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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.
No, that inner voice said. No!
Evin rose abruptly. "I'm off to bed. You'd best be getting some sleep, too."
"Probably." Except that I wasn't sleepy. "But I think I'll watch TV for a little bit."
He shrugged, gave me a sketchy wave goodnight, then disappeared into his bedroom. I leaned across to the sofa and grabbed the remote, idly flipping channels and trying to find something decent on. The news and the shopping channel were about as interesting as it got.
I threw the remote back on the sofa, then got up and made myself a cup of coffee.
What I needed, I thought, as I wrapped my fingers around the mug and leaned back against the counter, was a laptop. With it, I could do some investigating of my own. At the very least, I could do a search for that other murder I was half remembering and uncover whether it was real or just a figment of my twisted imagination.
There wasn't anything resembling a laptop in the main living room, and I couldn't remember seeing one in my bedroom. But Evin might have one. It was worth asking, anyway.
"Hey, bro," I said, not bothering to raise my voice. He'd hear me if he was awake, and given he'd only just gone to bed, I doubted he'd be asleep yet.
"What?" he said, sounding less than pleased.
"Have you got a laptop with you?"
"Why?"
That definitely sounded like something my brother would say. "Because I want to do a search for a killing similar to the one we found today."
"Why don't you just let the police do their fucking job and drop the matter?"
Because keeping my mind busy keeps the pain and the anguish at bay, that little voice said. But I couldn't -
wouldn't - admit something like that to Evin.
"Because I'm curious, that's why. I just want to know if there was another killing elsewhere, or whether I'm simply imagining it."
"What does it matter if there was?" Footsteps echoed lightly. He might be arguing, but he was getting up, which meant he did indeed have a laptop.
"It doesn't matter, but it will solve my curiosity."
"You know the old saying about curiosity and the cat," he said, as he entered the living area with the laptop tucked under one arm.
"Then it's just as well I'm a werewolf, isn't it?"
He snorted softly. "And I'm guessing that if I didn't have a laptop, you'd just go out and find yourself one."
