"I don't know." He shrugged, and took a long drink of beer.
And again I wondered if he was telling the truth. He seemed to be, but that didn't mean he actually was.
Was I always this damn suspicious of my own brother? Because I did believe he was my brother - even if he wasn't the one I remembered or wanted - but there was little else coming out of his mouth that appeared to be the truth.
"Tell me about our family, then."
"There's really not much point when you'll remember soon enough."
It was said with just a touch of impatience, and I raised my eyebrows. "There's no harm in humoring me, is there?"
"I honestly don't know. I guess not."
Which, as comments went, was odd. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.
He took another long drink of beer, then crushed the can and lobbed it toward the trash. "We're a fairly large family unit for our pack. Mom met Dad fairly late, but she made up for it. Beside me, there's a younger brother and a set of twins. Two girls."
Sisters. I had sisters. Something twisted in my stomach and an odd sense of sadness and regret rose.
"What are their names?"
"Our brother is Raynham, and was named after my mother. The twins are Jobie and Nelia." He glanced at me.
"I'm guessing by your expression you don't remember them."
"No." How can you remember someone when you've never even met them? The question rose out of the mire of my mind, clear and strong. "What are they like?"
He smiled. "Raynham is the studious type. He likes his books and computers. Nel is the adventurous one. She's stubborn and strong, and has a nose for trouble. A smaller version of you, basically."
"And Jobie?"
"A homebody. She's already saying that when she grows up, she wants nothing more than a soul mate and babies. Lots of babies."
Which is what I want. And something I'll never achieve. Not without someone having them for me, anyway. I rubbed my head wearily and wondered if the ache was ever going to fade enough to bring back memories and understanding. Or was this pain, and the fleeting, annoyingly incomplete memories, all I was ever going to get?
Then I frowned as the rest of his words hit. When she grows up? "Just how old are they?"
"Raynham's seven. The twins are five."
Shock rippled through me. I was more than twenty years older than any of them. No wonder I didn't know them - I'd left the pack long before they'd even been born.
My gaze swept Evin. Even he looked younger than me. "How old are you?"
He hesitated. "Twenty-four."
And that just seemed so wrong I wanted to be sick. My brother shouldn't be that young. He just shouldn't.
But it also made him far older than our other siblings. So why didn't I know him? He might be younger, but he was old enough to have been around during my time with the pack. Surely to God I couldn't have forgotten my own brother - not to the extent that he seemed a complete and utter stranger.
"You mentioned Raynham being named after our mother, but you haven't mentioned our father. Why do I have a feeling that I have no father?"
"Maybe because you told him before you left that, as far as you were concerned, he ceased to exist." His gaze met mine rather than sliding away, but I nevertheless sensed the lie.
I didn't have a dad. Not a dad that had played a part in my upbringing, anyway. My dad had died long before I was born.
Part of me wanted to grab Evin and shake him, make him tell me the truth. But I couldn't. I had an odd sense that the web that had been woven around me was elaborately constructed, and while Evin might be a part of it, he wasn't a controlling part. He was just a player, like me. Hell, for all I knew, he might be as trapped in this mess as I was. Until I knew where all these lies led, I had to remain as I was - confused, angry, and maybe even a little frightened.
Of course, it was also possible that I was crazy. That there was no plot against me, and that my depression over my soul mate's death was slipping into neurosis.