Reborn

by C. C. Hunter

  “It felt like they were there,” Della said. “I … I felt like I was trespassing. Like someone there was making me feel that way.” She shivered ever so slightly. “I still halfway think they’re the ones who hit me.”

  “And yet you went back the second time?” Miranda snagged one of Della’s pillows to rest on. “And here I thought you were smart.”

  Della scowled at the annoying witch. “I told you, I was hoping to find a trace of the piece of shit who hit me.”

  “Did you get anything?” Kylie asked.

  Della nodded. “Chase.”

  Kylie’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  Miranda’s popped up from her reclined position. “Chase is the one who knocked you out?” Her eyes got wide. “And I thought he liked you. Oh, hell, Burnett’s going to kick his ass out of here for messing with his favorite vamp.”

  Della shook her head. “First, I’m not Burnett’s favorite vamp.”

  “Yeah, you are,” Miranda said.

  Della looked at Kylie, who nodded her head as if agreeing with the witch. If she was his favorite anything, why would he want to stop her from going into the FRU? Della pushed that thought away to ponder later. “Second, I said I found Chase’s scent there, but then I found him. He told me Burnett sent him there to see if he could find a trace after I was hit.”

  Kylie pulled one knee up to her chest. “Did you ask Burnett?”

  “No, but I don’t think he would lie about something that I could so easily check on.”

  Miranda crossed her legs. “Maybe he figured you’d think that and not ask.”

  “Maybe,” Della said, and tried to think how she could pose the question to Burnett.

  Kylie leaned back against the headboard. “Is that the obituary?” She nodded to the folded paper now resting beside her on the bed.

  “Yeah,” Della answered.

  “Whose obituary?” Miranda asked.

  “My uncle’s.” Della pushed the covers off, noting that the cold had left. “Derek found it in some old newspaper files.”

  Miranda put on a pout. “Why is it that Kylie always knows stuff before I do?”

  Della cut her gaze at Miranda and made a face. “Because you’re always away with Perry getting your earlobes sucked.”

  Miranda snatched a pillow and threw it at Della.

  Frustrated, Della caught it with two hands and accidentally pulled it apart. Duck feathers exploded in the air like snow and then rained down from the ceiling.

  Miranda started giggling. Kylie joined in. Eventually, Della couldn’t help herself. The giggles were contagious.

  They laughed for a good five minutes, tossing handfuls of feathers at each other until they had them in each other’s hair, stuck to each other’s faces. Miranda even pulled a couple out of her bra. When the giggles stopped, Kylie found the folded-up obituary under a thick pile of feathers.

  The chameleon looked at Della with empathy. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

  Della almost said no, not wanting them to think she was too chicken to read it on her own. Part of her even felt guilty. Wasn’t wanting her uncle to be alive so badly saying her family at Shadow Falls wasn’t enough? But if anyone could understand and make this easier, it was Kylie and Miranda.

  “Yeah. But I think I might need a Diet Coke.”

  They went to get up, but they all froze when the bedroom door slammed. The air in the room became instantly frigid. The feathers, mostly on the bed, rose up and started swirling.

  Cold air caught in Della’s lungs. She looked at Kylie. “You still think I’m crazy?”

  “Shit,” Kylie said. “This can’t be good.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The feathers flew around the room for another few seconds. Huddling on the bed, their fear hanging in the cold air, they didn’t say anything until the last feather dropped and the room warmed up.

  “Is it gone?” Miranda pulled her knees up to her chest, her eyes wide with panic.

  Kylie nodded. They all cautiously stood up and moved into the kitchen, got drinks, and settled around the table. No one talked, as if afraid it would bring the dang ghost back.

  “Is he still here?” Della finally asked Kylie.

  “No.” Kylie turned the Coke can in her hand, then looked at Della. “Him? Do you think it’s a him?”

  “I don’t know. You said you thought it might be my uncle.”

  “I was just guessing.” Kylie bit down on her lip. “I think we should call Holiday.”

  “No,” Della said.

  “Why not?” Miranda and Kylie asked at the same time.

  “Because she’d want to know who we thought it was and then we’d end up telling about my uncle, and then if this isn’t him then she’d tell Burnett and then if he’s not registered…”

  “You don’t know she’d tell Burnett,” Kylie said.

  Della made a face. “They’re married. They tell each other everything. I bet you tell Lucas everything.”

  Kylie sighed and nodded. “I see your point. But—”

  “Aren’t you the one who says no buts?” Della asked.

  “Yes. But…” She closed her mouth for a second and then continued, “However, Holiday might know better how to handle this.”

  “No,” Della insisted. “Look, Holiday told me that she felt I had a quest and she understood that I didn’t want to talk about it. She told me to work on it, but not to take any stupid risks. And that’s what I want to do. Remember when you were dealing with that creep that was after you? Well, you handled it yourself. Both of you have dealt with your own problems instead of running for help.” She saw some understanding in her friends’ eyes.

  Miranda slumped in her chair. “She’s right. We all kind of want to take care of our own issues sometimes.”

  “Okay,” Kylie said. “But let’s just make sure we do as Holiday said, and watch out for stupid risks.”

  “We?” Della said? “You two don’t—”

  “Please,” Miranda snapped. “To quote someone I know, ‘Bullcrappers!’ We’re a team. We work together.”

  “She’s right,” Kylie said. “That’s what we do. Help each other.”

  A tightness filled Della’s chest again. “Okay, here’s to no stupid risks.” Della raised her Diet Coke. As they all clicked cans, Della added, “And to good friends.” She didn’t want to sound too sentimental, but for the life of her, she didn’t know what she would do without her best buddies.

  “Now, how do we go about finding out if your uncle is alive?” Miranda asked. “We need a plan.”

  Yup, without them she would be lost. Completely lost.

  “I think we start by reading the obituary,” Kylie said, still holding the piece of paper.

  Della nodded. “Derek also asked me to see if I could find out where he went to school when he died. I’m sure it’s the same place my dad went. I guess I could ask my mom. If she’ll talk to me.”

  “Why wouldn’t she talk to you?” Miranda asked.

  “She was pretty mad at me when she dropped me off. I’m not sure she said one word to me the whole trip.” The memory of it still sent pain rolling around Della’s chest.

  “Yeah, but she’s your mom,” Miranda said. “She can’t stay mad at you forever.”

  Della shrugged. She wished she could believe that. Then again, she recalled Holiday saying her mom called about once a week. That meant she cared, even though she didn’t always show it.

  “Do you want me to read it now?” Kylie asked, holding up the folded paper.

  “Do you think it’s safe?” Della asked, squeezing her soda can. The coolness of the drink felt odd in her hands, reminding her that she still might have a fever. “It almost seemed like the obituary is what got the ghost stirred up before.”

  Kylie glanced around the room as if searching for ghosts. “It’s not here now.” Kylie’s words hadn’t completely left her lips when a lone feather came twirling down from the ceiling and landed slowly, eerily, in the center of t
he table.

  “Are you sure?” Miranda asked.

  They sat there in silence for a few minutes, waiting for the feather to get up and dance again. When it didn’t, Kylie spoke up in a low voice, as if afraid they weren’t alone. “Jenny’s called me twice to check on you. I think she really likes you for some reason.”

  “Why do you act like that surprises you?” Della asked.

  Miranda snorted.

  Della shot Miranda a go-to-hell look and then went back to watching the feather to make sure it didn’t start moving.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Kylie said. “I just meant she seems to admire you.”

  “Poor girl’s confused.” Miranda laughed. “I’m joking,” she said when Della shot her the third-finger salute.

  Della sighed and looked back at Kylie. “I like Jenny, too. She … she reminds me of you a little when you first came here.”

  “I haven’t changed,” Kylie said.

  Both Miranda and Della made faces at Kylie.

  “You changed for the better,” Miranda said. “You’re … bolder.”

  “Bold is good,” Della said, and they all went back to watching the feather. Finally, Kylie picked up the paper with the obituary. “You ready?”

  Della and Miranda nodded.

  Kylie started to read. “‘Feng Tsang was lost to us on December 23rd Feng, a dedicated young man, already had his life planned. He was to become a doctor and marry his childhood sweetheart, Jing Chen. Loyal to his family, he walked a path to make his family proud. Now his path leads him another way. Loved by so—’”

  “Wait,” Della said. “What did that say? That last sentence.”

  Kylie looked at the paper. “‘Now his path leads him another way.’”

  Della shook her head. “Isn’t that strange for an obituary?”

  “What?” Miranda asked.

  “The whole ‘his path led him’ crap. They don’t say he’s dead. It’s as if whoever wrote the obituary knew he wasn’t dead.”

  “Do they use the word ‘dead’ in obituaries?” Kylie asked. “It seems harsh.”

  “Harsh?” Della shook her head. “They’re dead, why would that be harsh?”

  “I think they might say something else, like passed, or gone to meet their maker.”

  “Yeah, but they didn’t even use the word ‘passed.’” She sighed. “Just finish reading it.”

  Kylie glanced back at the paper. “‘Loved by so many, his presence will be missed by all. Feng left behind his parents, Wei and Xui Tsang, his sisters Miao and Bao Yu Tsang…’”

  “Wait,” Della said. “My father only has one sister.”

  Kylie shrugged. “I’m just reading what it says.”

  Della recalled the picture with four kids that she’d seen in the old photo album.

  “Hey, if you think your uncle is a vampire, maybe your aunt is too,” Miranda said.

  Was that possible? Della’s mind spun.

  Kylie looked down again and started reading where she’d left off. “‘… and his twin brother, Chao Tsang, whose bond with his brother was inseparable.’” Kylie gazed up and frowned, as if knowing the words had been difficult to hear, and then she continued, “‘While gone to us, the person he was will remain in our hearts. A memorial will be held in his honor at Rosemount Funeral Home.’”

  “There it is again,” Della said. “‘Gone to us.’ ‘Us’ as if he’s not really gone to everyone.”

  Kylie shrugged. “I don’t know. It could just be obituary lingo or just a coincidence.”

  Della recalled Burnett saying he didn’t believe in coincidences. Questions ran around her brain like scared mice. Was her uncle really dead? What happened to her dad’s other sister?

  But damn! Did Della have another aunt who’d been turned as well? Kylie’s words floated through her head again. His twin brother, Chao Tsang, whose bond with his brother was inseparable.

  Her throat tightened as she thought how it would be to lose her sister. Marla was a pain in the butt sometimes, but Della would do anything for her. She could only imagine how hard it had been on her father to lose his twin, especially as a teenager. And what happened to his other sister? The grief must have been immense. It didn’t even matter if that loss had just meant that her uncle, and possibly even her aunt, had been turned and faked their own deaths. The pain would have been the same.

  Could the person who’d written the obituary have known that her uncle hadn’t really died? How could she find out who wrote it?

  She took the paper from Kylie’s hands and reread it herself. Something else bothered her, too. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  Emotion hitting all sides of her heart, she remembered considering faking her own death, and right then she knew she could never do it. It might hurt like hell letting them believe the worst of her, to feel as if she disappointed them at every turn, but Holiday was right. Death was final—be it a faked death or real. She’d take this pain to the one of knowing she’d never see them again.

  Glancing down at the paper, she reread the words, waiting for that something that bothered her to become known.

  Kylie took a sip of diet soda. “You need to ask Derek to see if he can find anything out on the aunt you didn’t know about.”

  Della nodded and went back to reading. Her eyes landed on the name of the funeral home. Rosemount It listed a Houston address. She wasn’t positive, but she thought her dad had lived way over on the opposite side of the city. Why would her dad’s family choose a funeral home so far from where they lived?

  Rosemount Funeral Home. Her gaze went back to the name and a lightbulb came on. “That’s it,” she said.

  “What’s it?” Miranda asked.

  “Rosemount Funeral Home was where my cousin Chan’s memorial service was held. His fake memorial service. That funeral home must work with the vampires who do this.” Della inhaled and something akin to excitement filled her chest. “My uncle is alive. He faked his own death just like Chan did.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Miranda said.

  Della closed her eyes. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t. She needed proof.

  “Then who’s the ghost?” Kylie asked.

  Della shrugged. “Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it’s not here for me, but for you. Or maybe it’s just a random dead person hanging out.”

  Kylie lifted her left shoulder in a nonconvinced shrug. “I don’t think so.”

  Miranda leaned an elbow on the table. “Okay, let’s say you’re right. If your cousin used the same funeral home as your uncle, how did he know about it? Did he just stumble across it? Do vampires set up their own services? You’d think the family would do it. But maybe vampires somehow have it set up.”

  “I don’t know.” Della’s mind rushed to where she could go to get this info. She couldn’t ask Burnett or Holiday without them thinking she wanted to fake her own death. Or without them asking questions. And none of the vampires here had faked their own deaths. Only a few had been turned as a teen; most of them here had been born with the live virus—meaning both their parents were vampires at the time they were conceived.

  Kylie sat staring at Miranda. “But that’s a good question.” Kylie pulled the paper over and studied it. “You know, if Chan somehow arranged it and had the memorial service set up, then maybe he knows your uncle? Hey, wait!” Kylie’s eyes lit up as if she’d just come to some conclusion. “If Chan was the one who caused you to be turned, then maybe your uncle is the one who turned Chan. That could be how he knew about the funeral home.”

  “Chan didn’t mean to turn me,” Della said. “I had an open wound and—”

  “I know,” Kylie said, “but maybe the same thing happened to Chan and your uncle.”

  Everything Kylie and Miranda said stirred inside Della’s head, causing a whirlwind of thoughts that twisted into questions. And there was only one person who could answer them, if he’d take her darn call. She snagged her cell from her pocket and dialed
Chan.

  Chapter Twelve

  Chan’s phone rang. And rang. Then it went to voicemail. “Call me, damn it!” Della muttered; then she set the phone down. Frustration building inside her, she picked up her soda can, drank the last sip, then crunched the thing in her hand and wadded it up into a small aluminum ball.

  Was Chan mad because she hadn’t returned his call last week? No, he’d said it wasn’t important.

  “Wow!” Miranda said, staring at Della’s new version of a stress ball. “That looks badass!”

  Della didn’t care how it looked. “I want answers.”

  “Then let’s get them,” Kylie said. “I’ve got an idea. My mom’s been begging me to bring you two home with me for a weekend. The funeral home is only about ten miles from my house. If we go there and see it’s run by supernaturals, then chances are you’re right. Plus, it’ll just be fun to have you guys hang out at my old house. Before my mom sells it.”

  Hope started filling Della’s chest. “If they’re supernaturals, I’m having a little powwow with the owner.”

  Kylie looked unsure. “Remember Holiday’s rule. No stupid risks.”

  Della got an idea. “Let’s look it up online.” She stood and went to the computer desk on the other side of the kitchen. The funeral home came right up. There was even a “meet the owner” page. A photo of a Tomas Ayala, a Hispanic man who looked older than dirt, appeared.

  “Okay, come take a peek at this guy.” Della looked back at her two friends still sitting at the table. “You gonna tell me he’s a risk? He’s an old geezer.”

  “Okay,” Kylie said. “Now the question is, do you think your parents would let you come to my house?”

  “Mine would,” Miranda answered.

  Della squeezed the aluminum ball down to a smaller, tighter orb. “I don’t know if my mom will agree to it,” Della said. “Maybe if I beg.”

  “You beg?” Miranda mouthed off. “I’d love to witness that.”

  Della growled at the witch then glanced back at Kylie. “I’ll talk to my mom tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Kylie said.