As they got to the car, Holiday clicked the locks open and then glanced up. “You do realize that you saved Billy?”

“No, Lorraine saved him.” As Della crawled into the passenger seat, she remembered the second person she’d seen when she’d found Chan’s body. Had it been Lorraine?

Della bit down on her lip. “But please tell me she’s going to leave now.”

Holiday’s smile looked almost angelic. “She did. I saw her cross over in the courtroom. She’s at peace.”

The fae squeezed behind the wheel, then moved the seat back. She paused as if in thought, then focused on Della. “Chan was there, too. At least, I’m assuming it was Chan. Thin Asian guy. But he didn’t follow her.”

Della swallowed. “You saw him?”

Puzzlement creased the fae’s brow. “Yes. Not that he was there for me. He stood next to you. Has he spoken with you?”

“No,” Della confessed. “But I’ve seen him.” She closed her eyes a second.

“How long have you been aware of him?” Holiday asked.

“Since around the time he died. Kylie felt him, but didn’t see him. Then I started feeling him, then … he started dropping feathers,” she said.

“Feathers?” Holiday asked.

“It started when I accidentally ripped a pillow and they started swirling around, but then I could be outside or in a car and feathers would drop.”

“Did Chan have a thing for feathers?”

“No. Not that I knew of. Why?”

“Well, ghosts are usually trying to tell us something. They use symbols or clues. Sometimes they aren’t good clues.”

Della shook her head. “Why is this happening to me? I’m vampire.”

“Like I said earlier, I don’t know,” Holiday said. “Burnett feels the dead, too. But try not to see it as something bad. It’s a gift. Look what good has come from it already. You were able to help Billy and catch Lorraine and her boyfriend’s killer.” Holiday started the car.

Della finally brought herself to ask. “Did Chan say anything to you? Is he mad at me for not … for not calling him back?”

“He didn’t speak. But…” She hesitated as if debating whether to say it. “But I felt his emotions.” Holiday’s worry line appeared again in her brow. “He wasn’t mad or upset. He seemed concerned … about you. And that concerns me.” Before driving off, she sighed. “You need to talk to him. Sometimes the dead need us to help them, like Lorraine, but other times they are here to help us. I think Chan’s trying to warn you about something. Something that he feels is serious.”

While Holiday drove, Della pondered what it could be Chan wanted to warn her about. She’d sort of hoped since he was in the same gang as Phillip Lance, he wanted to tell her about the murders. But if he was still here, and Holiday was right about him being concerned about her, could he know something about her uncle and aunt that he wanted to tell her? But would that be a warning? Surely her uncle and aunt weren’t … bad. Or could they be?

Or was this about something completely different?

Della’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and saw the number. Kevin. Remembering Kevin brought to mind their conversation about how Chan had died from some strange sickness. And that brought back her niggling concern about her experiencing some weird side effects of some bug. Could that be what Chan was trying to warn her about?

No, Kevin had said Chan had gotten really sick and had a rash. Della wasn’t really sick. What was a little headache? Her phone rang again.

Looking at Holiday, she asked, “Do you mind if I take this?”

“No.”

“Hey, beautiful,” Kevin said as soon as she answered.

Della rolled her eyes, hoping Holiday couldn’t hear Kevin. “I couldn’t understand a word you were saying last night when you called. You were cutting in and out.”

“I was asking about Chase,” he said.

Della cut her eyes over to Holiday, who was busy driving with one hand, but rubbed her belly with the other. “How do you know him?”

“He came to see Chan.”

Della’s heart raced. “He knew Chan?”

“Yeah. He stayed here with him for a couple of days before Chan left for Texas. I caught his scent, but didn’t realize it was him until I took off. I was going to come back, but I picked up another scent—another vampire. Someone else was hanging outside your fence last night.”

Della didn’t care about who was hanging out, she wanted to know why the hell Chase wouldn’t have told her he knew Chan. What else was the panty perv hiding?

“What did he want with Chan?” she asked.

Kevin answered, but her phone was cutting him on and off.

Holiday looked at Della. “You’re about to lose service any minute now.”

“Look, I’m coming up on a dead zone, can I call you back later?”

The line went dead. Della, confused and furious, stuck her phone in her pocket.

“Something wrong?” Holiday asked, probably picking up on all of Della’s emotions.

“Yeah,” she said.

“You want to share?” Holiday asked.

“Chase knew Chan and he never told me,” Della said. “Something’s up with him, Holiday.”

Holiday let out a deep moan and yanked the car to the side of the road.

Della didn’t understand Holiday’s strong reaction. But when she looked at the fae, she saw she had her hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Holiday’s moan hadn’t been about Chase.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Holiday said through tight lips. “Something’s … the baby.” She moaned again.

Della grabbed her phone out of her pocket to call Burnett, only to remember the dead zone.

Holiday let out another deep groan. A whooshing sound filled the car. The skirt of Holiday’s yellow dress, tucked between her legs, grew dark. “My water.” Holiday dropped her head on the steering wheel, looking to be in extreme pain.

“Okay. Okay.” Della told herself to say calm, but calm was the last thing she felt. “Let me drive. I’ll take you to Dr. Whitman.”

Holiday nodded, but it seemed to take effort for her to release the wheel.

Della jumped out of her side and ran around. By the time she got to Holiday, she was lying in a heap on the side of the road.

“Holiday!” Della dropped down beside her. “Holiday, talk to me. Please talk to me.”

She held up one hand. “I … the … baby’s coming.”

“I’ll go get help.”

“Don’t you dare leave me! I’ll send death angels after you if you do.” Holiday grasped Della’s hand so hard, it might have cracked a bone.

Threats weren’t Holiday’s style, so Della knew this was serious.

“I won’t leave.” She watched Holiday reach down with her other hand and hug her bulge. That’s when Della saw the blood. Lots of blood now stained the front of Holiday’s dress.

Tears filled Della eyes. Was something wrong? She remembered the show she’d seen of the woman giving birth. There had been blood, but she didn’t recall this much.

“Get me in the backseat,” Holiday cried.

Della inhaled. She opened the car’s back door, gently picked up Holiday, and placed her in the seat.

As soon as she got Holiday down, Holiday screamed. And loud. “My panties,” Holiday yelled. “Take them off.”

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you to the doctor? I can drive fast.”

“No time,” she said. “Baby’s coming!”

Della mentally pulled her big-girl panties up and physically pulled Holiday’s big-girl panties down. The blood was already pooled between her legs. Fear clutched Della’s belly.

If something happened to Holiday or the baby, Della couldn’t live with herself. Then again, she wouldn’t have to: Burnett would kill her.

Holiday reared her head back on the seat and started grunting. Della saw what looked like the baby’s head between Holiday’s legs.

If someone had asked her what she would be doing today, not in a million years would she have said “delivering a baby.” Swallowing a ton of insecurities, she snagged Holiday’s purse. Finding the alcohol cleanser that Holiday always carried, Della squirted it all over her hands.

“What are you doing?” Holiday seethed.

“It’s okay,” Della lied. “I saw a show once on how to deliver a baby.” She tried to sound confident, but she had about as much confidence as an ant taking a stroll among a crowd of joggers.

Holiday, too busy gasping for air to answer, nodded.

“I see the baby’s head,” Della said. “I think this is when you’re supposed to push. As soon as the baby is born, I’m driving you to the doctor.”

Holiday did what looked like an ab crunch and let out another ear-piercing scream. The baby slipped out so fast, Della almost didn’t catch it. It … no, she, it was a girl. “It’s a girl” Della said aloud. But the baby was slimy and bloody, reminding Della of a wet puppy. Panic shot straight to Della’s heart when she realized that the tiny infant wasn’t breathing.

Again remembering the show, she reached into the baby’s mouth and used her fingers to dip out any fluid. Then, fitting her palm over the baby’s chest, she turned her over. She patted her back. One. Twice. “Breathe!”

She didn’t breathe.

“No,” Della muttered. She turned the baby back over, massaged her little chest, then turned her over again and gave her another pat, only stronger.

The baby jerked, gurgled, and took her first breath. Della, not even realizing she hadn’t taken in air, took in a breath of her own. Only when the child let out a cry did Della look up at Holiday.

“She’s okay.” Della’s relief vanished. The baby wasn’t the only one in trouble. Holiday lay unconscious.

“No,” Della said. “Holiday?”

When the camp leader didn’t answer, Della tuned her hearing, ignored the cries of the baby, and finally heard an erratic heartbeat still pumping in Holiday’s chest.

She looked at the cord still connecting the baby to Holiday. She remembered how they’d cut the cord in the show she’d watched. Grabbing Holiday’s purse again, she found some floss and used it to tie the cord. Then she used another piece and twisted it so tight it severed the cord. When Holiday still wasn’t moving, Della knew she had to get her help. And fast.

She tucked the crying baby beside her unconscious mom and shut the door. Racing around the car, she got in the front seat and drove like a bat out of hell straight to Dr. Whitman’s office.

As the tires hummed against the street, and with Holiday’s blood on her hands and making the steering wheel sticky, Della’s breaths shuddered in her chest and she prayed aloud, “Look, God, let’s make a deal. If you’re missing your weekly quota of souls, take me. But don’t take Holiday. Please.”

Della sat in the vet’s office, feet tapping on the floor, wringing her hands. She’d called Burnett as soon as the doctor and Steve took mother and child to the back. When Burnett answered, Della’s throat was so tight from emotion, she could hardly explain. The only thing she got out was “Dr. Whitman’s office.”

“Holiday?” he asked.

“Yes,” she muttered.

“Is everything okay?”

“No,” Della said. “Not okay at all.”

Then she called Kylie, thinking her healing powers might be needed. Della hissed. Of all the times for Kylie not to pick up. She left a message: “Holiday needs you,” she said. “We’re at Dr. Whitman’s office.”

The office door swung open less than two minutes later. Pain filled Burnett’s expression. And all she could think about was how romantic it had been when he stood up for Holiday in front of the FRU committee. The love he had for his wife was so much a part of him that if he lost her, it would no doubt be like losing a limb.

Or maybe even worse, his heart.

The tears Della held at bay fell then. Big fat tears, rolling one after another. Burnett didn’t ask for details. No doubt he saw the gravity of the situation in her expression. He took off for the back of the office.

Voices ordering him to get out echoed from behind the door. Orders Della knew wouldn’t be heeded. Burnett would never leave. He’d never leave Holiday.

But dear God, did Holiday have a choice not to leave him?

Della pulled her knees to her chest, hugged them, and continued to cry. “Take me instead. Take me instead,” she kept muttering.

“Hey,” a voice said. Steve’s voice. She’d seen him briefly when they took Holiday and the baby, but they hadn’t spoken yet.

Della wiped the tears from her face and looked up. “Are they okay?”

“The baby is going to be fine.”

“And Holiday?” she asked, her breath a big bubble of pain in her lungs.

Steve’s expression didn’t look promising, and more tears slipped from her lashes.

Chapter Thirty-four

“She’s still unconscious,” Steve said. “She’s lost a lot of blood. But Dr. Whitman has given her some now and he’s hoping she responds.”

“Hoping? He’s hoping.” Her voice shook. “Isn’t there something else he can do? She can’t die,” Della said. “She can’t! You go back in there and tell him to do something!”