Eternal

by C. C. Hunter

  Then again, why should it? Nothing made sense. Ghosts, visions, being bonded—feeling emotionally tied to a practical stranger. It all sounded insane. And that became her arguing point.

  “I know it doesn’t sound logical, but does any of this shit sound logical to you? We’re dealing with some dead woman, and having visions where we’re different people. Tell me that makes any more sense than this, and I’ll accept I’m imagining things and find some shrink’s sofa to pass out on.”

  “I didn’t say you were imagining it, I just think it sounds … messed up.”

  “All of this is a hot mess!”

  “Yeah, it is.” He opened his drink.

  They both took a few carbonated sips, then she told him about the box vibrating in the empty casket and how the lid had fallen open and the picture had fluttered out.

  Frowning, he stared at the picture as if half afraid. “Okay, so let’s say that is Natasha. How is knowing her last name really going to help us find them?” He dropped back into the chair.

  “I don’t know. But it must be important. The ghost wanted me to see this.”

  He leaned in. His solid forearm pressed against hers. The zing of pleasure sent her heart racing and she scooted over.

  He cut his eyes up as if he thought she was silly. But it didn’t seem silly to her. No zings were allowed.

  She reached for the second Natasha file again. She found the mom’s name and let out a frustrated puff of air.

  “And?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Kathy … not Asian. I mean, the mother could have changed her name, but…”

  “But it means we still don’t know which Natasha is our Natasha.”

  “Right.”

  The room went silent. Baxter rubbed against his owner’s leg seeking affection. Chase dropped his hand to pet the animal, but kept his focus on her. “And you really feel it’s important to get this information?”

  She considered his question. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Okay, then let’s go find out Natasha’s last name.” He stood up.

  She rose as well, ready and willing to get this show on the road. “What are we going to do? Go see both sets of parents and see if any of them are Asian?”

  “No, we do it the easy way.”

  “Easy way?”

  “We go talk to your aunt, Chan’s mom.”

  She dropped back down in her chair. “Let’s don’t and say we did.”

  “We don’t tell her the truth. Make up some story about how you ran across the photo and see what she knows.”

  “No,” Della said again. “Let’s go see if we can find Natasha’s parents.” She pulled the files over and checked. Both girls had lived outside of Houston, not that their families couldn’t have moved since their daughters went missing. Who knew how long these girls had been enslaved?

  When she looked up, Chase studied her. “Why are you afraid to see your aunt?”

  “I’m not.” Her phone gave off a short buzz, telling her she had a text, giving her the perfect reason not to answer.

  Not to think about it.

  She dug her cell out of her pocket.

  Where are u? Don’t pull this shit! Answer me. Burnett.

  Suddenly, coming here behind the camp leader’s back didn’t seem like the best idea. Pissing Burnett off wasn’t going to get her anywhere except smack-dab in the middle of an ass-chewing.

  She and Chase needed to get this case approved by the FRU and the Vampire Council. While she liked to think they could do this alone, she wasn’t stupid.

  She looked up. “It’s Burnett again.” She exhaled. “We should go. We’ll tell him we want to visit the parents of both the Natashas.”

  “Maybe I should just go by myself and get the answers now,” he said. “You go back to Shadow Falls.”

  Was he dreading the ass-chewing he had coming for going to the graveyard? Probably. She didn’t blame him. Burnett’s ass-chewings weren’t a walk in the park. Though she still thought it was funny that Chase, who didn’t seem to fear much of anything, was afraid of the camp leader. Then again, she’d come here without letting Burnett know. Chase wasn’t the only one in trouble.

  And her chewing would be worse. When you cared about someone, it was always worse.

  “No,” Della said. “The ghost gave the picture to me. I think I should be there. Besides…” She studied the discomfort in his expression. “… you’re going to have to face him sooner or later.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve always been a ‘later’ person.”

  “So, a coward, huh?” she asked, lifting one brow to add some sass to her comment.

  He glared at her.

  “You’ve got to learn to work with Burnett if we’re going to team up on this case.” And they were going to team up, because some dad-blasted higher power had apparently ordained it.

  She’d like to kick that higher power’s butt, but that was beside the point. Point was, they had a job to do, and if they failed someone—two someones—would die.

  “Burnett’s bark is worse than his bite,” she said.

  “I don’t like to be barked at.” His tone deepened.

  “Me, either, but I give Burnett some leeway. And so should you.”

  “Why?”

  She considered downplaying her answer, but decided the truth would do just fine. “Because he never barks just to bark. He does it because he cares. And like it or not, we all need someone to care for us.”

  He exhaled. “Caring about someone doesn’t give a person the right to micromanage their life.”

  “Yeah, he has a little problem with that, but he’s working on it.” Defending Burnett’s hardheadedness felt strange, but oddly it also felt right.

  Chase studied her as if mentally connecting the dots. But what kind of dots? Why did she get the feeling the puzzle he worked on this minute was about her?

  Stay away from my dots, bucko.

  He dropped back into the chair next to her, even closer this time. “Does your aunt not care? Is that why you don’t want to see her?”

  “Ya know, I’d love to spend a couple of hours telling you all about my family drama”—not—“but we don’t have time.” Honestly, she spilled her guts only to Kylie and Miranda. And by God, she needed some round-table Diet-Coke time with them right now. She jumped up. “You coming or not?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Five minutes—down to the second. That’s how long Burnett paced Holiday’s office. She knew because she and Chase were facing the wall clock, and instead of getting dizzy watching him, she watched the clock hands tick away. It was almost nine in the morning, and she hadn’t been to bed yet.

  “Why?” Burnett finally spoke, walking from one side of the room to the other. Good thing he’d brought them to Holiday’s office—his office offered no room to pace.

  “Why what?” Della asked, trying not to sound like a smartass, but the question rolled off her tongue with sass.

  He growled. “Why do I give orders if you guys don’t listen? And why would I allow you to work with the FRU if you can’t follow orders?”

  “Because the death angels and some unnamed ghost have made it their job to make sure we do this.” Della inhaled.

  A second later, and in a calmer voice, she explained about seeing the names on the back of the picture, and how when Chase showed up it seemed like the ghost wanted her to go with him.

  “You don’t work for the ghost! You work for the FRU, and I tell you what to do!”

  “I don’t work for the FRU,” Chase countered.

  Della inwardly flinched, wishing he wouldn’t push Burnett.

  “So, you don’t want to work with Della on this case?” Burnett snapped. “Because you can walk right out of here and I’ll make sure you don’t see her again.”

  “Say what?” Della let out a low, hot puff of air. “Since when—”

  Chase barged ahead. “I’m just saying that as of right now, I’m not required to follow your orders.”

  Bur
nett countered. “I told you she had enough on her plate, to leave her alone. How difficult would it have been to do that?”

  Chase’s chin rose. “Difficult. We’re bonded, and if she’s in pain, I have to make sure she’s okay. Would you not do it for Holiday?”

  Say what? Della glared at the guy. “Just because you gave me blood doesn’t mean I need you to babysit me!”

  “I didn’t say you needed me,” Chase spit out. “I explained why I disobeyed the order—an order that I wasn’t officially required to obey.” He looked back at Burnett as if bringing home his point one more time.

  Della let out a hiss of air. “Well, you made it sound as if—”

  “Like what?” Chase faced her. “We’re bonded, when are you going to accept that?”

  “Maybe never! I didn’t ask to be bonded with you.”

  “Stop!” Burnett fumed. “I’m the one who’s mad here.”

  “No,” Della snapped. “I’m mad, too. I don’t like being used as leverage.” She glared at Burnett then at Chase. “And I don’t like our being lumped in the same category as Burnett and Holiday. We’re working a case. That’s all!”

  “Show me the picture,” Burnett snapped.

  When Della and Chase sat there glaring at each other, Burnett repeated, “Show me the damn picture!”

  Della drew in a deep, sobering breath and pulled the picture from the back of her jeans.

  Burnett turned it over, looking for the names. Okay, so she’d neglected to mention the part about them disappearing.

  “About that…” Della said. “The names, they … they sort of disappeared.”

  Burnett looked at her with puzzled eyes. “How did they disappear?”

  “I’m assuming the ghost did it.”

  Burnett blinked. “You’re telling me the ghost wrote the names on here and then erased them?”

  “See?” Chase said. “I’m not the only one who found it hard to believe.”

  Della so wanted to give Chase a serious sharp jab with her elbow. She settled for a kick in his shin.

  He muttered an ugly word, and feeling slightly vindicated, she ignored him and kept her focus on Burnett.

  “I don’t know how she did it,” Della said. “But don’t tell me it’s impossible. You saw the box shaking, and how the lid flew off and the picture came out.”

  Burnett leaned his butt back on Holiday’s desk and wiped a hand over his face.

  Della plunged ahead. “I think we should visit both sets of Natasha’s parents and find out which one is our Natasha. The ghost gave me this picture as a clue, I have to follow it.”

  Burnett glanced back at the picture. “Who is the older lady in the image?”

  Della tensed. “My aunt.”

  “Couldn’t you just ask—?”

  “No,” Della snapped.

  Burnett studied her. “Why?”

  “No.” She met his eyes and begged him to concede.

  He exhaled. “Problem is, both these sets of parents think their daughters are dead. Showing up and asking questions is wrong.”

  “We wouldn’t ask questions. Just see if one of the parents is Asian. Since we know our Natasha is mixed.”

  Burnett didn’t appear convinced. “The parents could have divorced, or one of them died.”

  “I know,” Della said. “But the photo was a clue and I think…” She hated saying it, but it had to be said. “It’s what the ghost expects us to do.”

  “What do you mean?” Burnett asked.

  “I don’t know. I just feel as if that’s what she wants.” And she did.

  Burnett muttered, “Shit.” He paused and then said, “I’ll call and see if I can’t get the case cleared immediately.” He squeezed the back of his neck. “I’ve already called to see if either a Natasha Owen or Natasha Brian had a driver’s license. Neither did.”

  Burnett looked at Della. “You go rest until I get clearance. You’ve been up since before three this morning and I doubt you even went to bed last night. You,” he looked at Chase, “go … wherever it is you go, and be prepared to hear from me. Meanwhile, I’ll see if Derek can find anything about either of these girls on the computer. The ghost might want you to go around asking questions, but I for one don’t love the idea.”

  Della and Chase started out.

  “One more thing,” Burnett said, and they turned around. “We think we know who Liam is.”

  “How?” Chase asked. “There wasn’t a file on him.”

  “I know,” Burnett seethed, sounding as if he remembered Chase’s breaking-and-entering oops. “But there was a missing person’s report on file with the HPD—a Liam Jones went missing three weeks ago. The report says he’d come down with a serious flu then disappeared. He lived a few blocks from the Anthonys’ funeral home.”

  “So he was turned and somehow one of Anthony’s goons got ahold of him,” Della said.

  “That’s the way it looks. I’d get another agent to look into it, but there were some problems in Dallas and several of our men are still cleaning up the mess there.”

  “I want to work the case,” Della insisted. “The ghost wants me to work it.”

  “Wants both of us to,” Chase said.

  Burnett nodded. “I’ll get Liam’s information and pass it to you before you start.”

  They turned again, and almost got out the door, when Burnett spoke out again. “Della? Can I have a second?”

  Chase looked back, and frowned as if he didn’t like being left out of the loop.

  “Go!” Burnett informed him.

  Chase shot her a glance good-bye before leaving. Della, suddenly uneasy, stepped back into Holiday’s office.

  Burnett listened to Chase leave before talking.

  “Two things. First, is there an issue about your aunt that I should be aware of?”

  Della frowned. “No. If I go to her and start asking questions, she’ll tell my dad and it … it could cause problems.” Amazing how simple that sounded, and yet how badly it hurt. “My dad already has zero trust in me, so any suspicious behavior would only make me look like more of a drugged-out problem child.”

  Burnett nodded, not really happy, but apparently satisfied. “The other thing.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully.

  “What?” she insisted, the pause killing her.

  “When I called you earlier to inform you about the information we’d gotten on Liam and you didn’t answer, I assumed you were with Steve. I called him and told him you had mentioned going to see him. I also told him that we had buried your cousin. He seemed upset that you hadn’t told him. You might want to call him.”

  She nodded. Her stomach rolled over. How she was going to explain this to Steve? Oh, I was coming to see you, but Chase showed up, so I went to his cabin instead.

  Oh, damn. It wouldn’t matter that nothing had happened. She’d be hurting Steve again. What was her other option? Lie?

  No, if he found out, it would only hurt him more. And he’d think she was hiding it because … because she was guilty. She wasn’t guilty, so why was she drowning in the emotion right now?

  Was it fair to keep doing this to him? The thought made breathing uncomfortable. But wasn’t he doing it to her, too? He spent Monday through Thursday in the vet’s office, working side by side with Jessie. Jessie, who wasn’t bonded to Steve, but definitely had the hots for him.

  Realizing Burnett stood staring at her while she indulged in her mini pity party, she took a backward step toward the door. “Thanks … I’ll call him.”

  She took off, her last words repeating in her head. I’ll call him. I’ll call him. And she would, just as soon as she figured out how the heck to explain why she hadn’t gone to see him.

  * * *

  Della got halfway to her cabin then shifted off the trail and hid behind a clump of trees. She pulled out her phone. She had to make this right. Staring at her cell, she suddenly found it odd that he hadn’t called her. If he knew she’d buried Chan, he’d have called to check on
her. Not calling wasn’t like Steve.

  Was he already mad? Mad because she hadn’t called him and told him she was burying her cousin? Or did he guess she’d been with Chase? I didn’t do anything! She started preparing her not-guilty speech.

  Dread built up in her chest when she realized that even if she hadn’t done anything, the simple fact that she’d relied on Chase instead of Steve was still going to hurt him.

  Her head told her what she needed to do—to let him go—but her heart refused to accept it.

  She swallowed a knot of pain and it fell like a lump of dough in her stomach.

  Taking a deep breath, her mind still dithering, she dialed his number.

  It rang once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  Then it went to voice mail.

  “Hey … I’m at Shadow Falls … Burnett said he called you and … Call me, okay?”

  She shut her phone and closed her eyes for a second. Steve always answered her calls.

  Maybe he was busy with a client. An emergency of some sort. A dog who’d swallowed a sock, a werewolf with a thorn in his paw. That’s what she wanted to believe. What she would believe until … until she knew differently. She simply had too many real issues to start imagining one.

  * * *

  “Crappers! What did Burnett say?” Kylie asked.

  “What did he say before or after he gave us royal hell?” Della asked, appreciating that her two roomies and best friends had skipped lunch to chat with her. Their sympathy and understanding was the only thing keeping her together sometimes.

  “Yikes,” Miranda said. “Burnett’s hell reminds me of my mother’s pot roast, tough and hard to swallow.”

  Della picked up her empty Diet Coke can and squeezed it into a little ball. She’d tried to sleep as Burnett ordered but had failed. In spite of feeling like an emotional wreck, she’d told them almost everything—about the werewolves at the graveyard, the vibrating box, the picture incident. She’d told them about Chase showing up, against Burnett’s orders, and about her going to see the files at his cabin.