Dawn Reclaimed

Today, she wouldn't be sharing her table with a stranger or two. Thomas had the space to himself. His tray pushed forward and his nose stuck in his iPhone, to drop a hint to anyone interested in the empty chairs pushed up to his table that this was his space. "Hi, Thomas, mind if we sit with you?" Claire asked. Pushing his empty tray to the side and parking her lunch on the table and her butt in the empty chair, she didn't give him a chance to turn her down. Hungrily, she dug into her chicken salad sandwich. Usually, she would have opted for a salad or skipped lunch altogether. But, these days, she'd eat anything that crossed her path.

Hesitantly, Jan took the last empty seat at the table. Scooting as far away from Thomas as she could. She tried to be friendly. But, when it came to Doctor Prickenstein, she so didn't feel it. And it showed. Since she had nothing nice to say to him. She stuffed a wad of lettuce and dressing into her mouth and let Claire guide the conversation.

"You gonna eat that?" Claire asked, pointing to Thomas's half eaten fruit salad.

Thomas pushed the remainder of his lunch over to Claire. Stifling a smirk as she picked over and nibbled at his leavings. "So, have you decided on a name?"

"Uh huh," Claire said, chewing. "It's a surprise. This kid is going to have one mouthful of a name." Claire swallowed and forked another bite of pineapple and peaches, stuffing them into her mouth. She wondered how she ever thought the food here was bad. Hospital food was great stuff.

"A mouthful eh?" Thomas dabbed at the dribble of fruit juice rolling down Claire's chin. He couldn't help how he felt about her. She was a genuine and honest person. Open and caring about everyone and everything around her. She extended her caring to him. But, it just wasn't enough. She didn't feel for him what he felt for her. The situation was hopeless and he should let it go. Leave her to the happiness she truly deserved and find someone else. Letting go, even when holding on hurt so badly, was hard.

"Magnanimous," Claire said. She started to say something else when Jan interrupted her.

"We'd better get back," Jan mumbled. She'd stopped eating somewhere between the first bite and the time Thomas dabbed at Claire's chin with the corner of his napkin. She felt awkward and uncomfortable sitting next to the 'Good Doctor' as he vied for the attentions of a very pregnant and almost married woman. Obviously, what Claire obliviously dismissed as friendship was something more, for Doctor Sterling at least. He had it for Claire in a bad, bad, way. As much as Jan disliked the doctor, she was embarrassed to watch him grovel at Claire's feet.

Claire groaned and hefted herself out of the chair. Supporting the weight of her belly with her hand as she wobbled. "Three days left."

Thomas would have put Claire on leave sooner, if the decision had been entirely left to him. But, she'd insisted on sticking it out till the end of the week. She was putting up a brave front, never uttering a complaint. She had to be miserable and exhausted. He hadn't missed the pallor of her skin or the dark circles under her eyes. Her belly had definitely grown larger since the last time he'd seen her. And he was beginning to get worried.

Thomas was worried about something else. Something he'd seen in Grant's lab results and had not mentioned to anyone. Grant wasn't human, at least by technical definition. Grant had the standard number of chromosomes, forty-six. But, there was an unusual protein signature attached to them that the lab could not define. He'd sent the results to his buddy Roger in the city for confirmation. And unlike Claire, an ordinary type O positive, Grant's blood had no type.

Thomas wondered how Claire had managed to conceive in the first place. And if, after this baby was born, she would try for more. He hated the mystic. There were scientific explanations for everything out there. Sometimes it took a lot of digging to find them. He had spent years studying the vampires. Jotting notes. Snatching samples of blood from their human counterparts when he could. That was, until Dane put a stop to his research, destroyed all his records, and threatened to turn him if he resumed his work.

Thomas was documenting every minute of Claire's unique pregnancy. Analyzing every drop of blood. Keeping his work a secret this time until it was finished. Eventually, he would gather enough evidence to explain the fact behind the fiction. And what he'd do with it once he had. He didn't know.

He waved to Claire, ducking Jan's disapproving scowl as the two women dumped their trays and went back to work. There was something about Jan that tripped his radar. He couldn't define it. But, it set the hairs on the back of his neck on edge. Picking up the tray Claire had picked clean, he pocketed his iPhone and made for the trash bins by the cafeteria doors. He tried to put Jan out of his mind. Something about her simply rubbed him the wrong way. From the scuttlebutt he'd heard on the unit, she was turning out to be a very promising coworker. Good for her. The hospital always needed nurses willing to go the extra mile. Sure, she was pretty. A lot of nurses were pretty. Some even passed pretty into beautiful. But, they didn't affect him the way Jan had. Nope.

Being a doctor, a certain measure of bullshit detection came with the turf. He liked people, most people. Dumping his tray and heading out into the hallway, he tried to remember when the last time someone had sent his bullshit meter into the red as acutely as Jan seemed to do. Ticking his way down his mental list of random faces, he narrowed it down to one. Grant. Grant had been the last person that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. He'd thought it was because Grant saw him as competition. But, ultimately, there'd been more to it than that. Grant had a certain grace in his movements, a restrained lethal power, like that of a mongrel who knew he was the biggest dog in the yard.

Thomas thought for a second and then quickly dismissed it. If Jan were Pack, he'd have known about it. Sure, he hadn't gotten around to meeting each and every member yet. But, he would have gotten a call as a courtesy if one of the pack were going to be working in his hospital. Nah. Jan wasn't a wolf. Sure, she had a few physical similarities to the pack. Dark hair, tanned skin, pushy as hell. But, that was sheer chance and his psyche making mountains out of a molehill. The jury was still out on if Jan was a bitch or not. But, it had nothing to do with her being part she wolf.

Thomas washed his hands in the sink outside of the treatment room and straightened his lab coat. Putting on his doctor's face, he went inside the room to greet his patient. He would not roll his eyes. He would not. But, on his gurney, looking pitiful as the day she was born was Mrs. Jones and in her arms that hissing white ball of fur she mistakenly thought was a cat. A cat in his E.R. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Jones, what brings you in today?" he asked.

Chapter 67

The miles ticked by. Hunter didn't need a map to guide him. He knew the way back to the scene of his confinement with acute clarity. Sitting in the seat beside him, nervously gnawing on her thumbnail, Gina stared out the tinted window across acres nothing. The skyline of the city loomed miles ahead of them. He could barely make out the tops of the skyscrapers reaching into the cloud of ozone hovering over the city. He reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. Pulling her hand away from her face and giving it a gentle squeeze he hoped was reassuring. "It is only brick and mortar, that's all. Nothing there will harm you."

Gina took little comfort from Hunter's voice. Nothing could PHYSICALLY harm her. Her mind was a different story. The building was only brick and mortar. What had happened inside was what frightened her. She played with power window control. The window dutifully rolled up and down with a mechanical whirr. The wind gusted in biting and nipping at her. Anything to keep her occupied and casually distracted. Since Hunter held her hand prisoner to stop her from gnawing her nails to the quick. "How long until we get there?"

Hunter pressed down the child safe locks and window control with a decided, purposeful punch of his finger. Dane had lent him the keys to one of the fleet of SUVs and graciously stepped aside to let him drive Gina to the city. Nice trick. Vampires avoided daylight. And he would not take Gina to that place after dark. "Not much longer."

Gina clicked the window control. Frowning when the window refused to obey her command. She huffed and shifted in her seat. Scanning through the radio stations until she locked on something decent to listen to. She turned the volume up intolerably loud as the roar of electric guitar and the pound of drums rattled the SUV's interior.

"Stop it!" Hunter snapped. Clicking the radio off, he stared dead ahead and concentrated on the task of getting them there in one piece. His head was pounding and the loud music was hell on his sensitive hearing.

"Hey! What's gotten into you?" Gina grumbled. "I was trying to relax." She groaned scooting down in the sleek leather seat, fidgeting with the seatbelt. Ok so she probably was driving Hunter nuts with her constant need to be doing something. But, he didn't have to be an ass about it. Without thinking, she played with the visor. Avoiding the sight of her self in the mirror mounted on the back.

"Gina, look, we're here," Hunter said. The high rises and skyscrapers clumped together to form an artificial mountain ridge. Multitudes of cars of every shape, size and color zigzagged around the SUV on the interstate. Hunter punched the accelerator to the floor to keep up with the flow. It was either speed or get ran over.

Gina hid her fear behind a mask of forced impartiality. She was doing this to face her demons. She was doing this so that she could put the horror behind her and go on with her life. The SUV swayed as it glided down an off ramp. The neighborhoods grew more desperate and desolate the further they drove into the heart of the city.

Rows of abandoned and severely neglected brick buildings lined both sides of the narrow and empty streets. Colorful sprays of Graffiti marred the once magnificent structures. Gina gasped, recognizing the red brick of the warehouse as the SUV rolled to a stop and pulled into a rough gravel parking area. Her hand trembled and clutched Hunter's fingers in desperation and terror.

"Gina, you can do this," Hunter said gently. He disengaged his hand from hers long enough to pocket the keys and make his way to the passenger side. His hand was firm on her shoulder. Steadying her as she scrambled out of the SUV. Her breathing hitched up a notch and she was shaking so badly that he had to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her upright. "Remember, it's only a building."

"Only a building," Gina repeated. Clutching Hunter's arm more for moral support than anything else, step by step, she walked over the uneven gravel. Her feet struck the hard, smooth surface of the concrete sidewalk. The green steel double doors loomed in front of her, seeming to grow larger and taller. The steps leading to the doors doubled and tripled, with each footfall. "Only a building," she whispered. Her breathing was a series of short pants. Her fingers tingled from the lack of oxygen. She hovered on the verge of panic. And without Hunter beside her, she might have blacked out.

Hunter pulled out a key and unlocked the entrance. Holding Gina close as he pushed the door open. The aged door groaned on its rusty hinges eerily. His fingers locked around a series of light switches and flicked them on, filling the hall with the white, flickering glow of fluorescent lights.

Gina whimpered audibly and her heels dug into the concrete. "No. I... was wrong. I can't..." She was shaking her head, clutching to Hunter, and blinking away a stream of tears. "I can't do this!"

"Shhh. Gina, I'm with you. Come on. Take a step. Just one step." Hunter wrapped an arm securely around her trembling shoulders and tightened his grip on her hand. "He can't hurt you now. He won't hurt anyone ever again. It's only a building." Hunter coaxed her to place her right foot across the threshold. With a few more soothing words, her left foot followed. "I'll block the door open," he said. Kicking the doorstop with the toe of his boot, he urged, "Now we're going to take one more step."

Gina leaned heavily on Hunter. The sound of their footsteps echoed in her head. One step, then two steps, three, and then four. They walked slowly down the hall. Closed, green, steel doors flanked them on either side. Hunter was strong and assured. Not afraid. Muscles coiled ready to strike like a cobra at a second's notice. His brown eyes darted and watched every door with diligence and wariness. Five steps, six steps, seven, eight, nine, ten steps, then a dozen more, past every puke green closed door. Gina rhymed in her head. She was losing it. Seriously afraid that she was going to have a breakdown, right then and there, she concentrated on counting the steps deeper into the interior of the building.

The doors were marked with thick, black numbers. She wondered which one was her lucky number. Was it seventeen? No. How about twenty? Guess not. Surely, her lucky door was coming up. She glanced over her shoulder. Nothing but hallway stretched behind her, hallway and gray cinder block walls that loomed ominously over her head. She stopped. Outside seemed so far away. The light of the open door was just a slim strip in the dim and gloomy corridor. She fought against Hunter's grip to turn and make a run for it. But, he held her fast.

"Come on, Gina. We're almost there." Hunter tightened his grip on her shoulders and pushed her forward. "One step at a time, Gina. Do it for yourself. Show him that he didn't win. Don't let him take any more away from you than what he already has. Gina, you can do this." He felt her feet shuffle in a hesitant step forward and then bravely take another. "That's my girl."

Gina concentrated on her steps and the steady rise and fall of Hunter's chest. His scent, a mix of spice and pine, grounded her. The feeling of the warmth of his body against hers gave her the strength to take just one more step. Finally, he stopped and palmed a doorknob. Twisting the key as he turned the knob. Opening the gateway to her personal hell.

Hunter gave Gina a minute. Allowing her time to breathe before he coaxed her through the door. When she was ready he led her to the center of the room and took a look around. The floors and walls were immaculate, dull gray, without stain. There were patch marks in the concrete floor and on the cinder block walls. The air was stale. Without a hint or trace of blood. All the evidence had been neatly scrubbed away.

Hunter stared at the corner where Gina had been confined to the cot. Running his eyes up to the spot on the wall where the hook had been that held the restraining chains. In his mind he could hear Gina's screams and smell the coppery tang of her blood. His eyes roamed around the room, locking on the spots of dove gray cement filler on the farthest wall. Neat tidy patches that hid the holes drilled into the cinderblock. Holes where the eyebolts that held the chains that restrained him had been. All the physical evidence was gone. Anyone could walk in the room and never have a clue about the horrors that took place within the cinderblock cell.

Hunter clung to Gina as tightly as she clung to him. Reliving his terror, feeling the sting of the man's blade, smelling the scent of his blood as it rolled down his body and into a puddle at his feet. Tears of anguish clouded his vision. This wasn't supposed to happen to him. He was supposed to be strong and stoic. Her arms locked tightly around his waist and a soft, gentle hand guided his head, pressing his cheek to hers. He couldn't stop the tears. The pain was unleashed and ran rampant, like a mad, uncontrollable beast.

Gina felt wetness roll down her cheek. Her tears combined with his. Forming a river that had crashed and broken free from the dam. She stood. Her body crushed against his. The weight of his body leaned heavily on against her. Sobbing, he fisted his fingers in her hair. His arm locked tightly around her waist. He rocked and comforted her, seeking comfort from her. When there were no more tears left to cry, they stood holding to one another in silent desperation, surrounded by the terror of their memories.

Hunter, with his arm wrapped around Gina's waist and her body held tightly against his side, guided her out of the room. Silently he walked them down the hallway to the exit and turned off the lights. Without a word, he locked the door tightly behind them. He felt exhausted and drained. All his rage emptied out. Poured onto Gina's slender shoulders.

Gina climbed into the SUV. Sparing one last glance at the squat red brick building as Hunter steered the vehicle away from the curb. She had faced her nightmares. But, they were far from over. Knowing that there wasn't a boogeyman in her closet didn't make her any less afraid to open it without the lights on. "Take me to the train station."

Hunter hung a right and wound through the side streets. Pulling over when he reached the station. He got out and stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the platform. Allowing Gina privacy while she looked around.

Gina buried her hands deep into the pockets of her borrowed jacket. The soles of her tennis shoes made hollow echoing sounds as she walked the length of the platform. The sun was warm and beneath the jacket she was sweating. But, on the inside she was still so cold. How could she ever have been so naive? The woman who was attacked that night, stupidly standing in the exact same spot she stood now, was gone forever. Gina knew how short life really was. And how easily it could be snatched, like a rug, right out from under her feet. She had learned a lifetime's worth of lessons, all in one night. Climbing down the stairs, she said, "Thank you," to Hunter and climbed back into the passenger side.

Hunter slid behind the wheel and put the SUV in drive. "Where to?"

"My apartment," Gina answered absently.

Gina talked the superintendent into letting her in. Hunter dutifully produced two twenties and a ten out of his wallet, covering the fees for a lost key. Gina led the way to the elevators and punched the number three. Choking in the closeness of the mirrored space, the elevator went up. A cheerful ding announced their arrival to her floor. She led Hunter down the hall to her apartment.

Everything looked so different, bland and stark, utilitarian, a stranger's home. She'd lived here for two years and yet she'd done nothing to make the place hers. She ran her fingers over the dusty countertops. Slicked them over the neatly made bed. Riffled through the drawers. The clothing was hers. There were pictures of her and various 'friends' scattered about. But the apartment was not her home. She didn't belong here. Not any more.

"Gina, what now?"

"I don't know, Hunter," Gina answered. Shaking her head, she sighed, "I simply don't know." She flopped on the overpriced comforter that had cost her almost as much as a month's rent and inhaled the lingering scent of expensive perfume. All of her trinkets and trappings seemed so trivial now. The designer clothes hanging neatly in her closet, an illusion of whom she thought she had to be were pointless. The tidy row of name brand shoes that she had scrimped and saved to buy seemed utterly senseless to her now. The make up, hair gel, perfumes, and jewelry box stuffed with baubles were nothing but cheap and tawdry, utterly useless.

All she had left, the only thing of true value was a tattered family album. She clutched the worn cover in her hands. Tracing the faded gold lettering with a fingertip. She would have cried, if she could have. But, she had no tears left. Her dreams lie in tatters and ruins. Shattered. Snatched away from her. And she had no idea of how to pick up the pieces and put them back together.