Moon Sworn (34 page)

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.

Chapter 15

T
welve hours later, with Evin and Lyndal safely tucked away in the West pack’s heartland and with Harris’s promise to keep them safe at all cost, Quinn and I walked into the day division’s tiny conference room.

Sal was the only other person who’d arrived, and she was working at the terminal and frowning at the images flickering across the remote screen. She spun around as we entered, and her smile was wide and genuine.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our lost wolf,” she said, voice droll but humor crinkling her eyes. “Enjoy your holiday, did you?”

“Totally.” I plunked down on the chair next to hers. “I’d love to say I missed your cheery face, but the truth is, I couldn’t even remember it.”

“I heard that. Shame you didn’t also forget you worked for the Directorate. It’s been so peaceful around here without you.”

I grinned. “So you were bored shitless, huh?”

“Totally. So do try not to get kidnapped again.” She glanced at Quinn, and her expression became more formal—which surprised the hell out of me. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you,” he said, the barest hint of amusement in his voice.

I glanced at him as she rose and walked across to the coffee machine—which was sparkly new, and had obviously been installed during the time I’d been missing.

I’m an old one
, he said, the amusement that had been barely evident in his words bubbling through his mental tones.
Sal’s merely showing the respect we old ones are due
.

I gave a mental snort and he added, with another burst of amusement,
Of course, it also helps that she’s been
asked to become an official member of the Melbourne vampire council and I happen to be one of those who
have the deciding vote
.

But Sal hates the council. She said that months ago
.

Things change. In this case, I believe the change of heart goes by the name of Norman
.

Norman? What a staid old name. I hope he’s not
.

Oh, trust me, Norman’s not staid
.

Well, good, because she deserves better
.

Careful. That almost sounds like you care
.

She’s bringing me coffee. Of course I care
. I glanced around as said coffee was plunked in front of me and I gave her another grin. “Should I inspect it for arsenic?”

“In deference to you being returned to the fold, I left it out. But don’t drink tomorrow’s coffee.” Her tone was amused as she handed Quinn his coffee then headed back to her computer.

I took a sip, then asked, “Why are you fiddling with the computers in here?”

“It’s quieter. Jack doesn’t want anything distracting me once the operation starts.”

A comment that would no doubt be explained once Jack got here. As if on cue, he and Rhoan walked in, both of them looking tired and more than a little rough around the edges. Both carried large cups of coffee, although given the bags under my brother’s eyes, it was going to take more than a bucket of the brown stuff to keep him awake and alert.

“Got the systems hooked up yet, Sal?” Jack asked.

“Finalizing it now,” she said briskly. “Just a few minutes more.”

Jack grunted and slapped several folders on the desk as he sat down opposite us. Rhoan just perched on the table’s edge, his posture reflecting his tiredness. Obviously, he couldn’t be bothered walking any farther.

“Remember me saying that I thought the name Daskill sounded familiar?”

I nodded, and he pushed a folder forward. Quinn stopped its slide across the desk and opened it. I’d been expecting a rundown of whoever Daskill was, but what we got instead were photographs. Vivid, bloody photographs of the remains of what I presumed were a woman and child. They’d been so torn apart it was hard to tell. Only the remnants of their nightdresses gave their sex away.

“Bobby Daskill’s wife and child were murdered in their beds while he was on a business trip. The main suspect was Bobby’s business partner, Henry Kattram, who had apparently been having an affair with Bobby’s wife for over a year. She refused to leave Bobby and apparently broke it off. Those pictures are the result.”

“Then why is Kattram still listed as a suspect?” Quinn asked. “Why was he never charged if the police are so certain he was their murderer?”

“Because Henry Kattram was found dismembered in his bed twenty-four hours later.” Jack indicated the photos.

“In a manner eerily similar to the way Jenny and Evie Daskill were killed.”

“Daskill obviously was the main suspect, so why was he never charged?” I asked.

“Because he was one hundred miles away with friends at his country retreat. One of those friends was a high court judge.”