Reborn

Chapter Fifteen

“Is Burnett here?” Della stuck her head into Holiday’s office.

“No, he was called away for the day.”

“The FRU?” Della took another step inside the doorway when Holiday nodded. “Is it about the recent murder case?” Della asked, ready to get mad that he hadn’t taken her with him.

“No, it’s a case in Dallas.” Holiday rose belly-first from the chair. Her belly bump was getting bigger by the day. Della couldn’t help but wonder how that would feel. To have a life growing inside you.

All of a sudden, Della noticed Holiday’s black dress. Unlike Della, the fae never wore black. Bright colors were her trademark.

“Is there a problem?” Holiday asked, noting Della staring.

“No, I just … you’re dressed in black.”

Holiday nodded. “I’m going to a funeral.”

So am I. “Whose?” Della asked.

Holiday’s brow wrinkled as if concerned. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

And just like that, Della instinctively knew. “You’re going to Lorraine Baker’s funeral, aren’t you?”

Holiday leaned against her desk and nodded. “She’s stopped in for a visit, but isn’t communicating yet. I thought if I went to the funeral, I might be able to help her.”

“Help her do what?” Della asked. “What does she want from you?”

“I don’t know. They usually want something. But in some cases, especially in unexpected deaths, the spirit just needs to be consoled and told that it’s okay to cross over.”

“Or maybe she knows something about the killer. Maybe she wants you to help catch this creep.”

“That’s a possibility, too,” Holiday said.

Della hesitated one second. “I want to go,” she said.

Holiday pulled her hair around her shoulder and twisted it. “I don’t know if that’s protocol for an agent to—”

“I don’t give a flip about protocol. Look, here’s the truth. I was going,” Della said. “I was just going to sneak out and then I decided to try to reason with Burnett to let me go. That’s what I wanted to talk to him about. I stumbled across the article about her online last night, and I … I want to go.”

“I know it was upsetting for you to see the crime scene, but—”

“I need to do this, Holiday. I don’t know why, but I just need to say I’m sorry. Please don’t try to stop me.”

Empathy filled Holiday’s green eyes. “Sorry? How is this your fault, Della?”

“It’s not, but … it was a vampire and … I want to make it right.” Even as she said it, she knew she couldn’t make it right. There was no bringing back Lorraine. But something inside her said attending that funeral was the best she could do.

The grief was so thick in the air, Della could hardly breathe. In spite of the fact that Della didn’t know the victim, the heavy feeling of loss lodged in her chest.

Men in dark suits kept moving bouquets and wreaths around the casket. The smell of too-sweet flowers clogged the air. While they were still colorful cut from their vines, the scent of their upcoming death made Della question the custom of floral arrangements.

She and Holiday had arrived ten minutes earlier and sat in the last pew in the back of the church, taking the last seats. The crowd kept getting bigger. People shifted closer until everyone practically sat shoulder-to-shoulder. Della fought the need to cry out for more room. But she knew the crowding sensation was as much internal as physical.

Too many emotions—emotions from all her issues. Though right now, the one foremost on her mind was the one in the casket. The guilt she somehow felt for the couple’s death … guilt for just being vampire.

The echo of the crowd seemed to vibrate the ceilings. Obviously, Lorraine had a lot of friends and loved ones.

Della sat listening to the sorrowful mourners. Some people cried. Other just sighed—sympathy lacing that low sound. Others talked about her, little things. She loved chocolate mint ice cream. She hated algebra. She sort of snorted when she laughed really loud. They said things as if saying them would somehow keep Lorraine alive.

“Is she here?” Della leaned into Holiday’s shoulder and asked. She should have felt frightened at the thought of a ghost around, but oddly she didn’t. If Holiday could get any clues to the girl’s death, Della could find the bastard who did this. She really wanted to find him.

“I haven’t seen or felt her,” Holiday whispered back. “But there’s another spirit here. I think it might be the same one that’s hanging around Kylie. It keeps flashing past. Definitely vampire.”

Della closed her eyes for a second, not wanting to believe the spirit was her own uncle or aunt, but it did make sense.

“And I was really hoping Lorraine would be here,” Holiday whispered.

“If she does show up, make sure you ask her about her killer.” Della let her gaze shift around the room, and it landed on the casket centered in front of the pews, surrounded by people.

“She looks good,” a woman at the front told the other woman accompanying her. “You can’t even tell she was in such a bad accident.”

Good? She’s dead! Della wanted to scream out.

Then a vision of Lorraine, bloody and mauled, flashed in Della’s mind. The vision kept showing the girl’s fingers drenched in more blood. Della blinked and inwardly flinched.

“Are you okay?” Holiday asked, no doubt reading Della’s wayward emotions.

“Fine,” she lied.

Holiday rested her hand on top of Della’s. Some of the weightiness crowding her lungs lightened.

The pieces of dialogue echoed around the church.

So sad. She was just starting her life. Did you know she got a puppy?

Della closed her eyes. Why had she felt driven to be here? How was paying respect going to help the poor dead girl or her fiancé? How would it help Della find their killer?

It wouldn’t, Della realized. In some crazy way she was here out of guilt. Guilt because one of her own kind had done this.

Funerals aren’t for the dead, they are for the living. Della recalled her father’s words when she begged him not to make her attend Chan’s funeral. She hadn’t wanted to see her aunt cry, or to see them drop her cousin’s coffin in the earth. In a way, she’d felt that if she hadn’t been forced to go to the funeral she could have pretended he was still alive. Little did she know, he had been alive after all.

A sob escaped from someone standing beside the casket.

“Are you going to Jake’s funeral tomorrow?” a young girl asked another girl sitting two rows up. Their dialogue played like distant music. Music about a life lost. Della forced herself to listen.

“Probably. I just keep wondering if this wouldn’t have happened if Phillip hadn’t run off like he did.”

“She loved Jake.”

“I think she loved Phillip more.”

“Phillip broke her heart, leaving her like that.”

So Loraine had boy troubles like everyone else, Della thought.

“At least she and Jake went together.”

How did that make it better? Della wondered, not wanting to think how terrifying those last few moments of Lorraine’s life had been. Facing a monster. Fearing for her life, and fearing for someone she loved.

Music started playing. The pastor moved to the podium and talked about Lorraine’s love of life, and helping others. After his ten-minute memorial service finished, the crowd stood and everyone walked past the casket. Della almost broke the human chain to escape having to see the body. Then, realizing it might be insulting, she slowly, with Holiday behind her, made the trek to the casket.

She told herself she wouldn’t look, that it wasn’t necessary. But once she got to the front, her gaze fell to the too-still girl, wearing a pink dress. Her dark hair was the only thing about her that didn’t look dead. Her hands—no longer bloody like they appeared in the flashes of Della’s mind—were folded together. Her eyes closed. Her throat no longer mangled.

Della paused by the polished wooden casket just long enough to leave a promise.

I’ll catch him. I’ll catch the monster who did this to you.

Right before Della walked away, a tiny feather floated from above and landed softly on the girl’s cheek, almost looking like a tear. Della fought the need to brush it away, but hesitant to touch the body, she followed the crowd out of the church.

“So you never saw her?” Della asked Holiday as the fae drove back to Shadow Falls.

“No,” Holiday said, “but maybe she’ll come back later. Sometimes…” Holiday’s phone rang and she pulled it out of her purse and checked the number. Frowning, she took the call. “Is everything okay?”

Della tried to listen to the call but she couldn’t pick up the voice on the line. Her hearing was out again, but she studied the camp leader’s expression. And knew whatever was being said on the other end wasn’t good.

“We’re about two minutes out,” Holiday said. “Set him up in the conference room. Tell him his daughter’s at her cabin and that you’ll bring her right up.” When Holiday hung up, she glanced at Della, her eyes filled with concern.

“What?” Della asked, worried that one of her friends’ parents were causing problems. Both Kylie and Miranda had home issues. Oh, heck, it could even be Jenny.

Holiday’s expression tightened with empathy. “It’s your dad, Della. Hayden says that he is really upset. He claims you took something of his from the house and he wants it back immediately.”

Della’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach, and the organ proceeded to knot.

Holiday stared at her with questions. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

Della went straight to the cabin to get the picture. Careful not to bend it, she tucked it into a pristine white envelope and started to the office. The only thing she’d told Holiday was she’d taken an old photograph of his family. While the fae waited for Della to explain her reasons, she didn’t offer any. She’d just stared out the window. They’d driven the next few miles in total silence while the chaotic noise of hurt in Della’s heart rang far too loud.

Now, as she walked toward the office, the picture in her hands, her entire body shook with nerves at the thought of facing her father. Or rather, at facing the disappointment she knew he’d have in his eyes. The memory of the look in his eyes when he’d caught her in his cabinet hurt like a burn. His accusation of her stealing his brandy vibrated in her ears.

She made it up the steps up to the office, but paused at the door. What the hell was she going to tell him? She couldn’t tell him the truth about Marla overhearing his conversation about his twin. Her father valued privacy; he’d be furious. And Della wouldn’t throw her sister under the bus. She’d rather take the blame and be run over by the bus herself. Besides, where her parents were concerned, she was already under that bus—had been plowed over several times.

Questions bounced around her head as she made those last steps inside. How had her father discovered the missing picture? Did he regularly go through the album? Suddenly, Della recalled the phone conversation with her mom where she’d denied drinking her father’s brandy and telling her mom that she’d been looking for Chan’s picture. It had been a lie, but closer to the real truth.

Her mom must have told her dad this, and that had him going through the album. She could almost imagine him angrily flipping pages, suspecting she’d taken something. And wouldn’t you know, she’d proved him right. At least this time, she was actually guilty of the crime he accused her of.

She walked into the meeting room, her stomach a quiver of nerves. Her father sat at the back of the table, facing the door. He frowned when she appeared in the doorway. Not that Della expected any differently, but it still stung—the deep kind of sting that hurt all the way to the bone.

There had been a time when his eyes would have lit up with love. Now all she got were frowns, disapproval, and disappointment.

Where was the love he’d held for her? Had it died so quickly? It’s not my fault, Daddy. I caught a virus, I didn’t want it.

She inhaled and felt her breath sputter.

His brows pinched in what appeared to be anger, with a hint of disappointment. She preferred the anger. He pointed a finger at her. “Can I assume that’s my picture?”

She moved in and set the envelope on the table. The hugeass lump in her throat made talking difficult. “I … I stumbled across it and it looked like … you had a twin brother. I was curious.”

“You had no right to go through my personal things.”

Why do you hate me daddy? She breathed in deep to keep the sting of tears from her eyes and nodded . “I’m sorry,” she said, knowing arguing wouldn’t help.

“You told your mom you weren’t drinking,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“You were so angry. I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“What were you looking for?” he asked, his tone still hostile. She suspected her mom had already told him what she said, so she repeated that lie. “I’ve been thinking about Chan and thought maybe you’d have a picture of him.”

He stood up. “Chan is dead. Let him rest in peace.”

But he wasn’t dead, Della thought. And perhaps her uncle wasn’t either. She watched her father start to walk away. He hadn’t hugged her since right after she’d been turned.

“Daddy?” she said.

He turned and glanced back. For one second, one heartbeat of time, she could swear she saw regret in his eyes. Regret for all they had lost.

“What?” he asked.

She hurried to him, wanting to feel his protective arms around her. Wanting to know he didn’t hate her.

Before she got all the way to his side, he held out his hand to stop her. Her heart tightened into one big knot of pain.

She inhaled and swallowed. If she wasn’t going to get a hug, maybe she’d at least get answers.

“Is that your twin brother in the picture?”

His lips thinned and tightened. She thought he was simply going to leave without answering, but he finally spoke. “I came to get what was mine, not to give answers.”

“Why haven’t you ever talked about him?” Della asked, not willing to give up so easily.

“Why bring up painful memories? Some things are best forgotten.”

Like me, Della thought. He was working on forgetting her.

He turned to leave.

“I still love you,” she said, her voice low and filled with hurt.

His steps faltered for one, maybe two, seconds. Then he continued on. He didn’t look back. He didn’t say he loved her back. Why would he? She didn’t matter anymore. She was just another painful memory.

“Are you ready to go?” Kylie asked as she and Miranda came running to Della Friday after their classes were dismissed. Kylie was smiling. Since she and Lucas had gotten together, the chameleon smiled a lot. “Mom said she’d be here around four.”

“I’m all packed, but I need to do one thing first.” One thing, yet Della felt pulled in ten different directions. The funeral had left her feeling determined to convince Burnett she was worthy of working for the FRU. Her father’s visit had left her determined to find her uncle and aunt. And somehow she had to find Chan and talk him out of the gang. And then there was Steve.

“What?” Miranda asked. “What do you have to do?” The witch refused to let anything be a mystery. Last night when Burnett got home and summoned Della down for a visit, the witch had gone bonkers until Della explained everything. She told them that Burnett hadn’t been happy about her attending Lorraine’s funeral.

Della could still hear the vamp’s words ringing in her ears. An agent has to keep some emotional distance. Yeah, she’d try to remember that as soon as her heart stopped breaking.

He’d also asked her about her father’s visit. Della told him what she’d told Holiday when her father had left. She’d taken an old photograph of him and his siblings and he’d discovered it missing. Unlike Miranda, Holiday and Burnett didn’t pry. Oh, Della suspected the two camp leaders knew there was more to the story, but they obviously respected her right to privacy.

Something Miranda needed to learn to do. It wasn’t as if Della kept that many secrets from her two best friends. She’d even told them about her dad’s visit.

“What could be more important than our trip?” Miranda asked. But holy moly, did the girl ever give up?

Della let out a low growl. She almost smarted off that it wasn’t any of the witch’s friggin’ business. But right before the words left her lips, she realized she wasn’t really annoyed at Miranda, or her questions. She was annoyed at the situation. And while Della had a lot of situations going on, the one crowding her plate at this minute was her Steve situation.

He’d shown up for classes today as he said he would. And because he knew she didn’t want everyone assuming they were together, he hadn’t been overly friendly. But dad blast it if every time she looked his way, he wasn’t watching her through his thick dark lashes with a sexy smile on his face. She’d bet her best bra that he was thinking about them kissing. About what it would be like to do more than make out.

And seeing him and that heart-stopping smile made her think about it, too. It was as if her brain needed an escape from her other problems, so it took her there. It took her back to Steve’s lips on hers, to feeling his touch.

But damn it, she didn’t want to go there. Especially in the middle of math, with several students able to smell her pheromones.

Nor did she want to think about having to tell him she was leaving shortly after classes were over. But she had to tell him. She couldn’t just leave. That would be rude. Della might not excel at being nice, but she worked at not being rude. Well, most of the time.

Miranda cleared her throat and brought her back to the problem at hand: the nosy little witch problem.

“I won’t be long,” Della huffed.

“What is it that you have to do?” Miranda asked, her tone filled with impatience.

Della almost broke her anti-rude rule. “I have to talk to Steve,” she bellowed out.

“Now see, was that so hard to just tell us?” Miranda’s eyes grew round. “Oh, wait. Are you going to confront him about the doctor’s daughter?”

Kylie gave Miranda a sharp elbow in her ribs.

Della frowned. “What do you know about that?”

Miranda’s expression went forcibly innocent. “I don’t know anything.” She looked at Kylie and then shifted to stand behind her as if Della might attack.

Della was considering it, too. “Spill it!” Della rubbed her head when the throbbing pain in her right temple inched up a degree.

Kylie exhaled. “She … we don’t know anything.” She pulled Miranda from behind her. “Look, we both noticed the girl didn’t seem to be able to look away from Steve. She seemed to have a thing for him.”

They weren’t saying anything Della hadn’t already concluded, but it hurt to know she wasn’t the only one to notice.

“I … I gotta go. I’ll be back here before four.” She took off, not even sure where she was going, except to find Steve. Heck, she didn’t know what she was going to say to him, except to tell him she was leaving. But the hurt and jealously radiating through her stung deep. It reminded her of how she felt when her dad walked out yesterday.