Della flinched. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“Oh, no. Burnett made it very clear I was never to speak with anyone about any of this unless it was cleared by him. I … I was just curious, I guess.”

“Curious about what?” Della asked.

“How it happens.… Did you get bit by another vampire?”

“No. I mean, a few people are turned that way. Most vampires who aren’t born with the live virus, meaning both parents are already vampires, are turned when they have an open wound and they come in contact with another vampire.”

“How does a regular person know if they are a carrier of the virus?” she asked, as if frightened she might be one of them.

“They usually don’t. But the FRU released statistics that less than one percent of the population are carriers. So I don’t think you have to worry.”

Ms. Galen nodded as if embarrassed again. “So I guess that makes you kind of special,” she offered with a smile. This one actually looked genuine.

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Della said, but she wasn’t sure she’d agree. Being “special,” as Ms. Galen put it, had cost her a lot. Her family. Her life as she’d known it.

Right then, Della wondered, if Kylie’s mom could accept this, why couldn’t her parents? Was it possible that someday she could tell her parents the truth?

Ms. Galen walked closer and rested her hand on Della’s shoulder as if to show she wasn’t afraid anymore. But Della still felt the slight tremble in the touch. Not that she didn’t appreciate the gesture; she did. So much so, her heart tightened with unwanted emotion.

“Kylie’s told me how much you and Miranda mean to her,” Ms. Galen continued. “She said you two were her friends when no one else wanted to accept her. I want you to know that I appreciate that.”

“She’s been a good friend to me, too,” Della said.

The woman shifted a bit closer, as if to hug Della. To avoid it, to avoid seeing the shock in her eyes when she felt Della’s cold temperature, she took a step back. “Thanks for the drink.” Thanks for trying to accept me.

“The refrigerator is yours. Take anything you like.”

When Della stepped back into the living room, Kylie looked concerned, as if she’d heard them talking. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Della said. “I don’t think she’s gonna stake me in the heart tonight now.”

“I wouldn’t have let her do that,” Miranda said, and they both giggled.

“I told you it was going to be okay,” Kylie said. “My mom has her flaws, but she’s not all bad.”

“You’re lucky.” Della plopped on the sofa on the other side of Kylie.

Miranda leaned forward and grinned at Della. “Why is she lucky? Because she has two of the coolest friends ever?”

“No.” Della rolled her eyes. “Because she has a cool mom.” Della recalled the look on her father’s face when she’d tried to hug him. He’d never accept her. She was kidding herself to think he ever would.

“Well, that, too.” Miranda glanced at Kylie. “Your mom is pretty hip.”

“I think I’m lucky to have all of you.” The chameleon smiled. “I love it that you’re here at my house. It’s like I finally get to bring you into this part of my life.” Kylie reached out and squeezed both Della’s and Miranda’s arms.

“Group hug, group hug.” Miranda bounced off the sofa, stood in front of them, and wrapped her arms around both her and Kylie. Della sighed and tolerated it. Then again, it wasn’t so hard to tolerate. Every day the bond between the three of them felt even more special. The warm mushy feeling swelling in her chest made Della reconsider bringing them with her to the funeral home.

What if something went bad? “You know what, guys,” Della said, pulling out of the hug. “I think tomorrow I should go in the funeral home alone. Just let me—”

“No,” both Kylie and Miranda said at the same time.

Kylie frowned. “You promised Holiday you wouldn’t do anything risky. And while I don’t see this as dangerous, going alone is a risk. And that would mean you weren’t keeping your promise. Seriously, what if something crazy happens and it becomes dangerous?”

Which was exactly why Della didn’t want them there. “I think they’d be more likely to talk to me, a vampire, if I’m alone.”

“I can become a vampire,” Kylie said.

“But if two of us go in there they might feel threatened. Let me go in by myself.”

“No,” Kylie said again, and her voice rang firm like it did when she turned into a protector.

Yet, protector or not, she could still be hurt. And Miranda was as defenseless as a puppy. Plus it wasn’t just about them getting hurt. It was about them getting caught and getting their asses put in slings by Burnett. If Della got caught and landed in the lap of trouble, so be it, but she didn’t want to bring her friends with her.

Della let go of a frustrated gulp of air. “I thought about this. If I go in alone, I have two choices. If the old man sounds cooperative, I’ll just ask questions. If I sense he won’t talk, I can pretend I’m there to plan my own fake funeral. If he goes for it, then at least we’ll know for sure that he does the fake funerals and he was behind Chan’s, and probably my uncle’s, which would confirm my uncle might still be alive.”

“You’re not going in alone,” Miranda said.

“Wait. She can go in alone.” Kylie smiled. “Or at least that’s what everyone will assume. I’ll go invisible and I’ll hold Miranda’s hand and then they won’t know we’re there. That way, if trouble starts up, I’ll go badass on them. And Miranda will…” Kylie looked at Miranda as if she knew the witch didn’t want to feel as if she didn’t contribute. “She’ll turn them into kangaroos,” Kylie finished, and grinned.

“I could do that with just a twitch of my pinkie,” Miranda said, and held up her hand.

“That just might work,” Della said, liking Kylie’s plan. Liking it a lot. If Della was careful not to start trouble, then no one would even know Kylie and Miranda were there. And Della would work really hard to avoid any chaos.

“Or I could give them pimples,” Miranda blurted out. “And some nasty jock-itch rash on their boys. And we know how seriously guys worry about their boys.”

Della couldn’t help it: She laughed. How had she gotten so lucky to find these two?

Chapter Eighteen

“Drive safe!” Kylie’s mom waved from the doorway the next morning as the three of them got into Kylie’s car.

Safe was the key word, Della thought, and got into the backseat. She still thought Kylie’s plan was great, but it hadn’t stopped her from imagining the worst-case scenarios.

Miranda climbed into the front seat. She had called shotgun last night before they’d gone to bed. The three of them had piled into Kylie’s queen-size bed, and talked about life and boys. Kylie had tried to get Della to talk about Steve, but the pain from their argument just felt too raw, so she avoided tiptoeing down that path of thorns.

Della hadn’t slept well last night, worrying about those thorns and the word “safety.” And occasionally worrying about feathers showing up again.

But no feathers appeared. Instead, she’d gone over things in her mind time and time again, rationalizing that this wasn’t too risky. All they were doing was going to a funeral home to ask some old geezer who put makeup on dead people a few questions.

“And have fun,” Ms. Galen added as Kylie inched the car out of the driveway.

A geezer and dead people. We’re gonna have a blast. Della waved back, her thoughts going back to the safety issue. The old geezer was probably vampire, and if he didn’t like her questions, it could mean trouble. But, the rational side of her brain countered, he was helping vampires, so he couldn’t be all bad. Just how risky could this be?

“Call me and check in,” Kylie’s mom yelled louder.

They’d told Kylie’s mom they were going shopping. And because Kylie didn’t want it to be a lie, she insisted they actually go to one store. Leave it to Kylie to worry about lying when there was so much more at stake.

While Kylie drove, she had Miranda poke the funeral home’s address into her GPS. The witch kept misspelling the name of the street or getting the street numbers backwards. Being dyslexic, she had problems with stuff like that. As tempting as it was to tell her to just pass the dang thing back, Della didn’t. For Miranda, being dyslexic was as touchy a subject as being cold was to Della.

Della waited until the GPS spit out directions to start going over the plan. “Park down the street a couple of blocks and we’ll walk up. You can’t open doors when you’re invisible, right?”

“No,” Kylie said.

“Then when you two go invisible, stay close behind me. I don’t want to have to worry about you while I’m trying to get information.”

“You don’t worry. We’ll be right behind you.”

The GPS announced they were arriving at their destination. Kylie pulled past the funeral home and then parked a half a block up the street.

They got out of the car. The morning sun was bright, the October air crisp. The feel of the cold on her skin reminded Della that she still might have a slight temperature. Just how long was this flu thing gonna last?

Kylie moved and stood behind the car, looking around as if checking whether it was clear to go invisible.

Della did the same. One car whizzed past, a block down, a few people strolled down the street, but no one was around who could actually spot what was going on.

“All set?” Kylie looked at Della.

Della nodded, and her heart raced at the thought of finding answers. In a few minutes, she actually might know for sure if she had an uncle and aunt out there.

Kylie took Miranda’s hand and asked, “You ready?”

“Yup,” Miranda said. “Let’s do it. I’ve been practicing my jock-itch curse.” She wiggled her pinkie. And right before Della’s eyes they went invisible.

Della started down the sidewalk toward the funeral home. Because of Burnett’s insistence that Kylie use her invisibility talent with extreme caution and never to invade anyone’s privacy, Kylie hadn’t practiced this gift very often. It felt odd knowing that Kylie and Miranda were behind her when she couldn’t hear, see, or smell them. She sniffed again, but got nothing. Then again, with the craziness of her senses lately, she might not have known they were there. The temptation to talk to them rose, but she decided she’d better not.

With each step she told herself it was silly to worry. All she was doing was asking a few questions.

Tension still pulled at her stomach as she glanced around. Less than half a block up, a couple of rough-looking men ran across the four-lane road. Even from a distance, she felt them eyeing her. She inhaled to catch any scent. Her nose worked now.

“Only humans,” she whispered, letting Kylie and Miranda know.

The two men darted across the road and started her way. One of the men swayed on his feet as if drunk. She moved to the side, giving them plenty of room. She ignored them, but did check their foreheads to make sure her nose hadn’t fooled her. For sure humans. Lowlife humans, she amended when she saw the way the two men seemed to undress her with their eyes.

Not wanting trouble, she moved over and walked in the grass, hoping they’d just pass her by.

Her hopes were futile. They stepped off the sidewalk, blocking her path.

“Hey, babe, you want to earn a few bucks?” asked the first drunk-looking guy, sporting a dirty ponytail. He rotated his pelvis.

She fought the urge to grab the slimeball by his dirty ponytail and give him a couple of root-pulling whirls, then toss his ass back across the street. Instead, she moved to the other side of the sidewalk.

See, Burnett, she thought, I can control myself.

It wasn’t just about kicking butt.

“I’m ignoring this,” Della muttered, assuring herself and Kylie, in case the protector felt the need to kick ass.

The two thugs made a few more rude comments, but they didn’t follow her. Or touch her. For which she was grateful, because their sour smell still polluted the air.

She passed a liquor store and pawnshop before getting to the funeral home. The white brick building looked tired, and the sign reading ROSEMOUNT FUNERAL HOME needed a fresh coat of paint. Gazing around, she realized the whole neighborhood needed a makeover.

As she neared the front door, she recalled her daddy complaining that his sister had chosen this place to have Chan’s funeral service. But had her aunt chosen it? Della didn’t have a clue how it worked when someone faked their own death.

Hopefully in a matter of minutes she’d have answers. She pushed open the door, holding it wide a second so Kylie and Miranda could walk in, too.

The smell in the funeral home stung her nose. Formaldehyde? Wasn’t that what they used on bodies? She took another deep sniff to see who might be here, but the first odor prohibited her from catching any other traces.

Could that be intentional? She pushed that thought aside and glanced around.

The light was low, making everything appear gray and heavy. She cut her eyes left and right, noting the not-so-polished wood floors and unmanned desk, adorned with a vase of wilted flowers.

Tension pulled at her shoulders. She tried not to focus on the drab interior. What she sought was a geezer vampire. She didn’t spot one. She didn’t spot anyone.