I kept walking. Evin sighed, and it was a sound of frustration if I’d ever heard one. Which I probably had.
The air underneath the trees was a riot of aromas. First and strongest was the metallic stench of blood, but under that ran a mix of vanilla from the yellow blossom puffs and the aromatic resinous smell of the smaller wattle shrubs scattered between the bigger trees.
And below even those, the scent so faint part of me thought I might have been imagining it, was the taste of anger. Of vengeance.
This murder had been planned, not accidental, if that scent was anything to go by.
I scanned the ground again. There were footprints here. Weird prints that resembled cloven hooves rather than anything human. Maybe our victim had been attacked by a goat.
The body lay in a small clearing in the middle of the trees. He was big-boned and rough-looking, his skin pale and flaccid, as if he neither saw much sunshine nor did much to look after himself. His head was bald, but thick black hair matted his chest, trailed down his stomach and … my gaze stalled at his groin.
His genitals were gone. Penis, balls, and all, just gone. Hacked out of his flesh, leaving only a raw, gaping wound that still oozed blood—an indication this death hadn’t happened very long ago.
“Oh, shit.” Evin’s voice was hushed, as if he feared disturbing ghosts.
“Someone really didn’t like the way this man used his tool.” I said it lightly, trying for humor but obviously not succeeding if Evin’s expression was anything to go by.
“How can you joke about something like this?” He motioned toward the body with a hand that appeared to be shaking. “Someone cut this man’s nuts off!”
“And maybe they had a damn good reason.” It was absently said. There was something here, something I couldn’t quite catch or explain …
“And there’d better be a damn good reason for you two being here.” The voice was deep and authoritative, and not one that I knew. “Especially when Cathie’s already warned you to stay away from the crime scene.”
“Tell me about it,” Evin muttered, then added, “Hanna thought we’d better check, just in case there was someone here who needed medical help.”
“Hanna?” The other man’s gaze seemed to rest on me. I could feel the weight of his annoyance. “Isn’t she the sister that went missing?”
“Yeah. We just got back. I asked Cathie to let you know.”
“Well, she didn’t.” He stepped up beside me, surrounding me with his scent—warm spices and musky wolf. “You really need to step away.”
“And you really need to know that there’s something else here.”
“What?”
I glanced at him then. He was several inches taller than me, with dark hair and well-defined, handsome features. His shoulders were broad, his body lithe—the build of an athlete, not a bodybuilder. Something within me leapt and my gaze jerked up to his face, searching for a reason for the tug of familiarity. He was wearing dark glasses, so I couldn’t see if his eyes were as dark as his hair. But part of me wanted them to be—expected them to be.
Except that he was a werewolf.
That bit didn’t fit with what I was expecting.
I tore my gaze away from his and motioned toward the body. “There’s something else here. An odd sort of energy.”
It was thick and strong, and it felt like fingers of ice caressing my flesh, cooling the heat of sunburn, sucking at my strength.
It was also something I’d felt before, back in the times I couldn’t remember. I had no fear of it, even when the slivers of pain began to stab at my brain—a pain that was scarily similar to the pain that occurred when I’d tried to shift shape.Something had obviously gone seriously wrong when I’d hit whatever it was I’d hit.
“I can’t feel—”
I grabbed Harris’s arm, stopping him. His muscles tensed under my fingertips, but he didn’t pull away. I pointed with my other hand. “There.”
“What?” His voice was patient, as if he were dealing with a crazy person. And who knew, maybe he was.
Except that I could see it. A faint wisp of white hovering just above the victim’s head.
“A soul.”
“A soul? Lady—”
“Damn it, it’s there. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“Yeah, right. Evin, I think you’d better—”
“Sorry, Hanna,” Evin said, and before I could react, something hit me over the head and the world went black.
I woke to darkness. I lay there for several seconds, staring upward but not really registering that there was a ceiling above me rather than sky and stars.
Then memory hit and I jerked upright. Only to wince in pain as my head protested the movement. I raised a hand and felt a bump the size of an egg on the side of my head. Evin. The bastard didn’t have to hit me so hard.
I swung my legs off the bed. A dozen different aches awoke, and my skin felt like it was glowing. Obviously, the werewolf quick-healing thing wasn’t working too well on my sunburn.
I was still wearing Evin’s shirt, and his scent hung on the air. How could my own brother smell so familiar and yet so strange? It was weird, and I really didn’t think it had anything to do with the lack of memory. It was something that went deeper.
Everything that was happening went far deeper than a lack of memory—of that I was sure. I just had to try to figure out the what and whys without raising anyone’s suspicions in the process. I don’t know why, but I had a bad feeling that would not be a good idea just yet.
There were voices in one of the rooms beyond mine, and it took me several minutes to realize it was probably the TV. I couldn’t hear Evin moving about, but I could smell coffee, and my stomach rumbled a reminder that I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in a while.
I scrubbed a hand across my face. I felt grimy and achy, and I desperately needed a shower, food, and coffee. But more than anything, I needed to understand what was going on.
And first on that list was remembering me.
I rose and walked across to the mirror attached to the small dressing table. My reflection was thin and sunburned. My face was pleasant enough, and there was a sense of familiarity about it—though why this surprised me, I’m not entirely sure. I mean, it was my face. What did I expect? Surgical changes?
My hair was the same red-gold as Evin’s and cut into a short, elfin style. That felt different. I touched it lightly, feeling oddly bereft. It should have been longer. Had been longer.
There were fading bruises and cuts over my cheeks and above my eyes, and one earlobe looked as if someone had taken a knife to it. Weirdly enough, that apparently didn’t prevent me from wearing earrings. They were overly large stud earrings with a blue stone in the center, and really ugly. I tried to take them off, but the damn things seemed to be attached to my flesh and would not be budged.
I frowned and undid the shirt instead. The bruises over my torso were as bad as they’d felt, and the gunshot wound looked puckered and red. It wasn’t infected, but it had been. If I’d been able to change before the accident with the roo, why hadn’t that healed? Surely I would have taken steps to heal my own flesh?
But then, if I’d been depressed, maybe not.
Maybe not remembering anything was a good thing, not bad.
I stepped back, then caught sight of the wallet sitting on the bedside table. I opened it up and dragged out the driver’s license tucked into the one of the side pockets. The picture was crappy—as they always were—but the face on the license matched the face in the mirror. And the name listed was Hanna London. I was who Evin said I was.
Even if I didn’t feel like a Hanna.
I shoved the wallet back onto the dresser and headed out the door to find Evin.
It turned out the villa apartment wasn’t very big. There was a second bedroom next to mine and, next to that, an average-looking bathroom. The main room was one big space comprised of a kitchen, a dining area, and a TV area. The furnishings were a basic, durable pine, and the curtains and cushions consisted of an almost garish blue and yellow flower print. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations, but I guess you didn’t need them when one wall was glass, and the vista beyond was all white sand and blue ocean. Even at night, it was a sight to behold.
Evin was sitting at the table under the small front veranda reading a newspaper. I followed my nose to the coffee machine, made myself a drink, then grabbed an apple and headed outside to join him.
He looked up as I sat down, and there was a decided wariness in his gray eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“I’d be great if some uncaring bastard hadn’t cracked my head open earlier tonight.” I took a sip of coffee and winced at the sharp, bitter taste. Definitely not to my liking, but it was hot and strong and better than nothing.
“Hanna, you were acting rather weird—”
“You’d be weird if you could see souls, too.” I glanced at him over the rim of my mug. “Why don’t you know about that?”
“Maybe because it was never mentioned?” He shrugged. “We may spend a lot of time together, dearest sister, but we don’t tell each other every single thing that goes on in our lives.”
But we do … Or at least, I thought we did. I bit into my apple, enjoying the juicy sweetness, then said, “So what secrets are you hiding from me? Aside from the fact you’re apparently moon-sworn.”