Eternal (6 page)

Was she ready to go there with Steve?

Oh, hell, she'd just found another thing to worry about.

*   *   *

After a good-bye kiss filled with with pent-up frustrations, Steve walked her outside through the back door to avoid the approaching company. “I'm heading out in about an hour,” he said.

She nodded and laced her fingers with his. “Be good.” An unwanted vision of Jessie filled her head.

“You, too,” he said and she could guess what he was imagining.

He gave her hand a squeeze then leaned down and kissed her again. The birds and soft whisper of the breeze played background music.

That kiss was probably about as hot of a kiss as they should be indulging in, she thought, but then she found even that brief feel of his lips on hers to be alluring.

She only got a few feet away when her phone dinged with an incoming text. Her heart raced thinking it was Chase. But she didn't check it until she got in the mix of trees—pines, a few oaks, a maple or two—away from Steve's line of vision. The thought of hurting him sent a sharp pain to her chest.

And yet, if right now Steve was getting a text from Jessie, it would hurt like hell. If Steve cared even nearly as much about Jessie as she did Chase, Della would be damn pissed.

Shit. She had to be hurting Steve. But how could she fix it?

Two choices. Only two. Let him go or refuse to work with Chase on the case. Refuse to ever have anything to do with Chase again.

The realization tumbled around inside her like a ball of thorns. A few tears threatened to fall as her phone dinged again.

She looked at it.

Not Chase. Burnett. The message read,
Come to the office.

She didn't hesitate.

When she stormed into his office, he glanced up. “I hope you were close—if not, you came too fast. I've warned you not to—”

“I was close,” she said and it was only half a lie. She had been close, but she probably still came quicker than he would have liked. At least being Reborn came with a few perks, superspeed being one of them. “What is it?”

“I got a call from the Vampire Council.”

“Are they approving Chase and me working together with the FRU?”

“No. One of the council members called to ask if we'd heard from Chase. He missed a meeting with them and isn't answering his calls. They say this isn't like him.”

Della felt her blood pressure rise. “Do they think something happened to him?” She could still recall how he'd moaned when he'd taken her blood inside him during her rebirth. When he'd willingly done it, willingly taken on the pain to save her.
I don't love you, period. I go back and forth on even liking you.

“No. He seemed more concerned that I'd convinced him to work exclusively with us. When I assured him that wasn't the case, he insisted that you would know where he was. They said he's been obsessing over you lately.”

Obsessing?
She shook her head. “He hasn't called or texted me since we saw each other at the falls. If he had, I'd tell you.”

“That's what I assured them,” he said.

Della pulled out her phone again and typed Chase another message.
Worried. Vamp Council looking 4 u. U ok?

She stared at her phone, her lungs tight, praying he would text her back.

When it didn't ding back in seconds, she looked up at Burnett. “Maybe I should go look for him.”

“Where?”

“I don't know, but—”

“No. If you knew where he was, it would be one thing, but—”

Her phone dinged. She looked at the number. Chase's number.

“It's him.” She read his message—to herself.

Worrying means u care.

She clenched her teeth.

“And?” Burnett asked.

She ignored Burnett and typed:
R u ok?

His reply came back quickly.
Fine. Working our case. Later.

Della looked up, drawing in air. “All he says is he's okay and is working the case.”

She half expected Burnett to ask to see the texts. He didn't, and that showed a lot of trust on his part. She appreciated that more than he knew.

“Text him back and tell him I said for him to contact the council. We need him to stay in their good graces right now.”

She did as Burnett said. They sat in the silent office for several minutes, waiting for his reply. Her phone didn't ding.

Finally, Della set her phone down. “What could Chase know, or the Vampire Council know, that we don't? How can he be working on the case?”

Burnett's expression hardened. “I don't know. My people are still going through the files that we got. I know that one of Craig Anthony's homes was torn apart before we got there. Maybe someone with the council found something. But I don't think so. We found most of our evidence in the files at the funeral home and on his phone and computer.”

“I hate this,” Della said, and this time it wasn't about her feelings for the crazy vamp, but for Natasha and Liam.

“I know, but right now there's nothing we can do.”

All of a sudden, Burnett's cell rang. He looked at the phone. “I need to take this.”

Della figured he meant he wanted her to leave, and she stood up.

As she took one step to the door, she heard the voice on the line. “It's Leo. I got the approval, but we're going in dark. We never got ahold of the owner. That said, we're good to move tonight. Three a.m.”

What was going down?
Did it involve Chase? The case? Okay, she didn't want to be rude, but curiosity bit. Bit hard. She took another step toward the door, but she didn't open it.

“Okay, I'll be there,” Burnett's voice came.

Just as she reached for the knob, Burnett said, “Della?”

Crap. Was he upset that she'd been eavesdropping? She turned around, feeling guilty. It had been rude.

“I'm sorry, I should have left, but I thought maybe it was—”

“Sit down.” He shut off the phone. His gaze met her eyes, and she saw it. That phone call involved her.

She didn't do as ordered.

“What is it?” She sensed his hesitancy and that could mean only one thing. It was bad.

“Sit back down,” he repeated. “We need to talk.”

*   *   *

The clock on Della's bedside table listed the time as 2:55 a.m. She had five minutes. She looked down at her clothes. She was ready.

Black.

Black boots.

Black jeans and a black fitted T-shirt.

All black, so she'd blend into the night.

It had been the first rule of thumb that her cousin, Chan, had taught her about being a vampire. How appropriate that the color was right for this event. Black for grief. Black for pain. Black for putting Chan's body into the ground and saying good-bye.

The call Burnett had gotten today while she'd been in his office had been about Chan. They had finally finished the autopsy and were releasing his body. At least now he'd be laid to rest. When she thought of him, she wouldn't think of his body in some cold morgue.

Burnett had tried to talk her out of going. They'd discovered the graveyard was owned and managed by werewolves, and they weren't answering their calls. But Burnett had been relentless that they needed to get Chan in his proper grave. After failing to survive being Reborn, other rogues had buried him in an unmarked grave in the woods to prevent his secrets from being revealed.

Now that he'd been found, he deserved one person at the burial who loved him. Even if she had to defy Burnett's orders, she'd be there to see them lower his casket.

For the second time.

Damn you, Chan! It should have been me.
She swallowed the tightness down her throat, remembering his first funeral. The fake one. Not that she'd known it'd been fake. When he'd first been turned, he faked his death, like most vampires did to separate from their human lives. And Della had mourned him then as she did now. Only then, she hadn't felt the guilt.

Survivor's guilt, Holiday explained. Pointing out that Chase had chosen to save Della instead of Chan. Della didn't care what name you stamped on the emotion. She still felt like shit.

Inhaling, she went and stood by the window. A few stars twinkled down. A cloud crawled across the sky, hiding all but a small sliver of the half moon. She watched as the gray foggy formation inched by, reminding her of ghosts.

Not that she'd had one visit since the falls, but they hadn't been far from her mind.

Her phone dinged with an incoming message. She pulled it out of her pocket, hoping it was Chase telling her he'd gotten something on Natasha and Liam. She'd texted him again after leaving Burnett's office, but he hadn't returned her message. Was he not answering because he was upset about what she'd told him earlier?

Now wasn't the time to worry about trivial things. It might not feel insignificant, but when compared to life or death, it lost merit. Right now, all she needed from Chase was to find out if he'd somehow experienced the vision of Natasha and Liam. If he had, had he gotten anything from it that would help find them?

A heaviness stirred in her chest as she stared at the message illuminating her phone. Not from Chase. Just Burnett telling her he would be five minutes late.

She sent Burnett a “got it” message. Then, with her mind on Natasha and Liam, she pulled up the link to Chase's prior messages.

Sighing, she typed in,
Call me,
and started to hit send, but then added,
please
.

Still staring at the phone, the slight sound of mattress springs adjusting to another toss and turn sounded from behind Della's bedroom wall. Something was keeping Miranda, Della's witch roommate, awake.

Did it have to do with Perry, and whatever had put him in a pissy mood earlier?

She didn't really have time to check on the witch, Della told herself. Besides, between grief over Chan, the worry over things like visions, her own family and romantic issues … she shouldn't be trying to take on anyone else's problems. Then she heard the girl's sniffle.

Oh, damn, this wasn't just anyone else. It was Miranda. If it was Della in a pickle, the little witch would be here in a snap. Five minutes, she thought, walking out of her room and lightly tapping on Miranda's door.

“Come in,” Miranda's voice came low, unsure.

Della stepped inside. “I only have a few minutes, but … is something wrong?”

Miranda sat up and pulled her blanket-covered knees to her chest. “Yes, but I can't talk about it.”

“Why not?” Della moved in a few more steps.

“I promised I wouldn't mention it.”

“Why would you go making stupid promises like that? We share everything.” Even as Della said it, she knew she'd been keeping her own secrets from Miranda and Kylie. But not for long. She needed to tell them.

“I know we do, but … I can't.” Miranda drew in a shaky breath.

Della took another step, hating the pain in her friend's voice. “Do I need to kick someone's ass? You don't even have to tell me why, just tell me who, and I'll do it. So, no promises will be broken.”

“No,” she said. “But I love that you'd do that for me.”

“Is it Perry?” Della asked. If so, Della would totally kick his ass, but she was definitely the wrong person to offer up advice. Kylie was the relationship guru.

Kylie could fix almost anyone's romantic disasters. Well, except Della's. Her feelings for Steve, and yet her emotional ties to Chase due to the bonding—whatever the hell that really meant—was a mystery even for a relationship guru.

“I can't talk about it,” Miranda said again and let go of another sob.

Did that mean it was Perry or wasn't? Della pulled out her phone and eyed the time. She needed to be going. “Can I get Kylie for you?”

Face it, Della wasn't the best sympathizer. But it stung just a little that Miranda wouldn't confide in her.

Miranda shook her head. “No.” She wiped her cheeks. “But I could use a hug.”

“Figures,” Della muttered under her breath as she moved in and let the witch embrace her. Miranda's warmth reminded Della of her own core body temperature, something she hated thinking about. But for friendship's sake, she even patted the girl on her back ever so slightly—albeit, a little awkwardly.

“Where are you going?” Miranda pulled back, her large, watery green eyes gazing upward.

Della rubbed her palms on the back of her jeans. “We're burying Chan.”

“Oh, my bad,” Miranda said. “Here I am, asking you for a hug, when you're the one in need. Come here. Come here.” She held out her arms and wiggled her fingers.

“No, I'm fine.” Della even took a step back, but damn if her chest didn't grip with a reviving of the grief. That's what hugs did sometimes, brought everything to the surface. Some things didn't need to come up for air.

Miranda shot out of bed, her pink heart-covered nightshirt fluttering around her. “Why don't Kylie and I come with you? Wait.” Miranda waved her hands in the air as if erasing the request. “Forget I asked, we're coming even if you don't want us. You shouldn't go to a funeral alone.” She started for the door as if to go wake up Kylie.

“Nooooo.” Della caught her by the arm. Damn it, she'd come in here to help Miranda, not to start World War III. And that's what every argument felt like lately with the witch.

“Why? Is Steve going?” Miranda asked.

Della's heartstrings yanked. Just hearing his name did that to her, and it came with a quiver of guilt. Guilt over what she felt for Chase. Not that she'd really defined what “that” was, but it was there. And denying it wouldn't make it go away.

“No, he's not coming,” Della said the truth and the thought hit: If Steve knew about it, he'd want to come. That was Steve. He cared. She cared about him, too. But did she care enough to let him go? To stop hurting him?