"If this is someone's idea of a good time, then they are seriously warped."

"Yeah, he is," I said, and again heard that smooth, cultured voice telling me to enjoy the time I had remaining. Damn it, I needed to remember!

Pinpoint pricks of light appeared in the distance. There was a car on the horizon, and it was approaching fast.

Denny's backup plan, perhaps?

"What's the cell phone reception like up here?" I asked, flexing my fingers against the wheel. It didn't do a whole lot to ease the tension suddenly rolling through me.

"It's pretty shitty, actually," he said. "Why?"

I nodded toward the growing light points. "What are the odds of another car being on this particular road at this time of night? The road only goes to the whaling station ruins, and it's not exactly a good time to be viewing them, is it?"

"They had a CB radio in one of the other trucks - I heard them talking on it - but there's no way help would get here this soon."

"Unless someone was already nearby. How far does the pack's land boundary extend?"

"I have no idea."

We drove on, watching those twin specks of light grow brighter and brighter. Tension crawled through my limbs, and I was gripping the steering wheel so hard my hands were beginning to cramp. I flexed my fingers and forced myself to relax.

The lights flicked down to low beam as the car drew nearer. I pulled over to the edge of the road, allowing the other car plenty of room. He repeated the action and we passed each other quickly and without incident. I had a brief glimpse of a white face, dark hair, and sharp, arrogant nose and knew, without a doubt, who it was.

"Shit," Evin said. "That was Mike West."

"There was another murder in town tonight," I said, voice grim. "I wonder why he's here and not helping Harris."

"Maybe someone told them about Denny's plans."

"Maybe." But West would have had to have left Dunedan not long after me to get here this soon. And while I had no doubt that someone had been watching our villa, I very much doubted whether they'd have gone running to either Harris or West the minute I'd disappeared.

So why was West out here?

Was this the reason he hadn't been answering Harris's calls?

Maybe I was being suspicious for no reason; maybe he really did have a good reason for being here. But whoever was behind my kidnapping had to have someone else other than Evin here in Dunedan - and what better backup could there be than one of the town cops?

And it might just explain why Harris had been getting no responses to his queries to the Directorate. West could have easily either not sent them or intercepted them.

I glanced in the rearview mirror, watching his tail-lights, half expecting him to turn around and chase us. But he didn't, and I wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good thing or bad.

One thing was sure, though - I needed to talk to Harris, and as soon as possible.

I glanced at Evin. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"I think they have someone else on the ground here. They seem to know stuff that I haven't mentioned." He hesitated, and glanced at me sharply. "You don't think it could be West, do you?"

I smiled. "Sometimes you're so like me it's almost like you are my brother."

"But West is a cop."

"A cop who is desperate to get out of this town and into some 'real policing,' as he puts it."

"I don't know - "

"Neither do I," I cut in. "But I sure as hell intend to find out."

"But how?"

"By talking to the man in charge."

"Harris? He works with West. He's not going to believe the worst of a workmate."

"Harris is a good cop. He'll listen, he'll consider the evidence, and he'll make his own decision."

Evin grunted. And it wasn't a convinced-sounding grunt, either. "There is one thing they did tell me."

When he didn't go on, I raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "What?"

He hesitated. "It sounds kind of silly, but they told me to make sure you never took the earrings off."

Something inside me twisted. The earrings. I knew there was something odd about them. "Did they say why?"

"No." Again he hesitated. "Not exactly. They just said you needed them on so that controlling you was easier."

Controlling me? Or controlling my wolf and other gifts?

I swerved over to the side of the road and stopped the truck. Dust flew around us as the tires skidded on the uneven shoulder. "Open the glove compartment and see if there's a knife in there."

He didn't move. "Get the wire off my neck, Hanna. Fair is fair."

He was right. I motioned him to turn around. He did so, and lifted his hair so I could get to the knot at the back easier. His neck was raw and weeping, and guilt spun through me. I really should have taken it off earlier.

I reached for the wire, but the minute my fingertips touched it, blue sparks erupted. I jerked my hand away and glanced at my fingertips. They were burned.

"What's wrong?" Evin said, voice sharp.

"It would appear I'm extremely sensitive to silver. Wait here."

I climbed out of the cab and into the bed at the back, quickly flipping open the tool box. There was a wire cutter sitting on the top, but that was next to useless - the silver was sitting too tightly against Evin's neck to risk using it. I pushed the tools around and found not only a pair of gloves but also a switchblade. I grabbed them both, then jumped back into the truck.

I pulled on the gloves then cautiously touched the wire. Even through the gloves I could feel the heat of the silver, but it wasn't hot enough to stop me from undoing the wire.

Evin jerked away the minute the wire was loose enough and quickly rubbed his raw neck. "Fuck, that stuff burns."

I chucked the wire out the door then slammed it shut. "I gather you've never had an encounter with silver before?"

"No. But I take it you have?"

"I've been shot by the stuff so many times I'm now super-sensitive to it." I flicked open the switchblade and studied the point. It was certainly sharp enough to do the job. After a moment, I became aware of Evin's heated stare. "What?"

"Did you even hear what you just said?"

I smiled. "Yes. And no, I can't explain it, beyond the fact that I'm involved on some level with the Directorate."

"Then whoever is behind all this is playing a mighty dangerous game. Even I know you don't fuck around with Directorate people. Not if you value your life."

"Which is probably why he gave me another identity. Then he could kill me without raising any alarms."

"As I said before, this whole situation is fucked." He gave the knife point a somewhat dubious look. "I take it you want me to take the earrings out of your ears."

"I tried taking them off the first time I had a shower. They wouldn't budge. Cutting them out seems to be my only option."

He took the knife somewhat gingerly. "It'll hurt."

I shrugged. "I'm tough."

"I'm beginning to realize that," he muttered, then motioned me to turn around.

I did so, reaching across with one hand and sweeping the short strands of my hair out of the way. His touch on my ear was light and firm.

"It does feel like they're embedded," he commented. "Don't jerk away when I cut or I might just tear your lobe off."

"I won't."

Cold metal touched my ear, slicing into my flesh. Evin's touch was surprisingly delicate, and the cut didn't hurt all that much. After a few seconds, the blade was gone and his fingers were pulling at my ear. Something dropped onto the seat between us and bounced onto the floor of the truck.

"Other one," Evin said.

I resisted the impulse to reach down and grab whatever had fallen out and twisted around on the seat, so that he could reach my right ear. He repeated the process, but this time, he had to pry the thing out of my ear. It felt like it was being pulled out of my ear canal rather than my lobe, a sensation that had my stomach rising and my head spinning.

"Fuck," I said, jerking away the minute it was free and rubbing my ear fiercely. "That one hurt."

And other than the pain, I didn't really feel any different with the earrings gone. For some reason, I thought I would.

But maybe I needed to do something - like shape-shift - to see if removing them had actually improved my situation. Right now, we didn't have that time. West would be close to the whaling station by now. We really needed to get moving, just in case he came back. I took the brake off and hit the gas. Dirt and stones sprayed the underneath of the truck as the tires skidded then gripped, and the big truck surged forward once more.

"It looks like a battery," Evin said, examining the earring. "Only it's got a tail."

I held out a hand and he dropped it into my palm. It was small and round, and the silk-fine tail was about two and a half inches long.

Evin reached down and picked up the remains of the other earring. It was also small, but without the tail.

"I have no idea what they are," he said. "Do you?"

I shook my head. "But when I tried to shift shape, I was hit by an intense pain - it felt like my brain was on fire. Maybe this is the reason why."

"How the hell can something that small stop a shifter from taking their other shape?"

"Nanotechnology means the smallest devices can be extremely powerful."

"Granted, but that doesn't explain how it manages to stop a shape-shift."

I shrugged. "From what I've read, the electrical activity emanating from the brain increases exponentially when we shift. Maybe the device somehow disrupts that surge and prevents the shift process."

So why hadn't it prevented the seagull shift? I frowned down at the thing in my hand. Maybe it could be programmed. Maybe shifting into different shapes resulted in different energy signatures, and if these things could be programmed, then it was here to prevent the wolf shift.

Because he doesn't know about your alternate form, that internal voice whispered. He doesn't know about your other skills.

If only I could figure out who he was, my life would be a whole lot easier.

I dropped the metal mouse back into Evin's hand. "Keep them safe for me."

He looked surprised but pleased. "I will, trust me."

I did. And not just because he wanted my help to rescue his soul mate. There was no cunning in his gaze, no artifice in his actions. Granted, he may have spent the last few days doing nothing but lying to me, but that wasn't his nature. Wasn't his soul.

Evin was honest. I'd stake my life on it.

And given the situation, I probably was.

"So what's our plan of action?" he asked.

I hesitated. "As I said earlier, I think the first thing we need to do is talk to Harris. What happens after that very much depends on whether he believes us or not."

"If he doesn't, we're stuck. I can't leave Dunedan until I'm told to, because if I don't report in every night, they'll kill Lyndal."

"So they've told you to call from that phone only?"

"Yes. They gave me the location and number, and said if I use any other phone, Lyndal will pay."

"Meaning they're using caller ID - and there are ways around that." Not that I could actually recall any of them at the moment. "Is the number you call local or interstate?"

"Interstate. The calls are killing my credit card."

I snorted. "They're making you pay for the calls?"

"And the villa. The bastards aren't exactly free with the cash."

"I guess it's one way to avoid a paper - or credit - trail."

"And if they were planning to kill us at the end of it, I guess it's probably easier to waste my cash than theirs."

"Probably. If Harris can trace the phone number for us, that'll at least give us a starting location." Though I very much doubted the phone number would relate to wherever they were keeping Lyndal. That would be a dumb move, and whoever was behind this wasn't dumb. Arrogant, yes, overconfident, probably, but not dumb.

"We've still got to get her out of there without them suspecting."

"We will."

"I don't think you and I have enough firepower to stop them."

"I don't intend for it to be just you and me."

He glanced at me. "Your brother?"

"If I can remember him, and find him, trust me, we won't need a fucking army."

He didn't say anything to that, but the sliver of fear whisked through the darkness again. Silence fell. I kept the truck thundering through the night, but it was well after one before we got back into Dunedan.

I swung the truck down a side street and drove straight to the police station. I expected the place to be lit up, but it was as dark as a grave.

Trepidation slithered through me. I pulled up by the curb rather than the driveway and threw the gears into neutral.

"He's not there by the look of it," Evin said.

"But he should be. He had two captives that needed to be locked up. One of them was a vamp." And Harris, despite his extraordinary abilities, wasn't used to dealing with vamps. I shouldn't have left him alone.

And yet if I hadn't, Evin might now be dead and I wouldn't be one step closer to much-needed answers.

I peered through the side window, scanning the building's windows and doors. There were no broken windows, no smashed locks or doors. Everything looked in order.