Eternal (Shadow Falls: After Dark #2)(67)

Wanting to know if there was anything about being turned, she flipped to the back of the book to see the date. Written on the last page were the words: Good-bye, diary. But the date on top was October thirteenth of last year.

Which would mean that reading her diary wasn’t going to offer any help, it was just an invasion of privacy. Boring privacy, but an invasion all the same. She closed the book and went to put it away, but it suddenly flipped open.

Looking around, still feeling the chill, she closed the book again. This time, when it popped open, Della got the feeling she was supposed to read. Just like she’d been supposed to find the picture in Chan’s casket.

“Fine. But how is this going to help find her? It’s normal everyday stuff.” Which Della had just referred to as boring, but truthfully, normal sounded nice. What would it feel like if your biggest problem was that the guy you liked didn’t know you existed? She used to have that life, Della thought. And so did Natasha, she realized. Her life had gone to hell, too.

Della looked down at the page dated January 10. She started to read.

Mom called me into her room today. I knew what she was going to tell me. I felt it coming. She’s going to marry Tom.

Della let go of a sigh. So Natasha’s life wasn’t so perfect. Della recalled the picture of the part-Asian man on Natasha’s bedside table. That must have been her real dad. Had he died, or had her parents divorced? Then she recalled the man standing outside looking up at the window. That must have been Tom.

She went back to reading.

I did the right thing. I told her I was happy for her. But it was hard. It’s also hard to realize how selfish I am. I want her to myself. I don’t want to share her. But I don’t plan to live at home forever. I’ll graduate in less than a year. And then she’ll be alone. She doesn’t deserve that.

It’s not as if I don’t like Tom. Well, maybe I don’t like him, but I don’t dislike him. And I don’t think he’s bad. I can tell he loves my mom. And he’s nice to me. But he’s not my dad. And I feel as if he’s trying to fill his shoes. I don’t want Tom as a dad.

And having him around reminds me that I lost the one I did have. It’s insane how you can miss someone after all these years. Miss them like crazy, but time also makes you forget. Like his voice. I used to think I would always remember it. The way he would call me honeybun—but it’s faded away. But it has been seven years since he died. I still look at his picture almost every night and try to see me in him. And I do a little, but not enough. I wish I had his nose.

Della stared at the page and realized how much she had in common with Natasha. How many times had she looked in the mirror and wondered why she didn’t look more like her dad, more like his family and the culture he was so proud of? Maybe being of mixed race just sent you down that path—a path where you felt as if you didn’t belong to one group or the other.

Della read on, but the diary went back to mundane stuff. An argument she had with Tom, picking out her prom dress. She read them all, and was a few pages from the end. This entry was longer than the others.

One week until I turn eighteen. Today, Mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I knew she’d ask, she always does. She’s good like that, wants to get you what you want and not just something she likes. But this year, I looked her right in the eye and decided not to lie. I want the truth, I told her. Her expression almost made me cry. It reminded me of how she looked when the police showed up at our door and told her that my father had died in the plant explosion. I think she’s afraid she’ll lose me. She won’t lose me, but I am going to be angry if what I believe is true. She should have told me years ago.

Curious, Della turned the page to read on, but there wasn’t more. What was Natasha talking about? What lie had her mother told her? Della closed the book, her feelings toward her father’s lies stinging while she felt Natasha’s pain.

Della put the diary down on her bedside table and watched it fly off and hit the wall. And the cold in the room grew more intense.

“Why are you unhappy?” Della looked up and saw white crystals of ice cascading from the ceiling. It was freaking snowing in her bedroom.

“Enough of the cold crap,” she said and sat up. “Why can’t we just talk? Tell me where Natasha is and I’ll save her. Tell me how you two are connected.”

Her words caused more wisps of steam to billow up. It hung a few inches from her lips. “Tell me … tell me who killed you. And I swear to God, if you say my father, I’ll know you’re a liar.”

Della held her breath. Her heart took her back to the father-daughter time she’d spent with her dad in his office. The laughter they’d shared. The love they’d shared. Her father might not have died like Natasha’s, but she missed him just the same.

“Talk to me,” she said again. No answer came. And that pissed Della off. “Fine! If you’re not going to talk, then get your icy ass out of here.” She dropped back onto her pillow.

Footsteps sounded in the cabin. Her door swung open. Kylie stood there. “You okay?”

“I have no patience for ghosts,” Della said with a tight voice and batted a snowflake from her lashes.

“Want me to sleep with you?”

“I’m not scared, just pissed.” Her heart did an abnormal jolt. If Kylie was in vamp mode she would have heard it. Della didn’t check. She was too tired to lift her head.