Moon Sworn (Riley Jenson Guardian #9)(24)

“That’s not a secret. You just can’t remember it.” He picked up his cup, and I saw with surprise it was tea rather than coffee.
When did my brother start drinking tea?
“How long are we staying here? And how long was I out?”
He raised his eyebrows. “What, sick of the place already?”
Wary was more like it, but I didn’t say that. I simply shrugged. He folded the paper and put it on the table. “You slept through the entire day. And we paid for seven days, and we won’t get a refund if we leave early. Neither of us can afford to lose that sort of money, so we’re stuck here until then.”So I’d wasted a day. An entire day.
“And after the seven days are up?” I couldn’t help tensing as I said that, because the words of that stranger still echoed in my mind.
“After that, who knows?”
If he was a part of whatever was going on, why wouldn’t he know? There again, if he did know and this was a plot rather than the imaginings of a sick mind, why would he tell me?
I munched on the apple and watched him watching me. It felt weird, like we were strangers rather than brother and sister.
“What happened to the doctor you were going to call?” I tossed the apple core into the tussock grass lining the veranda. The birds and the ants could feast on what remained.
“This town has only one doctor, and he doubles as a coroner when there’s a murder. So, we’re no longer his first priority.” He hesitated, then said, “You better keep taking your tablets until we talk to him.”
I raised an eyebrow. “They were for depression and I don’t feel depressed.”
He tapped his fingers on the table, a soft drumming that for some reason annoyed me. “Maybe you don’t feel depressed, but you’ve lost your spark, Hanna. And you’ve already tried suicide once. So forgive me if I’m blunt here, but you’ll fucking take your tablets even if I have to force them down your throat, because I do not want to lose anyone here.”
The emotion in his voice, particularly when he said that last bit, had tears prickling my eyes. It was the truth—the honest truth—in a sea of lies.
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Okay, I’ll take the tablets. Where are they?”
“In the bathroom.” He leaned back. “I think I’ll go to the pub for a meal. You interested?”
I snorted softly. “Like this? Thanks, but no. I think I’ll stay here and have a bath.”
“Cool.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
I shrugged. “Don’t hurry on my account. Enjoy yourself.”
“Like that’s—” He caught the words, and shrugged. “I’ll bring back some beer, if you like.”
I nodded, wondering what the hell he’d been about to say, and why he’d checked it. I finished my coffee as he disappeared into the darkness, then I stood and made my way into the bathroom.
There was a pill bottle sitting on the ledge underneath the mirror. I picked it up and read the label—these were definitely my tablets, and they were dated several weeks ago. I frowned and tipped one out into my hand. They were large and brown—more like something you’d feed a horse. I contemplated the tablet in my hand for several seconds, then clenched my fingers around it. 
I couldn’t take it. I just couldn’t.
I dropped it into the shower and crushed it underneath my heel, then turned on the taps, stripping off the shirt before stepping inside.
I kept the water cool because of my sunburned skin, but it still felt like bliss. For several minutes I did nothing more than stand there, letting the water sluice off me, washing away the worst of the blood and dirt even as the chill began to seep into my body and ease the fires burning there.
After I’d washed hair and skin, I turned off the taps, grabbed a towel, and stepped out to dry myself. Then I swung around and headed for my bedroom. There was a suitcase at the foot of the bed. The clothes in it were a mix of old and new—some of them smelled of me, but most didn’t.
I grabbed a pair of faded denims and a low-cut T-shirt but didn’t worry about a bra—the strap would have rubbed the half-healed wound.
Once dressed, I glanced at the time. Evin had been gone for twenty minutes. That left me an hour and forty minutes to do my investigations.
I grabbed my wallet and the apartment keys then headed out. The night was still crisp and a little on the cool side. The sigh of the waves washing up the shore mingled with the distant sound of laughter and music. All the nearby villas were silent—maybe everyone had gone into town. From the little I’d seen of this place earlier, there probably wasn’t much else to do.
Once clear of both the villa area and the nearby caravan park, I broke into a run, cupping my breasts with my hands to compensate for my lack of a bra. The rubber soles of my shoes made little sound on the dusty road, but the little puffs of dirt that rose with each step meant I’d be noticed if there was actually anyone about to notice. But even though there were one or two houses that had their lights and TVs on, no one seemed to be paying any attention to what was going on in the street.
Interestingly, the air closer to town was thick with the musk of wolf. There were a lot of us here, and it made me wonder if Dunedan was a werewolf community. It was certainly remote enough—although it was unusual for such a community to also be a tourist destination.
I swung into a street just before the police station and headed for the paddock from the other side. There were fewer houses here, meaning less chance of being seen.
I slowed once I hit the grass. The thick scent of blood had faded—not surprising, given twenty-four hours had passed.
Yellow-and-black police tape fluttered in the slight breeze and I wondered if the body would be transferred elsewhere for the postmortem. If Dunedan was so small that the local doctor acted as coroner in an emergency, then I doubted they’d have a proper morgue. In fact, even the cops might have to call in specialists. They surely wouldn’t have had to cope with many murder investigations in a community this size.
I ducked under the tape and stopped just inside the trees. I didn’t want to disturb the murder scene any more than necessary and, besides, I really didn’t need to go close to where the victim had died to feel his soul.
I could feel it from here.
I couldn’t actually see him, but that really didn’t matter. He was here. The thick chill said as much, as did the energy flowing from me, building in the air, giving him strength and sapping mine.
I had no idea of his name, so I simply said, “Why do you linger?”
Why was I murdered? I came here to start a new life, not have it ended.
His words were angry and his fury filled me, roaring through my body like a wave. But his statement sent a sliver of alarm through me. I’d heard a similar complaint once before …
But where?
“What is your name?”
As I asked the question, awareness washed over me. I was no longer alone in the strand of trees—and the thick scent of warm spices mingled with sweat said it was Harris. I internally cursed my luck, and hoped like hell he let me finish questioning the dead man’s soul.Marcus. Marcus Landsbury.
Which wasn’t a name that seemed even remotely familiar.
“How did you end up in this field, Marcus?”
I don’t know. One moment I was walking home, the next I’m here, unable to move or talk, and some bastard is cutting my tackle off.
“So you saw him?”
No. He was wearing some sort of costume.
A sense of déjà vu ran though me. I’d heard this before, even if I couldn’t remember where.
“What sort of costume?”
A red devil mask. It had horns. He hesitated. I swear he had cloven hooves, as well.
Again that sense of familiarity. “Is there anything else you can tell me about him? Was he big? Small? Fat or thin?”
He was on the small side, but strong—really strong. He had to be, didn’t he, because I’m not exactly small. He had broad shoulders and big arms, though. Moved efficiently, like it was a job, nothing more.
Meaning it could have been a professional hit. Especially given they’d probably used some form of immobilizer to take him down so quickly. Things like that weren’t available over the counter—though easily enough gotten on the black market.
And just how would I know something like that?
I rubbed my left temple wearily. Energy continued to flow away from me, and the pain slithering through my brain was increasing. “And what did you do, Marcus, that warranted being slaughtered in such a fashion?”
I’ve done my time. It doesn’t matter. The words were angry, ricocheting around my head as sharp as nails.
I winced, blinking back tears. “It obviously matters to someone, Marcus, or you wouldn’t have been killed in the manner you were.”
He was sucking at my energy like a man possessed, and my knees were threatening to buckle under the strain. I tried locking them, but knew I’d have to end this soon, answers or not.
It shouldn’t matter. Damn it, it was a long time ago!
Well, someone obviously hadn’t forgotten. “Tell me what you did.”
Why? What fucking good does it do now?
“I guess that depends on whether you want to stay here haunting this scrawny patch of trees, or move on.”
The energy was draining at a faster rate now, and my head was beginning to ache fiercely. My knees suddenly unlocked, and I hit the dirt.