Moon Sworn

Chapter 14

For once, his vampire expression failed him. His response was right there on his face, in full view and easily read. He went from surprise to disbelief then hope and sheer, utter joy all within a split second of each other, then he let loose a huge whoop of delight and swept me into his arms, hugging me fiercely.

“That is the one question I never, ever thought you’d ask.” He cupped my face between his hands and kissed my nose, my lips, my chin, then moved up to my lips again. It was almost as if he were in such a state of excitement, he couldn’t concentrate on one area.

I laughed softly and draped my arms around his neck. “To be honest, I never really considered it before. But if these last few days have taught me anything, then it’s been crystallizing what, exactly, I want from my life. And making our relationship official is my number-one priority. Well, that and breaking free of the Directorate’s leash.”

“And a more perfect way of celebrating your return I could never have imagined. I will adore marrying you.”

He kissed me again, softly and sweetly. “I guess we now need decide just how soon and what type.”

I grinned. “The vampire sounds anxious.”

“The vampire has long considered you his, but to make it official—” He stopped and simply looked at me for a moment, and in his gaze and expression was enough love and joy to light up our solar system. “—that was a dream I’d thought impossible. So yeah, let’s get this done quickly.”

I laughed softly. “I’m not going to change my mind, you know.”

“I know that, but fate hasn’t exactly been kind to you over the years, so let’s get this done before something stops us.” He dropped another kiss on my lips. “As to how, I don’t really care. Human mode or wolf, whichever way suits you.”

“Swearing our love at dusk, on the night of the full moon, will take away the emotional desire for others, but it doesn’t actually kill the ability to have sex with anyone else. But the lack of desire might prove a problem considering you can’t live entirely off my blood and you prefer to take blood during sex.”

“Prefer, not must. And if swearing to the moon brings you and me together as one, then I will top up my blood the regular way—donations via the arm or neck of willing participants—or via that revolting synth stuff.”

I frowned. “I thought you didn’t like the blood whore clubs?”

“I don’t. But there are certain establishments that cater to those who prefer their donations from those who aren’t hooked on the giving, or who prefer little or anonymous contact.”

I raised my eyebrows. “How can a donor be anonymous when you’re sucking their neck or arm?”

“By the careful placement of screens.”

“How come no one knows about these establishments?”

“Because their whole purpose is to cater to the rich and/or the famous—those who don’t want to be seen consuming in public, and who can afford to pay for the privilege of anonymity.”

“Ah. These things always come down to money.”

“Of which I have plenty,” he said. “So, how swish do you want our wedding?”

I laughed. “A werewolf ceremony is a simple one. You, me, close family—because we sure as hell won’t be swearing anything without letting Rhoan and Liander in on the action—and the moon. Clothes are optional.”

“Now, why am I not surprised about that?”

“It also involves sex.”

“Given it’s a werewolf ceremony, I’d be surprised if it didn’t.” He paused, and said reflectively, “Maybe that’s why the ceremony with Eryn didn’t work. We said the words but didn’t go through the motions.”

Eryn Jones was the wolf he’d been engaged to before I’d met him. Only, she’d used an experimental “love”

drug to snare him and had been after little more than his money. He’d caught her exercising her werewolf nature with several willing wolves, and he’d made her pay by snatching her memory and giving her a new life—that of a hooker.

He wasn’t a man you ever wanted to betray.

“Well, all I can say is thank God, because otherwise we would not be here today.”

He smiled. “So maybe I should start forgiving her?”

“Might be an idea.”

He nodded, his expression somewhat distracted as he trailed his fingertip down my neck.

I licked my lips, and said, “So you’re happy to go with the werewolf ceremony?”

“It’s what you’ve always dreamed of, isn’t it?”

“One of the things, yes.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Although I wouldn’t mind exchanging rings. I’m a big believer in those oldfashioned things.”

“Something for me, something for you. It’ll be perfect.” I kissed his fingertips as they trailed back up and across my lips, then snuggled my body closer against his. Felt the hardness of his rising erection, the excited pounding of my pulse. “And do you know what would be the perfect way to celebrate our upcoming nuptials?”

“I think I can guess,” he murmured, a heartbeat before his lips claimed mine.

From that moment on, there was little talking, only kissing and caressing and lovemaking.

And it was perfect.

I t was nearly four by the time we got to Mickleham. There was little traffic on the roads and few lights on in any of the houses. Our target was situated in the Mount Ridley estate, which was basically dozens of mini-farms ranging in size from two acres to eight. There weren’t a whole lot of trees or cover to be had, but given the time, I doubted there’d be too many people up and about to notice us.

Quinn slowed the Porsche and all but crawled past the property.

“Three life-forms inside,” he said softly.

I glanced at him. “You can see that from this distance?” There had to be a good acre between us and the house.

He smiled. “You may have infrared, but you don’t have a vampire’s blood hunger. That makes all the difference when it comes to sensing life within walls.”

“I guess it does.” I looked back at the house. In the darkness, it looked like a squat and ugly box, but it was two stories high and dominated the skyline. There were no lights on in the house, and there didn’t seem to be any animals grazing or sleeping in the paddocks.

“I’m betting it’s not as peaceful as it looks. They wouldn’t be that careless.”

“There will probably be alarms on the house, at least,” he agreed. “And we also have the problem that, as a vampire, I can’t go into the house. Not without an invite, and I very much doubt they’re going to extend one.”

“So, we need a distraction.” I paused as we cruised past the boundary of our house and another—slightly prettier—one came into sight. A light shone in one of the rooms on the first floor. Night owls were not what we needed right now—not when they were right next door to a house we needed to break into. I glanced at Quinn.

“How well can you act?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you know I was once a very sought after actor in Elizabethan times?”

Amusement ran through me. “Weren’t Elizabethan actors considered rogues and treated with suspicion?”

“Only initially. Once the queen began granting licenses to the aristocracy for the maintenance of troupes, acting became more regulated and the actors’ popularity increased greatly.” He smiled, almost wistfully. “That was a very enjoyable period of my life.”

“Meaning there were lots of women to be had, no doubt,” I said with a grin.

“Of course,” he said, amusement warming his words. He swung the car into a driveway and turned around.

“Although it’s been a while since my stage days, so my acting skills are probably rusty. But I think I could manage a passable drunk looking for his lover’s house. If I make enough noise, it’ll hopefully distract their attention.”

“It’s extremely difficult for vamps to get drunk,” I said doubtfully. “Given that the men inside that house won’t be human and will sense what you are almost immediately, do you think they’ll buy the drunk act?”

“Just because it’s difficult doesn’t mean that it doesn’t happen.” He shifted the gear into first and drove back past the house. “Besides, there just happen to be several bottles of Dom Perignon sitting snugly in the backseat. I’ll tip a little over me for increased verisimilitude.”

I gave him a look of utter horror. “And waste such fine champagne? That’s criminal.”

He chuckled softly. “I said a little. The rest we can save for later.”

“Well, that’s all right then.”

He drove back past the house and continued on to the end of the street. Once there, he pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. “How long do you think you’ll need to get to the house?”

I glanced at my watch. “Five minutes should be enough. I doubt they’ll have much in the way of sensors or alarms in the paddocks—the wildlife would play havoc with them. I’ll just have to be more cautious near the house.”

He nodded then handed me a cell phone. “Take this, because you may need to prove who you are to Lyndal. And be careful. I don’t want my wife-to-be getting too messed up before our wedding night.”

“Trust me, I’ve had more than enough excitement lately to last me a lifetime.” I returned his kiss briefly, then opened the door and climbed out.

The night was crisp and cold, and the darkness somehow more intense with the absence of street lighting. I ran across the road and climbed through the wire fence. It was tempting to simply run down the road, but if someone was up in our target house, then a lone runner at this hour of the night was going to raise all manner of suspicion.

Not that someone jogging across paddocks wasn’t.

Of course, I could wrap myself in shadows and run along the road that way, but there was no guarantee that both of the guards were wolves. Blake knew I was Directorate, knew the Directorate would be involved in any search for me, so he’d surely have more than wolves as backup. And he would have figured out a way to get a vamp guard past the threshold restriction—and rented houses did have restrictions, even if public places didn’t. It was still somebody’s home, and that was the difference.

I kept close to the tree-lined boundary fences—though the trees themselves were small and shrubby, and didn’t really provide much in the way of cover. But they at least gave me deeper shadows to hide in.

Somewhere off to my right, a dog began barking, the sound more friendly and excited than one of warning. I slipped through the wire fence dividing the two properties and ran forward, once again keeping to the fence line until I was near the house. There was very little in the way of cover around it, but there were garden beds with white stones along the length of the side I could see, and a covered patio area around the back. A garage dominated the right side of it, and it had motion sensor lights attached to the front. I cursed inwardly and scanned the roofline, and saw more lights jutting out from the corners of the house. The minute I went near it, those damn things would come on.

Which left me with one option—the roof. It was a basic, red tile roof, the sort that could be seen on millions of houses all over Australia. And tiles—unlike the iron roofing often used these days—were easy to move. I called to my seagull shape and took to the sky. As I landed, a car turned into the road, tires squealing as Quinn took the corner too fast. High-beam lights turned the shadows into day, and music—heavy, thumping rock—blared so loud that I could hear it from here.

I’d wanted a distraction, I thought with a grin. Quinn was certainly giving me it.

As the car drove up the driveway and the bright lights pinned the house, I shifted back to human form and carefully began sliding tiles to one side. Given they were concrete, it was difficult not to make noise, but I hoped the steady thumping beat of music would cover any sound I was making. By the time Quinn had pulled to a halt outside the front entrance, I’d created a big enough hole to get through. I didn’t drop into it, however, wanting to make sure the guards’ attention was on Quinn rather than what else might be going on within the house.

“Hey, Emma?” The voice, though Quinn’s, was loud and slurred. “Why did you leave me, baby? Come out and talk to me.”

The lights came on around the house, then a booming voice said, “There’s no Emma here. You’ve got the wrong house.”

“Who the hell are you?” Quinn said, with all the belligerence of a true drunk. “And why the hell are you in Emma’s house?”

I grinned and dropped down into the roof space. It was—not unexpectedly—dark, so I switched to infrared and carefully began crawling along the rafters, dodging the air-con vents and various pipes and wires that seemed to breed up in roof spaces.

Outside, the rumble of voices was getting louder—not so much on Quinn’s part, but certainly that of the guard who’d answered the door. His frustration over the “drunk’s” refusal to believe he was in the wrong house was increasing. He hadn’t yet ventured out—his voice was still coming from the same position—but maybe if he got angry enough, he would.

He’d be Quinn’s the minute he did, which would leave me with only the one. And while I’d coped with more than one assailant many times, I was still sensible enough to prefer one at a time.

Unlike my brother, who often seemed to think the more, the merrier.

The trapdoor was located in the far corner. I crawled through a final strut and grasped the latch handle. There was no sign of body heat in the room immediately below, and little in the way of noise to give away the position of the second guard. Not that much else could be heard over the racket erupting from the front.

I pried the cover up and looked down into the white-tiled bathroom. The air here smelled warm and moldy, and there was a pile of damp towels thrown into the corner near the shower. Obviously, the guards weren’t into washing.

There was no one in sight. I listened for any indication of where the other guard might be, but the house was quiet—if you ignored the music and two men yelling out the front, anyway. I flared my nostrils, drawing in the more distant flavors, trying to find some hint of the other man’s location. Cabbage and cooking meat were the most intense scents filling the air, but underneath that ran the foul scent of vampire.

It wasn’t strong, meaning he was probably several rooms away, but that was close enough to hear me—or, rather, hear my heartbeat. So why hadn’t he come running?

Maybe Quinn was doing a better job of distraction than I’d thought.

Praying that it kept that way for a few seconds more, I grabbed the sides of the manhole and dropped down lightly, my rubber-soled shoes making little noise as they hit the tiles. I stayed in that half-squatting position, my heart racing as I listened again for any hint of movement.

Again, there was nothing. I crept forward, still half crouched. My barely healed leg protested, and pain slithered through my muscles. I ignored it and continued on.

The scent of vampire was stronger near the door, and seemed to be coming from the right. I couldn’t see the blur of his body heat in the immediate vicinity, though, which was odd.

I risked taking a quick look into the hall. It was empty of life and unlife. There were three doors to the left, two of them open, the other dead-bolted. No need to guess who lay behind that door, I thought grimly. The only real surprise would be her condition. I had no idea what Blake’s orders would have been for Lyndal, but given that he probably had measures in place to kill us all the minute anything went wrong, he might not have cared what the men did to her as long as she remained able to talk to Evin.

A shiver ran through me. For Evin’s sake, I had to hope that I was imagining the worst. That she was fine and unharmed in any way.

And tomorrow, pigs might fly.

I brushed the thought aside and slipped out into the hallway. The stench of vampire suddenly seemed stronger, and though I could hear no sound, instinct warned me he was on the move.

The stairs were to the right. I stepped across the hall and, keeping my back to the wall, crept toward them. The vampire scent was getting stronger, and my nose twitched in distaste. I still couldn’t hear him, but then, Blake had the money to hire the best.

He’d hired Kye, after all.

For the first time since I’d killed him, my soul didn’t ache at the mere thought of his name. The emptiness remained—would probably always remain—but the pain and the hurt were no longer knife-edged. Maybe my decision to commit to Quinn had been exactly what I’d needed—what my soul had needed.

I stopped several feet away from the corner, with a hall table between me and the stairs. I reached out and carefully picked up a vase of long-dead flowers. The vamp had to know I was here—he’d hear the beat of my heart even if he was as blind to body heat as I seemed to be—and he’d come around that corner fast. So I needed something to distract him with.

I waited, breath caught somewhere in my throat, for his approach. When it came, it was lightning fast. One minute the hall was empty, the next minute there was a long, thin stretch of vampire hunkered down in the middle of it holding a gun.

I swung the vase and let it go. Dead flowers and foul-smelling water flew, soaking the carpet. I jumped forward, following the vase with a kick. He ducked both and pulled the trigger. I twisted out of the way, felt the bullet burn past my hip, and lashed out, my clenched fingers taking him under the chin, throwing him up and back but not knocking him out. He hit the carpeted floor hard and his gun went flying.

I leapt for it, my fingers latching onto the barrel even as he caught his balance and lunged for me. I didn’t have time to shift my grip to the trigger so I simply twisted around, smashing the weapon against his face with as much force as I could muster. Flesh and bone gave way under the impact and he went down, but he was still far from out. I scrambled to my knees and hit him in his throat with the side of my hand. His eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp.

It wouldn’t last long. Vampires were too tough to be immobilized for very long—even by a blow that would have killed a human.

I switched the gun’s safety on, shoved it into the waistband of my jeans, then took a moment to rub at my leg. There was no blood and the wound hadn’t split, but the ache was deep and relentless, despite the numbness that still ringed the actual wound.

But I guess if that was the worst aftereffect of getting shot with silver for the umpteenth time, then I could consider myself lucky.

I grabbed the vamp’s arms, lifting his head and shoulders off the floor, then dragged him down the stairs. The other guard hadn’t come up to investigate the gunshot, so I had to presume Quinn had managed to grab him outside.

Indeed I have. His thoughts rolled through mine, warm and amused. It appears my acting skills are not as rusty as I thought. Did the other one manage to wing you?

The bullet barely even scraped my side.

Which, knowing you, probably means there’s a hole the size of a fist in your body.

I laughed and hauled the vamp down the last step, then dragged him across the foyer to the open front door. Quinn was standing on the porch, his arms crossed as he watched me. The other guard was propped up against the thick white columns.

“I’ve dealt with the first guard already.” As I stepped over the door threshold, Quinn took the vamp’s arms and jerked him sideways, depositing him rather roughly beside the other guard. Not that either man deserved any form of gentle treatment after the hell they’d put Evin through. “Neither of them will remember our arrival or notice their captive is missing.”

“Good.” I glanced down at my side. My sweater was torn, but the wound was little more than a scratch and there wasn’t even much blood. Which was probably a good thing, considering how much I’d lost before Harris had removed the silver bullet. “Has either man got a key on them? Lyndal’s door is chained and padlocked.”

He patted down both guards, then shook his head. “Nothing in their pockets. Check the kitchen or their sleeping quarters.”

“On it.” I spun around and headed back into the house. The kitchen was at the back, and it was huge. But the counters were full of crap and the sink was littered with unwashed dishes. Obviously, neither of them was worried about mice or ants, because there were crumbs all over the floor and ants were currently enjoying the leftovers on several plates.

All of which was just more evidence they didn’t intend to be here long, because surely any lengthy stay would have required a bit of hygiene. The wolf, at least, would have been driven to distraction by the smell—it was bad enough already.

Although that could have just been the aroma of cabbage and boiling meat that was coming from the pot on the stove.

Nose twitching, I hunted around for keys but failed to find anything except stacks of newspapers and betting slips. I guess they had to do something to fill up the days—and they couldn’t harass Lyndal twenty-four seven if they wanted to keep her alive.

I turned around and walked back up the stairs. The first room was a bedroom that had been converted into a living area. There was a TV in one corner, several lounge chairs, and a coffee table set against the side walls. To the left of the door was a bank of wires and monitors.

I stepped inside. Four monitors showed slowly panning views of the sides of the house and the immediate surrounds. One was fixed on the front gate, another swept the rear garden, a third appeared to be scanning a bathroom, and the last one was in a bedroom.

I watched the pan of the camera. Saw the bed, the TV, and the bucket, and felt fury sweep through me. The bastards hadn’t even offered her decent toilet facilities. I should have smacked that vampire a little bit harder.

The camera finally panned around far enough to reveal Lyndal. She was standing near the window, her face pressed up against the barred glass, as if desperate to see around the corner of the house and figure out what was going on. She was naked, her skin bruised but otherwise clean, meaning that while they’d not given her proper toilet facilities, they’d at least allowed her to shower. It didn’t ease the anger burning through me, though.

I spun around and headed into the next room. This one was set up as a bedroom, with two single beds and a battered pine coffee table squeezed in between them. On this sat wallets, coins, cash, and keys—two sets of car keys and another ring holding five other keys. I swept them up, spun around, and ran for the padlocked room.

“Lyndal,” I said as I sorted through the keys trying to find the right one. “It’s Riley Jenson from the Directorate. I’m here to rescue you.”

One of the keys finally slipped into the lock and it snapped open. I unlatched the door and pressed it open. A bucket came flying at me, its stinking contents splattering through the air.

“Whoa,” I said, jumping out of the way. “Easy, Lyndal. I really am here to rescue you.”

“Riley Jenson is up in Dunedan, not down here in Melbourne.”

So the men had told her what Evin was doing and who he was minding—which was only more evidence to the fact that they never intended for any of us to live.

She stepped into my line of sight, her fists clenched and fury etching her features. Her face was unmarked, green eyes spitting fire, but her limbs were as bruised as her back and there were ugly welts around her wrists and ankles. She’d been tied with silver more than once.

Even her gently rounded belly had bruises, and for the second time in a matter of minutes, I wished I’d hit the vampire harder.

“What fucking game are you lot playing now?” she added furiously.

“No game, I promise you.” I reached into my pocket and withdrew the phone. “You can ring Evin, if you like.”

I pressed the appropriate number, made sure it was ringing, then tossed her the phone. Her expression was still a mix of defiance and disbelief, but she nevertheless held the phone to her ear and waited.

Evin answered, and her face just about crumbled. “Oh god,” she said, “It is you.”

I don’t know what Evin said, because it didn’t exactly sound coherent from where I was standing. Quinn, we need to get these two back together ASAP. Any chance of your plane coming to the rescue again?

I’ll have to get another pilot, but yeah, we can do it.

Fantastic. I stepped over the puddle of urine and fecal matter and into the room.

Lyndal’s gaze jumped to mine and she backed away a step. “What does she look like?”

I paused, waiting. Her gaze slipped down my body, and the tension riding her eased. She closed her eyes briefly and said, “Yeah, it’s her.”

I held out a hand. She hesitated, then handed me the phone. “Evin—”

I didn’t get any further, because he was all but crying “Thank you, thank you, thank you” over and over.

“Evin,” I said sharply, even though my heart ached for him. “We’ve got to go. You need to listen.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay.”

“We’re sending Lyndal to you via Quinn’s plane. She’ll get there around lunch. But you need to carry on phoning every night as usual. They have to believe everything is fine.”

“But the guards will know—”

“The guards won’t remember a damn thing, and they’ll believe she’s still here safe and sound. As long as you and West keep up the charade, we should have a few days’ leeway.”

“But what if they do realize? We’re sitting ducks staying here.”

“I didn’t say you were staying there. I just said you needed to keep phoning.”

“But caller ID will tell them—”

“Caller ID can be faked. They’ll think you’re still there, Evin. Trust me.”

“I do.” He paused, then said, “When you confront Blake, I want in. Whatever you do, I want to be a part of it. He has to pay, Riley. For you, and for Lyndal.”

“He will. But I haven’t yet decided what—”

“I don’t care. Just factor in my help.”

“And mine,” Lyndal murmured. “I may be pregnant, but, by god, someone is going to pay for what these bastards did to me.”

I glanced at her and saw the fire in her eyes. The need for retribution. And understood it, totally. I gave her the phone. “We need to move. Say good-bye.”

I turned and led the way downstairs. She talked and walked, hanging up as we neared the front door. She paused when she saw Quinn, her nostrils flaring, then glanced at me and marched forward.

Not at Quinn, but the two men. She raised a fist, but Quinn caught it before she could land a blow.

“I can understand the need to lash out,” he said softly, “but leaving a bruise they can’t remember might just undo the mind washing I’ve done.”

She glanced at him, her thin face fierce, then nodded once and stepped back. “Will the Directorate take care of them later?”

“If not the Directorate, then I will,” Quinn said. And he said it with such an utter lack of emotion that it was chilling—and totally believable. “They are dead men walking.”

“Good.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, though it wasn’t an attempt to cover her nakedness. “What next?”

“We’ve some clothes for you in the back of the car, if you’d like to climb in and dress.” Quinn glanced at me.

“You need to put the guards back.”

“Put them back how?”

“The vampire tripped on some loose carpeting going up the stairs, hit the hall stand, and knocked himself unconscious.”

Meaning I’d have to ensure there was loose carpet. “And the wolf?”

“Before the vamp had his accident, he and the wolf had a minor altercation. The wolf was knocked down and smacked the back of his head on the tiles.”

And given I’d neutralized my scent before we’d come here, no one would scent me. “Neither man has appropriate bumps.”

He glanced at me, his smile cold. “Oh yes they have.”

I snorted. “And you stopped Lyndal from hitting him.”

“I built my bumps into their memories.”

“You could have done it to hers.”

“It’s not easy to account for bruising to the front and back of the head. In a case like this, where you’re adding memories and forcing them not to see certain things, too many complications can risk blowing the whole thing.”

“Which is what happened with me.”

He nodded. I grabbed the vamp’s arms, dragging him back through the hall and up the stairs. I was sweating by the time I reached the landing. He might appear to be little more than a string bean, but he obviously had heavy bones.

I dumped him on the floor, knocked over the hall stand, then ripped up a little of the carpet covering the top step. Then I ran back downstairs to grab the werewolf. Him I dragged into the kitchen.

I locked the front door as I came out. Quinn touched my back lightly, guiding me across to the car. At least the ear-splitting music had stopped. “We must find time to undo your mind restraints, too.”

“As I said, that’s not important right now. We need to track down our killer first then confront Blake.”

He opened the passenger door and ushered me inside. “You do know that this time, defeating him won’t be enough.”

His words had something twisting inside, if only because they were forcing me to confront what I’d long known but hadn’t really admitted.

Because the guards inside that house weren’t the only ones who were dead men walking.

Blake and whoever else was involved in this scheme were, as well.

But not via the Directorate.

Not via a gun.

It could never be that easy.

No, I had to kill Blake the same way he’d killed my grandfather.

With my wolf.

It was the only way to keep the pack from coming after me and Rhoan and everyone we loved.