Moon Sworn (Riley Jenson Guardian 9)

I swung the vase and let it go. Dead flowers and foul-smelling water flew, soaking the carpet. I jumped forward, following the vase with a kick. He ducked both and pulled the trigger. I twisted out of the way, felt the bullet burn past my hip, and lashed out, my clenched fingers taking him under the chin, throwing him up and back but not knocking him out. He hit the carpeted floor hard and his gun went flying.

I leapt for it, my fingers latching onto the barrel even as he caught his balance and lunged for me. I didn't have time to shift my grip to the trigger so I simply twisted around, smashing the weapon against his face with as much force as I could muster. Flesh and bone gave way under the impact and he went down, but he was still far from out. I scrambled to my knees and hit him in his throat with the side of my hand. His eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp.

It wouldn't last long. Vampires were too tough to be immobilized for very long - even by a blow that would have killed a human.

I switched the gun's safety on, shoved it into the waistband of my jeans, then took a moment to rub at my leg. There was no blood and the wound hadn't split, but the ache was deep and relentless, despite the numbness that still ringed the actual wound.

But I guess if that was the worst aftereffect of getting shot with silver for the umpteenth time, then I could consider myself lucky.

I grabbed the vamp's arms, lifting his head and shoulders off the floor, then dragged him down the stairs. The other guard hadn't come up to investigate the gunshot, so I had to presume Quinn had managed to grab him outside.

Indeed I have. His thoughts rolled through mine, warm and amused. It appears my acting skills are not as rusty as I thought. Did the other one manage to wing you?

The bullet barely even scraped my side.

Which, knowing you, probably means there's a hole the size of a fist in your body.

I laughed and hauled the vamp down the last step, then dragged him across the foyer to the open front door. Quinn was standing on the porch, his arms crossed as he watched me. The other guard was propped up against the thick white columns.

"I've dealt with the first guard already." As I stepped over the door threshold, Quinn took the vamp's arms and jerked him sideways, depositing him rather roughly beside the other guard. Not that either man deserved any form of gentle treatment after the hell they'd put Evin through. "Neither of them will remember our arrival or notice their captive is missing."

"Good." I glanced down at my side. My sweater was torn, but the wound was little more than a scratch and there wasn't even much blood. Which was probably a good thing, considering how much I'd lost before Harris had removed the silver bullet. "Has either man got a key on them? Lyndal's door is chained and padlocked."

He patted down both guards, then shook his head. "Nothing in their pockets. Check the kitchen or their sleeping quarters."

"On it." I spun around and headed back into the house. The kitchen was at the back, and it was huge. But the counters were full of crap and the sink was littered with unwashed dishes. Obviously, neither of them was worried about mice or ants, because there were crumbs all over the floor and ants were currently enjoying the leftovers on several plates.

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.