Moon Sworn

Chapter 11

“Stay here,” Harris said, barely even looking at me as he ran off.

I snorted softly. Like I was really going to obey that order when I hadn’t obeyed any of his others so far.

I took off after him, our footsteps ringing sharply across the darkness. The wind remained free from the scent of blood, but the taste of fear was growing sharper.

We rounded the last of the buildings and turned in to the paddock area where Landsbury had been attacked and killed. The young policeman was still at his post, but he was staring at the emptiness beyond the hills. He looked relieved when he saw Harris.

“Sir,” he said, voice a little strained, “there’s some sort of kerfuffle out in the Northern Ranges.”

“Did you see anything or anyone, Benny?” Harris asked.

“No, sir. Just heard the screaming.”

Harris nodded and ran on. I followed close on his heels. We raced out of the paddock area into a sandier, wilder area, sprinting up a hill. Harris paused at the top, and I stopped beside him, my nostrils flaring to catch any hint of blood or vengeance or any other scent that didn’t belong. None of those rode the wind, but the smell of fear was thicker.

“There,” Harris said, pointing sharply to the left.

I followed the line of his finger. Several hilltops away, metal gleamed briefly but brightly in the moonlight. Someone had raised a knife, but whether that someone was male or female was anyone’s guess, because—

thanks to the hill—all we could see was the hand and the knife.

“This time, stay here,” Harris said, and plunged down the slope. He shifted shape as he ran, flowing from human to brown wolf with a fluidity and grace that was breathtaking to see.

I plunged after him and reached for my own wolf. I could feel her, feel her eagerness, deep within my soul, but there was still some sort of barrier between us. Pain flared so bright and hard inside my brain that I stumbled and had to flail my arms to keep my balance.

Tears stung my eyes and frustration burned through my body. Whoever had done this to me would pay. Big time.

I ran on, my feet flying over the sandy soil, oddly keeping up with Harris even though he was in wolf form and could move with greater ease over the ground. Maybe there really was vampire in me.

The scent of blood began to stain the air. We were too late—far too late—to save the life of whoever it was who’d screamed. But we still had a chance to catch the killer.

We ran up another hill, plunged down the far side. From beyond the next hill came a brief flash that lit up the night. It looked for all the world like someone was taking a photo.

But only a sicko would take photos of their handiwork—although given these murders seemed to be based on vengeance, maybe it wasn’t the work of a sick mind, but rather someone taking snaps for whoever was behind this particular murder. Not everyone could attend the murder scene like Hank Surrey had …

I filed the name away and continued running. As we reached the top of the hill, the scent of blood and death and fear sharpened, filling the night air with its taint. Just below us, spread-eagled and naked, was a man. Like Landsbury, he had a gaping, bloody wound where his penis and balls used to be.

We ran down the hill, Harris shifting back to human form as he did so. His shirt was ripped across the back, but his clothes seemed to hold together a whole lot better than mine ever did. Of course, Harris wasn’t the type to wear flimsy lace. I was, and I paid the price for it when I shifted. It was annoying that I could remember that, and not more important things.

“No scent of the killer,” he said as he stopped near the body.

“He’s probably using a scent-nulling soap.” I said it absently, my gaze scanning the night, looking for something, anything, that might give some clue as to where our murderer had gone. He can’t have just disappeared—unless, of course, we were dealing with a vampire, then yeah, he could. Or at least, he could disappear to the human eye.

But not to nonhumans. Not to the eye of someone who had vampire blood in them. I blinked, switching from one type of vision to another.

After a moment, I became aware of Harris looking at me.

“What?” I said, not bothering to meet his gaze. We needed to find the whereabouts of our killer fast if we were to have any hope of catching him.

“You really do come out with some of the most amazing facts.”

“I know some pretty amazing people.” In the distance, I spotted a hint of red. It was vague, and darkish, nothing solid, more insubstantial, and oddly pulsing.

Body heat. Only it wasn’t the heat of a human body—it wasn’t bright enough. Our quarry was a vampire.

“There,” I said, pointing. “He’s damn fast.”

Harris had barely looked at where I was pointing before he was running. He flowed again from one form into another, his tongue lolling out and eyes bright. Every wolf enjoys a good chase, and the murderer was certainly giving us that.

But we were holding our own. Slowly but surely, we were catching him.

Another sound rode across the night—a soft whump, whump. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

“Helicopter, closing in fast.” It was a rather useless statement given Harris was in wolf form and would hear it better than I could. So I added, “If we don’t stop him, he’ll disappear as quickly as the other killers have.”

Harris responded with an increase of speed, until it seemed our feet were flying over the red sands. The heated blur of our quarry was closer, but so, too, were the sounds of the helicopter. It had no lights on to give away its position. The only way we knew it was near was by the ever-increasing volume of the rotor blades.

Then it became visible, swooping in from the skies like a big, pot-bellied bird. And we were nowhere near close enough to stop the vampire from climbing aboard.

The bastard was going to get away.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Harris shifted shape again, his speed slowing a little in human form but still running damn fast. Energy began to stir around me. Initially it was little more than a gentle caress that raised the hairs along my arms, but all too quickly it became a tornado, stinging and tearing at my skin.

And its focal point was Harris.

He didn’t say anything, his gaze on the helicopter. It was close to the ground now, its blades stirring huge clouds of dust, making the invisible visible. Our vampire murderer was a man—a rather slender man, not big like Landsbury had stated. As a vampire, he didn’t need to be.

Harris flung out his right arm, his fingertips flaring, as if he were throwing something. That maelstrom of power flew across the night, slapping into the copter with the force of a storm.

But it was a very precise storm. The helicopter wasn’t flung about like a leaf but rather slapped down sideways. The rotor blades chopped into the soil, throwing huge chunks of dirt and grass into the air as it crumpled into the earth. Bits and pieces of metal went spinning away into the night, and sparks rose like eager fireflies. The vampire didn’t hang about to see what had happened. He simply turned and ran in a completely different direction.

“Grab the pilot,” I said to Harris. “I’ll go after the vamp.”

He didn’t argue, though I guess by rights he should have. Maybe he realized that I wasn’t going to be deterred, no matter what he said. Or maybe he simply couldn’t see the vamp—though given his unexpected talent of kinesis, who knew what other little goodies he kept up his sleeve?

I swerved to the right, kicking up dust as I ran after the vamp. I had no idea where he thought he was going, but I knew from experience there wasn’t much out here in the way of shelter. All I really had to do was keep him in sight and let him run until the sun came up.

Of course, crisping him in sunlight wasn’t going to get the answers we needed.

So I reached for all the speed I had and flew across the sands. It was almost as if I was flying: like I was a bird, swooping low over the red soil …

Power swept through me, over me, and suddenly I was a bird.

A seagull, in fact.

A weird mix of surprise and relief swept through me. Surprise because I really hadn’t been expecting it, and relief because not all my skills had been placed beyond my reach.

He didn’t know about the alternate shape, that inner voice whispered. He couldn’t prevent what he didn’t know.

Which still left me wondering how the hell anyone could prevent a shifter from shifting.

I shoved the thought aside and swooped upward, gaining height. Maybe if the vamp thought we’d given up he’d slow down—and make it easier for me to drop down on top of him.

But it soon became obvious he did have a second escape option. From high above, I could see lights beginning to twinkle in the distance. It looked like some sort of farmhouse, and it had various outbuildings. What were the odds that at least one of those buildings had a vamp-ready car waiting to go?

Or worse yet, help?

I might not have been chasing him for very long or very far, but I’d already run out of time. I swooped downward, folding my wings and flattening out my body to streamline it as much as possible. As I got closer, I shifted shape, moving back to human form. He sensed me then, but spun around rather than looking up.

I rolled in the air and hit him feetfirst, smashing him down into the soil and landing half on top of him. The sheer speed behind my dive had me stumbling forward, fighting to keep my balance. Behind me, the vampire snarled—a sound filled with pain and anger.

I swung around and saw the vamp shake his head, sending blood and snot flying, then he pushed to his hands and knees. I didn’t give him the chance to rise fully. I didn’t even give him the chance to see me. I just twisted around and lashed out with my foot. My heel smashed into the side of his face and the force of the blow knocked him sideways, sending him flying back.

He struggled again to rise, but this time I threw myself at him, hitting him with all the force I could muster. His head snapped back, and he slumped to the ground.

I pushed off his back then hauled him over. He might be out cold, but I was not about to bet that he’d stay that way. I tore the sleeve off my shirt and used it as a gag, prying open his mouth and shoving the knot into it as extra insurance against a bite. He wouldn’t be happy once he woke, but right then, I couldn’t care less.

With that done, I hauled him up and over my shoulder, letting him flop like a bag of grain over my back. If he happened to wake up, he’d be in pain.

Part of me hoped he did wake. Both Landsbury and tonight’s victim might have deserved the death they’d received, but that didn’t make their killer worthy of fair treatment.

Harsh, one part of me whispered.

At least he’s not dead, another retorted.

All of which made me wonder if half the reason for the gaps in my memory was a desire not to remember exactly what I’d been or done in the past.

I turned around and trudged back toward Harris and the shattered helicopter. It might not have been far, but by the time I arrived, I was hot, sweaty, and tired. The vamp wasn’t big, but that didn’t mean he was light.

Surprisingly, there was no one else there yet. Harris obviously hadn’t called in help. The helicopter rested on its side like some forgotten child’s toy and the pilot lay beside it, trussed securely with wire that had obviously been ripped out of the copter. He was bloody and bruised, and looked rather the worse for wear. He was also unconscious.

Harris was leaning into the fallen helicopter, pulling out bits of papers and scanning them, but swung around as I approached. Relief touched his features as he dropped the paperwork and walked across to me, grabbing the vamp by the waist and hauling him off my back. I sighed in relief and rubbed my aching shoulder, watching Harris dump the vamp on the ground beside the pilot.

“How come you haven’t called for assistance?” I asked.

“Because,” he said, swinging around to face me, “I tried ringing Mike but he’s not answering his phone. And if you’re right about there being a plot surrounding you, then I don’t think it’s wise to let too many other people know that you helped me bring down a vamp.”

I frowned. “The young officer saw me running with you, and the vamp certainly knows I brought him down. I wouldn’t think either is going to keep my presence a secret.”

“Did the vamp actually see you?”

I frowned. “No. Why?”

“Because you were shadowing when we were racing up here. Benny wouldn’t have seen you, and he wasn’t close enough to scent you. So if the vamp never actually saw you clearly, then we don’t have a problem.”

I’d had no idea that I was shadowing. Obviously, whatever had been done to my mind had somehow switched my “other” skills from conscious to automatic. “The vamp never bothered looking around to see who was chasing him, and I never gave him the opportunity once I brought him down.”

“Good,” Harris said. “Then leave, and make sure no one sees you. Loop back the long way if you have to. I’ll take care of these two.”

“Will the cells at the station be strong enough to hold the vamp?”

He smiled. “They’re strong enough to hold werewolves. They’ll hold a vamp.”

I wasn’t so sure, and maybe my expression said as much because Harris added, “But we have several pairs of titanium handcuffs. We’ll use those on the bugger, just to be sure.”

I nodded. “The Directorate will want to interview him.”

“That’s only if the Perth office considers our problem interesting enough to come down here. We still haven’t had any communication from them.”

“You might not. They might just show up on your doorstep tomorrow.” I hesitated. “There’s also the problem of the vamp’s telepathy—”

“We have nanowires,” he cut in. “This place may be in the middle of nowhere, but I’ve ensured we’re equipped to deal with anyone and anything.”

“And I’m betting all the fancy equipment came out of pack funds, not government.” State governments Australia-wide were still struggling to supply the bulk of their city forces with nanowires, so it was doubtful they’d be wasting them on places like Dunedan, where vamps were likely to be few and far between.

Harris’s gaze narrowed a little. “You know altogether too much about the workings of the police and the Directorate. If you’re one or the other, and have gone missing, it’s a wonder there’s not an all-state alert out.”

I shrugged. “Maybe there is. Driver’s licenses can be faked, you know.”

“Yours is in the system.”

“That doesn’t make it any more real.”

“True, but the picture is of you, and that alone should have raised interest.” He glanced at his watch. “You’d better leave, or I’ll be dealing with questions as to why I waited so long to call this in.”

“Then consider me gone.”

I spun on my heel and loped away, taking the long way back to our villa. The place was dark and the TV was off. I frowned. It seemed unlikely that Evin would still be at the pub, or that he’d gone to bed. It was far too early. I unlocked the sliding door and slid it open.

“Evin?” I said without actually stepping inside.

No answer came, but an odd, tingly awareness ran across my skin.

Something felt wrong.

I flared my nostrils, drawing in the air, searching for scents that didn’t belong. There were two—pine and smoke, combined within the musk of male. The scent of a stranger.

Someone had been here.

I blinked, switching to infrared as my gaze swept the darkness. There was no hint of body heat within the villa. Whoever had been here was long gone. I reached across to the light and switched it on—not the brightest thing in the world to do given I was still in infrared mode. I blinked away tears and returned to normal vision.

Nothing seemed to have been touched. The room wasn’t destroyed and everything was sitting where we’d left it. I stepped inside, locked the door behind me, then walked into Evin’s bedroom. Again, nothing appeared to have been moved, although he didn’t seem to have much in the way of personal items. Not even a picture of the woman he was sworn to.

I walked out of his room and into my own. Again, nothing appeared to have been disturbed.

I frowned and wondered if the scent simply belonged to a cleaner. Except—why would they come at night?

Didn’t hotel cleaners usually work during the day, when most guests were out and about?

No, there had to be another reason for that scent being here.

I spun around and walked back out to the kitchen. And that’s when I saw the note stuck to the fridge.

I tore it free of the magnet and opened it. The writing was strong and dark, the words ugly.

You owe me, it said. Meet me at the Whale Station ruins by eleven, or you won’t see your brother alive again. And don’t bother calling the cops—he’ll be shark food long before anyone gets there.

Anger surged, but I wasn’t entirely sure who I was more angry at—them for doing this, or myself for not realizing they might pull a stunt like this.

But then, despite Harris’s warning—or maybe because of it—I’d expected Denny to come after me. Attacking Evin was the coward’s way out.

Meaning he wouldn’t be waiting for me alone. He’d have friends to back him up. His sort always did.

I was tempted to crumple the note up and toss it in the bin, but I resisted the temptation. The note was evidence, and I had a feeling I’d need that—especially given that Denny was the son of the pack’s second. It would be his word against mine without this note, and his father’s status in the pack would matter, even if it wasn’t supposed to.

So I went through the kitchen cupboards until I found some plastic wrap, then covered the note with it, trying to touch the paper as little as possible so there’d be less chance of smudging whatever prints might be on it. Then I shoved it inside my jeans pocket. I wasn’t about to leave it here. They’d already proven locked doors didn’t stop them, and I wouldn’t put it past them to have someone waiting for me to leave so they could come back in and grab the note.

So where the hell was the old whaling station?

Frowning, I walked around the kitchen counter and grabbed the information booklet that was sitting near the phone. After flicking through several pages, I found it. It was, according to the map, at least a two-and-a-halfhour drive. I glanced over my shoulder to the clock. It was almost nine—I’d never make it if I drove. But then, I had other options—options Denny and his friends couldn’t know about.

So why would they bother giving me a time limit they knew I couldn’t make? Unless the whole point was to panic me so that I’d simply rush there without thought or aid?

After all, if they did have someone watching the house, they’d know when I left and could estimate my arrival. Which meant I’d have to at least make a show of being panicked, just in case.

I blew out a breath, then walked back to the kitchen and opened the drawers. There wasn’t much in the way of weapons—a set of old steak knives was about the extent of it. But they were better than nothing, so I shoved one down each sock.

I went back into my bedroom to change from my warm and sturdy shirt to something a little more flimsy, then grabbed my coat, found the car keys, and raced out, making a pretense of fumbling the locks.

I didn’t see anyone, didn’t scent anyone, yet I had a feeling they were out there all the same. The back of my neck crawled with the sensation of being watched.

I jumped into the car, started it up, then spun it around and fishtailed down the drive. I kept my foot flattened, racing through town and out into the dark hills. By the time I was a good ten or twenty miles out, it was obvious I wasn’t being tailed, so I slowed down and starting looking for someplace to hide the car.

There weren’t a whole lot of options in this land of endlessly rolling sand hills, so I simply drove off the road, then up and over the nearest hill. The tracks in the soil would give me away if anyone bothered looking hard enough, but hopefully they wouldn’t be.

I climbed out, locked the car, then closed my eyes and imagined the seagull shape. For a heartbeat, pain flared, but unlike when I tried reaching for the wolf, it was a distant, insubstantial thing that didn’t hold the strength to prevent the change.

Power surged, sweeping around me, through me, changing and molding my body, forcing the limbs of a human down into those of a gull. And the mere act of changing when I actually wanted to felt so good that part of me raged again against those who had contained my wolf. Then the anger was swept away, because I was leaping skyward.

I followed the long dusty road north, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, except the roar of the surf far below me. This part of Australia was a wild and empty place.

Eventually, a warm light began to flicker through the darkness. I swooped toward it, and the light became a campfire burning brightly near the shoreline. Meaning no one was likely to notice a curious seagull.

There were three men sitting near the fire. Their laughter rode across the night, filled with anticipation. One of those men was Denny, but the other two I didn’t recognize.

I dipped a wing and swung around to the left. There was another man standing behind a rusting hulk of machinery, and a fifth on the opposite side of the camp, squatting next to a huge metal tank. Inside the tank lay Evin. He was trussed up tight and wasn’t moving. Despite my fears about his involvement in whatever was happening to me, I found myself hoping he was okay. That he was merely tied and sleeping rather than unconscious.

Or, worse still, dead.

I swooped upward again and swung back to the campfire. Five men. Even for me, those were pretty tough odds. If I was to have any hope in this fight, I’d need to even the numbers out a little.

I swung around again and headed for the man near the machinery, landing on one of the metal struts then waddling toward him. I was downwind of him, so any sound was being carried away rather than toward him, and he didn’t pay me any attention. His gaze continually swept the night and his posture was alert, tense, but he had a beer in one hand, and the smell of alcohol was sharp enough that I was aware of it even in bird form.

Which meant, I hoped, that his reflexes would be crap.

I took to the air again and flew across to the next rusting hulk, where I landed and quickly changed back to human form. My flimsy shirt had all but shredded, and a good bit of breast was on show.

With any luck it would be enough to distract the men, because the firelight would eliminate any possibility of shadowing.

Although—ideally—I’d like to take this guard out without being seen.

I turned around and padded down to the end of the rusting tank. With my back pressed against the still-warm metal, I peered around the corner. The guard hadn’t moved.

I wrapped the shadows around me and dashed across the short distance between us. As I neared him, he spun around, his nostrils flaring as he scanned the night. He could obviously scent me, but he couldn’t see me. I gave him no time to react, simply hit him hard and fast—chopping him across the throat then kneeing him in the balls—and he went down like a ton of bricks. I let him slump to the ground, trusting the sand to dampen the sound of his fall, but I caught his beer can before it could clatter against the metal.

After looking around to ensure that no one had seen anything, I grabbed his arms and dragged him into a sitting position, propping him against one of the machine’s struts. I put his beer beside him then stepped back. If the others glanced this way, they might think he was just sitting down. Which was good. But I needed to ensure he couldn’t actually get back up.

I bit my bottom lip and scanned the rusting hulk, seeing nothing useful in the way of rope or wire. So I spun and walked back to the tank. Again, there wasn’t anything I could use, but several yards away from the tank sat the semirotten wooden remains of an old shed of some kind, and inside, the snaking remains of the building’s wiring. I ripped several yards free then retraced my steps back to the guard.

I tore off his shirt, used that to gag him, then trussed him up.

One down, four to go.

I shifted shape and took to the sky again, flying back to the guard on the other side of the encampment. He was still squatting next to the tank, but he was within view of the campfire, so if I took him out his fellows were likely to notice he was missing.

I circled around for several minutes, wondering what the hell I was going to do—whether I should just take him out and bring the odds down to a more manageable level, or whether I should continue to pick them off one by one. After all, they were all drinking, and they’d surely have to wander off for a pee sooner or later.

I swooped around for yet another pass and spotted their cars. They were parked halfway between the whaling station and the dusty road, off the track leading to the station but not hidden.

I flew toward them. There was no guard here, but the one watching Evin would have been able to see them if he stood up.

It was a mistake—and one that just might work in my favor.

I landed behind a blue pickup and shifted shape, keeping as low as I could as I regained human form. If I could incapacitate two of the cars, distract the guard, then get Evin out in the third vehicle, I might not have to fight the other men at all.

It was a lot of “ifs” but I really had nothing to lose by trying—nothing except all the bruises I’d get if I did have to fight them.

I checked which of the cars had keys in the ignition, and discovered both the blue pickup and the white Toyota did. The pickup had a bigger engine, but the Toyota looked newer and was a four-wheel drive. In the end, I decided on speed over versatility and reached through the open window, grabbing the keys and slipping them into my pocket. The other set of keys I tossed as far away as I could.

Then I reached down and withdrew a knife from one of my socks and crept across to the Toyota. One of the trucks had an air compressor on board, so merely letting out the air wasn’t going to work. The tires were thick and new, and it quickly became evident that no matter how strong I was, a little steak knife just didn’t have the strength to do little more than scratch the rubber. It might damage an ordinary car tire, but not to these.

I crept over to the next truck. Luck was with me this time—the back tire was almost bald. I picked out what looked to be the thinnest spot and punched the knife into the middle. After twisting it around to ensure a largish hole, I pulled the knife out. Air began to hiss, sounding overly loud in the hushed darkness. I crept around to the other side of the car and peered around. The guard hadn’t moved. In fact, he wasn’t even looking in this direction.

I took out the second rear tire, then wrapped the shadows around me and rose. I still needed to immobilize the other car. If the steak knife wasn’t strong enough, maybe there was something in the back of the pickups. After all, men the world over seemed to carry all sorts of tools in their cars.

It turned out these men were no different—there was an unlocked tool kit in the back of the pickup, and inside I found a solid-looking screwdriver. It mightn’t have a point, but when you were a dhampire, you didn’t need one.

I paused and smiled at the thought. One more piece of the puzzle that was me.

Whatever had been done to my mind, it obviously wasn’t holding. I wondered if that were deliberate, or whether it was just luck.

Although fate didn’t often throw luck my way.

I shoved the screwdriver into both the back tires, listened for the hiss of escaping air, then placed the screwdriver back into its box.

And noticed the flashlight sitting nearby.

Perfect. Just perfect.

I grabbed it and retreated, running into the darkness and looping right back around the encampment until I reached the hills on the far side.

Once there, I turned on the flashlight and climbed to the top of the hill, pointing the light straight at the campfire, so that the waiting men couldn’t fail to see it.

“Well, well, look at that.” Denny’s harsh voice carried easily over the sand. He rose from the log on which he’d been sitting, and, even from where I was standing, I could see the triumphant twist of his lips. “Our quarry has arrived, boys.”

They laughed—a harsh, drunken sound. They were stupid to drink so much, but I guess they didn’t know what they were dealing with.

“Where’s Evin?” I asked. I didn’t actually want him moved, but even in their alcohol-fueled state, they might think it odd if I didn’t at least inquire about him.

“He’s safe,” Denny assured me. “Come down and see for yourself.”

“I think I prefer to remain where I am for now.”

“Come down, or we’ll slice your brother’s pretty face open.”

I contemplated them for a moment, seeing their jubilation, smelling their anticipation, then said, “You know what? The drive out here has given me a lot of time to think.”

“Now, that ain’t a good thing, little lady—”

“Yeah, it is,” I said. “I was stupid to come out here without help, so I might just go back and get some.”

“You do that, and he’s fish food.”

“But I have the note threatening just that. Hurt him, and you’ll be prime suspects.”

And with that, I turned and ran in the opposite direction. For several seconds, there was no reaction, and I inwardly cursed. Damn it, they needed to come after me. It was our only chance of getting out of there without a fight.

Then I heard cursing, and Denny shouting orders, and I smiled. They’d taken the bait. And they were too drunk to realize one of their number was missing.

My feet flew across the sand, moving so fast I was barely leaving tracks. I raced up the next hill, then plunged down. But at the halfway point, I stopped and shoved the base of the flashlight into the sand, so that the bright beam cut skyward. Then I shifted shape, flying as hard and as fast as I could back to where Evin was.

Denny and his two friends had split up, Denny taking the direct route while the others approached from either angle. They were nowhere near as fast as I’d been, but then I suspected that had more to do with the alcohol in their systems than the fact I was half vampire.

They’d barely reached the first hill. It would take them another five minutes, at least, to discover the abandoned flashlight.

It wasn’t much time, but it would have to do.

I flew across the campfire and straight at the man guarding Evin. He looked up as I approached, and I saw the awareness flash across his face. He wasn’t as drunk as the others, and he’d recognized that I was a shifter. Whether he knew it was me or not didn’t matter. As he opened his mouth to shout for the others, I shifted shape and plunged down on top of him.

He had enough sense to dive out of the way, so that my feet hit his back rather than his face, driving him earthward but not knocking him out like I’d hoped. I landed then twisted, lashing out with a heel. He blocked the blow with his arm, the force of it reverberating up my leg, then followed it up with a jab to my face. I dipped a little so that the blow passed over my right shoulder, then punched upward, aiming for his jaw. But again, he saw it coming and swayed backward so that the blow hit air rather than flesh and left me momentarily unbalanced. His fist hit my upper stomach, the force of it pushing me backward as air exploded from my lungs.

He laughed, then raised his voice, half looking away as he said, “Hey, she’s over here!”

It was a stupid thing to do.

I kicked his knee as hard as I could. The impact made his leg bow unnaturally and bone shattered, the sound like a gunshot in the darkness. As he howled and started to go down, I clenched my fist and delivered an uppercut to his chin. He dropped to the ground and didn’t move.

For a minute, neither did I. Breathing hurt. I took shallower breaths but it didn’t seem to help. Nor did I have the time to worry about it.

Denny and his friends had been warned, and their shouts filled the night. I needed to grab Evin and make my escape.

I turned and ran for the front of the rusty tank. Evin was still lying where I’d seen him. His hands were tied behind his back, and the rope holding him was thick and strong. The metallic smell of blood rode the air, even though he didn’t look like he’d been beaten. One look at the ropes binding him explained why—his wrists were raw and bloody. He’d obviously been trying to work himself free.

I dropped down beside him and touched his face. He jumped and his eyes flew open.

“Jesus, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Rescuing your butt,” I said. “Are you injured?”

“They’ve wrapped silver wire around my neck. It’s burning.”

Which explained why he hadn’t shifted shape to escape the ropes. Still, if his injured wrists and silver burns were the worst of his injuries, then he was damn lucky.

I grabbed the other knife from my boot and sawed the ropes off his bloody wrists, but it took forever, and all the time my awareness of the men was growing. I couldn’t risk slicing the ropes off his feet. I should have done them first.

“I haven’t got time to undo your feet. We need to get out of here.” I stood up, grabbed his raw and bleeding hands, and hauled him upright. “Can you hop?”

“I’d fucking attempt to fly if it was the difference between getting the hell out and staying here.” His voice was grim, determined.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

He leapfrogged forward. I kept one hand on his arm to steady him, but the going seemed painfully slow. My awareness of the other men continued to sharpen; they were closing in on us far too fast. If we didn’t get to the third truck soon, they’d be on us.

“We’re moving too slow,” I said.

“I’m jumping as fast as I fucking can,” he practically spat.

“It’s still not fast enough. Stop.”

He did. I twisted, grabbed his wrist, shoved his arm around my neck, then bent, dragging him over my shoulders and holding his thigh to keep him steady.

“Fuck” was all he said as I ran forward.

We made it to the car. I flung open the passenger door, dropped him onto the seat, shoved his legs inside then shut the door and ran around to the driver’s side.

Denny and his men were almost on us. I grabbed the keys out of my pocket, slammed the door closed, hit the lock button with my elbow, then leaned across and locked Evin’s door.

And jumped about a mile high as a rock hit the windshield and the glass became a spidery network of cracks.

But I could see the men through them. Could see their vicious expressions. If they got their hands on us now, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Not that it was actually going to be pleasant before.

“Fucking hell,” Evin said. “Get us out of here!”

“I’m trying.” I shoved the key in the ignition and fired the big engine up, then released the hand brake and threw the truck into reverse.

It rocketed backward. Another rock hit the windshield, this time punching through and landing with a thump on the seat between Evin and me. I twisted the wheel, pointing the truck’s nose in the general direction of the road, then changed gears and hit the gas pedal.

As the truck surged forward, something hit the bed behind us. My gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, and I saw one of Denny’s friends scrambling into the back. I hauled on the wheel and the big truck turned sharply to the left. The man behind us flew sideways, his shoulder smashing into the side of the truck and his body half flying out.

Yet somehow he managed to maintain his grip and didn’t fall all the way out.

Evin twisted around. “Turn the other way.”

I kept my foot planted and twisted the wheel in the opposite direction. Our passenger flew across the truck and tumbled out over the side. I glanced at the side mirror, saw him bounce several times in the sandy soil, then roll to a stop. He didn’t get up.

I kept accelerating. I couldn’t see Denny and his other friend, but I wasn’t about to risk slowing down until we were well out of the area.

For a long time, the only sound was the growl of the big engine as we arrowed through the night. I handed Evin the knife and he hacked away the rope binding his legs. He tried undoing the silver wound around his neck, but it was twisted on tight.

I didn’t say anything and, eventually, he cleared his throat and said, “I don’t suppose you could stop and take the silver away? My skin feels like it’s blistering.”

I didn’t look at him. Didn’t slow down.

“That depends.”

I could feel his gaze on me—a heat that held no anger, only the hint of confusion. Whatever else Evin might be, I didn’t think he was a particularly devious man.

“On what?”

I met his gaze then. Saw his gaze widen, so heaven only knows what he actually saw in my eyes.

“It depends,” I said softly, “on whether you tell me what the hell is going on.”