Chan … dead.
“How … who did this? What happened?” She barely managed to speak, emotion thickening her tonsils.
“No one did it,” he said. ““When he left for Texas, he wasn’t feeling right. They said he got sicker, and then he got a weird rash on his back, and then about ten days ago he died. Just died. It’s crazy. Vampires hardly ever get sick.”
“But how…” She couldn’t finish the question.
“The gang buried him here,” Kevin finished. “They knew he’d faked his death, so they didn’t think they had to let anyone know.”
The knot in Della’s throat doubled in size right along with the pain in her heart. Chan had been sick. He’d called her and she hadn’t returned his call. What kind of cousin did that?
Her mind created the pristine vision of Lorraine’s body in the casket. She fell to her knees and brushed some dirt from her cousin’s face; then she dropped her chin on her chest and sobbed. She didn’t care if Kevin saw her, or thought she was weak. Her heart was breaking and she didn’t give a flying flip how she looked.
Della had stopped crying, but she hadn’t moved from Chan’s side when Burnett showed up. She’d sent Kevin away and called Burnett to tell him she’d found her cousin and he was dead. She wanted Chan buried in the grave with his gravestone—the one where his parents thought they’d put their son almost two years ago. And since she didn’t think she could pull that off, she called someone who could.
Sure, Burnett would probably give her hell for being here, he might even stop her from ever working for the FRU, but right now she didn’t care. She’d let Chan down, but the least she could do was put his body where it really belonged.
Burnett didn’t speak; he simply walked up and knelt down beside her. He put his hand on her shoulder and her breath hitched.
“What happened?” he asked, no anger in his tone, just concern.
It took a second to swallow the unshed tears from her throat to answer. “He came here and joined the gang, the Crimson Blood. They say he died. Just died.” She blinked. “They said it was ten days ago, but it couldn’t have been. He doesn’t look … like he’s been dead ten days.” And she’d seen him. Seen him at the fence. Was it possible that…?
“They could be telling the truth. The V-one virus delays any form of decay in us. It can take as much as two weeks before our bodies start to break down. But we will do an autopsy. If there’s any foul play involved, you know I’ll do my best to catch those responsible.”
She nodded. And suddenly she couldn’t stop the tears. “He called me. He called me a couple of weeks ago and I didn’t call him back.”
“You couldn’t have known this was going to happen,” he said, and then stood. “Come on, I’ll get you back to Shadow Falls. Holiday’s concerned about you.”
She stood as well and then stopped. “No, I … Kylie and Miranda don’t even know I’m gone.”
“I’ll call them and let them know what happened and that you’re okay. I have a team showing up any minute to take the body. We need to do it before light.”
Della looked one last time at Chan, knowing she’d never see his face again. Never see him smile that silly quirky grin again.
But when she started walking with Burnett, she realized she was wrong. Chan stood peering at her behind a tree. And he wasn’t alone. Someone was with him, half hidden. Chan waved. He had a sad smile on his face. Della’s steps faltered.
Sorry. I’m so sorry, Chan.
“You okay?” Burnett asked.
“Yeah,” she said, “I just thought…” When she looked back, Chan was gone.
“Thought what?”
Thought I saw a ghost. “Nothing, I’m just tired.”
But she wasn’t that tired. She was seeing ghosts. How the hell was that possible?
At ten that morning, Della sat alone at the kitchen table in her cabin. Sleep-deprived and feeling like she was dying inside, she found that even breathing hurt. Earlier, she’d spoken to Kylie and Miranda briefly, and told them she’d explain more later. They would be there after lunch, which gave her a few hours to prepare herself to tell the story again.
She’d also learned that Steve had gone back yesterday to the vet’s office. Which explained why he wasn’t here when she showed up. She’d bet Jessie was happy.
Holiday had spent several hours here commiserating and offering warm, comforting touches. But her comfort didn’t last. Even Holiday said that grief was the one emotion a fae’s touch had less effect on.
But Della wasn’t sure which emotion she felt most. Grief or guilt.
And the camp leader sensed this, too. If she’d told Della once, she’d told her a dozen times … it wasn’t Della’s fault for not talking to Chan.
Della didn’t buy it. Maybe Steve and his doctor buddy could have done something. Or perhaps she could have gotten Kylie to heal Chan. If she’d called him back.
If? If? If? Why the hell hadn’t she called him back?
She’d almost told Holiday about seeing Chan at the gate and again tonight, but at the last minute decided to wait and ask Kylie about it. The fact that she could see ghosts should have scared the shit out of her, and maybe it would when she wasn’t drowning in other emotions.
After Holiday left, Jenny came by. She’d wanted to come in and offer her condolences, but Della blocked the door. “I just need to be by myself.”
The girl nodded, looking rejected, and turned to go.
Guilt pricked Della’s conscience. “Jenny?”
She turned around as if hoping Della had changed her mind. Of course, she hadn’t. “Thanks for understanding.”
The girl nodded, ran up the stairs, and hugged her. “I know I’m not as cool as Kylie, but I think of you as my friend. And I know you must be hurting and I want you to know I care. I wish I could turn myself into fae like Kylie could, and take away some of your pain. But I haven’t mastered that yet.”
“I’m fine, but thanks.” Della forced herself to say the right thing. Not just because it would have been rude to do otherwise, but because she did like Jenny. And through unwanted tears, she watched the girl leave. Finally alone again, Della went back in and plopped back at the kitchen table. She listened to Chan’s message about a dozen times, and each time it hurt more than the last.