassed to take a piss in front of me?" He smirked. "You've got to be joking. What do you think I'm going to do when I've got to go? I'm going to let it fly."

"Eeeewwwww. Really?"

"Um, yeah. Really. What other option have I got here? Now will you go?"

"No."

"I won't look." Hunter turned his attention back to the chains. He'd already tried to loosen the rope around his neck and inadvertently ended up working it that much tighter. He had to keep his emotions in check. He hurt. He was frustrated and enraged by his stupidity. He had to be careful or his emotions would cause him to shift. And that would be a very bad thing. Gina was right. He did have a Rambo complex. What was he thinking? Charging in here like a superhero intended to save the damsel in distress. The killer had caught him completely off guard and now he and the woman were suffering for his lack of judgment. What an idiot.

Gina pivoted onto the makeshift toilet and shimmied out of her workout pants. Hurriedly doing her business while Hunter continued to pull on his chains. She admired his tenacity. Maybe, he would work one of the bolts loose and figure out a way to get them out of this. Maybe, he would make it even if she didn't. She tore off a tiny square of toilet paper. Conserving what she could of the roll. More of it had gone to clean off her blood than anything else. When she finished. She stood and stretched her legs, wobbly and weakened, but standing.

She looked at Hunter and shook her head. "You're a mess. But the wounds don't look as bad as I thought. Do they hurt?"

"Do yours?"

Gina nodded her head and brushed away a tear. The turning of a key in the doorknob got her attention and Hunter's. She pressed a finger to her lips and hurriedly curled up on the cot, pretending to be asleep.

"Oh, fabulous! You're awake. For a minute I thought I'd hit you too hard. The wolf. That's a mighty impressive trick you can do," the man said cheerfully. "I had a long talk with your friends. Tomorrow we'll see how important you really are to them. If they agree to my terms, I'll hand you and the woman here over. If not." The man shrugged, "I'll have to keep you around until they do. Eventually, they will."

"What were your terms?" Hunter asked. The man moved incredibly fast for a human and Hunter was taken off guard by a sharp slap across his face.

"I ask the questions. And you answer them. Got it. I need some information about your friends. I have a few loose ends to tie up before they trade the woman for you and her."

"The woman?"

"The blonde. I want her. Not you or this thing... I would have killed her days ago...if I hadn't had something else in mind for her."

Gina's eyes snapped open and she scooted back against the wall Trembling in fear, she didn't want to think about everything 'something else' consisted of.

"Oh, I knew you were awake," the man chastised. Turning his attention back to the werewolf. "Now for some answers. I need to know exactly what your friends are capable of. How strong are they? The chains seem to be holding up well enough against you. But will they restrain the woman as effectively?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

The man shook his head as he walked to the table and selected a blade. "Oh, I think you will. In fact, I know you will."

Chapter 55

Claire was right. Her dad was in the garage. Puttering around with the ancient riding lawn mower he refused to put to pasture. Year after year, he pieced it together with a hodgepodge of salvaged parts and duct tape. She snickered as he turned the key. The engine groaned and sputtered, spewing black smoke from beneath the mower deck. "Dad really. You've had this thing since I was a kid."

"And it still runs, most of the time. I'm just getting ole' Betty ready for summer. Grass is getting kind of tall." He looked up and extended a hand to the man standing protectively beside his daughter. "Blake."