Reborn

Chapter Eight

The smell was hideous. Her gag reflex started bouncing in her throat.

“Is she coming to?” a voice somewhere in the distance asked. She recognized the voice. Holiday.

Della felt a hand move under her nose, carrying the smell. Growling, she reached up and caught the hand and held it away from her nose. Only then did she open her eyes. Only then did she see the opened clove of garlic.

Only then did she find herself staring right at Steve.

“It’s me,” he said.

“That stinks!” she spouted out, shaking his hand until he dropped the clove.

He stared down at her with concern. “Garlic works as smelling salts on vampires.” His gaze shot to his hand. “Would you mind not breaking my wrist?”

She released her tight grip and tried to get a grip on the situation. Tried to wrap her head around what she was doing … here. Tried to figure out where “here” was and how in Hades she had gotten … here.

“What happened?” A deep voice tossed out the question. The inquiry bounced around her sore brain.

Sore brain or sore head?

Her gaze shifted and she saw Burnett standing several feet away from the table that she was resting on.

Freaking great! Here she wanted to look capable to him, and this happened. But exactly what had happened, she still didn’t know.

“Thank God you’re okay.” The very pregnant Holiday came rushing to the table.

“What happened?” Burnett asked again.

Della blinked and tried to find the answer to Burnett’s question, as well as about a dozen more questions that zinged back and forth in her head.

The words I don’t know formed on her tongue, but she knew how ill received they would be by Burnett, so she struggled to find a better answer.

Problem was, she didn’t have a better one.

“I … I…” Bits and pieces of memory started rolling around her head. She’d gone on a run and ended up at the … She went to sit up. Steve, standing close, tried to help her. She nudged him away. She didn’t need any help, thank you very much.

Sitting up, dangling her feet off the table, she glanced around the room. Between the garlic smell and Steve’s spicy scent, she caught the scent of … animals.

A poster of two kittens chasing a butterfly drew her attention, and then her gaze flipped back to Steve. A worried Steve.

She realized she was at the veterinarian’s office. Which doubled as a doctor’s office for supernaturals. At least one of her questions was answered. Now she just needed to figure out why.

Burnett cleared his throat, his gaze locked on her as if waiting for her to answer his question. And he didn’t look too patient.

“I went for a run.” She thought harder. “I ended up at the falls.” She recalled hearing the sound of water running, but for some reason it sounded too crazy to say. “I … I was leaving but I heard something, or someone, behind me.”

“That explains the lump on your head,” Steve said. “Someone hit you with something.”

Della’s gaze shot to Holiday. “Would the death angels do that?”

Holiday’s brows puckered. “Why would they hit you on the head?”

“Because they didn’t want me there, because they’re jerks, because their mamas dressed them funny. I don’t know.” Her gag reflex wiggled again when she got a whiff of the garlic still on the floor.

“I don’t think it was the death angels,” Burnett said. “The alarm went off about three minutes before Holiday found you.”

Holiday leaned a little against Burnett. “It could have just been someone curious about the falls and they got spooked when Della showed up.”

“Being spooked doesn’t give anyone the right to hit her,” Steve said, emotion tightening his voice.

Burnett scowled and looked at Steve. “Can you please get the garlic out of here?”

Steve nodded, then looked at Della. “Stay away from the falls from now on.”

She cut him a hard look. It was bad enough having to deal with Holiday and Burnett. Steve didn’t have a right to order her around. They weren’t going out. The shape-shifter snatched the garlic cloves and left the room.

Holiday waddled closer. “Luckily, I was going to the falls, or you could still be there unconscious.”

So Holiday had found her.

“Why would someone break in just to hit me on the head?” Just like that, Della’s fury rose. “What kind of coward hits someone over the head? Why couldn’t they face me and fight?”

“Maybe it has something to do with the person who killed the couple,” Burnett said. “If you got a trace of his scent when he flew over, maybe he got yours, too. Did you smell the intruder before he hit you?”

Della tried to remember. “No, I … didn’t.” She wondered if her sense of smell was coming and going like her hearing. Since she was at the doctor, maybe she should mention it, but recalling Burnett’s belief that she wasn’t strong enough to be an FRU agent, she held her tongue. “I … think I was too weirded out about the falls.” It wasn’t a lie, but …

Burnett nodded as if he understood. Della wished she could buy it. Something was going on with her.

“But if it was the same guy who killed the couple, why would he stop at hitting me in the head? We’ve seen what he’s capable of doing.” She emotionally flinched as she recalled the bloody image of the couple.

“Maybe the death angels saved you,” Holiday said, and being a ghost whisperer, Holiday was one of the few who had a connection to the death angels. “Maybe they scared him off.” She set her hand on Della’s arm. The fae’s touch felt warm and chased away the emerging panic building in Della’s chest. Panic that Holiday probably picked up on with her fae abilities.

Embarrassed that she was having difficulty, she brushed Holiday’s touch off. “I’m fine.”

“It had to be upsetting,” Holiday said.

Upsetting? More like infuriating. “I’m fine,” she muttered again. And she would be fine as soon as she caught the creep who hit her.

Burnett glanced at Holiday. “If the death angels protected her, do you think you could get them to tell us anything?”

The idea of actually trying to communicate with the death angels sent another shiver down Della’s spine. “I wouldn’t bother them,” Della said. “They might have been the ones who did this and decide to come back and finish the job.”

Holiday shook her head. “I don’t think the death angels did this, Della.” Then she looked at Burnett. “It’s not as if I can just pick up the phone and ask them a question.”

Burnett didn’t look happy. “But you’ve gotten messages and visions from them.”

“When they feel it’s needed,” Holiday said, and then paused. “Frankly, my level of communication isn’t nearly as strong as someone else.”

“Kylie,” Burnett said, and nodded. “I’ll talk to her about it as soon as I get back.”

Steve walked back into the room, and this time Dr. Whitman was with him.

“Hello.” The doctor wore a white coat and came with the scent of anesthetic and a trace of dog. No doubt he really tended to the animals in his practice as well. Of course, she should have guessed that by the jar of dog biscuits on the counter. Della snuck a peek at the man’s pattern, half fae and half human.

The doctor’s gaze fell on Holiday. “How are you feeling? You remember we have an appointment next week.”

“We’ll be there,” Burnett said. For some reason it seemed out of his badass character to be a doting husband. Then again, she’d already come to the conclusion that he wasn’t nearly the badass he pretended to be.

Holiday motioned to Della. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Ahh, this one.” The doctor moved closer to Della. “I think she’ll be fine,” he said, but he looked puzzled as he tilted Della’s chin up to look at her eyes. “You have a concussion. But … concussions are practically unheard of in vampires. The virus…”

“I have a virus?” Della asked, thinking that could be what was messing with her hearing.

“The vampire virus,” Steve said.

“Oh,” Della said, thinking the doctor had found something else.

The doctor continued, “The V-one virus actually strengthens all the blood vessels and they heal before any real swelling occurs and can cause concussions”

“So why do I have a concussion?”

The doctor shined a light in her eyes. “Well, there is an exception.” His brows puckered as if puzzled again. “But I wouldn’t have been aware of it if I hadn’t…”

“Hadn’t what?” Della asked, not liking that the man didn’t finish his sentences.

Ignoring Della’s question, he walked around the table and started parting Della’s hair, touching a sore spot. She forced herself not to flinch at the pain.

“Does that hurt?” the doctor asked her.

“Not really,” she lied.

“Yes, it did,” Burnett, the walking, breathing lie detector, spit out, and frowned.

Della rolled her eyes at him.

The doctor continued to look at her bump. “You got a nice-size goose egg. And…”

“And what?” Della muttered, feeling like an idiot for being here.

“And I was right,” the doctor said.

Della turned and looked at the man’s hazel eyes. “Right about what?”

“Yesterday, there was an article written up in Supernatural Medical about how a blow delivered in an exact spot, a half an inch behind the right ear, can cause a slight cerebral hemorrhaging in the one weak spot of a V-one-affected brain. While the odds of it causing any real damage are slight, it can render a vampire unconscious.”

“Which could be considered damaging,” Burnett snapped.

“I don’t like it,” Steve added, looking at her, concern still pulling at his lips.

The doctor scratched his jaw. “It almost feels too coincidental.”

“What’s coincidental?” Della asked.

“That I read about it one day and see it the next. It’s almost as if…”

“Are you suggesting someone read that article and did this on purpose?” Burnett asked, sounding annoyed at the man’s unfinished dialogue with Della. “Why the hell would anyone publish it? Why tell the world of our weak

spot?”

“The article was about a medical study,” the doctor answered as if it made it okay. “And I’m not saying it was intentional, I … I’m just saying it feels coincidental.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Burnett said.

Neither did Della. But the kind of people reading medical journals weren’t the type running around hitting people in the head. Were they? This didn’t make a lick of sense.

Then again, not much in her life made sense, not since she’d caught the dang V1 virus. She should be used to craziness. What she wasn’t used to was someone getting the upper hand on her. Someone making her look bad in front of Burnett. She’d never prove herself FRU-worthy like this.

But as soon as she figured out who that someone was, he’d have hell to pay. And she’d personally make sure he paid it, too. That might win her a few brownie points with Burnett. She even hoped he was the killer of the couple, because that would make her justice even sweeter.

A few minutes later, the doctor had just finished checking her blood pressure and instructing Della to take it easy for a while when a knock sounded at the door.

A girl, around seventeen, popped her head in the door. Her short blond hair bounced around her neck. Her big blue eyes shifted from the doctor to Steve, and just like that, her smile widened.

“There’s some people here. Friends of the patient.” She glanced at Della. Her smile faded. “Oh, and Dad, Mrs. Ledbetter is here with her cat. I put her in room two.”

“Fine,” the doctor said. “I’ll be right out.”

The girl took a small step back, and Della spotted Miranda and Kylie behind her. Miranda, always the more impatient of the two, wiggled between the girl and the door and ran to Della.

“Are you okay?” Miranda asked, her green eyes teary.

“I’m fine,” Della said, hating that she appeared like a sick little girl sitting on a doctor’s table. A doctor’s table that smelled like dog.

Miranda let go of a deep breath. “Lucas said he saw Burnett carrying you to the car and they were taking you to the doctor. Kylie and I both were panicking.”

“She’s going to be okay.” Holiday moved in.

“We were worried.” Kylie focused on Holiday as she moved inside. “Why didn’t you call us?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you. I was just about to contact you guys.”

“You should have gotten me. I could have … helped.”

By “helped,” Della got that Kylie meant to heal her. Among all of Kylie’s talents, she was also a healer. The only problem was that every time Kylie healed someone she started glowing.

“I didn’t need healing. I’m fine.”

“Anytime there’s a brain injury, it can be difficult,” Holiday said. “My gut said I needed to get her to a doctor.”

“Well, your gut was wrong. I’m fine,” Della insisted again. She looked up and saw the blond chick, obviously the doctor’s daughter, still poised in the door. The girl’s gaze had slipped back to Steve. Della checked her pattern and saw she was part fae and part shape-shifter. An ugly feeling stirred in Della’s gut when she caught a scent of the girl’s pheromones polluting the air. So the girl had a thing for Steve.

Not that Della had any hold on him. They weren’t an item. And yet …

“What matters is you’re okay,” Steve said, sounding like someone who cared too much. Della also noted that he wasn’t paying the blond girl any attention. However, the chick was paying him enough attention for the both of them.

Kylie moved to the table and squeezed Della’s hand. “Don’t scare me like this. What happened?”

“How about let’s get out of this crowded room that still stinks and we can explain later.” Burnett waved toward the door.

Following Burnett’s orders, everyone started walking out like good little soldiers. Della slid her butt off the table.

Her feet hadn’t hit the ground when Steve moved next to her and caught her arm as if he was afraid she might fall. “Stop it,” she seethed in a low voice.

“Stop what?” he asked.

“Treating me like a weakling.”

“I’m just treating you like someone who cares.” His whisper came right at her ear. “Call me when you get home.” He ran a hand down her forearm. His touch sent a sharp twinge of emotion right to her chest.

She managed to nod and then frowned when she realized Steve would be staying here. Here with the pheromone-polluting blonde.

They all stood in the Shadow Falls parking lot. After being force-fed a few more hugs from Miranda, Della watched her two friends head off. She stood between Burnett and Holiday, waiting to see if she was going to be read the riot act for going to the falls in the first place—waiting to get a chance to ask Burnett if any reports had come in on the murder case.

“You need to go to the cabin and rest,” Holiday said.

“No, I’m fine,” Della insisted.

“No, you are not fine,” Holiday countered. “Go rest and I’m going to come by in a couple of hours and we’re going to talk.”

Oh, so the riot act is going to come later, huh? “But—”

Burnett growled. “Do not argue with her.”

Della let out a deep frustrated breath. “Have you gotten anything back on the autopsy yet?”

“Not yet,” he said.

“When you do, please call me.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Burnett said. “You go do as Holiday said and rest.”

“You are going to let me work the case, right?”

He growled again.

Knowing when to shut her trap, she swung around and started walking back to her cabin. She got past the first bend and then looked at the woods. Would her attacker’s scent still be lingering at the falls? It was probably too late.

Or was it?

The memory of the terror she’d felt for those few seconds before she’d been hit had her gut knotting. Not fear of the intruder, she hadn’t sensed them at all, but fear of the falls, the death angels, and what they stood for: judgment. Having your life picked apart and all your sins thrown at you like rocks.

Fear curled up in her gut, and vowing never to let fear stop her, she took off into the woods, right back to where trouble started this morning.

The ugly sensation of being unwelcome swelled in her chest as she drew closer, but she’d be damned if she let that stop her.

The death angels were going to have to deal with her visit.

Or they’d deal with her. Again. Could they have done this?

What confused her was why the hell she hadn’t felt the cumbersome feeling coming here this morning. And why, for a little while, the falls looked like some kind of paradise instead of a creepy hangout for dead people.

Stopping a few feet from the edge, she inhaled deeply. The cascading sound of the falls echoed too loudly, as if to chase her away. Dampness seemed to make the trees heavy. Dark shadows swayed on the ground, adding to the haunted feel.

She pushed back the terror crawling up her spine like prickly-legged spiders, raised her face, and breathed in, hoping to find a scent.

Only the smell of wet dirt lingered in the air. But if someone touched something, the scent would hang around longer. She walked closer to a couple of trees, thinking someone might have touched the branches. Nothing. Her gaze shifted and fell to a rock on the ground. Wasn’t that right where she’d been hit? Was that what had bashed her in the head? She picked it up. Bringing the stone to her face, she took a deep sniff.

When the scent filled her nose, her breath caught. Fury, raw and pure, started building, bubbling inside her chest. She dropped the rock, growled, and went to collect her pound of justice.