Taken at Dusk (7 page)

“Think hard. I mean, you said it like you remembered something.” The sooner Kylie got the ghost to remember who she was, the sooner she could discover what she needed and help her move on.

The spirit placed her index finger on her forehead. “No. Nothing. It’s empty up here.” She moved her hand to the side of her scalp and traced a finger over her scar. Kylie wasn’t sure if she was just discovering it or not.

“Do you remember what happened? How you got that cut on your head?”
How you died?
Holiday had explained that a lot of the time when a death had been sudden or traumatic, the spirit’s ability to recall it was difficult. However, to help them cross over, the details of their deaths might be important.

“No.”
Jane went back to pacing.
“I hate not knowing.”

After a few more laps around the room, she stopped talking and Kylie went back to thinking about Derek, about how her heart had lurched at the sight of him. She couldn’t help but wonder if that meant her feelings for Lucas were not as important as she’d originally worried they might be.

Suddenly the ghost stopped at the end of the bed and stared at Kylie.
“I gave you the message, didn’t I?”

Kylie sat up a bit. “You mentioned it, but what was it again?” Perhaps the message wasn’t really a message, but a clue.

“Someone lives; someone dies.”
Her tone dropped to a whisper and sounded like something out of a scary movie.
“That’s what they said to tell you.”

Socks, as if responding to the grim note in the spirit’s voice, nestled closer.

“Do you by any chance know what that means?” Reaching under the covers, Kylie gently pushed the skunk’s nose away from her ribs. Considering the little fellow was afraid of ghosts, fate had really screwed up by pairing them together.

“I…”
The spirit rolled her eyes as if trying to think.
“They didn’t say.”

“Who are ‘they’?” Kylie was concerned by the mention of death, but considering she was dealing with an amnesiac ghost, she wasn’t so sure how much stock she could put into the message.

Jane inched closer, moving down the side of the bed, her light green eyes filled with fear.
“You know who it’s from.”

“No, I don’t know.”

The spirit bit down on her lip as if saying the name caused discomfort. Then she leaned down, bringing her slightly blue lips only a few inches from Kylie’s face.
“The death angels.”
Icy crystals floated from her lips and cascaded down onto Kylie’s quilt.

Socks bolted from beneath the covers, onto the floor, and under the bed.

“The death angels?” Kylie wrapped her mind around the answer. “How do you know about them?” It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn’t checked to see if the woman was a supernatural.

Staring at the spirit’s forehead, Kylie tightened her brows. Nothing. Which had to mean something. Everyone had a brain pattern, didn’t they? Even humans. Kylie had seen Daniel’s brain pattern, and Holiday had said she’d scanned Nana for one, so Kylie knew ghosts didn’t just lose them after death. So why didn’t this spirit have a pattern?

Closing her eyes, Kylie squinted harder and refocused. Still nothing. The icy chill of the spirit seemed to grow colder, and it clawed at Kylie’s uncovered flesh. Yanking the sheet up to her chin, she shifted back from the spirit and asked the question she hated when people asked it of her.

“What
are
you?”

Chapter Six

An hour later, Kylie paced half-moon circles in her tiny room, making almost the same path as the ghost—the ghost who’d vanished without even trying to answer Kylie’s question. But the skittish spirit hadn’t faded before Kylie noted the sheer panic on her face.

Not that Kylie didn’t empathize with the ghost.

How many times had Kylie heard the same damn question?
What are you?
Or rather,
What the hell are you?
Frankly, she didn’t like either version.

But did either question instill panic or fear?

Frustration, maybe, but fear? Okay, maybe in the beginning it had scared her, but only after she’d accepted there was a possibility she wasn’t human. Should she assume the spirit suspected she wasn’t human? Kylie recalled the look on the spirit’s face. It was as if the question sent up a red flag or stirred up some forgotten memory. And not a good memory, either.

An eerie chill filled the air, announcing the return of the ghost, and Kylie hugged herself.

“I’m sorry,” Kylie said. “I know you’re confused. Believe me, I know how you feel. There’s a hell of a lot I’m trying to figure out about myself, too.” The cold ebbed away. So the ghost wasn’t up to talking. Kylie empathized with her on that point as well.

She had almost run to Holiday with questions about the spirit’s lack of a brain pattern. Then, because Kylie suspected Holiday would want to go into all the other issues they needed to discuss, she decided to postpone asking the questions. And by issues, Kylie meant her newly acquired gift of healing, knocking down concrete walls, and the possibility that she was a protector. The healing and the walls, she might be able to handle. The whole protector/Mother Teresa thing? Nope. That could go unhandled for a while longer.

And it wasn’t as if she were procrastinating, as Holiday accused her of so often. She was prioritizing. Right now, her top priority was Derek and the on again/off again signals he put out. How could he want to be her shadow when two weeks ago he wouldn’t even look at her? Had he experienced a change of heart? Did she want him to have experienced a change of heart?

She considered it. Remembered how close she’d felt to him when they’d snuck off and he’d kissed her senseless. She even missed how he’d made everything look like a fairy tale. What she wouldn’t give to be in a fairy tale right now and not have to deal with all this mess.

But did that mean if he said he was sorry, she would forgive him? After she made a few more laps around her small room, she came to the conclusion that her heart was too damn confused to know what she wanted.

As if to drive the point deeper, she had an instant recall of how it had felt when Lucas kissed her. No fairy-tale visions, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, deny that it had felt pretty awesome.

Damn!

She slung herself on the bed. She was so friggin’ messed up. She gave her pillow one good punch and then screamed into the fluffy down.

One deep breath later, she popped back up. She had to do something. Even if it was the wrong thing. After slipping into her tennis shoes, she grabbed her brush. She gave her blond hair a few swipes, slipped on a clean white tank top, and bolted out of her bedroom.

Della popped up off the sofa. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Kylie continued moving to the door, not wanting to explain where she was going because hearing herself say it aloud might make her think twice. And she didn’t want to think twice; she hadn’t really thought it through once yet. But she had to do something. She was tired of being in limbo.

“Where are you going?” Della asked.

“Out.” Kylie reached for the doorknob. Instead, however, she ended up grabbing Della’s waist, because Della had shot across the room in a flash and now stood blocking the door.

“Excuse me.” Kylie tried not to let her mood sound in her voice. As moody as Della was, she had no patience for anyone else’s bad mood. And getting into a pissing contest with Della right now wasn’t in Kylie’s plans.

“Where are
we
going?” Della asked.

“
We
aren’t going anywhere. I’m going somewhere.”

“I gotta come, too.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, she does.” Miranda stepped out of her bedroom. “Kylie Galen, meet your first shadow, Della Tsang.”

“At your service.” Della’s tone dripped with sarcasm. She even gave a little bow.

“Oh, screw this!” Kylie said. “I’m not leaving the camp. I’ll be fine.”

Della frowned. “You’re not leaving the cabin unless I come with you.” Her right hand landed on her right hip as if to punctuate her tone.

Kylie inhaled and tried to calm down before this got ugly. “Look, I want to go talk to Derek, okay? And I’m sorry, but I don’t want you with me. This is private.”

Della’s pissed-off expression vanished into something that looked almost like empathy, and she glanced at Miranda. “You still think keeping this from her is the best thing?”

“Oh hell.” Miranda plopped down on the sofa. “Maybe you’re right. But don’t just tell her, show her.”

Kylie looked back at Miranda and instantly recalled her friends acting all secretive right before Burnett had charged into the cabin. “Keep what from me? Show me what?”

Della snatched her phone from her jeans pocket and started keying in something. “I got it from Chan. I wanted to tell you right away, but Miranda said with you being kidnapped and all that you had enough on your plate.”

“Got what?” Kylie leaned down almost nose to nose with the vamp. Her patience had been stretched to the max.

“Jeez.” Della lunged back. “Patience. You’re acting like it’s a full moon again.” She studied Kylie. “It’s not, is it?” Then Della looked back at Miranda, who was still stretched out on the sofa. “Is it time for the wolves to have PMS yet?”

Kylie considered the question, almost afraid Della might be right. Was the moon cycle making her feel out of sorts, or was it everything that had happened the last few days?

“No.” Miranda popped up and moved in. “We got another week before we have to deal with lunar PMS.”

Kylie frowned. She hadn’t morphed into a wolf the last full moon, but it appeared she’d experienced the typical mood swings that affected weres right before their shift. And obviously her two roommates still considered it a possibility that she might wind up being a werewolf. Not that Kylie thought the consideration didn’t have merit. At this point, she could turn out to be just about anything.

“Somebody better start talking,” Kylie said. “And fast.”

“Good Lord!” Della snapped back. “I’m trying to find it. Here it is.” She looked up. “You see, my cousin Chan sent me a couple of images and asked if this was one of our campers. You know he lives with that vampire commune in Pennsylvania, right?”

She held out the phone and Kylie looked at the image. “That’s Derek.” A few seconds passed. “What was Derek doing in Pennsylvania?” Then again, she didn’t know where the FRU had sent him or where the half-fae had gone looking for his dad.

“I have a better question.” Della pulled back the phone, hit another button, and then held it back out for Kylie to see. “What’s Derek doing sucking face with a vampire in Pennsylvania?”

Kylie’s heart jolted when she saw Derek lip-locked with a dark-haired girl. And it wasn’t just their lips that were locked. The girl’s legs were wrapped around his waist, while Derek’s hands—obviously holding the brunette up and close—were placed on her cute little jeans-covered butt.

An ache settled in Kylie’s chest. “Who … how … what?”

“I asked the who question,” Della said. “Her name is Ellie Mason and she was new to their vampire commune. Chan said someone mentioned Derek was from Shadow Falls and he just wanted to see if his source was telling the truth.”

Ellie?
Kylie recalled Derek telling her he’d dated a vampire named Ellie. She also recalled he’d told her that he’d given Ellie blood. Odd how she hadn’t even known she’d remembered it, but now it seemed carved into her memory bank. “Ellie.” The word leaving her lips caused a sharp and painful yank on her heartstrings. The heartstrings must be connected to her emotions, because about a dozen different ones started flapping around her chest like wild birds going after a swarm of moths. Anger, jealousy, betrayal, distrust … the list went on.

“I need this.” She took Della’s phone and tried to push Della out of the way. Not that her effort got her anywhere. Della stood cemented in place.

“Sorry. I still can’t let you go alone,” Della said. “Seriously, I’m your shadow.”

“Fine, come. Just don’t get in my way! And stay back. Way back. I need to talk to him alone.” Tears prickled Kylie’s eyes.

Tears of jealousy, betrayal, and frustration.

Tears of knowing that she had no right to feel any of those emotions. She wouldn’t let herself cry. But she still felt those tears. Felt them as she swallowed them down her throat and they burned her chest.

*   *   *

Phone gripped tight, Kylie took off through the woods toward Derek’s cabin, hoping that he was there. She didn’t have a clue what she’d say when she saw him. She didn’t want to think; she just wanted to get there. She leapt over thornbushes, ducked under low-hanging branches, and made darn good speed. Della’s footfalls sounded behind her, staying close—her friend took her job as shadow seriously.

Too seriously.

The thud of Kylie’s feet hitting the earth echoed, and the smell of rain hung in the air. A summer storm brewed somewhere in the distance. But not too far, because thunder rumbled overhead.

Silence followed one particularly big boom. A flash of lightning sent sprays of sizzling silver light dancing through the leaves to the moist earth. Kylie kept running, kept hurting. She could feel the storm, the energy, the power of it, in the air. More thunder followed.

Suddenly, a loud rustle sounded off to her right, and a large deer—a buck with antlers big enough to decorate a hunter’s wall—darted out and jolted to a stop in the middle of her path. Shocked, she came to an abrupt stop, too. A few more inches and she might have impaled herself on the beast’s antlers. She hadn’t caught her breath when a bolt of lightning shot down and struck the trunk of an old tree buried only a foot past the buck. The light still sizzled when Kylie felt Della slam into her.

“What the hell?” Della said.

The buck reared his head back, the heavy antlers dropped forward almost in a threat, and then he shot off. But not before Kylie felt the beast’s cold and somehow evil gaze.

The hair on the back of her neck rose. That calculating gaze meant something. Like the look the eagle gave her earlier. She pulled oxygen into her lungs and hoped it would clear her mind and she might realize she was wrong.