Dawn Reclaimed

"Grant." Grant took Blake's hand and gave it a firm shake. He liked this guy immediately. Didn't even need a more thorough introduction to know that the man was genuine and forthright. Luckily, Claire had inherited her looks from her mother and more importantly, her personality from her dad.

Claire's father was the polar opposite of her mother. Dressed casually in a pair of loose beat up jeans, an equally aged pair of tennis shoes, and a worn t-shirt smeared with black grease. His thinning brownish hair poked out beneath a ball cap bearing the logo of the local high school. Wire rimmed glasses teetered precariously on the bridge of a proud nose. His eyes were hazel, gleaming with a youthful, amused glow. Blake was one of those people who took whatever life handed him in stride and made the best of it. The years had not extinguished his zeal for living. And for a human, that was a very refreshing thing.

"I'm going to go put on some coffee," Claire said. Relieved that the two most important men in her life seemed to be hitting it off so well. "You guys ok for a minute?"

Blake shrugged. "Sure."

"What seems to be the problem?" Grant asked, staring into the filthy engine. He'd been turning wrenches most of his life. No doubt he could help out.. But, in his professional opinion, the mower was ready for the junkyard.

"Nothing. Everything. The ole' gal aint what she used to be. But, I'm not giving up on her yet." Here hold this," Blake said slapping a wrench into Grant's palm. The guy was big, tall, and strapping, with a full head of dark hair. For that alone Blake begrudged him. But, he'd seen the way Grant looked at his daughter. Lovingly. And he'd seen the way Claire responded to him. The guy made his daughter very happy. And that made him very happy.

"Guys, C'mon," Claire called from the kitchen. Pouring three cups of steaming coffee from the pot, she fished around in a cabinet and managed to scrounge up some powdered coffee creamer and sugar. A hot cup of coffee would soften up her father. The man was a coffee addict, and when he got his fix, all was right with the world.

Claire sat across the kitchen table from her father. The faded, tattered tablecloth hadn't been replaced in she couldn't remember how long. Her father had a philosophy, if it wasn't broken. Don't fix it. The entire house was a hodgepodge of old and older stuff, in a genteel state of disrepair and wear. "Dad, we have something to tell you."

"Aw geez, you're not getting married are you?" Blake grinned like a banshee. He'd seen the ring on her left hand and the tiny bulge protruding from beneath her T-shirt. His baby girl was having a baby and getting married. Ok, so maybe those two things weren't necessarily in the right order. But, in this day and age what did it matter. He couldn't be more thrilled.

"Yes."

"Pretty soon I take it?" Blake said, eyeing her belly.

"Yeah." Claire answered with a blush. Her dad was a keen observer. Nothing ever got past him. But, he wasn't upset or angry with her. In fact, he was grinning wildly and reaching across the table to shake Grant's hand in congratulations.

"Granddaughter?" Blake asked. He envisioned a little version of Claire for him to spoil absolutely rotten. Fluffy pink Easter dresses and velvety hair bows. Sugar and spice, and everything nice, was what his granddaughter was made from.

"Grandson," Grant said, returning the handshake.

"A grandson eh?" Blake was absolutely delirious. Finally, he'd have a fishing buddy. Claire had outgrown fishing down by the lake and the cabin years ago. He jumped up from the table and gave Claire a big hug. "I'm so happy for the both of you." He raised his eyebrow and shot a playful glare at Grant. "You'd better take care of my little girl. You hear me? Otherwise, you and me...we're going to have a conversation with old Bess, my twenty-two shotgun."

"You have my word on that," Grant said. God, he liked this man. Claire was right. Telling him was far less painful than telling her mother. "So we have your blessing?"

"Blessing? Hell, I thought I was going to have to pay someone to take her off my hands," Blake said with a laugh.

"Dad!" Claire laughed, playfully shooing him away. Her dad drained his cup of coffee and sauntered through the kitchen toward the garage. She'd just told him the biggest, most important news of her life and he was going out to work on that lawnmower again? "Hey, where are you going?"

"To the garage. I think your crib is up in the rafters somewhere. I finished it, some years ago. Just in case a brother or sister came along. But..." he shrugged not bothering with the rest. Ok, so Claire was already out of diapers by the time he got the crib finished. He was more than willing to try for baby number two. But, her mother had other ideas. So, instead he'd let Claire use it for her dolls until she got too old and lost interest. And then, he'd given the crib a fresh coat of paint and stashed it up in the rafters. "Gotta get it down and polished up. No grandchild of mine is going to sleep in a dresser drawer."

Claire laughed at that. "Mom said the same thing," she said as she followed him to the garage.

Blake was already fishing out a ladder and propping it against the rafter. "It was only for a couple of weeks, Claire. You had a crib. Your mother made sure of it. She always made sure of ...everything. You weren't permanently damaged. At least, I don't think you were."

"Here, let me. You hold the ladder." Grant offered. Climbing up to inspect the plethora of dust-encrusted boxes containing untold treasures, he saw the crib propped into a corner underneath a dust cloth. "I found it." He'd heard the regret in Blake's voice when he spoke about Claire's mother. Her father had a good heart without room for bitterness or anger. Oh, he might be afraid of Dena. Any man with common sense would be afraid of the powerhouse, spitfire that was Claire's mom. But, Grant got the sense that there was unfinished business between the two of them. It was so odd that love, the thing supposed to bind a couple together had torn these two apart.

"Excellent." Blake braced the ladder as Grant climbed down with the crib in tow. He winked at Claire. "You've got a good man here, baby girl. "

Claire beamed. Coming from her father, the complement was high praise. "I know."

They spent the evening washing off the wooden rungs and painting the crib with a fresh coat of white paint. She remembered the crib, thinking back. Her dad had let her play with it as a child. For the first time in her pregnancy, she felt the first twinges of anticipation. How did women carry babies for nine months without going nuts from all the excitement of bringing a new life into the world?

Somehow, talking with her mother and her father about the baby had given her insight into how her parents felt about their marriage, one another, and how they'd evolved into the people that they had become. Her mother was a goal oriented, career type. While her father was easy-going, happy as long as there was enough money to pay the bills. He was family oriented than money driven, like her mom. Not that either view on life was necessarily wrong. It was just that her parents were too different for each other. And the differences had driven the wedge between them. But, Claire had somehow managed to cook up the crazy idea from talking to the both of them. That despite their differences, there was still a spark time and circumstance had not managed to extinguish. Her mom had been absolutely right. You didn't have to like someone to love them. And her parents were still in love.

Claire stifled a yawn. Maybe there was still a little hope for her parents. Neither one had remarried. Maybe, they were waiting for something to bring them back together again. Maybe, the baby was the special something capable of bringing them together. But, she'd have to think about that later. She was tired and the day had been extremely long. "Dad. I've got to work in the morning." She stretched up and gave her dad a peck on the cheek. "Love you."

Blake hugged his daughter. "You too, honey." He shook Grant's hand. "Don't you be a stranger around here." He was practically crying tears of pride and joy. He took a deep breath and manned up, settling for slapping Grant on the back.

"I won't." Grant shook Blake's hand one last time and ushered Claire to the car. "I really like your parents."

"Me too," Claire answered. Staring pensively out of the window as the town yielded to barren cornfields and gravel roads, she thought a lot about her parents and what might have been if they'd managed to stay together.

Grant pulled up into the drive and parked the car. "Are you sure you won't stay?"

"I've got to work."

"I'll wake you up in plenty of time, make you a big breakfast, and pack you a wonderful nutritious lunch. Then when you get off work tomorrow night, I'll rub your tired feet for you."

"Sounds great. But, no. I want to sleep in my own bed. You could stay with me." Claire blushed, "If you want."

Grant grinned and pocketed his keys. "Deal. Let me go in and grab a few things."

"I'd like to say good night to Mouse anyway," Claire added. Climbing out of the passenger side, she groaned as the circulation returned to her legs. She hated Grant's matchbox sized excuse for a car. No legroom. But he'd insisted on driving.

The house was a flurry of activity. The entire family was home, mulling around in groups. Softly muttering to each other. When Nash got the news from Tala and Drew, he'd called the pack together. One of their own was in danger. Nash picked his way through the crowd and locked onto Grant, pulling him and Claire aside. Claire was a member of the pack and she had a right to know the goings on. "Grant, there's been a problem."

Grant frowned. Nash was dead serious. Worry etched across his face in deep, thick, lines. "What is it?"

"Hunter. He's been taken."

"Hunter?" Grant whispered. "What's the situation? What happened?"

"It's not good. He managed to find the woman. But, not before the killer found him. Somehow the killer got the jump on him. Grant, your brother is being held hostage. The killer wants to use him as a bargaining chip."

Grant stood, shaking with rage. His brother was in danger. Hunter had gone into the city to relieve him and now he was being tortured. It should be him there, not his brother. This was his fault. "I'm going to the city. I'm bringing him back."

"Grant, I'm so sorry." Claire ran her hand along his arm and gripped his trembling hand. "You can't put yourself in danger. Let the police handle this."

"Claire, you can't possibly understand. The police can't help him. There's more to this than what you know. He took my place. He's there because of me."

"The police can't help?" She wondered how much of the story Grant wasn't telling her. She had no doubt more than just humans were involved. Nash had said that Hunter was being used as a bargaining chip. For what or whom? What was the killer after?

"No."

"The brothers are not exactly sure where Hunter is. Your connection with your brother may be the only way to find him before its too late. They will not sacrifice one of their own and neither will I. I'm coming with you," Nash said.

"Claire, I have to go. He's my brother. Please, stay here with my family. Let them take care of you." Grant bent and pressed his forehead to Claire's. "Please."

Claire tipped her head up and gently brushed his lips with hers. She saw the reluctance on Grant's face. He was worried about leaving her alone. And if staying here would help to alleviate at least one worry from his mind, she would. "Okay. I will. Go get your brother. Bring him home."

"I love you," Grant said, releasing Claire's hand. He gave her a quick kiss before following Nash out the front door.

Marianne wrapped her arms around Claire's waist. "Uncle Grant will bring my dad home, won't he?"

Claire stoked Mouse's hair. "Don't worry. He will, if anyone can, its Grant."

Chapter 56

"I'm going to ask you again. Where are the vampires hiding?" The man was thoroughly pissed. The werewolf was proving harder to break than he'd anticipated. He remained stoically silent despite the punishment that would have and should have killed him, if he'd been a normal human. The man swung the ball bat hard. Ole' Hickory cracked and splintered from the force. The werewolf's right knee gave and bent at an odd angle from the force of the blow. Cartridge and bone shattered with a satisfying crunch. Still, the werewolf remained silent.

The man had tried carving secrets out of the werewolf. He had tried burning them out. Bleeding them out. And now he was reduced to beating them out. The floor beneath his feet was slick with blood. Part of the problem was, for every new wound he made, an old one would slowly begin to knit closed. Damn werewolves. If the werewolf was this hard to injure, how much more difficult could a vampire be? "Tell me!"

Hunter gritted his teeth as the man inflicted another round of bruises and cuts. He would not betray his family or his fiends. Besides, he didn't have much time left. He was loosing too much blood and had endured too much abuse to hang on much longer. He felt it in his bones. His time on this world was almost up. Even a wolf could endure only so much before the body gave out.

The spirit world and his beautiful wife waited for him. Once he got there on the rocky shores of the Great River, his wife would be there on the other side to greet him. To be able to touch her again and feel her breath upon his cheek was worth the pain. Being separated from her these long years had been agony enough. Finally, he was going home and to her open arms.

He'd miss his kids and the family he was leaving behind. Tristen had grown up to be a fine young man. And Daniel, smart as a whip. Marianne, would grow up to be every bit as beautiful and gentle as her mother. He'd miss seeing her grow up. But, time passed quickly in a place where it had no meaning. And, he would see them again. When they came to the spirit world and it was their turn to cross the Great River. He would be waiting for them and his family would be together again.

"Damn you! What do I have to do to get an answer out of you? You're dying I can see it in your eyes! You fucker don't you dare die on me until I get what I want. Just tell me! Where. Are. The. Vampires?" The Man slid the blade through the flesh on the werewolf's right thigh and twisted the handle. Blood trickled down his fist and onto the floor pooling into a red rivulet into the puddle that had already began to clot. And still, from the werewolf, not a sound.

Tears burned Gina's cheeks. Crying for Hunter when he could or would not or would not cry for himself. She'd sat, a helpless witness, chained watching him endure every second of his torture. "For God's sake!" she screeched, unable to take another second. "Tell him!" She rattled her chains uselessly against the wall. "Please!" Hunter couldn't hang on much longer. His skin was chalky white, stained with blood, and drenched with sweat. If he died, she'd be alone again.

"There's no such thing as vampires! Just tell him, SOMETHING!" She hiccupped between sobs. She wished she were already dead as his eyes opened and locked on hers. Her whole body quivered and her stomach retched. His eyes were so dull and lifeless, hard like brown stone. Hunter was already dead. Physically, he was still alive. But, his spirit was broken. Panic rocked through her. "Don't leave me here! Don't leave me with him!" She wailed, pounding and tugging on her chains for all she was worth. She had to get out of these chains and out of this place. Get away from the dying man and his tormentor. She screamed and twisted her body desperate to get free.

"Shut up, cunt. Or you're next," the man whispered. He grabbed the werewolf by the throat and squeezed. Pounding the werewolf's head against the cinderblock, he shouted, "I don't want to kill you. But, I will." His rage gave him strength. And he slammed the werewolf's head against the wall over and over again until he slumped, dangling from the chains dazed. "What do I have to do? If you would just cooperate, all of this would be over. And you could go home."

The werewolf stared blankly, his eyes fixed on the blood clotting on the floor. Teetering between consciousness and darkness, he hung there suspended from the chains. The Man needed him awake. He snatched a bottle of water off the table and splashed the werewolf in the face. "Wake up damn it."

Hunter jerked to awareness. The cold splash of water rolled down his face and onto his chest. A mix of painful signals throbbed through his body. But they didn't matter anymore. He was numb. Floating above the scene of his death. Free from the chains that bound him and the pain holding the shell of his body under siege. Soon, it'd be done. He lifted his head and looked at Gina. The woman was struggling frantically with her chains. Trying to wiggle free. He was supposed to be her protector. Find a way to free her. There was only one way out, and he was on the threshold of it. Biding his time until his body gave out so that he could cross over. His lips moved to say how sorry he was that he'd failed her. But, he didn't have the breath to utter them.

The Man followed the path of the werewolf's stare. The woman. Bait! Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? His plan was to kill her later, anyway. Why not now? He'd dismissed her as useless. But, she might still serve a purpose yet. He snatched a blade, tacky and soiled with clotted blood and waved it under the werewolf's nose. "Perhaps, you'll find your tongue yet. I'll ask a question. And for every one that you don't answer, I'll cut her. She won't last as long as you. Maybe, for her, that's a good thing, maybe not. You decide."

Gina pulled against her restraints. Heart pounding with terror as the man sat on the side of her cot. She loosed a soulful, terrified, scream of fear before the blade pressed against her skin. A fresh downpour of tears fell from her eyes. No more pain. She couldn't do it! She couldn't hurt again! She wanted to die. Quickly. Now. Not hurt. Not suffer. "Please," she whispered

The Man shook his head. "That's music to my ears. And you're such a good girl. But I'm afraid, this time, its not enough."

"NO!" Hunter struggled to remain conscious. He pulled uselessly against his chains. The woman shouldn't suffer. She wasn't involved in any of this and she should not have to endure one second's worth of pain because of him.

"Now, he wants to talk," the Man said triumphantly. He cut the woman slowly and shallowly with his blade. Slicing a gash through her midsection. Rewarded with a hiss of disgust from the werewolf and a shriek of pain from the woman. Beautiful. "So, tell me, where are the vampires?"

"They have a lairs scattered throughout the city," Hunter answered in shame. He felt weak, impotent, chained like a dog. The Man knew his secret. That there was nothing he wouldn't do to save the woman.

"Not good enough. Where?" The man slashed the woman, deeper this time. Running the tip of the blade between her breasts.

"The main headquarters is downtown. In the ACE building." Hunter had just betrayed his own cousins for a woman that he didn't know. He deserved to die, but the woman didn't. Not if there were anything he could do to prevent it.

"How many vampires are there?" The Man asked, satisfied with the werewolf's feeble answer, for now. The ACE building was a marvel of glass and steel that stood over twenty-nine stories high. He'd never get in and get out with the blonde.

"I don't know," Hunter answered honestly. There were lairs and vampires scattered all over the city on patrol for both the Sons and the Guardians. He'd never bothered to ask exactly how many there were or where they were located.