Dawn Reclaimed

Dane snapped his fingers and pointed to the broken window. The scent of blood hung around the building like a dark cloud. He had never heard a wail of agony such as the one breaking the predawn silence.

Keene wiggled through the broken window and pulled open the security door. Mindful of the wolves, he leapt out of their way as they bounded across the threshold.

Dane led the vampires in cautiously. Not sure of what waited behind the doors. Another howl of anguish bounced off the cinderblock hallways. The scent of fresh blood tinted by the stench of pure agony filled the narrow corridors. He fell in step behind the wolves. Followed by Patrick, Keene, John Mark, Toby, Carter, and Anna.

His masterpiece was finished. Careful not to drop the eight-inch square of flesh wriggling in his hands, he laid his bloody prize out on the table. He'd done it. He'd broken the werewolf. Triumphant. Victory was his at last. He thought the flesh would begin to knit closed as soon as the first cut was made. But, it didn't. From the thin layer of fat left covering the wound, he could see the red and white fibers of muscle. The werewolf wasn't healing. Blood flowed down the werewolf's thighs and pooled at his feet. He'd done it. Broken a being twice his size and with twice his strength.

Hunter's mind was swimming. His consciousness faded in and out like bad radio reception. He saw the door fling wide and a wolf leap out from the hallway into the room. But, it didn't make any sense to him. He couldn't put what he saw together, the man fighting off the wolf, the gleam of the blade, a yelp of pain, and vampires, everywhere. The wolf, his brother, Hunter, wasn't moving. And there was blood spilling into a slick pool beneath him.

"My Angel!" The man said ecstatically. His arms held wide as he dropped to his knees with all the reverence and religious fervor of a zealot worshiping his god. He was bleeding freely from a deep wound in his throat. The wolf had bounded through the door and attacked, sinking its teeth deeply into his flesh before he managed to scrabble for a blade and sink it to the hilt in the beast's warm, chocolaty brown fur.

A swarm of vampires hovered around him. Deadly. Powerful. But, he only had eyes for his blonde angel, his angel of death. He groveled at her feet. Rubbing a bloody handprint against the calf of her jeans. "Deliver me, mistress. Send me straight to hell. I am nothing but your humble servant. Yours to command."

Anna looked at Dane. Questioning. This sick son of a bitch was asking her to give him over to the hands of death. And she was able. Willing. Her fangs lengthened. Dane needed only to say the word and this twisted fuck was toast. Toby worried what taking a human life would do to her in the long run. This thing kneeling at her feet was not human. Blood poured from the wounds in his throat. And since nobody made a move to save him, he was as good as dead. The wolf, Grant, had seen to that. White-hot power gathered to her palms.

"Do it." Dane gave his permission to kill. The man's death would not bring back the lives he'd taken. But, it was the only way to ensure that he'd never kill again and that their secret remained safe. Letting Anna finish what Grant's wolf had started was a small kindness. The vampires flanked the wolves to head them off. As much as this twisted, depraved son of a bitch deserved to die a horrible death. Nobody could stomach standing to the side and doing nothing as the wolves ripped him apart and feasted on his entrails.

Anna wrapped her fingers through the man's grease slicked hair and pulled him onto his feet. She struck hard and true, fangs driven deep into his flesh. A torrent of blood, tainted with evil filled her mouth. She spat it onto the floor and let the power, fueled by his darkness spill into him. Her hands glowed blinding white as her goddess given gift overflowed, crushing him, consuming the evil, and burning it to ash.

Carter was on the cell phone, barking orders to his Guardians. They needed one hell of a clean up. They had a bloody mess on their hands. Survivors. And a pile of ash, at least that would be easy to sweep up. He'd never seen anything like Anna before. And he hoped to God he never did again. This wasn't a job for just anyone. He needed his best Guardians, those with a strong stomach that knew how to keep their mouths shut. Bianca was his second. She didn't like to get her hands dirty. But, when the occasion called for getting messy and discretion, she was the very best at what she did.

Vampires were not immune to the scent of fresh blood. And Carter for all his centuries of experience was not an exception. Breathing in and out through his mouth, he hedged around the pile of white ash that had once been a human being. The woman on the bed was still alive, barely. Perhaps, too far gone to be saved. Perhaps, not. He broke the woman free from her bindings and felt for a pulse. He knew what he would do if the decision were his to make. He'd spare her the agony of living trapped in a nightmare. He'd let her go.

Patrick and Keene tugged at the locks on Hunter's wrists. Crushing them to particles of metal with their hands. Gently, they worked his arms free. His weight collapsed into John Mark's arms as Patrick and Keene worked to free Hunter's ankles. "Easy, we've got you." John Mark lowered the badly damaged man to the ground and eased the noose from around his neck.

Toby eased his arms around Anna's shoulders and pulled her to his chest. She reeled in shock at the secrets the man's blood had revealed to her. Gently, careful of her hands and the surging power, he gently inched her out of the room and rocked her in his arms. "It's ok. It's ok."

Anna had never seen such evil and darkness as was contained in the heart of the man. Not even in Roark. As consumed by evil and greed as he was. He still had a soul. This man was nothing but an empty shell. Evil core rotted and withered by darkness. She stared at her hands. Her palms and fingers were coated with his blood. Trying to restrain the white heat the surged through them with its destructive force, she let Toby cradle her to his chest.

Nash tended to Grant, holding pressure onto the deep wound in Grant's side. Grant was already beginning to show signs of healing. He'd lost quite a bit of blood and the wound would require care. Grant would heal though and be sore for a day or two, but otherwise normal.

"My brother," Grant breathed. "Did I save my brother?"

Nash shot a cautious glance to the vampires. Hunter teetered on the brink between worlds. Living or dying was up to Hunter and the goddess. He said nothing. There truly wasn't anything to say at this point.

Dane unwound the chains from Gina's wrists and ankles. Her skin was pale and cold. She wasn't long for this world. But, he could change all that. Make her injuries heal. But, her wounds, the ones, no one would ever see, would not heal as easily. She was so close to death. So much blood lost, that there was a chance. If he shared his blood, she might turn. Something he'd never do without her permission. Carter glanced at the woman and at him speculatively. As if offering the blood gift had been the last thing he'd expected him to do. "Gina," He gently coaxed her awake. "Can you hear me, Gina. I can help you. Make you better. Do you want that?"

Gina heard a man's voice. Softly, soothingly coax her awake. But, she felt so good. Just drifting in nothing. Peaceful and calm, there was no pain or fear. Nothing. Did she want to get better? He could help her. He said he could. Her lips moved, shaping a breathless and feeble 'yes'.

Dane bit his wrist, releasing a trickle of crimson from the double punctures. He took a finger and pried the woman's mouth open. Pressing his wrist against the wound, he bled his life onto the tip of her tongue. "Drink." He sucked in a breath as she latched on, drawing his strength and power, his very essence into her body. "That's a girl. Take all you need."

"Nash!" Hunter wasn't healing. He was dying, growing cold in Patrick's arms. Patrick held Hunter closer, gently rattling the man to rouse him awake. "Nash!" If he had to make a choice, Nash might not like the one he chose. Nash was the spokesman for the wolves. Patrick hovered between waiting for his permission and just going ahead and doing whatever was necessary to save Hunter's life.

Nash crouched down beside Hunter. Feeling the absence of his soul. Staying earthbound or floating away into the spirit world was up to Hunter. Not him. He grabbed Patrick's wrist before Patrick bit into it and spilled his blood. "No. His soul is gone. Save your gift. It won't do him any good."

Grant mustered the strength to scoot across the blood stained floor. Resting a hand on his brother's cool forehead, he fought back tears of anguish. "Stay, for your children, for me, stay with us, Hunter. Your pack needs you." A piece of himself had been ripped away. Floating above the scene of horror down below. His brother was dying. He had to do something...anything to bring him back. "Hunter!"

Hunter was disconnected from his body. Floating above. Casually watching the scene unfold. His brother's voice reached his ears. But, from where he was, looking down, they were just words without meaning. There was no pain up here. He had no reason to go back and every reason to go forward. His wife was waiting for him. And he was so ready to see her again.

"Silly boy. What are you doing here?" A voice said from behind him. A voice that sounded like thousands of tinkling bells, or like water rushing over hundreds of tiny pebbles worn smooth with time.

"I'm here to cross the river," Hunter answered, bowing before his goddess. Her white hair flowed around her shoulders and across her back. Stirred gently by the cleanest, purest breeze he'd ever felt on his skin. Her bronze skin glimmered like a shiny new penny in the morning sun. And her eyes, shone with the wisdom of a thousand ages.

"First you accuse me of abandoning you and the woman and now you think you're crossing the river today? Humph," Kokumthena huffed playfully. Her children were so one dimensional in their thinking. Would they ever, as the young of this age say, 'get a clue?'

"My body sustained too much damage. I can't possibly survive it. I have the right to die. I've earned it," Hunter said defending himself and his reasoning. Ballsy, considering who she was and that she could wipe him off the face of eternity as easily as she'd created him.

"Really? Yes, your bodies are frail. But, your injuries are not fatal. Sorry pal. You have a gift at your disposal. Use it. Draw upon the strength of your family lineage. Use their strength to keep yourself alive."

"But I've waited so long to see my wife. She's been waiting for me to come."

"Hunter, you have no concept of what time really means. And neither does she. As far as she knows or understands, mere seconds have passed since you've been apart. Hunter, you've been dead for a long time." She extended a perfectly shaped finger and pointed at his chest, "In here. Your children and your family have suffered greatly. Your pain has been their pain. Now get off your ass and start living. Life is a gift, my greatest gift to you. Don't waste it."

"I need to see her." Hunter clutched at the slick rocks on the shoreline. "I have to know."

"Look, there she is. She's waiting for you." On the distant shore of the river a woman stood, clothed in white, waving. "She'll be waiting for you. When it's your time you will be reunited. But, your time is not today."

Hunter dove for the river. He reached desperately to close the distance. Scrabbling with the current, splashing cool, fresh water everywhere. His wife stood across the river. Smiling at him happily. Waving to him. Her eyes filled with peace and joy. If only he could hold her, once more. "Please!" he begged.

"My son, it's not your time," Kokumthena said gently. He was so wrapped up in his pain that he could not fully appreciate the gifts he had. She'd brought him here to learn. To learn to live and embrace his children, his wife's sacrifice, his wife's gift to him. But, instead all he'd found was heartache and more pain. "You will be together again, someday. Hunter, you have to live. Somebody needs you desperately. Almost as desperately as you need her."

"Hunter live!" Grant pleaded. Tears rolled off his cheeks and fell onto his brother's face, leaving a trail of across the dried blood. "For your family. Live!"

Hunter drifted in the blackness. His brother's voice rang in his ears. But, he didn't want to answer. He wanted to go back. Join his wife. Hunter's eyes snapped open and he drew in a painful shaky breath. He was back. He had been so close. He could still smell his wife's scent in his nostrils. "No! No! No!" he cried. "Want to go back."

Grant didn't understand what his brother was babbling about. "You're safe. The woman, she's going to survive. You saved her, Hunter. Hold on. We're helping you as best we can. Please." He looked to Patrick. His eyes pled an unspoken request. "Give him your gift. Save him."

"Shit. Hold him down." He too thought the man was delirious. Confused from the pain and trauma. His injuries were severe. Even with a wolf's accelerated healing. He would take weeks to completely recover. Patrick bit his wrist. Ignoring his vampire brethren. He had been a prisoner. He and Hunter shared a link that his vampire brothers could never understand. "Drink."

Hunter was half way in between worlds. Desperately trying to leave one and grab hold of another. Trapped in a body he no longer wanted. In a life he didn't want to live. He felt the blood flow into his mouth. The taste and scent of the blood compelled him to drink. Demanding that he live. He forced his lips to close in stubborn refusal. Hunter didn't want to get better. He wanted to go back. He wanted his wife. He didn't want to live. Not without her. Not any longer. A sweet drop hit the back of his throat and trickled down. Searing pain burned through him as the healing gift went to work, knitting flesh and fusing bone. Death had been cheated and he'd been condemned to live. He gritted his teeth in agony and glared at his brother, condemning him too. "God damn you, Grant."

Grant felt a hand on his shoulder. Nash. He looked up and grabbed hold, letting Nash pull him to his feet and guide him away from his brother. Someone handed him a warm, soft blanket. Gratefully, he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. Padding barefoot down the corridor, into the gray light of dawn, he left the blood, the pain, and his brother behind. He accepted a cup of steaming coffee from somebody's hand and climbed into the waiting SUV.

His brother was going to be fine in a few days. Healed completely thanks to the vampires. But, he had to wonder. If that was really what his brother wanted. Grant had watched him die little by little for years. His brother was going to finally get his wish. And he had selfishly snatched it out of his grasp.

Gina screamed in agony as the pain worked its way from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. Burning fire turned to freezing cold. Up her legs, through her torso, numbing her face. Pins and needles of torture poked every inch of her body. A voice calmed and soothed her. Assured her that in a few minutes it would all be over. What? Was she dead? What would be over?

Dane held the shrieking woman in his arms. Brushing a palm over her blonde hair he tried to comfort her. She was healing. Her bruising fading and wounds knitting together, the infection in her arm was subsiding. She wasn't destined to be one of them. She was staying human. Knit whole by his blood. "Shhh. It's getting better now isn't it," he cooed. Rocking her gently.

Gina buried her nose in his shirt. Inhaling the reassuring scent of fabric softener. Amazed by how something as simple as laundry soap could soothe her. He smelled clean and normal. Safe. Everything hurt. She was afraid to open her eyes. The last thing she remembered was Hunter being tortured to death. Suffering in silence. Blow after blow, enduring so much pain. Was she safe? Where was her tormenter? Where was the man? "Hunter?" she breathed.

"He's fine. You're safe now. Its all over." Dane lifted her fragile, wraithlike body in his arms. "Keep your eyes closed until we get outside. And then you can open them to a new morning. Gina, you're safe."

She felt her body being lifted. Carried in strong, safe arms. She did as he said and kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She didn't want to see any more blood or death. Tears of gratitude fell across her cheeks. She heard his boots echo with each step. Fresh air stirred her bangs, tickling her forehead. Hazarding a chance, she opened her eyes. Blinking against the peach light of the sun as it shone in between the buildings. "Thank you," she whispered. Crying tears of relief, she sobbed as she'd never sobbed before.

"Gina, you've got to sleep now. Get some rest. Sleep for me Gina." Before long she'd start to panic. Wonder why there weren't any police or lights and sirens. Why she wasn't being taken to the hospital and being stuffed into a plain, black SUV instead. She went slack in his arms, her mind too weak and her body too taxed to fight his suggestions.

Hunter leaned heavily against Patrick and John Mark as they carried him out. His legs and ankles were too weak to support his own weight. The cold morning air bit into his skin and thy pulled the blanket up tighter around his shoulders. Wincing as he bent his body in half and slid into the back of the SUV, he cursed the rising sun. He'd been so close to never seeing another one again.

"Carter," Dane said, extending his hand. "I'm pulling everyone out. We're going to our home and leaving you to yours. I'll be glad to get back to my woods." He grinned, "No offence."

"None taken." Carter returned the handshake. "I'll take care of this mess and be in touch. Thank you and thank your Sons and the wolves for their assistance."

"Certainly. Take care."

"You too." Carter stood in the threshold of the blood bath and watched as Dane climbed into a SUV. The taillights were quickly devoured by the onslaught of commuter traffic. Another day in the paradox of the city had dawned. And luckily everyone came through it unscathed.

Chapter 57

Claire spent a sleepless night, dozing at brief intervals and then startling awake. Begrudgingly, she gave up about twenty minutes before the alarm was set to buzz her to life, and cursed at the digital display. Wearily, she shuffled to the shower. Glancing back over her shoulder she smiled at Mouse. The girl slept curled up in a ball with an arm draped over the pillow.

She doused her body under the steamy shower. Letting the heat soak into her pores as she lathered up with Grant's soap. She couldn't help but be worried about him and his family. She'd seen the wolves in action and they seemed capable enough. But, she still worried. A woman's life, someone she'd never met, and his brother's life hung in the balance. She scolded herself firmly for being so selfish. For wanting him home, safe and sound with her when his brother needed him instead.

She rinsed and lovingly toweled the bulge where her flat belly used to be. Rewarded with a firm kick in the spine for her efforts. She guessed that pregnancy wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. Now that she was over the morning sickness, she'd grown used to the protrusion in her midsection. And having to pee every five seconds, it was a breeze.

She padded to the closet. Prepared to scrounge out something of Grant's to toss on until she could pop by her place to change. She had plenty of time, obviously. The shower had only taken ten minutes. A rack of neatly hung and arranged clothes stretched the length filling one whole side of the closet. Unless, there was something she didn't know about Grant, she had to assume they were meant for her.