Reborn

  Kylie sat there, her light blue eyes looking consumed with worry. Miranda sat there, expression tight, her fingers laced together, except for her pinkies, which she twirled in tight circles.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kylie said.

  “Why? It’s not as if you did anything,” Della said, trying to make light of the whole thing.

  “But I could do something,” Miranda said. “I could put a curse on your dad. A bad case of athlete’s foot. Or jock itch. I’m good at that curse. There was this football player at school that—”

  “Leave my dad’s feet and junk alone!”

  “I just want to help,” Miranda said.

  “It wouldn’t help,” Della said in a calmer voice. “You can’t even blame him. It looked like I was into his brandy.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell him the truth?” The somberness of Kylie’s words expressed empathy.

  Della’s chest tightened. Kylie’s concern, and even Miranda’s desire to zap her father with a foot or private-part fungus, was why Della loved her two best friends. They cared. Everyone needed someone to care. Thank God she’d found them. Her sinuses stung, but she swallowed hard to keep her eyes from watering. She reached for the envelope, remembering the possibility that she might have an actual family member who would understand her. Maybe even care.

  “You could have told him Marla mentioned he had a brother and you were curious,” Kylie continued. “Maybe he would have told you more about him.”

  “You don’t know my dad. Anyway, Marla said she overheard him telling this to my mom, and while she asked my mom, my dad probably didn’t know she heard it. The last thing I want to do is get him mad at Marla. He’s already lost one daughter.”

  “I guess so,” Kylie said.

  “I still think he was an asshole,” Miranda concluded.

  “He was,” Della said, “but if I’d done what he suspected me of doing, then he had a right to be an asshole.”

  “But you didn’t do it,” Miranda snapped.

  “No, but I looked guilty, and I couldn’t defend myself. So my only option is to just accept it.”

  “That sucks,” Miranda said. “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with being a supernatural and having to keep it from my parents.”

  But that doesn’t make Miranda’s mom any less of an asswipe. Just before Della vocalized the thought, she decided it might be best to leave it unsaid.

  How was it Holiday had put it? Just because crap pops in here—Holiday had tapped her temple—doesn’t mean crap has to pop out here. She had touched her lips. The camp leader had also said that supernatural scientists were considering doing medical research to prove vampires were missing the thingamajig that filtered out inappropriate dialogue. Della wasn’t sure if Holiday was joking or not.

  But considering Holiday was married to Burnett, who was famous for speaking his mind, Della figured Holiday might be telling the truth.

  Then again, Della had kind of spoken her mind even before she’d been turned.

  She’d been suspended from kindergarten for telling the teacher she looked like Yoda in Star Wars—if Yoda was older, fatter, and smelled funny. That, of course, came after the teacher had asked Della why she had an Asian name, but didn’t look more Asian. At the time, Della had a supercomplex about being of mixed race and not looking more like all her Asian cousins. Especially when she didn’t even look like her mom, who was an all-American blonde.

  Kylie leaned over and stared at the image. “So did you ask Burnett to see if he could help find out if your uncle is still alive?”

  Della inhaled. “No, I don’t want to get the FRU involved.”

  “You think your uncle could be rogue?” Kylie asked, sounding concerned.

  “No, if he’s anything like my dad, he’s a rule follower. But if he isn’t registered or something I don’t want to be the person who gets him in trouble.”

  “Burnett didn’t turn in my grandfather and aunt when he first discovered them,” Kylie said.

  “That’s because they were chameleons. If they were anything else, he’d probably have done it. Being an agent, he’s officially obligated to report them. He actually told me that once when he asked me about Chan, my cousin.”

  “So how are we going to find out?” Kylie asked.

  The “we” in Kylie’s question tugged at Della’s emotional cords again. That was the kind of friends they were. When one of them was in trouble, they stuck together. But what wasn’t normal was Della feeling those tugs on her emotions. Was something wrong with her?

  Pushing the emotion aside again, this time with a little more force, she said, “I was thinking of asking Derek if he might help. You said he worked for that PI once, and I know he’d helped you figure out a couple of your ghost issues.”

  “That is a great idea. I think he and a bunch of guys were playing basketball when we headed up here,” Kylie said. “Why don’t we go see if we can find him?”

  “Do we have to?” Miranda sighed. “There’s nothing worse than watching a bunch of sweaty, good-looking guys playing ball. I mean, they might even be taking off their shirts.” She grinned. “Not that any of them on the court could hold a candle to Perry. But eye candy is eye candy.”

  Giggling, they started out. Della, her heartache eased, ran back to the table to get the photograph in case Derek needed to see it. When she slipped it back into the envelope, she got another whiff of Chase Tallman, the panty pervert. The emotional ripples of danger, of fear, hit again and chased away her lighthearted mood.

  She really needed to figure out when and where she could have come in contact with him before. And the sooner the better.

  “Told you they might have their shirts off,” Miranda whispered, and elbowed Della.

  While it was October, fall had fallen behind and summer had snuck back in. At two in the afternoon, the sun beat down on the court. Della’s gaze, of its own accord, shot across the court of guys looking for one chest in particular. The sexy shape-shifter, Steve.

  She found him, the same time his light brown eyes found hers. He had his shirt on, but it molded to his damp chest. Sweaty, his brown hair looked darker, and flipped up on the ends. He had the basketball in his hands and he smiled at her. Her heart did a tumble, and she fought to keep from putting off any pheromones.

  “Oh, my, Kylie’s right, the panty pervert is cute,” Miranda said. “No wonder he got to you.”

  Della panicked and her gaze zipped around until she found Chase. Chase without his shirt. His chest looked wider, and more muscled than it had with the white T-shirt on. She swallowed and remembered Miranda’s remark about eye candy. Escorting that thought from her addled brain, she became determined not to show any appreciation at his … his lack of clothes. Then she realized it was too late. She’d stared a fraction of a second too long and he stood, one arm on his hip, looking right at her, relishing that fraction of a second. He smiled. Crap! Had he heard Miranda, too?

  “Well, if it isn’t Smurf girl!” He ran his hand though his dark hair. And no sooner had the words left his lips than the basketball whacked him in the head.

  Everyone laughed. Even Della. Especially Della. She cut her gaze back to Steve and sent him an appreciative smile. And that’s when she heard Chase’s growl and saw him swing around toward Steve.

  Chapter Four

  Della’s shoulders came back and she was prepared to get right in the middle of it. But before the guy took even a step, Derek and Kylie’s boyfriend, Lucas, had moved between him and Steve.

  “Rule number one, no trouble on the court,” Lucas said. “A fight breaks out here, and we’re all grounded from basketball for a week.”

  While Lucas took the more direct route, Derek moved in and placed a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “It was just an accident,” he said.

  It wasn’t an accident—Della knew Steve had done it on purpose—but let Chase believe it if he was that gullible.

  Chase shook off Derek’s fae touch, which no doubt had been to shed the tensio
n. And while Chase did seem calmer, he still managed to shoot Steve a cold look. Steve didn’t back down for a second, and Della worried the two would go at it. Not that she worried Steve couldn’t hold his own. She’d seen him in action when they were on their mission. But she didn’t want him getting into trouble because of her.

  Steve wasn’t the get-into-trouble kind of guy.

  “Why don’t we just call it a day,” Lucas said, and Della noted he was looking at Kylie like he was parched and she was a cool drink of sweet tea. The two were so in love that they couldn’t look at each other without getting that silly grin on their faces.

  Another reason she was staying the heck away from love. Vampires didn’t do silly grins.

  Lucas came walking up, grabbing his shirt from the bench by the court. “Hey,” he said, eyes and pheromones only for Kylie. “You want to go for a walk?”

  “Yeah, but first I need to talk to Derek.”

  “About what?” Lucas asked, sounding a tad jealous.

  “An issue for Della. Can I meet you in front of the office in about five minutes?” Kylie asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. He was frowning slightly, but he leaned down to kiss her.

  Della looked the other way. Unfortunately, her eyes landed right on Miranda and Perry sucking face.

  “We could kiss and show them how it’s done,” a deep Southern voice said at her ear. A voice belonging to a body that she hadn’t heard approaching. What was with her on-and-off hearing?

  She turned around and stared at Steve. He stood so close his scent filled the air; his eyes, brown with some gold highlights, filled her vision. Leaning in just a bit, she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

  Her first thought was to give in, let him kiss her, let herself kiss him, and show these amateurs how a kiss was supposed to go. Butterflies filled her chest at the thought of how good it would be. They’d kissed the first time when they were on FRU camp business. And against her better judgment, several times since. She blamed the weird electricity that snapped and popped whenever they got close. He studied her expectantly and her instinct said to spout out something off-putting about him expecting a kiss when they weren’t … an item. But she remembered he’d thrown the ball at the panty perv. Steve didn’t deserve any lip. He probably deserved a kiss, but not now. Maybe she’d pay up when they were alone.

  She pulled back. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He leaned in. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Did that new guy do something that pissed you off?”

  “Yeah … no, I mean, it was nothing.”

  Steve’s expression soured. “Why was he mouthing off at you about Smurfs?”

  She usually told Steve the truth, but suddenly she didn’t want him to know she wore Smurf pajamas. “I thought he was trespassing and we bumped heads.” She glanced up over Steve’s shoulder and saw the panty perv staring at her and Steve.

  “Funny,” Steve said in a nonfunny voice. “The way you were looking at him wasn’t the way you’d look at someone you’d butted heads with.”

  Della nipped her lip to keep from smiling. She should be embarrassed at Steve calling her out about appreciating the panty perv’s body. And she was, but her pride took second to the excitement of knowing that Steve cared enough to get his boxer shorts in a bunch.

  Leaning back on her heels, she stared up into his eyes. “It sounds like someone’s jealous, but I can’t see why. It’s not like you and I are going out or anything. We’re just friends, so…” Della shrugged, feigning innocence.

  Steve quirked his lip in a cocky half smile and took a step closer. The electricity started to crackle. They stood less than an inch apart, but Della, aware only of him and the magic he brought on, refused to step back this time. They’d been playing this game for weeks—flirting and teasing each time they saw each other—and Della could give as well as he could take.

  “Yup, we’re just friends, but friends look after each other, and make sure they don’t go goo-goo-eyed at new campers they don’t know anything about.”

  Goo-goo-eyed? She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from chuckling. “I have no idea what you are talking about. You must be seeing things. Vampires never go goo-goo-eyed. Maybe a drop of sweat got in your eyes.”

  She reached up to and thumbed away a nonexistent drop from the corner of Steve’s brow. She heard his heartbeat surge the second her skin touched his, and willed her own heart rate to stay calm.

  He caught her wrist, and drew a tiny little heart on the tender skin above her veins. “You’re looking a little gooey right now, Miss Priss.”

  She almost laughed. Almost. Instead she became instantly aware that they weren’t alone, but still in the midst of nosy campers—some of them with super hearing. And this game, the flirting game she and Steve played, she insisted they only play it in private. What the heck had she been thinking. Oh, yeah, she wasn’t thinking!

  She took a step back, and when she did she saw Derek walking away. Derek, whom she’d come here to talk to about her missing uncle. “We’ll talk later,” she told Steve. “I need to see Derek about something.”

  “About what?” Steve asked as if he had all the right in the world to know.

  Derek was almost to the trail. “I … I really gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  She glanced back at her two best friends, both looking … goo-goo-eyed at their boyfriends, and decided to talk to Derek without them.

  Taking off, she caught up with Derek right as he entered the path back to his cabin. “Derek,” she called, shaking off the warm, fuzzy feeling left over from her encounter with Steve. Damn that boy had a way of getting to her.

  Derek stopped and turned around. “Yeah?” he asked.

  “I … Do you have a minute?”

  He almost frowned. “Just a minute, I’m meeting someone. What do you need?”

  Was he meeting Jenny? Probably. Everyone seemed to be in love or on their way to it. Except her, she told herself, not willing to accept that her and Steve’s “thing” was more than a passing fancy. And it would pass, because that’s what she wanted.

  She looked at Derek. “I’m…” How did she explain it? She forced herself to just spit it out, and as she did, she realized how hard it was to ask anyone for help. “I’m looking for a missing person. I want you … I was hoping you would flex your PI muscles to help me find him.”

  “My PI muscles?”

  “Your gift of doing investigation,” she clarified. “I know you used to work at a PI agency and I wanted to ask for your help.”

  “Who is it you’re looking for?”

  “My uncle,” she said.

  “How long has he been missing?” Derek asked.

  Della did the math in her head. “Around nineteen years.”

  Derek’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “My dad had a twin that he never talked about, and I just learned about him. Supposedly, he died in a car crash.”

  Derek’s mouth dropped a little more and his brow pinched in confusion. “If he’s dead, why…”

  “I think maybe he was turned and faked his own death like most vampire teens do.”

  “Are you sure he was turned?”

  “No, but the vampire virus runs in families and it would make sense that … that it was what happened.”

  “Not really. I’d say the odds of him being killed in a car crash are fifty times greater than him being turned. And the virus doesn’t always run in families. That’s only with about thirty percent of vampires,” Derek said. “Chris and I were just talking about that.”

  “I know, but I have a cousin who’s vampire, too. So … so that has to up the odds some. And my sister heard my dad say his brother got cold and then went off and got himself killed in a car crash.”

  “Cold as in physically cold?” Derek asked, for the first time seeming as if he believed her.

  “I don’t know. My sister just overheard him saying that, so I can’t go ask my dad. But I w
as hoping you could research it. See if you find out anything on him.”

  Derek made a what-the-hell face, and Della feared he was about to tell her no.

  “Please,” she said. God, she hated begging.

  He sighed. “I don’t mind trying, but nineteen years is a long time ago. Normally, I find stuff on the Internet, and being that long ago, chances of finding anything there is slim to none.” He paused as if to take everything in. “Wait, why don’t you go to Burnett? He could probably…”

  “I don’t want Burnett involved until I know for sure he’s registered, or as a last resort.”

  Derek frowned. “You think he could be rogue?”

  “I don’t think so, but I don’t want to bring the FRU down on him.”

  Derek nodded and then looked at his watch as if he had to be somewhere. “Do you have his name and birthday, and the day he died?”

  “Everything but the day he died,” Della said. “Oh, and I have a picture.” She went to pull it out of her pocket.

  Derek held up his hand. “I have to … I’m supposed to meet Jenny. Can you scan the picture and e-mail it to me? And send any info you have on him. Where he was living. If he’d lived anywhere else recently. I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll try.”

  Hope welled up in Della. “I’ll go home and send it to you right now.”

  He turned to go, but Della was suddenly so giddy with the possibility of this actually being true that she grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you!” It only took a second for her to realize how odd that was—her initiating something that almost resembled a hug.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and pulled away, looking at her a little strangely. But for once, she didn’t care. The thought that she honestly might find an uncle—a man who looked just like her father—and have a family member who understood the whole vampire life was like unfriggin’ believable.

  Maybe then she wouldn’t grieve so much for her own family. Maybe she could go back to thinking life didn’t suck so much.