Reborn (Shadow Falls: After Dark #1)(18)

Burnett’s words from earlier filled her head. We’re no more monstrous than any other species. Her heart throbbed and it felt raw. It didn’t matter what he said. The fact that it was a vampire who had done this despicable act made her ashamed of her species. Ashamed that she needed blood to live.

Not monsters, my butt. If she weren’t so afraid that her own parents would see her as just that, she’d tell them the truth. She could still be a part of her family. Still be her daddy’s little girl. Instead, she was an outsider forced to visit, only to realize how much she’d lost. Forced to let them think she was probably doing drugs, might be pregnant, and would stoop so low as to steal from them.

She tried to chase away the images of the two dead bodies lying faceup on the wet ground, their necks mutilated from so many bites, their open eyes missing any sign of life. She tried, but couldn’t get it out of her head.

“We are monsters,” she whispered into the silent—with any luck—ghost-free room.

She felt a few tears slip down her cheek and she batted them away. Hopefully the fact that she wanted to catch the bloodsucker who murdered that innocent couple—that she wanted to make him pay—hopefully that made her a little less of a monster.

“I’m gonna catch you,” Della said, vowing to never forget the scent of the killer who’d rushed by tonight. Someday, sooner or later, she would run into him again. “And when I do,” she spoke into the dark room, “I don’t care what Burnett says, I’m gonna enjoy kicking your ass.”

“Della?”

The deep voice echoed in her mind and penetrated her dream. A familiar dream. She stood again in that dark alley in her Smurf pajamas. The monster, the supersized, chubby gargoyle, stood about five feet in front of her. His eyes glowed red and evil. His intent, to maul her, was made clear by the gooey-looking drool that dangled from his jowls.

What the hell did this ugly, loose-skinned, slobbery varmint want with her?

“Della, are you okay?” the voice came again, from behind the garbage can. Which was a shame, because that was exactly where she planned to toss the ugly monster, who commenced charging at her.

She flinched, prepared to fight, and instantly became more coherent.

“Della?” This time the voice hadn’t come from behind the garbage cans, but from the other side of the dark curtain in her mind. A side where real life existed. Where gargoyles didn’t exist. Where the monsters walking the earth were simply vampires.

When she felt a touch brush across her brow, she became fully alert. With vampire speed and strength, and even before her eyes fluttered open, she caught the hand and held it away from her face.

Her vision hadn’t completely cleared when she recognized the dark-haired, dark-eyed shape-shifter standing over her.

She dropped her tight hold of his wrist. “What are you doing in here?”

Steve frowned. “I tapped on your window and when you didn’t stir it worried me.”

“So you just decided to help yourself into my bedroom?” she snapped, coming to the pissy realization that her hearing must be off again. What the hell was up with this?

“I came in to check on you. You’re usually awake by the time I get anywhere close to your window. I knocked for a whole five to ten seconds and you didn’t even roll over. Are you feeling okay?”

He reached down to touch her brow again and she swatted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

He scowled down at her. “I’m checking your temperature. You didn’t feel right.” He put his hand back on her brow.

She almost swatted his hand away again, but realized she was taking her frustration with the dream and her hearing problems out on him. “I’m vampire. I’m friggin’ cold, remember?”

He grimaced as his hand tenderly moved across her brow. “I know, that’s what’s wrong. You don’t feel … as cold. I think you might have a fever.”

“I’m fine.” She sat up. “I just didn’t get any sleep.” Her gaze shifted to the window. The sun hadn’t completely chased the night away yet, but the little corner of the sky she could see through the glass panes had streaks of pink in it. “What time is it?”

“Five-thirty.”

She flopped back onto her pillow. “That means I’ve slept a whole hour,” she muttered.

“Sorry for waking you. I was worried. I told you to call and you didn’t.”

“When did you tell me to call?” She cut her eyes at him, now sitting on her bed, looking morning peppy. She hated morning people. Then she tried to remember their last encounter, when Burnett showed up. “You didn’t tell me to call you.”

“In the note, I told you to call me as soon as you got back.”

“What note?” she asked.

He pulled a piece of notebook paper that rested half under her shoulder. “The one you’re sleeping on. After you took off, I got worried, so I came here and left a note on your bed. I barely slept myself, I kept waking up every ten minutes checking my phone. All I could think was that something went wrong.”

It had gone wrong, Della thought. Two innocent people were killed and then she learned Burnett didn’t think she had what it took to be an FRU agent.

The images of the victims flashed in her head, making her chest feel like it had been filled with syrup. The really thick kind of syrup. But there was nothing sweet about the weighty feeling. Just heavy empathy for two young lovers.