Eternal (20 page)

Kylie shrugged. “I am vampire and she isn't lying.”

Della smiled in victory. “Listen to the chameleon, she has a point.”

When Miranda didn't say anything, Della continued. “Not only that, but when he said your name, he started polluting the air with all kinds of pheromones. The guy's got a hard-on for you.”

“Now I know you're lying.”

“I swear,” Della said.

Miranda made a face. “How would he even know you knew me? Where did you meet—?”

“He was helping out with Chan's funeral. And he knew I knew you because everyone's talking about the arrest and how you turned those five goons into kangaroos. He told me you were friends with his sister and that he'd always known you have more talent than you let people believe.”

Miranda's eyes sparkled just a bit. “Everyone's talking? Seriously, he really said that stuff about me being talented?”

Della made a gesture over her heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“And stick a needle in your eye if you're lying?” Miranda asked.

“Yes, the needle, too,” Della said.

“And the pheromones … He really…?”

“I swear!”

Miranda dropped back into her chair. She sat there thinking for several seconds. Then her eyes lost the twinkle. “I still don't want Shawn. I want Perry.”

“I know. But you can't make yourself sick because Perry called it off until he comes back. Look at this time as a chance to make sure this is what you want. It's hard. But darn it, go kiss a few toads and see if they turn into princes.”

Miranda folded her hands in her lap and then looked up at Della. “Are you going to do it?”

“I don't know any toads,” Della said.

“No, I mean are you going to open yourself up and see if maybe Chase isn't really a toad, but a prince?”

“I don't think the Panty Perv is—”

“Stop right there!” Miranda stood back up and sent Della what some would call the stink eye—an evil glare. “You can't destroy someone's break-up ice cream, dish out advice, and then not follow it yourself.”

“The witch has a point,” Kylie said.

“Here's another point,” Miranda added. “You haven't called him the Panty Perv in a long time. Why is that?”

Because she'd stopped distrusting him so much, Della thought. And because he hadn't said anything else about her panties, which was how he got the nickname in the first place. “Fine. I'll follow my own advice.” In a way, she'd already been doing it. And maybe she should remember how much she'd distrusted Chase in the beginning, too.

“Pinkie promise.” Miranda held out her little finger.

Della locked pinkies with the witch, but she couldn't help but wonder what the penalty was for breaking a pinkie promise. Yesterday, she'd let herself lean on the guy, today there'd be no leaning. Not until her doubts about the Panty Perv completely vanished.

“Say you promise,” Miranda repeated.

“Promise,” Della said, realizing the promise hadn't entailed any leaning. All she'd promised was to attempt to decipher if Chase was more toad or prince. And so what if he was a prince? That didn't make him
her
prince.

 

Chapter Twenty-two

Della went to her last class, and right after it was over, she went straight to her cabin, where she called Derek and asked him to meet her. As much as she'd been thinking about Steve and Perry and Miranda, she hadn't forgotten the vision. And if there was anyone who could help her find answers, it was Derek. He was Kylie's ex and he'd once worked in a private investigator's office, so he'd helped Della dig up information about her family in the past. He'd been the one to discover about Bao Yu's murder.

“What's up?” he asked.

“Just some questions … about my aunt's case.”

He paused for a minute. “I don't really know a lot.”

“I'd like to know all you know,” she said.

“Okay. I'm with Jenny, can she come?”

“Sure,” Della said, realizing she'd been neglectful about initiating any more friendship with Jenny, the new chameleon at camp. But Della had been kind of busy, right? A thread of guilt whispered through her.

Della sat on the porch waiting after they hung up. The fall air felt good, the sky was a perfect blue, and the sun was warm on her face. It seemed too pretty of a day to be thinking about murder. A murder that happened years ago, but the ghost had given her the image, and she could only assume it was important. Or maybe she just needed to prove to herself that it hadn't been her dad committing the murder.

When she heard two sets of footsteps walking down the path, she glanced up and watched as Derek and Jenny came around the corner. They held hands and chatted quietly, smiles on both their faces.

Della's heart did a dip, feeling the emotional tug of seeing two people who were so right for each other. She'd always gotten that feeling when she saw Kylie and Lucas together. And maybe even a little with Miranda and Perry—the little twerp.

Jenny saw her, let go of Derek's hand, and ran up and hugged her. Della allowed it. “I know you've been working a case for the FRU, but I've missed you. And I've been worried about you … with Steve leaving.”

“I'm … okay and I'm sorry,” Della said, her mind still stuck on people being right for each other, and she wondered if others saw her and Steve as “right.”

“Sorry about what?” Jenny asked.

“Being too busy. Let's do lunch tomorrow.”

“Am I invited?” Derek asked.

“No,” Jenny said. “We wouldn't be able to talk about you if you were there.” The girl laughed, sounding almost giddy. Was it because of love?

Derek frowned. “What are you going to say about me?”

“You'll never know,” Jenny said. “But I'm sure it'll be good.”

Della rolled her eyes. Her heart might have tugged earlier, but this was getting too mushy.

“You want to come inside?” Della offered before the two of them started kissing or something.

“It's so pretty, why don't we just sit outside?” Jenny answered.

They all sat down, leaning against the front of the cabin. Derek pulled one knee up, and when he looked at Della, she knew he was thinking about the reason she'd asked to see him. “I think I told you just about everything I found out.”

“You never said how she died,” Della corrected. “Did you actually get a copy of the report?”

“No, my PI friend just told me what the detective told him.” He paused as if thinking, then he frowned. “I'm pretty sure he said she was bludgeoned to death. He said the report noted there was a lot of blood.”

“So, she wasn't stabbed?” she asked. “If she'd been stabbed, it would've said that, right?”

Derek considered it a minute. “I think so. Why?”

“Nothing important,” she lied, now even more unsure if the ghost haunting her was really her aunt. Just because she was Asian didn't mean she was related. So okay, it might be wishful thinking, but Della deserved to wish a little.

Then, all of a sudden, she realized that she hadn't seen the ghost actually get stabbed. She'd only assumed that the victim had been killed by the knife. Oh, hell, now she was more confused than ever.

“Can you find anything else out? Maybe you forgot something. Or didn't think it was important. Can you ask him to tell you everything again?”

Derek looked as if he was going to say no, but then sighed. “I'll ask him, but…”

“But what?” she asked.

“It's just … you didn't like what I found out the first time—about your father being the only suspect—and I don't think it's going to be any different.”

“I need to know,” Della said. “Me liking it is beside the point.”

*   *   *

A couple of hours later, Della spotted the Panty Perv as soon as she took the first curve in the path leading to the office. He'd texted her and said he needed to see her early.

He walked with a sense of purpose … no, more like confidence. He wore jeans, a bright yellow shirt, and a brown hoody mostly zipped. His boots matched his hoody, a worn yet warm color. The yellow of his shirt made his light green eyes appear lighter. Almost a gold green.

She felt her pulse pick up speed as if she'd been anticipating seeing him. She hadn't, she told herself, but it felt like a lie.

“What's wrong?” he asked as soon as he got within five feet of her.

“What do you mean?” She answered his question with a question to avoid having to lie.

His expression said he was on to her. She didn't care. It simply wasn't fair that Chase could control his heartbeat and therefore lie. Sure, she could almost tell from his facial expressions, but it wasn't 100 percent accurate.

“What do you need to talk about?” This afternoon she'd started worrying that Chase had seen the same vision she'd had last night.

If so, would he suspect that the victim was related to Della? Would he know that either her dad or her uncle was responsible for a murder? Chase could have easily put two and two together if what she suspected was true—that her uncle had been the one behind the Vampire Council sending him to check on her and Chan. For that matter, her uncle could even be on the council.

Or, Chase could be telling the truth when he said that he'd just been following orders.

Either way it brought her to the issue she needed to tackle. When was she going to get to meet the council and get a chance to see if her uncle was connected?

“You answer me and I'll tell you.”

“Answer what?” She continued walking. Chase reached out and took her by the elbow. Not a tight grip, but softly. As if the touch should mean something. That annoyed her.

“Stop playing games, Della. Tell me what's wrong.”

Did that mean he knew? Or that he just knew she was avoiding lying? Her heart did a few somersaults.

“Why do you think something's wrong?” She pulled away from his hold and continued moving toward the office.

“You look upset.” He fell into step beside her.

“Bad day.” That wasn't a lie. She'd been within an inch of being turned into a kangaroo by one of her best friends. And her conversation with Derek about her aunt Bao Yu had her second-guessing everything she thought was true.

She didn't look at Chase as she moved, but at her feet. Her black boots still had Chunky Monkey sludge on them. The scent of banana ice cream floated up from the soles of her shoes. She probably should have wiped them off.

Her next breath, she caught the scent of spicy male soap, and found herself wondering why she hadn't bothered to change clothes. Then she remembered that she shouldn't care how she looked. They were on a mission, not a damn date.

“I think it's more than just a bad day,” he said.

Della stopped walking and faced him. “Why do you think it's more?”

“Cut the crap of answering a question with a question. Just talk to me.”

More suspicious than ever, she lifted one hand to her hip. “Did the ghost tell you something?” The moment she posed the question, she wanted to suck the words back into her mouth.

He stared at her. “No. I just … I can read you … it's part of the bonding, I guess.”

“What do you mean by ‘read'?” Surely he couldn't know what she was thinking. That would be disastrous.

“I can tell you're upset by looking at you.”

“How?” she asked.

“I notice little things. Things that I don't think I'd notice otherwise.”

“What things?”

“First, you're a tad more of a smartass.” He almost grinned. “And second, your right eyebrow lifts about an eighth of an inch when you're tense.”

She purposely dropped both her eyebrows.

He chuckled. “Do you find yourself noticing things about me?”

She so wanted to say no, but it would have been a lie and he'd know it. Hadn't she already noted what the color of his shirt did to his eyes? And the confidence in his gait. And …

“I've always been the observant type.” There was some truth in that, too.

The twinkle in his eyes faded. “Seriously,” he said. “What's wrong?”

“It's personal.” He couldn't argue with that one. She commenced to walking.

“Wait.” He caught her arm again.

So maybe he could argue.

“Did the ghost give you something? Is that what this is about?”

See, she'd been right about that being a mistake. She pulled away. “Burnett's waiting on us.”

“We're early, remember? Damn it, talk to me. If the ghost—”

“I told you, it's personal.”

“Is it about Steve leaving?” Disappointment rang in his voice, and his eyes grew a bit brighter as if the thought disturbed him.

Her first impulse was to tell him that Steve was none of his business, but perhaps she could use this to get Chase off her back. She tilted up her chin. “And that's personal.”

He nodded as if satisfied that was all she'd been worried about. “Fine, but if you need to talk, I'll listen.”

She could tell he didn't really want to hear her whine about Steve, but his offer came off sincere.

“Yeah, like that'll happen,” she said.

“There goes the smartass attitude again.”

“But I'm so good at it,” she countered, half teasing.

“That you are.” He smiled.

His smile, genuine and sexy, caught her off guard and she stared at it a fraction of a second longer than she should have. He noticed, too. She could tell by the way his gaze—soft and alluring—shifted slowly to her eyes.

Pushing the thought away, she tightened her spine. “What did you need to see me about before we talk to Burnett?”

He stopped walking and pulled a twig off a tree that lined the path. “I want to ask for a later curfew. If we're going to hang out by the funeral home and see if we can run into anyone who knows anything about Liam, we might need to be there a while. But if you think Burnett will say no, then maybe we should follow the theory that it's better to say you're sorry than to ask for permission.”