Eternal

by C. C. Hunter

  “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?

  Miranda gently removed Della’s hold on her arm. “Just give it up, vamp. Because no way, no how, are you going alone. Kylie and I are coming.” She even did that attitude shake of her head that reminded Della of one of those head-bobbing dog figurines some people put in their cars.

  Frustration built in the pit of Della’s stomach. “Put your broom down, witch!” she bit out. “You can’t come. Besides, it’s not a funeral,” Della said, her tone getting tighter. If she showed up to meet Burnett with Miranda and Kylie in tow, Burnett would have a shit fit. And Della avoided Burnett’s shit fits at all costs.

  Seeing the determination and love in Miranda’s eyes, Della held out her hand, seeking patience from both the witch and herself.

  “Look, Burnett didn’t even want me to come. They’re burying Chan in the fake grave where he was supposed to have been buried earlier. So, it’s a little dangerous, unearthing a casket, putting a body in it, and doing it without getting caught. Supposedly, breaking into graves can get you five to ten years in prison. And orange is not your color.”

  “I look just as good in orange as you do,” the witch sassed back while twisting a strand of her multicolored hair. Then she frowned, and even got teary-eyed again. “Please. I still don’t like you going alone. It hurts me right here.” She put a hand over her chest.

  Della’s own heart took a blow at her words. “Burnett’s going to be there,” she assured her.

  Miranda made a face, which included one of her signature eye rolls. “Like he’d give you a hug if you needed one.”

  Della didn’t think Burnett would hug her, but she didn’t doubt he’d offer his sympathy. And from one vamp to another, that was more than enough.

  “I’ll be fine.” And she would, Della told herself. Burying Chan beneath his tombstone was the right thing. Even if his dying wasn’t. “I have to go.” She took a step toward the door.

  “Wait,” Miranda said. “One hug to hold you over.”

  The word “no” danced on Della’s tongue, but stopping Miranda from hugging was like stopping a male dog from peeing on a fire hydrant. Impossible.

  Della leaned in and pulled back extra quick, studying the witch and still seeing worry in her expression. “Later, we’ll have a Diet Coke session and share our problems. But before then, you need to find whoever you promised that you wouldn’t tell on and rescind that promise.”

  Miranda’s bottom lip came out a bit. “I can’t.”

  Della frowned. “Fine, then I won’t tell you guys what’s going on with me. And it’s huge.”

  “That’s not fair,” Miranda said.

  “Yeah, it sucks having friends who expect you to spill your guts, but that’s what we do. So, get your guts prepared to fall out. Later.” She shot out of Miranda’s bedroom, and out of the cabin, hurrying to meet Burnett—hoping that burying Chan would at least bring some closure to this issue and free her up to work on the others.

  Natasha and Liam were first on the issue list.

  Then the whole Steve and Chase issue. Or maybe trying again to find her uncle. With all the issues Della had, she had choices.

  * * *

  The ghostlike clouds had passed, and the half moon, accompanied by the stars, spit out just enough light to turn the sky a dark navy. Burnett, dressed in black, waited by the front gate of Shadow Falls. His gaze fell over her as if trying to read her mood. Or maybe her ability not to emotionally crumble. Little did he know, that wall had come down months ago.

  At times, she wasn’t sure what she’d used to put herself back together, but she had a feeling it had everything to do with Shadow Falls. The people here. The friendships. Not necessarily the hugs—though she loved Miranda for it, she could do without those. But just knowing others cared had her pulling herself back together after each of life’s disappointments.

  She cared about them all. Even the stoic camp leader.

  Face it, completely cratering meant letting people down. If her Asian father had instilled anything in her, it was loyalty. Which probably explained why even when her father seemed to have given up on her, she hadn’t given up on him.

  “Ready?” Burnett asked.

  She nodded.

  He started to run, his boots crashing against the dirt three or four times before he went straight into flight. Della didn’t know if she could do that, but almost sensing it was a challenge, she gave it a shot. Her own boots hit the ground seven times before she sensed the strength. Forcing every muscle she had into action, she felt herself being lifted into the air. A sense of accomplishment whispered over her, and for one second, it dulled the pain of what she was about to face.

  Burnett glanced back at her. The look in his eyes almost reminded her of the way her father looked at her when she’d made a good move at chess.

  Warmth filled Della’s chest as she sent Burnett a slight nod.

  Yup, Della thought. The thing that kept her together had everything to do with the people she’d found at Shadow Falls. If she crumbled, they’d take it personally. And she wasn’t about to let them take the blame for what was happening to her.

  It took them twenty minutes, flying at speeds Della could only guess, before she spotted the graveyard. As soon as their destination came into view, Burnett slowed down to what might have been considered normal vampire speed.

  As they circled the property, he started downward in the midst of some trees.

  Della’s feet weren’t steady on the ground when she caught the scent.

  She shot around and looked at Burnett. He had his nose up, too. Apparently he’d gotten the same scent.

  “Someone you know?” she asked, hoping the agents bringing Chan’s body were weres.

  Burnett’s eyes, already a bright green, told her the answer first.

  Della didn’t have time to think before three figures came bolting out of the trees, charging right at them.

  Chapter Eight

  “Stop!” Burnett’s order rang out.

  Damn it! Did he mean that for her, too? Prepared to fight, Della had to cut her nails into her palms to heed his order. Halting at Burnett’s side, every muscle in her body screamed danger.

  Drawing in a sharp breath of air that even tasted like menace, she stared at the foreheads of the three potential attackers to read their patterns. All supernaturals had patterns that identified their species, and these ones confirmed what her nose had picked up.

  Weres.

  She also noted the uniforms—security. What a joke.

  “We don’t mean any harm,” Burnett announced. He pulled his dark shirt back to show his FRU badge hooked onto his belt.

  Della had to give the man credit for going by the book. Not that she knew all the FRU rules, but she planned on learning them soon.

  Her focus returned to Burnett, standing tall, his badge still on display. It came off so official-like, awe and admiration swept through her. Someday, she wanted one of those badges.

/>   “We carry our own badges, too, you dirty vamp!” the were with shaggy red hair said. He pushed his chest out, which had a badge with some Celtic-looking cross in green and blue that was pinned to his dirty cotton shirt.

  “I’ll bet mine carries more weight,” Burnett seethed, his eyes now gold in color.

  The were’s eyes grew a bright orange, but this time, he took a second to actually look at Burnett’s badge.

  The were in the middle, slightly bigger than the other two, spoke up next. “I’ve heard a lot of fake FRU badges have found their way into gangs.”

  “This one isn’t fake,” Burnett added, his tone getting deeper and more dangerous.

  Della felt her gut tighten, prepared to face any threat they chose to throw at them. But they weren’t really that big of a threat. There were only three of them. She and Burnett could take them with their hands tied behind their backs. Hell, with her new powers, she could probably take all three herself.

  “You expect us to believe that’s real?” mouthed off the redheaded were. “You show up in the middle of the night, at our graveyard, with your girl toy there and expect us to believe you’re on official business?”

  The girl toy comment just about did her in. Della growled, her vision brightening, telling her that her eyes had as well, and her canines came out to play.

  “She’s not a toy.” Burnett’s eyes now glowed a lime green, but his gaze shot back to the man standing in the middle as if he sensed he was the leader of the pack. “Show me your registration papers and tell your mouthy friend to back down or you all will be spending a night in FRU custody.”

  “Do as he says.” The head of the pack pulled out his wallet. Della saw the redhead pull something out of his pocket. She spotted the tiny little problem immediately. It wasn’t a wallet. It was a blade.

  With a speed she didn’t know possible, she bolted forward. Before he could say “uncle,” or even think to say “uncle,” she caught the were by his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back. In another fraction of a second, she’d knocked him down to his knees. Burnett suddenly appeared at her side, but he simply watched. Meaning he had faith in her. Her chest filled with the similar pride she’d felt earlier during flight. Making Burnett proud was almost like making her dad proud.