Moon Sworn

Chapter 4

The shot reverberated through the emptiness. I threw myself sideways, felt the sting of metal past my cheek, and fired my own gun. I hit the concrete with enough force to bruise, but ignored the shock reverberating through my muscles and rolled into a kneeling position, the gun held at the ready.

I needn’t have bothered.

My shot had flown true, hitting Surrey in the middle of his forehead. Not even a vampire can survive having his brains splattered out of the back of his head.

Nausea rose. I closed my eyes and fought back the bitter taste of bile in my throat. Justified or not, I’d let instinct take over and had fired to kill rather than wound.

I don’t want to do this anymore. The thought came thick and fast, its force so strong it made me shake.

But the truth was, I would. Time and time again. I would do what I had to do, until the killer took me over.

Because I had no other choice, no other option.

Kye had offered an option, some stupid, silly part of me whispered. It might have even been a way out.

But it was a way out that would have involved more killing. He’d been a hunter, just like me, only he’d enjoyed it. He wouldn’t have changed even if I’d asked.

But I hadn’t asked. I’d killed him instead.

Tears stung my eyes, but I savagely blinked them away. Feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to help.

I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath, swiped a hand at the blood dribbling down my cheek, then flicked the safety back on the weapon and pushed to my feet.

Surrey might be dead, but I could still get my answers—if his soul was a little more cooperative than his flesh had been, that was.

I walked across to the office doorway and squatted beside his body. In death, he looked small and harmless, his body so thin it was almost wasted. His face was gaunt, his nose and cheeks sharp and prominent, and his skin had that pale, translucent look of a vampire who wasn’t feeding enough. The thick scent of the blood and brains that were leaking from his head made my nose twitch, but it was the smells riding underneath that caught my interest. Because underneath the reek of vampire was the tantalizing, nebulous aroma of werewolf.

Sometime in the last few hours, he’d been in close contact with one of us. And if Surrey had been in the van Johnson’s soul had mentioned, then he’d just given us our first clue as to who his partner in crime was.

I rested my arms on my knees and waited. For some odd reason, humans seemed to believe that vampires had no souls. Maybe because, for most vampires, the turning process did involve the death of their human forms as their bodies evolved into vampire—and for humans, death generally meant the soul moved on. But whatever the reason, it wasn’t true. Although right now, it seemed Surrey’s soul was a little afraid to come out and speak to me.

I shuffled back a fraction, hoping that by giving him a little more space, he’d feel a little less jumpy.

I’d never met a soul that was scared of me before. Confused and frightened by what had happened to them, yes, but not actually afraid.

It took a few minutes, but gradually the chill of death began to infuse the air. Wispy strands of smoke began to rise from his body, the tendrils gathering several feet above his flesh until they’d formed a ghostly, almost humanlike figure that had no features. He didn’t swirl as so many other souls did, but I felt the sharp tug of him sucking at my energy.

You lied, he said, his voice far clearer, stronger, than was usual for the dead. But maybe that was merely a result of the freshness of his demise. Usually I didn’t arrive on the scene until at least an hour afterward.

“Anyone who shoots at a guardian needs to be prepared. We don’t often miss.” Although I could have, if I’d just taken a moment to think rather than react. It would have been better to interrogate his live body rather than his dead one.

But I didn’t kill anyone, he said. His anger and fear swirled around me, through me, in a bitter, vengeful cloud.

It was the same bitterness I’d tasted in the park.

“If you didn’t kill Johnson, then why were your prints found in the van? And why was your scent at the murder scene?”

He just sat there, a pulsing cloud of conflicting emotions. And he didn’t seem more inclined to talk in this form than he had when flesh.

“If you want to move on and find peace, you’d better talk to me, Mr. Surrey.”

I had no idea if it actually worked that way, but I was betting he didn’t, either.

He stirred, sending a tendril of smoke swirling outward from his main form. The energy flowing from my body increased sharply, and pain stabbed through me. Obviously, I needed more recovery time between souls.

The bastard deserved what he got, he spat. He killed my family. Tortured them.

“He went to prison for his crimes—”

Hah, Surrey retorted. Twenty-five years for my wife and her daughter. Does that seem fair to you?

“That’s not—”

Yeah, yeah, you bastards all stick together. Well, I don’t regret my actions. He deserved it. I can move on in peace now, knowing he can’t do that to anyone else.

“But you didn’t actually do anything, did you, Mr. Surrey?” It was a guess on my part, but a pretty certain one. Surrey might be a vampire, but he didn’t seem to have the balls for torture. Sure, he’d had no compunction about shooting at me, but I think that was more fear and panic than courage.

His sullenness swirled around me. The pain of him sucking at my strength was growing, as was the dull ache behind my left eye.

No, he said eventually. I hired someone.

“Tell me who.”

I never knew his name and he never got out of that stupid costume he was wearing.

“The demon costume?”

His smoky form moved, which I took as assent. Maybe he’d forgotten he no longer had flesh.

“How did you get in contact with him, then?”

There was an ad in the paper.

I blinked. Contract killers were now taking out ads? “What sort of ad?”

A problem-solved ad. I contacted them, told them about Johnson, and they said they could help me.

By sending around a hit man? Interesting. “Was it their idea or yours to accompany the killer?”

Mine. I wanted to see the bastard die, wanted to feel it. Wanted him to know just how it felt to spend the last minutes of your life in such pain and fear.

Which was why the scent of vengeance had been so thick and bitter.

“Which paper did you see the ad in?” Dizziness swirled through me as I spoke, and I dropped a hand to the concrete to steady myself. But the weakness was growing. I’d need to end this soon.

The local paper, Surrey said. It runs every week.

“And there’s nothing else you can tell me about the man you hired? How did you pay him?”

Cash up front. His smoky form began to swirl and his anger sharpened. I can feel you growing weaker, guardian. Perhaps you should join me in—

I didn’t wait for him to finish, just chopped down on the link between us, cutting him off. The abruptness of it sat me back on my butt, but it had an even more resounding effect on him.

He screamed.

It was a high-pitched sound of agony and frustration combined, and the tendrils that had formed his body shattered, flying like broken glass in a hundred different directions.

Then he was gone.

I swallowed heavily and hoped like hell I hadn’t destroyed his soul as easily as I’d shot him.

For several heartbeats I sat there on the cold concrete staring at his body, but the trembling in my limbs got worse, not better, until it felt like I was shaking from the tip of my toes to the end of my hair. I wrapped my arms around my knees and tried to get a grip, but it didn’t seem to help. Coldness swept me—a coldness that had nothing to do with souls and everything to do with death.

And not just this death, but all deaths. The ones in the past and the ones in the future. The ones that had stained my soul and the ones that would.

I can’t do this any longer.

I didn’t want to do this any longer.

But short of death, I couldn’t see a way out. I needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand …

I’m here. Like a cool, calming breeze, Quinn’s thoughts poured into mine, instantly stemming the rising tide of panic. Talk to me.

I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t form. I just wanted him here in the flesh, wanted him to wrap his arms around me and tell me it would be all right. That in the end, fate’s fickle finger would start pointing at someone else, and my life would become sane again.

His warmth and love flooded down the link, battering away the doubts, the fear.

My thoughts unfroze. Panic subsided.

Sorry, I said eventually. I didn’t mean to disturb you like that.

Sweetheart, you can disturb me anytime, anywhere, for any reason. He paused, and I felt the wash of his concern. What happened?

I killed a suspect.

Not without reason.

No.

Then you were doing your job—nothing more, nothing less.

I know, but—

Stop beating yourself up, Riley. His voice came, soft but firm. The only person you need to worry about at the moment is yourself. I can take care of everything else—even if that means getting you away from the Directorate.

I smiled. It was very nice being loved by this man.

But was I ready for him to go to war for me? Because that’s what it would take to get me away from the Directorate. Jack was a great boss and a fair vampire, but he was still a Directorate man and he’d worked for a long time to get me where I was today. He wouldn’t release me easily.

And while I didn’t think Jack would resort to violence to keep me—especially against a vampire who was older and stronger—Jack wasn’t the sum of the Directorate. His sister was—and she was both older and stronger than Quinn. I had no idea just what she was capable of.

I wasn’t about to risk putting Quinn in harm’s way. I’d already lost my soul mate. I wasn’t about to lose my heart, as well.

But there was also the larger problem of the drug in my system. Quinn might own pharmaceutical companies, but they weren’t set up to monitor me like the Directorate was. Until we knew the direction of those changes, I was basically stuck.

Riley, he said softly, if you want out, I’ll make it happen.

I know. And that’s what worried me. But it’s not that simple.

It can be.

I rubbed a hand across my eyes. Maybe it could. Maybe if I gave up fear and simply trusted, it would all fall in place.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

Not when everything was still so raw and fresh.

I think I just need time, I said softly. Time to understand what I really want.

Time to gain the courage to go after it.

Maybe you also need to talk to someone who has been through what you’ve been through, he said. How long has it been since you’ve talked to Ben?

Once upon a time, he would have seen Ben as a threat, but after everything we’d been through of late, I think Quinn finally understood just how secure he was in my world. It didn’t matter if the moon heat drove me into the arms of another—it hadn’t anytime recently, and certainly never with Ben—because for a wolf, sex was a physical thing, a need as deep and driving as Quinn’s need for blood, and it did not affect the heart or mind. The possessive, controlling part of him had finally given way to understanding.

In return, I gave him my all. Or as much of me as there was left to give.

I talk to Ben all the time. And he did understand, because he’d lost his soul mate and had come out the other end.

But maybe that was also the problem. He’d coped. I really wasn’t.

I think you need to go talk to him again. Quinn paused. You need to talk to someone.

I closed my eyes. The pain behind that statement was easy to hear. I’m sorry, love. I don’t mean—

I know. He cut me off gently. And I know I told you in the past that I didn’t want to know about you and Kye. But you need to release the pain of it, Riley, or it’s going to eat you up and destroy you.

I know. I took a deep, shuddery breath. I’ll arrange another meeting with Ben.

And after that, maybe, finally, I could find a way to talk to Quinn. To open up about the pain and the hurt that still festered inside.

Though he sensed that hurt. He was too attuned to me now not to.

I need to report the kill to Jack, I said eventually. Whether we’ll meet for lunch or dinner very much depends on what he wants me to do next.

I’m here at the office all day, so just call when you’re ready.

I will. I paused, then added softly, Love you.

He smiled. It came down the link between us like sunshine through rain, all warm and glittery.

And you are my world, and everything that means anything to me, he replied. Remember that, when the demons start getting the better of you.

Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them away. I must have done something right if fate had left this man in my life.

I sent him a mental kiss, then closed down the link between us. My gaze fell on Surrey and, with another sigh, I dug my phone out of my pocket. Humans often got surprised that things like phones could come through the change with us. To be honest, I really couldn’t explain it myself. But the things we wore—on our bodies and in our pockets—were looked after by the magic, in much the same way as our clothes were. The things we carried—like handbags—weren’t. Where it all actually went when we were in our alternate shapes I had no idea—and, really, I preferred not to know.

I hit the record button, ignored the fact that my hands were still shaking, and propped the phone in position.

“The victim’s name is Hank Surrey,” I said, moving around to the other side of his body so I wouldn’t obstruct the recording. “One shot was fired to the middle of his forehead, resulting in a clean kill.”

I didn’t bother adding that I’d fired in self-defense. It wasn’t really relevant in this case, and Jack didn’t care anyway.

I reached into Surrey’s pockets and began pulling items out. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be me doing this but Cole. But given that Surrey wasn’t actually responsible for the killing, we needed to find some answers fast.

Or rather, I needed to find the answers fast.

“Handkerchief and three-fifty in coins found in left front pocket of jeans.” I dumped those back, then moved to the right side. “Wallet found in right side pocket.”

It contained about forty dollars in cash, several credit and key cards, and several bits of folded-up newspaper. I repeated this for the phone’s benefit, then drew out the paper and unfolded them. Both were newspaper clippings, and both were relatively small but explosive in their own way.

The first was a short article that had obviously been in his wallet for many years. The ink was all but faded and the paper so thin it was coming apart along the well-worn crease lines. It spoke about the brutal murder of a woman and her child in a park playground in Eltham, and it was little more than a couple of lines long. But that was enough to hint at the brutality of the event.

Surrey’s wife and adopted child, obviously.

No wonder the air had been thick with the scent of vengeance. Surrey had been holding on to his anger for a very long time indeed.

The other bit of paper was the ad he’d spoken about, and it simply said all personal problems solved, and gave a contact number. It was a land line rather than a cell phone, and in this day and age that was unusual.

I repeated it for the benefit of the recording, then continued searching, but there was little else of interest. Moving the search to the van produced the same result. I stopped the recording, then sent it to the Directorate and rang Jack.

“Riley,” he said. “We’ve just installed a scrambler program onto your cell phone, so hopefully that’ll stop the scanners from picking up any information until we get a new number. What’s happened?”

“I cornered Surrey and he wasn’t happy,”

“Meaning he’s dead.” It wasn’t a question, and in so many different ways that was disturbing. The worst being the fact that Jack had no doubt that I would shoot to kill, and that certainty was the one thing I’d wanted to avoid.

I desperately wanted him to have doubts. Needed him to have doubts, for my own peace of mind if nothing else.

“Surrey’s soul rose and I questioned him. It appears he hired a hit man through an ad in the local paper. The clipping was in his wallet—”

“You recorded your search?” he interrupted. “Cole’s very particular about that.”

And I’d been told off enough times by him to do it automatically nowadays. “It’s already on its way to you, though you might want to warn him he’ll also find my prints in the van. I now need to trace the phone number I found.” I reached for the ad and read out the number. “I might as well go investigate it if we can pin down a location.”

“Hang on.” He plonked the phone down, then murmured something to whoever was in the main office with him. Papers shuffled, then he came back online. “The labs just came back with the latest test results.”

My stomach twisted, then sank. The tests had become such a regular part of my life of late that I barely even thought or asked about them. But if he was mentioning it, it could only mean the genetic markers had moved. I licked suddenly dry lips and said, “And?”

“And it appears your DNA is shifting toward vampire.”

I frowned. “That really isn’t unexpected.”

Especially given Rhoan was already more vampire in his genetic makeup. It was always a possibility that eventually I’d head down that path, even without the DNA-altering drugs that Talon had given me.

“To some extent, it’s not,” Jack agreed. “But they’re not the changes we were, to some extent, expecting.”

Why was I not surprised? I rubbed a hand wearily across my eyes and said, “So what’s happening?”

“We’re not exactly sure.” For a minute, he sounded almost as weary as I did. But then, me becoming more vampire-like seriously cocked up his plans for a day division. “We’ve compared your results to Rhoan’s. His have been stable for years—and yours are not comparing favorably.”

“Meaning whatever is happening, it’s not making me like Rhoan?” Which in some ways was a good thing, because Rhoan had to drink blood during the full moon, and that was something I was desperate to avoid. I hated the taste of blood, even when it came after the thrill of chasing and catching rabbits.

If Jack was right, it seemed I was going to avoid the whole blood-taking thing—but at what cost?

What exactly was that damn drug turning me into?

“Given our success rate at predicting where these changes will go, I think it’ll be safer if we upped the monitoring.”

And wasn’t that what I wanted to hear. The tests might not bother me as much as they used to, but there were some months where I could sympathize with pin cushions. “Are we talking weekly?”

“At least.”

Crap. “It’s not going to alter anything, Jack. It’s not going to help.”

“It’s better that we track the changes rather than find out the hard way, Riley.”

I guess so.

“Okay,” he added, “we have the address. We’ll send it through to your onboard.”

Which I was nowhere near. And suddenly part of me didn’t want to go anywhere near it. I drew in a shaky breath and blew it out slowly. It didn’t help calm the nerves or the aching desire to just flee. “I’ll head there now, then go for lunch.”

“Keep the com-link on, Riley.”

He hung up. I shoved the phone into my pocket, then pushed to my feet. The smell of blood stung the air, metallic and cloying. I briefly wondered if that smell would ever call to me. Just because my DNA seemed to be veering away from that aspect of vampirism didn’t mean it couldn’t veer back.

I turned resolutely on my heel and walked away. I couldn’t change what was happening to me, and I wasn’t about to spend time dwelling on it. I had enough troubles on my plate; I didn’t need anything extra. I t didn’t take me long to fly back to my car, but three shape-shifts into seagull form in as many hours had totally shredded my top. I grabbed a T-shirt out of the trunk and dragged that on before jumping into the car and driving over to the address Jack had sent me.

It turned out to be a less-than-impressive-looking concrete apartment building in the back streets of St. Kilda. I found a parking spot several buildings down, then climbed out of my car and strolled back slowly. The apartment that was linked to the phone was situated on the fourth floor, which in this case was the top floor. I studied the windows but couldn’t pick which one was our target. They all had the same limp-hanging curtains, the only difference being the color. Some were blue, some were pink. All were sun-faded and somewhat grimy looking.

The building didn’t appear to have any sort of security system installed up front—which, given the somewhat rundown appearance of the place, wasn’t really surprising. The door was painted a gay red, but the paint was peeling and the wood pockmarked with holes. The air coming out of the place was a rich mix of sweaty humanity, cheap perfume, and sex.

Which suggested it was probably a brothel. And while brothels had been legal for more than a few years, I wasn’t sure they were supposed to be situated in this section of St. Kilda. As a general rule, they had to be away from main living areas, but it wasn’t unknown for councilors to be bribed to look the other way.

I glanced through the doorway as I walked by and saw a rather large and muscular-looking guard sitting in the hallway. Which maybe explained why there was no outside security, but it still seemed like overkill. This area was well policed, and, as far as I knew, there hadn’t been any trouble here for months.

But maybe he wasn’t just here to guard the ladies. Maybe he was also a sentinel for the room upstairs. The one that held a rare land line.

I kept walking until I’d gotten around the corner, then once again shifted shape, hoping like hell the T-shirt held up better than the blouse. I was running out of spare clothes.

I flew up to the rooftop and landed on the filthy tiles. I didn’t immediately change back to human form, but instead strutted around like any regular gull as I checked it for security features.

And I discovered a ton of them.

Cameras, heat sensors, and sound monitors—everything that hadn’t been in evidence downstairs, and all of which seemed a little over the top for what looked like a low-end brothel.

I strolled on, looking for some way to get in. There was a door, but it didn’t have a handle on this side. Which meant it was more than likely padlocked on the inside. And while I could no doubt break in, someone was bound to hear or see me with all the security. Right now, it seemed a damn good idea to avoid detection—at least until I knew just what, exactly, all this was protecting.

Which meant finding another way in.

I leapt skyward again, flying for a bit before swooping down the side of the building. A third-floor window was open, so I circled around and landed on the sill. From inside came the sound of a bed squeaking and the grunts of a man. The smell of sex and sweat was so heavily ingrained that even in this form I could smell it.

I ignored it, hopped from the sill to the floor, then looked around for security. There didn’t appear to be anything here—no cameras, and no monitoring devices of any kind that I could see, except for a discreetly placed button wired to the end of the bed. To be used if customers got nasty, no doubt.

The couple were in the lone bed. The man was obese and sweating heavily, the woman slender and dark skinned. She was chewing gum in time to the man’s movements.

I shook my head. I could never really understand the human necessity to pay for sex—mainly because I couldn’t understand what joy there was in only one partner having a good time.

But then, I was a werewolf, and sex was something to rejoice and celebrate. Maybe you needed to be human to understand the concept of paying for sex.

Unfortunately, the door was closed. I padded across the threadbare carpet to check it out anyway, but in seagull form, I was never going to open it. I swore internally, then moved under the only other bit of furniture in the room—a somewhat bedraggled-looking chaise longue.

Thankfully, the sex didn’t last all that long. The man came, the woman looked at her watch, then hit him lightly on the back. “Time’s up.”

Her voice was gravelly and uneven. I wondered if it was natural or caused by too many cigarettes. The man grunted and climbed off her, his body wobbling in all the wrong places. He threw the condom in the trash, then dressed and walked out of the room—and slammed the door shut behind him.

The woman reached for a packet of cigarettes on the scrappy-looking dressing table beside the bed, popped one out, then lit up. She sucked in a deep breath and blew out several rings, then turned her head and looked straight in my direction.

“Who the fuck are you, then?”