Moon Sworn

Chapter 12

His expression didn’t alter, but his fear leapt between us, thick and strong. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“I mean,” I said harshly, “that I am not Hanna London. Someone has erased my memory and abandoned me here, and I want to know why.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“You do,” I interrupted harshly. “And if you don’t answer my questions, I promise you, whatever those men intended to do to you will pale in comparison to what I’ll do!”

He stared at me, his expression fierce and yet scared. “Hanna, I’m not sure why you’d think—”

“Who’s holding your soul mate hostage, Evin? Who are you really?”

He didn’t say anything for several seconds, then he sighed. It was a defeated, desperate sound. “How long have you known?”

“That you aren’t my brother? Almost from the beginning. Initially, I couldn’t have told you his name or what he looks like—”

He looked so shocked that I stopped and stared at him. “What?”

“But I am your brother.”

And he said it so adamantly that I half believed him. But it wasn’t true. I knew my brother. Evin wasn’t him.

“Evin, my brother is my twin—” I paused, letting that word roll around my mind again. My brother, my twin, my life. God, I missed him, even if I couldn’t even recall what he looked like right now. “—and that’s a connection that goes beyond the physical.”

“Connection or not, it doesn’t alter fact.” He said it with such unwavering certainty that again I found myself questioning my memories.

But they weren’t off. His belief was.

Which meant maybe a little memory manipulation had been going on. It would certainly explain his unshakable belief that I was his sister.

“This is all going horribly wrong.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes, then added softly, “You haven’t been taking your tablets, have you? They said it would be a problem if you didn’t.”

“Who said?” I demanded. “And what were you putting in the coffee?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was told to use it and I did. I figured you suspected something was up with the coffee when you went and bought your own, so I stopped.”

That explained why the coffee had started tasting slightly better recently—but it still wasn’t hazelnut. I hungered for that almost as much as I hungered to see Rhoan and … someone else. Someone who looked a whole lot like Harris. Someone who might well be dead. My throat closed over at the thoughts, and I had to force my question out. “And you report to the people behind this every night?”

“Yes.” He slumped down in the car seat a little. “Look, in all honesty, I can’t really tell you much.”

“Then tell me what you do know.”

He was silent again, staring out the window, his expression miserable. I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“My real name is Evin Jenson. I’m a border patrol guard for the Glen Helen Jenson pack.”

A chill ran through me. I knew that name. Knew that location. I’d grown up there, learned to fight and hate and fear there. The home of your birth, that internal voice said. But not the home of your heart. “That’s in the Northern Territory, isn’t it?”

His brow furrowed. “Yeah, but not many people would know that.”

“Unless that’s where you were born.”

He blinked. “You can’t be from the Glen Helen Jenson pack, because I would have recognized you.”

I smiled grimly. One of the problems with implanting a sole memory or belief was the fact you could never account for all the questions that might provoke the wrong sort of answer. Or right one, as it was in this case.

Evin didn’t know me, despite his belief to the contrary.

“There’s a few years’ difference between us,” I commented. “Which probably meant we would have run in very different circles.”

And there were other reasons we might never have met—reasons I couldn’t remember right now, thanks to whoever had meddled with my mind.

“But the pack isn’t that big and you’re my sis—”

“Evin,” I said softly, “I’m not. That’s a belief someone has planted in your mind.”

“What?” He looked at me like I was crazy.

And very possibly, I was. After all, I was just going on instinct here, and it had sometimes led me very far astray.

“Look, someone has seriously messed my memories. It isn’t just the tablets. Someone with telepathic abilities has erased—or at least contained—not only the knowledge of who I am, but where I lived, what I did, and who I loved. It’s probable that someone has snatched pieces of your memory, too, just to make it easier for you to project the lie.”

“You’re wrong. I know you’re wrong.” He stared at me for a moment, confusion bright in his eyes, then said,

“Even so, I can’t have been lying all that well if you’ve seen through it.”

“The whole situation felt wrong, Evin. It wasn’t just your lying.” Although that didn’t help. “Did you ever meet with any of them?”

“No. There was a meeting arranged, but they didn’t turn up. Contact after that was always via the phone.”

“Then how did you get your instructions about me?”

“Text, mostly.”

“So they told you nothing about my real identity?”

He shook his head and rubbed a hand across his face. “This is all so fucked up.”

He had that right. “Tell me what you know, and maybe together we can unfuck it.”

He snorted. “You and what friggin’ army? There’s more than one damn person behind all this, I know that much.”

“Oh,” I said, my voice soft and flat, containing very little in the way of anger and yet all the more deadly because of it, “I don’t need an army. I can do plenty of damage on my own. Trust me on that.”

His gaze was a weight I could feel, but I didn’t bother meeting it. He said, in a voice that was soft yet filled with sudden wariness, “Just who the hell are you?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” I glanced at him briefly. “Whoever did this to me is going to pay, Evin. And while I don’t think you’re involved more than peripherally, you had better believe that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get whatever information you have. So talk, or I’ll make you.”

He believed me. The brief flash of fear across his features was evidence enough of that. “Lyndal—my soul mate—was snatched in Melbourne about a fortnight ago. I was told to go to a warehouse in Richmond and wait for instructions—”

“Melbourne?” I interrupted, once again feeling that sweep of familiarity. I worked there. In Spencer Street, at—

somewhere. I bit back a growl of frustration and added, “That’s in Victoria, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Lyndal and I were holidaying down there. I went to the warehouse and waited as directed.” He stopped, and frowned. “You know, I did lose time in that building. Is it possible for someone to tamper with your memories without them even going near you?”

“A trained telepath could stand in front of you and make you blind to their presence,” I said. “How much time did you lose?”

“Just a few minutes. I just remember looking at my watch and thinking it was odd.”

I nodded. “What happened after that?”

“I went back to our hotel and found a folder waiting in our room. It told me about you—the Hanna London you—and said that I was to be your guard. And if I went to the cops—or spoke to anyone at all about it—then Lyndal was dead meat.”

“So they didn’t actually give you the instruction about being my brother?”

“No,” he said. “Because that bit is true.”

I shook my head but didn’t argue. He continued to stare at me, then raked his hands through his hair and said angrily, “Fuck. They could have made me do anything. I’d never have known.”

“They could have, but they didn’t. I think they wanted me to be suspicious. Whoever modified my memory has left just enough to make me doubt my reality.”

He frowned at me. “But why would they want to do that?”

“To frustrate me, probably. I can remember someone telling me to enjoy what was left of my life—and they obviously meant that I wouldn’t.”

“What was left of your life? What the fuck does that mean?”

“What do you think it means?” We finally hit the bitumen and the truck’s tail whipped out sideways as I spun the wheel and flattened my foot. The roar of the big engine filled the night—a deep throbbing sound that oddly felt in tune with the anger within me. “Did you really think that they’d play this game for a couple of weeks then let us all go?”

“Honestly? Yeah, I did.” He scrubbed a hand across his chin. “I don’t know why, but I did.”

That belief had to have been implanted, too. Evin might be a trusting soul, but even he couldn’t be that innocent. Not if he came from the same pack that I did.

“I gather they’ve been allowing you to talk to Lyndal when you report in every night?”

“Yeah.” Fury and desperation swirled through his voice, sharp in the darkness. “They’ve been given her a rough time.”

Which could have meant anything from verbal to physical abuse, but I didn’t ask him to clarify because, really, there was no point. There wasn’t anything we could do to prevent it right now.

“She’s still alive, Evin. Hold on to that.”

“But she’s pregnant.”

I briefly closed my eyes against the fury that swept me. They were bastards. Complete and utter bastards.

“I’d rather hold on to the hope of revenge,” he added as his gaze met mine. His gray eyes were dark and his expression was pensive. “Will you help me get that?”

“If you help me get mine—and not just by giving me information. I mean tracking these bastards down and stopping them. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes,” he murmured, and shivered. “I have a feeling you’re far more used to that sort of thing than I am.”

“If you’re a border guard, then you obviously can fight. That’s what I need. I can handle the finer details.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

He touched his neck briefly, then jerked his fingers away. I thought about stopping the truck to undo the wire, but he didn’t seem to be in great discomfort and I wanted to get as far away from those men as possible. I really didn’t trust them not to have some form of backup plan in the event of things going wrong—like us escaping.

Evin added, “You know, I’m really surprised that they didn’t just kill you. It would have been less dangerous for them.”

“But not as much fun.”

“If this is someone’s idea of a good time, then they are seriously warped.”

“Yeah, he is,” I said, and again heard that smooth, cultured voice telling me to enjoy the time I had remaining. Damn it, I needed to remember!

Pinpoint pricks of light appeared in the distance. There was a car on the horizon, and it was approaching fast.

Denny’s backup plan, perhaps?

“What’s the cell phone reception like up here?” I asked, flexing my fingers against the wheel. It didn’t do a whole lot to ease the tension suddenly rolling through me.

“It’s pretty shitty, actually,” he said. “Why?”

I nodded toward the growing light points. “What are the odds of another car being on this particular road at this time of night? The road only goes to the whaling station ruins, and it’s not exactly a good time to be viewing them, is it?”

“They had a CB radio in one of the other trucks—I heard them talking on it—but there’s no way help would get here this soon.”

“Unless someone was already nearby. How far does the pack’s land boundary extend?”

“I have no idea.”

We drove on, watching those twin specks of light grow brighter and brighter. Tension crawled through my limbs, and I was gripping the steering wheel so hard my hands were beginning to cramp. I flexed my fingers and forced myself to relax.

The lights flicked down to low beam as the car drew nearer. I pulled over to the edge of the road, allowing the other car plenty of room. He repeated the action and we passed each other quickly and without incident. I had a brief glimpse of a white face, dark hair, and sharp, arrogant nose and knew, without a doubt, who it was.

“Shit,” Evin said. “That was Mike West.”

“There was another murder in town tonight,” I said, voice grim. “I wonder why he’s here and not helping Harris.”

“Maybe someone told them about Denny’s plans.”

“Maybe.” But West would have had to have left Dunedan not long after me to get here this soon. And while I had no doubt that someone had been watching our villa, I very much doubted whether they’d have gone running to either Harris or West the minute I’d disappeared.

So why was West out here?

Was this the reason he hadn’t been answering Harris’s calls?

Maybe I was being suspicious for no reason; maybe he really did have a good reason for being here. But whoever was behind my kidnapping had to have someone else other than Evin here in Dunedan—and what better backup could there be than one of the town cops?

And it might just explain why Harris had been getting no responses to his queries to the Directorate. West could have easily either not sent them or intercepted them.

I glanced in the rearview mirror, watching his tail-lights, half expecting him to turn around and chase us. But he didn’t, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether that was a good thing or bad.

One thing was sure, though—I needed to talk to Harris, and as soon as possible.

I glanced at Evin. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“I think they have someone else on the ground here. They seem to know stuff that I haven’t mentioned.” He hesitated, and glanced at me sharply. “You don’t think it could be West, do you?”

I smiled. “Sometimes you’re so like me it’s almost like you are my brother.”

“But West is a cop.”

“A cop who is desperate to get out of this town and into some ‘real policing,’ as he puts it.”

“I don’t know—”

“Neither do I,” I cut in. “But I sure as hell intend to find out.”

“But how?”

“By talking to the man in charge.”

“Harris? He works with West. He’s not going to believe the worst of a workmate.”

“Harris is a good cop. He’ll listen, he’ll consider the evidence, and he’ll make his own decision.”

Evin grunted. And it wasn’t a convinced-sounding grunt, either. “There is one thing they did tell me.”

When he didn’t go on, I raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “What?”

He hesitated. “It sounds kind of silly, but they told me to make sure you never took the earrings off.”

Something inside me twisted. The earrings. I knew there was something odd about them. “Did they say why?”

“No.” Again he hesitated. “Not exactly. They just said you needed them on so that controlling you was easier.”

Controlling me? Or controlling my wolf and other gifts?

I swerved over to the side of the road and stopped the truck. Dust flew around us as the tires skidded on the uneven shoulder. “Open the glove compartment and see if there’s a knife in there.”

He didn’t move. “Get the wire off my neck, Hanna. Fair is fair.”

He was right. I motioned him to turn around. He did so, and lifted his hair so I could get to the knot at the back easier. His neck was raw and weeping, and guilt spun through me. I really should have taken it off earlier.

I reached for the wire, but the minute my fingertips touched it, blue sparks erupted. I jerked my hand away and glanced at my fingertips. They were burned.

“What’s wrong?” Evin said, voice sharp.

“It would appear I’m extremely sensitive to silver. Wait here.”

I climbed out of the cab and into the bed at the back, quickly flipping open the tool box. There was a wire cutter sitting on the top, but that was next to useless—the silver was sitting too tightly against Evin’s neck to risk using it. I pushed the tools around and found not only a pair of gloves but also a switchblade. I grabbed them both, then jumped back into the truck.

I pulled on the gloves then cautiously touched the wire. Even through the gloves I could feel the heat of the silver, but it wasn’t hot enough to stop me from undoing the wire.

Evin jerked away the minute the wire was loose enough and quickly rubbed his raw neck. “Fuck, that stuff burns.”

I chucked the wire out the door then slammed it shut. “I gather you’ve never had an encounter with silver before?”

“No. But I take it you have?”

“I’ve been shot by the stuff so many times I’m now super-sensitive to it.” I flicked open the switchblade and studied the point. It was certainly sharp enough to do the job. After a moment, I became aware of Evin’s heated stare. “What?”

“Did you even hear what you just said?”

I smiled. “Yes. And no, I can’t explain it, beyond the fact that I’m involved on some level with the Directorate.”

“Then whoever is behind all this is playing a mighty dangerous game. Even I know you don’t fuck around with Directorate people. Not if you value your life.”

“Which is probably why he gave me another identity. Then he could kill me without raising any alarms.”

“As I said before, this whole situation is fucked.” He gave the knife point a somewhat dubious look. “I take it you want me to take the earrings out of your ears.”

“I tried taking them off the first time I had a shower. They wouldn’t budge. Cutting them out seems to be my only option.”

He took the knife somewhat gingerly. “It’ll hurt.”

I shrugged. “I’m tough.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” he muttered, then motioned me to turn around.

I did so, reaching across with one hand and sweeping the short strands of my hair out of the way. His touch on my ear was light and firm.

“It does feel like they’re embedded,” he commented. “Don’t jerk away when I cut or I might just tear your lobe off.”

“I won’t.”

Cold metal touched my ear, slicing into my flesh. Evin’s touch was surprisingly delicate, and the cut didn’t hurt all that much. After a few seconds, the blade was gone and his fingers were pulling at my ear. Something dropped onto the seat between us and bounced onto the floor of the truck.

“Other one,” Evin said.

I resisted the impulse to reach down and grab whatever had fallen out and twisted around on the seat, so that he could reach my right ear. He repeated the process, but this time, he had to pry the thing out of my ear. It felt like it was being pulled out of my ear canal rather than my lobe, a sensation that had my stomach rising and my head spinning.

“Fuck,” I said, jerking away the minute it was free and rubbing my ear fiercely. “That one hurt.”

And other than the pain, I didn’t really feel any different with the earrings gone. For some reason, I thought I would.

But maybe I needed to do something—like shape-shift—to see if removing them had actually improved my situation. Right now, we didn’t have that time. West would be close to the whaling station by now. We really needed to get moving, just in case he came back. I took the brake off and hit the gas. Dirt and stones sprayed the underneath of the truck as the tires skidded then gripped, and the big truck surged forward once more.

“It looks like a battery,” Evin said, examining the earring. “Only it’s got a tail.”

I held out a hand and he dropped it into my palm. It was small and round, and the silk-fine tail was about two and a half inches long.

Evin reached down and picked up the remains of the other earring. It was also small, but without the tail.

“I have no idea what they are,” he said. “Do you?”

I shook my head. “But when I tried to shift shape, I was hit by an intense pain—it felt like my brain was on fire. Maybe this is the reason why.”

“How the hell can something that small stop a shifter from taking their other shape?”

“Nanotechnology means the smallest devices can be extremely powerful.”

“Granted, but that doesn’t explain how it manages to stop a shape-shift.”

I shrugged. “From what I’ve read, the electrical activity emanating from the brain increases exponentially when we shift. Maybe the device somehow disrupts that surge and prevents the shift process.”

So why hadn’t it prevented the seagull shift? I frowned down at the thing in my hand. Maybe it could be programmed. Maybe shifting into different shapes resulted in different energy signatures, and if these things could be programmed, then it was here to prevent the wolf shift.

Because he doesn’t know about your alternate form, that internal voice whispered. He doesn’t know about your other skills.

If only I could figure out who he was, my life would be a whole lot easier.

I dropped the metal mouse back into Evin’s hand. “Keep them safe for me.”

He looked surprised but pleased. “I will, trust me.”

I did. And not just because he wanted my help to rescue his soul mate. There was no cunning in his gaze, no artifice in his actions. Granted, he may have spent the last few days doing nothing but lying to me, but that wasn’t his nature. Wasn’t his soul.

Evin was honest. I’d stake my life on it.

And given the situation, I probably was.

“So what’s our plan of action?” he asked.

I hesitated. “As I said earlier, I think the first thing we need to do is talk to Harris. What happens after that very much depends on whether he believes us or not.”

“If he doesn’t, we’re stuck. I can’t leave Dunedan until I’m told to, because if I don’t report in every night, they’ll kill Lyndal.”

“So they’ve told you to call from that phone only?”

“Yes. They gave me the location and number, and said if I use any other phone, Lyndal will pay.”

“Meaning they’re using caller ID—and there are ways around that.” Not that I could actually recall any of them at the moment. “Is the number you call local or interstate?”

“Interstate. The calls are killing my credit card.”

I snorted. “They’re making you pay for the calls?”

“And the villa. The bastards aren’t exactly free with the cash.”

“I guess it’s one way to avoid a paper—or credit—trail.”

“And if they were planning to kill us at the end of it, I guess it’s probably easier to waste my cash than theirs.”

“Probably. If Harris can trace the phone number for us, that’ll at least give us a starting location.” Though I very much doubted the phone number would relate to wherever they were keeping Lyndal. That would be a dumb move, and whoever was behind this wasn’t dumb. Arrogant, yes, overconfident, probably, but not dumb.

“We’ve still got to get her out of there without them suspecting.”

“We will.”

“I don’t think you and I have enough firepower to stop them.”

“I don’t intend for it to be just you and me.”

He glanced at me. “Your brother?”

“If I can remember him, and find him, trust me, we won’t need a fucking army.”

He didn’t say anything to that, but the sliver of fear whisked through the darkness again. Silence fell. I kept the truck thundering through the night, but it was well after one before we got back into Dunedan.

I swung the truck down a side street and drove straight to the police station. I expected the place to be lit up, but it was as dark as a grave.

Trepidation slithered through me. I pulled up by the curb rather than the driveway and threw the gears into neutral.

“He’s not there by the look of it,” Evin said.

“But he should be. He had two captives that needed to be locked up. One of them was a vamp.” And Harris, despite his extraordinary abilities, wasn’t used to dealing with vamps. I shouldn’t have left him alone.

And yet if I hadn’t, Evin might now be dead and I wouldn’t be one step closer to much-needed answers.

I peered through the side window, scanning the building’s windows and doors. There were no broken windows, no smashed locks or doors. Everything looked in order.

And yet every instinct I had said something was wrong.

“Stay here,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

“Hanna—”

“No arguments, Evin,” I cut in. “This is what I do. Lock the doors and keep the engine running. If anyone but me or Harris comes out of that place, run for it.”

He was staring at me again. “Only guardians hunt vamps. Werewolves aren’t—can’t—be guardians.”

“They can if they possess special talents or mixed blood. I’m a dhampire, Evin. I can do what vampires do, without the drawbacks.” And as a werewolf who not only had vampire skills but who could shift into bird form, I certainly fit both those conditions. Even if I couldn’t remember it. I climbed out of the cab. “Keep safe. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like come after you?” He snorted. “Sorry, Hanna, but I didn’t willingly sign onto this gig, and I have a pregnant mate to consider. If there’s a vamp loose in there, he’s all yours.”

“Then make sure you stay safe for her.”

I closed the door, watched him lock both, then walked around the truck and headed toward the police station. I blinked to switch to infrared and scanned the inside of the building. The body heat of four people shimmered inside, meaning Harris had called in help.

I was barely four steps away from the door when energy brushed across my mind. It was a light, probing touch—inquisitive, and not yet dangerous. My shields were up enough that he couldn’t read my thoughts, but I still felt the power surging under the surface of that touch, and it was very strong indeed.

Then I realized what I was doing, what I was feeling. That vamp might be telepathic, but so was I. Obviously, removing the earrings had worked.

As I reached for the door handle, the vamp hit me telepathically, the blow fierce and hard. I froze in my tracks for the barest of seconds, then threw all the energy I had to my shields, clenching my fists as I battled blow after mental blow.

Damn it, I’d had enough of people messing around with my thoughts! This bastard wasn’t going to get in.

But he didn’t seem to want to quit, either.

Sweat began trickling down my face and, in the pit of my stomach, fear swelled. I had strong shields, and this vamp was pushing me to my limits. What hope did Harris—and whoever else was in there with him—have?

They’d only had nanowires to protect them, and against a telepath this strong the wires were next to useless.

Then his telepathic attack ceased as suddenly as it had began. I took a deep, somewhat trembling breath and pushed the door open. Darkness greeted me, thick and silent. I flared my nostrils, drawing in the scents. Harris didn’t seem to be close, but the other wolf stood in the shadows just behind the door.

He was barely even breathing. I reached out telepathically to assess the state of his mind and hit the electronic buzz of the nanowire. I could break past its protection—I’d done it often enough in the past—but it took time and effort, and I didn’t want to risk it with another powerful telepath nearby. He might just use my concentration to get underneath my own shields.

I flexed my fingers, took a deep breath, then dove through the doorway, hitting the floor with my back, rolling neatly to my feet and spinning around.

To find the barrel of a gun pointing straight at my head.