Taken at Dusk

"I don't know what happened." Perry moved in closer, his eyes brightening to emerald green.

"How could you not know?" Kylie looked to Burnett and then Holiday, waiting for one of them to pipe up. When they didn't, she refocused on Perry. "You were following them." Suddenly, the guilt she spotted on his face did a flying leap and landed right on Kylie's own shoulders. If something really bad had happened to them, it was her fault. She'd been the one wanting to contact them. But damn it, she'd been so sure it was the right thing to do.

"They disappeared," Perry said. "One minute they were driving down the freeway in that silver Cadillac and then, poof." He waved his hands out in front of him. "They were gone. Cadillac and everything. Gone. Poof."

Kylie's chest grew heavy. "People, human people, don't just go poof." She managed to keep her voice low, but her frustration laced the tone with sarcasm.

Then the truth hit. She only thought people didn't go poof. Not too long ago she didn't think people could turn into unicorns, or that vampires and werewolves existed. She wouldn't have thought she could use her dreams to communicate with people or that she could break down a concrete wall. So who the hell knew if people went poof or not? And if they did go poof, did that mean...?

Kylie's stomach knotted. "Are they dead?"

Holiday frowned. "Let's not start assuming-"

"We don't know," Burnett interrupted. "I have agents working on finding out, though. The agency is sending me pictures of the Brightens any minute now. At least then we'll know if they were impostors."

Burnett's phone rang and he snatched it up. "What you got?" His expression hardened. "That can't be. I checked them this morning." He paused and eyed Holiday, who moved closer to Burnett's side.

Della leaned over to Kylie. "The cameras aren't working." Her sensitive hearing had obviously picked up both sides of the conversation.

Footsteps sounded on the cabin porch and Kylie looked up as Lucas stepped through the doorway. His gaze found hers, his concern for her reflecting in his eyes, and he stopped beside her. His arm brushed against hers, and she felt his warmth. The memory of his kiss flashed through her head and she felt a little guilty about sharing it with Miranda and Della.

Kylie saw Lucas glance at her two roommates and nod. It wasn't an overtly friendly nod, either. Kylie had heard that werewolves were pretty standoffish, and she supposed it was true. Other than Lucas, Kylie hadn't really befriended any of them at the camp.

"Did Burnett get the pictures of your grandparents yet?" Lucas looked down at her.

"Don't know." She found herself staring at his blue eyes. For just a second, she wished she didn't question what she felt. Wished he weren't another unanswered part of her life. It would feel so good to just give in. So, why didn't she?

"You okay?" He mouthed the words more than spoke them. She nodded but wasn't so sure how true it was.

"Then someone tampered with them!" Burnett paced across the living room. "Have you gotten the Brightens' DMV records yet? I want to see a copy of their licenses to determine if they're who they said they were." He tightened his jaw muscles and glanced up at Kylie. Empathy for her flashed in his eyes, but it faded within a flicker of a second. Showing emotion, even a glimmer in his eyes, seemed too much for him.

Everything about the man looked hard and dark. And he seemed to like it that way. He had black hair, olive skin, and a body rippled with muscles that kept most men at a distance and most women his age wishing he'd get closer. Kylie saw Holiday studying Burnett and amended her last thought. In spite of the obvious attraction that ran deep between them, Holiday wouldn't let Burnett get close.

"I don't understand what takes them so long," Burnett snapped at the caller. "It's as simple as pulling records at the DMV. I could have done it myself by now." He released a deep, frustrated sigh. "Just send them as soon as they come in." He hung up, dropped his phone into his shirt pocket, and looked at Holiday.

His eyes tightened with frustration. "Someone tampered with our cameras. I checked this morning and everything was working. Conveniently, they went down about an hour before the Brightens arrived. I think we know what that means."

Burnett glanced at Kylie. She knew he thought the Brightens were impostors. And maybe she should be hoping he was right. Because that would mean that it wasn't Daniel's adoptive parents who'd gone poof on the highway. But Kylie wanted proof. Proof of who'd gone poof.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and fought an oncoming headache. "When do they think they'll get pictures of the Brightens?"

"Any time. If they know what's good for them." Burnett's deep voice sounded sincere.

Kylie found herself praying Daniel's parents were okay. That they weren't the couple who'd visited earlier. But even so, she wasn't sure she was emotionally off the hook. Impostors or not, she wasn't sure the elderly couple deserved to ... She stopped herself from mentally pronouncing them dead. Poof didn't necessarily equal death.

The back of Lucas's hand brushed against the back of hers. Somehow she knew the touch was deliberate and meant to comfort her. And it did.

Burnett's phone beeped. He yanked it from his pocket, pressed a button, and stared at the screen. Glancing up, he held the phone over to Holiday. "Is that the couple that was here?"

Holiday looked at the screen and then at Kylie. "No. That's not them."

It wasn't that Kylie didn't believe her, but she had to see for herself. She stepped over, took Burnett's phone, and stared at the two images side by side. An elderly, partly balding man and an older, gray-haired woman with bright green eyes gazed back from the phone's screen.

"These are the Brightens?" she asked.

Burnett nodded. "Sent from the DMV records."

"It doesn't even look like them." Kylie couldn't deny the relief that washed over her, yet she remembered the touch of the elderly woman's hand, the grief they had seemed to share, and even the sheen of tears in the woman's eyes. Had it all been an act? Kylie looked at Holiday. "Even you said the woman seemed sincere. How could we both be wrong?"

Holiday frowned. "Like I told you, reading emotions is never a hundred percent accurate."

Kylie swallowed the disappointment at having her emotions toyed with by an elderly couple. At least when Derek or Holiday toyed with her emotions, it had always been to soothe or help her. This was different; it had been meant to deceive. And maybe more.

She fought the anger crowding the other emotions in her chest. Targeting her anger toward the elderly couple still didn't seem right. "But I don't understand what they were going to accomplish by pretending to be my grandparents."

"Obviously, they weren't here just to pat your cheek and offer you cookies," Burnett stated. "Luckily, Derek got wind of it and whatever they were attempting got foiled."

Kylie met Burnett's gaze. "Is Mario behind this?"

"Who else could it be?"

Kylie still struggled to understand. "But why would he send an elderly couple to do this when he could have gotten someone more powerful?"

"Because he thought it would fool us. And it almost did." Burnett frowned. "From now on, we're going to have to be more careful. I'm assigning you a shadow."

"A what?" Kylie was certain she wasn't going to like this.

"A shadow," Holiday said. "Someone who stays by your side at all times."

Yup, she was right. She didn't like it.

"I'll do it," Lucas said.

"No, I'll do it," another deep voice said from the open doorway.

Derek's voice sent sharp little needles of hurt into Kylie's chest. She looked up and stared into his greenish-almost hazel-eyes.

Her heart jerked as she soaked in his image. His brown hair was a little mussed, as if he ran his hands through it one too many times. His faded T-shirt clung to his wide chest, and his favorite worn jeans hugged his waist and legs. His gaze pulled her attention up again, so much emotion reflected in those eyes. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him until now.

Right now.

She wanted to go to him, to lean against him. To assure herself he was okay.

The warmth from Lucas's shoulder pressed closer.

She saw the slightest narrowing in Derek's eyes, as if he noted how close Lucas stood. Then Derek frowned.

A storm of emotions swirled inside Kylie. One emotion stood out more than the others. Anger. Derek had no right to be upset about how close Lucas stood to her. He'd walked away, even when she'd begged him not to leave. So why did she feel the urge to add an inch or two between her and Lucas?

"I think you've done enough by getting that P.I. involved." Lucas's blue eyes drilled into Derek.

Derek's posture instantly went defensive. "Mr. Smith isn't behind this."

"Maybe not," Lucas said, his voice tight, "but it was through him that trouble arrived."

The tension in the air thickened so much, it made breathing a chore.

Burnett looked at Lucas. "There's no reason to lay blame."

"Burnett's right," Kylie said. "Besides, I'm the one who contacted Mr. Smith." She felt Lucas tense beside her and suspected he didn't like her standing up for Derek. She wasn't sure she liked doing it, not when her anger toward Derek still bumped around her chest. Nevertheless, she wouldn't let Derek get blamed for trying to help her. She continued to stare at the half-fae, wishing she could read his thoughts-or at least his emotions-the way he could read everyone else's. "Is Mr. Smith okay?"

Derek met her gaze again. Anger flashed in the gold flecks of his eyes. She didn't know if he was reflecting her emotions or if he was angry himself. Probably both. "He's going to live." His gaze left hers, and emptiness swelled in her chest. And something told her it was a feeling she'd have to get used to because nothing had changed between them.

Nothing.

"I can shadow Kylie," Della said.

"Me too," said Miranda.

Burnett looked at the two of them. "Since you are in the cabin with her, you two will have your turns."

"She'll be safer with me," Lucas said.

"Get real!" muttered Della.

"Ditto," Miranda added, and held out her pinky as if pointing out her weapon.

Kylie looked from Miranda to Della and then on to Derek and Lucas. Unreal. They were talking about her as if she weren't even here. Still, she knew they were just trying to help, and she loved them all for it. Well, she would when she stopped feeling pissed off.

Burnett looked back at Lucas and then at Derek. "I'm concerned that both of you might be too close to this."

"Which is why we'd be good at it," Derek said.

"Which is why I'd be good at it," countered Lucas.

Derek shot Lucas a dirty look. "You're a real jerk, Parker."

Both guys started slinging insults.

"For cripes' sakes, guys!" Kylie snapped. "This is getting-"

"Stop it!" Burnett ordered. And just like that, Derek and Lucas both fell silent. "This is what I mean. Both of you have other agendas where Kylie is concerned."

Kylie felt her cheeks redden, more from anger than embarrassment. "Here's an idea. Maybe somebody should ask me what I think about-"

"That's ridiculous," snarled Lucas. She blinked at him for a moment until she realized he was referring to Burnett's comment, not hers.

Burnett's shoulders grew tighter and his gaze shot from Lucas to Derek. "Right now, I don't think either of you would be focusing on protecting when you're with her. I'm not saying you won't be asked to help in the future, but right now-"

"Still ridiculous." Lucas stiffened beside Kylie, and she could swear she felt his temperature go up a degree or two. "I would die before-"

"As would I," Derek barked out.

"And my job is to make sure no one dies," Brunett countered.

At least on that point, Kylie could agree with Burnett.

* * *

An hour later, after Burnett and Holiday went back to the office to assign Kylie shadows, Kylie lay shivering in her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering when and how her life had gotten so out of control. Right after Burnett left, Lucas had been summoned again by his pack. With regret in his blue eyes, and maybe even still a little anger at her for standing up for Derek, he told her he would see her as soon as his pack business was handled. Kylie hadn't begrudged him going; she'd kind of needed to be alone. But she couldn't help remembering what Fredericka had said. Lucas's bloodline is pure, he values that. The forefathers value that, too. They've made that clear. Were those just words cast out to cause Kylie doubt? Or was there something going on?

Kylie closed her eyes and moaned. Socks burrowed deeper under the covers at her side, while a dead bald woman paced around the room, jabbering about how she couldn't remember shit. Kylie released a deep breath, and steam rose from her lips and slowly snaked up to the ceiling.

"Can't remember," the ghost muttered. "Nothing but a blank."

Little did the woman know that Kylie kind of envied her right now. She wished she could forget. Forget that look of anger she'd spotted in Derek's eyes, forget the sudden tension she'd felt in Lucas's body when she stood up for Derek. Forget that she very well might be responsible for killing an elderly couple and getting the P.I., Mr. Smith, sent to the hospital.

"What's it called when you can't remember who you are? Isn't there a word for that?" the spirit asked.

"Amnesia." Kylie considered telling Jane Doe-the spirit needed a name, and Jane Doe was as good as any-that her memory loss might be more about the eight-inch scar running across her head than your average amnesia. Then again, Kylie supposed the reason Jane couldn't remember didn't matter. The fact that she had no memory was the problem. How the hell was Kylie supposed to help a ghost who didn't even know who she was?

Kylie suspected that if she asked Holiday that question, the camp leader would say to start looking for clues in what the woman did and the way she was dressed. The jeans and T-shirt the woman wore didn't give much of a clue. As for the bald head and scar, yeah, that might be a clue. However, when Kylie first met the woman, she'd had hair and looked as if her abdomen had been ripped open. Was that a clue, too?

Heck, Kylie wasn't even sure if the woman knew she was dead. Just coming out and asking her seemed a little rude.

"I just don't get why I can't remember," Jane said.

Kylie pressed her palm to her aching temple. She was so not in the mood to deal with this right now. Not that she had a choice. So far, ghosts didn't seem to respond to rain-check requests.

"Are you listening to me?" the woman asked.

Opening her eyes, Kylie sat up a bit. Socks's fluffy black-and-white tail fell out from under the sheet. "I am, I just-"

"Does your head hurt, too?"

Kylie looked up at the woman's angry scar. "A little." She pulled up her quilt from the end of the bed to ward off the chill. "But I've just got boy troubles."

"Boy troubles?" Jane frowned. "Be careful. Boys-and men-can really hurt you." The words sounded heartfelt. Was this another clue?

"Did someone hurt you?" Kylie asked.

The woman stopped moving, and her brow crinkled. "Maybe. I don't remember."

"Think hard. I mean, you said it like you remembered something." The sooner Kylie got the ghost to remember who she was, the sooner she could discover what she needed and help her move on.

The spirit placed her index finger on her forehead. "No. Nothing. It's empty up here." She moved her hand to the side of her scalp and traced a finger over her scar. Kylie wasn't sure if she was just discovering it or not.

"Do you remember what happened? How you got that cut on your head?" How you died? Holiday had explained that a lot of the time when a death had been sudden or traumatic, the spirit's ability to recall it was difficult. However, to help them cross over, the details of their deaths might be important.

"No." Jane went back to pacing. "I hate not knowing."

After a few more laps around the room, she stopped talking and Kylie went back to thinking about Derek, about how her heart had lurched at the sight of him. She couldn't help but wonder if that meant her feelings for Lucas were not as important as she'd originally worried they might be.

Suddenly the ghost stopped at the end of the bed and stared at Kylie. "I gave you the message, didn't I?"

Kylie sat up a bit. "You mentioned it, but what was it again?" Perhaps the message wasn't really a message, but a clue.

"Someone lives; someone dies." Her tone dropped to a whisper and sounded like something out of a scary movie. "That's what they said to tell you."

Socks, as if responding to the grim note in the spirit's voice, nestled closer.

"Do you by any chance know what that means?" Reaching under the covers, Kylie gently pushed the skunk's nose away from her ribs. Considering the little fellow was afraid of ghosts, fate had really screwed up by pairing them together.

"I..." The spirit rolled her eyes as if trying to think. "They didn't say."

"Who are 'they'?" Kylie was concerned by the mention of death, but considering she was dealing with an amnesiac ghost, she wasn't so sure how much stock she could put into the message.

Jane inched closer, moving down the side of the bed, her light green eyes filled with fear. "You know who it's from."

"No, I don't know."

The spirit bit down on her lip as if saying the name caused discomfort. Then she leaned down, bringing her slightly blue lips only a few inches from Kylie's face. "The death angels." Icy crystals floated from her lips and cascaded down onto Kylie's quilt.

Socks bolted from beneath the covers, onto the floor, and under the bed.

"The death angels?" Kylie wrapped her mind around the answer. "How do you know about them?" It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn't checked to see if the woman was a supernatural.

Staring at the spirit's forehead, Kylie tightened her brows. Nothing. Which had to mean something. Everyone had a brain pattern, didn't they? Even humans. Kylie had seen Daniel's brain pattern, and Holiday had said she'd scanned Nana for one, so Kylie knew ghosts didn't just lose them after death. So why didn't this spirit have a pattern?

Closing her eyes, Kylie squinted harder and refocused. Still nothing. The icy chill of the spirit seemed to grow colder, and it clawed at Kylie's uncovered flesh. Yanking the sheet up to her chin, she shifted back from the spirit and asked the question she hated when people asked it of her.

"What are you?"