Page 9 of Unspoken (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3)

Chapter Nine

A few feet from the struggle, Chase saw Della was still standing. Bleeding, but standing. And the smell of his bondmate’s blood made him thirsty for more blood. With a growl that came from his soul, he tossed them away from Della two at a time. Their bodies landed among the trees, one even getting caught on the limbs of a pine.

Still caught up in the chaos of the fight, Della clipped him in the jaw. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t budge. “It’s me.” Chase tried to reach for her but she backed away, fist still swinging.

All of a sudden, recognition hit her expression. “I thought—” Her breath caught and she wiped a hand over her lip and smeared blood across her cheeks.

“Are you okay?” he asked, air still trapped in his chest, fury still making his blood burn and his eyes bright.

“I could have taken care of it myself,” she snapped.

The fact that she still had her pride intact told him she was okay. “Yeah, but I didn’t want you to have all the fun.” Sirens filled the night and blue lights flashed through the trees. The sounds of cars screeching to a halt at the park’s edge echoed.

“We gotta go!” he said and smiled. She didn’t take flight. He heard the footsteps fast approaching and rushed forward, caught her by the waist, pulled her against him—where she felt so damn right—and took off into the dark sky. They were barely above the trees when he heard cops yelling at the weres.

She fought him for a fraction of a second.

Looking down, she must have spotted the police. She remained silent, her body so close to his, and his heart thumping at the closeness as he flew them farther away. God help him, but he could swear her heart was racing faster than his.

Was it because of him, or was she still reacting to the threat of the fight?

“Land,” she finally seethed.

“Just a little farther.” He savored the closeness and he pressed his face into the curve of her neck. The sweet scent of her skin and her shampoo filled his nose.

Knowing she wouldn’t tolerate it much longer, he landed in an alley, a block from her house.

She ran from his arms as soon as their feet hit the ground. Swinging around, she stared at him with bright eyes. “Where’s Feng?”

He inhaled and tried to convince himself that some of her anger was residual, left over from the fight. “I don’t know.”

“Because you told him not to tell you?”

He almost denied it, but he was tired of lying to her. “Yes. Feng didn’t kill her, Della. I’m going to find the person who did. And I’m going to get your dad off.”

Della just stared, hurt reflecting in her eyes. “Why doesn’t my uncle come in and talk if he’s innocent?” Unable to stop himself, he reached up to push back a strand of her dark hair. She stopped him with a raised hand, but he noticed the bruises on both her knuckles and her face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The desire to race back and hurt the bastards who’d hurt her burned in his gut.

“I asked you a question!” She inched closer, her eyes a bright green.

He had to think a second to remember what she’d asked. “If Eddie came in, the FRU would just pin the murder on him. They wouldn’t even look for this other guy.”

“You don’t know that,” she accused. “And his name isn’t Eddie!”

“Yes, I do know that, and so do you. And since he pulled me out of that plane crash and saved my life I’ve known him as Eddie.” Right then, he felt it, that odd kind of cold he got when Della’s dead aunt had been hanging around. He tucked his fists into his jean pockets.

Della stared down the dark alley, her fist clutching and then releasing. Was that still the panic, or was her aunt back to cause trouble? Then she swung around to face him. “We need to go back.”

“Back…?” It was almost too cold to think.

“To the park. One or more of those weres might be a murderer.”

“Yeah, but the cops are there.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She started forward as if to take off in flight.

He caught her. “It matters. If we just show up they’ll suspect that we were part of it. I don’t think Burnett would appreciate having to bail us out of jail.”

“They could be the ones who killed some people I cared about.” Her voice shook and her breath caused a puff of steam to lift from her lips. She looked again down the alley.

“Is that who’s here?” he asked.

Della’s head snapped back. “Can you see her?”

“No.” At least he hoped not. He wasn’t going to chance it and look down that alley. “I feel the cold.”

“She was my neighbor.” Her voice was edged with pain and grief.

He realized Della hadn’t pulled away. He’d give his right arm if she would just lean on him a little. Della wasn’t the type to lean on people very often, but when she did need it, he wanted to be the person she’d turn to.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’re not the only one who’s sorry. Which is why I have to go back.”

He tightened his hold. “Going back there is a bad idea.” But she had a point. The FRU needed to interrogate the weres before the regular cops released them.

“I’ll call Burnett.” No doubt Burnett would be furious that Chase was with Della. Probably earn Chase a good chewing out, but it didn’t even matter.

Della’s phone dinged with a text. As if she suddenly realized he was touching her, she glared at his hand on her arm and pulled away, then snatched her phone from her pocket. After reading the message, she looked up, puzzled.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s Burnett. He wants to know if we’re okay.”

Chase frowned. “He knows?”

“It seems that way.” She started texting back.

Before she finished, Chase got the vamp’s scent. So did Della, because her fingers stopped moving. Chase’s gut knotted, preparing to get hell.

Burnett hadn’t gotten secure on his feet when Della said, “Don’t start giving me crap. All I did was take the long way home. And if I hadn’t, some poor girl would—”

“I’m not giving you crap,” Burnett said.

Is that because he’s saving it all to give to me? Chase stood quiet, dreading what might be forthcoming.

“You okay?” Burnett asked Della.

“Fine.” She sounded offended by the inquiry.

“Did you get any traces off them?” Burnett asked. “Are they the same ones from earlier?”

“They aren’t the boys I saw walking. I didn’t get a good enough trace to know if they were the same scents from the jewelry store. I think they’re only half were.”

“But they are the ones I smelled earlier with animal blood on them,” Chase said.

Both Della and Burnett looked at him.

“You were here earlier?” Burnett asked.

Della didn’t appear surprised; she knew he’d been in the area. But she hadn’t told Burnett. Was she trying to protect him from the big bad Burnett? Chase liked that thought.

“Yes, before I came to Shadow Falls. Around seven.”

“So about the time of the murder,” Burnett said. “Did you get a visual?”

“No, just a trace.”

Burnett stood there as if trying to grasp it all. “The blood, was it—”

“I didn’t hang around to identify it as feline.” When Burnett looked surprised, Chase added, “I saw Lucas when he came back. He told me about the cat. That’s why I came here, to the murder scene… to see if I could still pick up the were scents.” And to go check out some scumbags. But he didn’t say that.

Burnett didn’t appear pissed. Was he just holding back until he had Chase alone? Burnett stared at the sky as if trying to come up with a plan. “Della,” he said. “Head back home. Straight home.”

Della frowned. “But—”

“Don’t argue. If your parents find you’re gone, it would just cause more trouble.”

Chase saw the spark of anger in her eyes, but she nodded. She respected Burnett that much. That was part of the reason Chase respected him too.

“Will you text and let me know if you get a confession?”

“Yes.”

She took off without offering Chase a goodbye or even a go-to-hell glare. He’d have preferred the glare to nothing. Nothing stung a little.

Burnett turned his dark, accusing gaze on Chase.

“I wasn’t planning to see Della,” he said.

“I know.” He started walking back toward the park.

Chase caught up with him. “How do you know?”

“I had you followed.”

The words raked across Chase’s nerves. “That’s underhanded, isn’t it?”

“No,” Burnett said, unconcerned if Chase was pissed.

“So you have the right to have me tailed?”

“Until I trust you, I do.”

And how the hell long would that be? Then logic hit. “You didn’t have me followed. I’d have picked up their scent.”

“Not if it was Perry,” Burnett clipped out.

Perry was one of the best shape-shifters out there. And the really good shifters could shift their scents so they weren’t distinguishable. But Perry was supposed to be in France… with Steve.

“Are Perry and… Steve back?”

“Got back yesterday.” Burnett cut Chase a quick glance. “And there will be no trouble, got that?”

As long as Steve stayed away from Della, Chase had no problem. “I hear you.”

“You had best do more than hear,” Burnett warned. “At the first hint of trouble you’ll be house hunting. Steve is my student. You are an unwanted boarder.”

Chase gripped his jaw to keep from smarting off.

After a few more steps, Burnett added, “And since you don’t seem interested in sleeping tonight, why don’t you go with me to interview the weres?”

Chase recalled his other appointment. He figured he’d missed that window of opportunity. Tomorrow.

“Sure.”

***

“No!” The scream, her mom’s scream, had Della jackknifing out of bed at seven that morning. Had she dreamed it? Must have, right? She fell back on her bed.

It had been three in the morning when she’d gotten a text from Burnett saying they were still waiting for permission to move the weres to the FRU offices. It had been four when Della let go of her anger and the memory of being so close to Chase and let slumber pull her in. The scream echoed again. She popped back up and yanked open her bedroom door, flying down the stairs in two seconds flat.

It was her mom.

“What’s wrong?” Della yelled, flashing into the kitchen and into the room’s icy temperature. The distinct cold was a dead ringer for the… dead.

Her mom stood in front of the table, her hands knuckled around the back of a wooden chair. Her gaze locked on… Della’s heart stopped. There sitting at the table was Mrs. Chi, her throat gaping open, exposing an Adam’s apple and veins and some other nasty stuff.

Was that how she’d died? Someone had sliced her throat? Della’s own throat hurt.

She swallowed back her gag reflex and looked at her mom. Something was terribly wrong. And it wasn’t just Mrs. Chi’s throat. It was… it was… How the hell could her mom see Mrs. Chi?

“What… is it?” Della pushed out the three-word sentence, telling herself she’d simply misunderstood. Her mom wasn’t seeing the ghost. Could she?

“Mrs. Chi,” her mom muttered, terror and tears in her eyes.

Holy shit! Her mom could see Mrs. Chi. How was that even possible? Maybe this was a dream. She pinched her leg. It hurt. This wasn’t a nightmare.

“Don’t look at her.” Della pulled her mom’s shoulders around so she’d face Della and not the dead woman.

Her mom blinked at Della as if confused. “They didn’t show her. They just said…”

That’s when Della realized that behind the table and behind Mrs. Chi’s bloody body, was a television. On the screen, a news reporter stood in front of the Chis’ store, recounting the horror that had taken place last night. Della’s chest burned again at the injustice of it.

She cut her eyes toward Mrs. Chi. So sorry.

Taking a deep breath, so cold her lungs were in danger of getting frost bitten, she tried to stop the panic from building. Stopping it wasn’t easy, not when Mrs. Chi looked down at her blood-stained blouse in puzzlement. She lifted her head, exposing her sliced throat again, and her eyes met Della’s. What happened?

Footsteps sounded behind her. “What’s wrong?” came her father’s panicked voice.

“The news.” Her mom, tears making her eyes shine, motioned to the television. “Mr. and Mrs. Chi were found murdered in their shop last night. That poor, poor couple. Who could do something like that?”

Murdered? The elderly woman shot up from the chair, and a… a bloody basketball rolled across the kitchen’s white tile floor, leaving a bloody streak until it bounced against her father’s bare feet.

Of course he didn’t feel it. Didn’t see it. This was for Della’s eyes only. Lucky her! Not. What the hell was Mrs. Chi doing with a basketball?

Mrs. Chi walked in front of Della. Her slanted eyes filled with puzzlement. Where’s my husband? Where did he go?

Chills ran down Della’s arms.

“How… how could that have happened?” her dad muttered, his gaze on the television, where the reporter continued talking. Then he swung around and stared right at her.

Did she still have bruises? She ran her tongue over her lip, it was all healed. Her face should be, too. So why was he…

“How could it happen?” he asked again, as if… as if she herself had the answer.

“I… don’t know.” Della answered, trying to read the emotion in his dark eyes. Emotion that looked a lot like…

He blinked. “That’s awful.” He stormed out of the kitchen almost as quickly as he’d come in.

Della rubbed a hand up her arm to fight off the cold, both from Mrs. Chi’s presence and from her father’s expression. Then she glanced at her mom. “What was that about?”

“What?” her mom asked, dropping down in a chair.

“Daddy… he acted as if…”

“As if what?”

“Nothing,” Della said and stared after her dad. Suddenly an answer started to come together—bits and pieces connecting, and with it came a lot of pain. Was that why…? Oh, God, she thought she finally understood what was really going on—what had been going on for months. With the understanding she felt the foundation of her life crumbling right under her feet. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Except go down with it.