“Maybe he just smells like someone else?” Kylie said.
Della shook her head. “Obviously you haven’t developed your vampire nose yet. We don’t forget scents. And if something intense was happening when you smelled that scent, then there’s an emotional trace.”
“Wow. Lucas told me that werewolves do that, too,” Kylie said.
“Not nearly as good as vampires,” Della huffed. “I mean, I know they’re wolves, but for a vampire, who doesn’t go around putting their nose everywhere, an emotional trace is stronger.”
“Wouldn’t you know,” Miranda said sarcastically. “Nothing is as good as vampires.”
Della shot the witch a go-to-hell look that implied she should not just go to Hades, but go in a hurry.
Miranda snickered.
Obviously, Della’s go-to-hell look wasn’t in working order.
“So what emotion does he remind you of?” Kylie asked, and both she and Miranda eased up to the table and sat down.
“Danger,” Della said, and pulled the photo closer to stare at the image. Her uncle really looked just like her father.
“Maybe it’s the good kind of danger,” Miranda offered. “You know, you’re hot for him and worried about what you are feeling for Steve.”
“I don’t feel anything for Steve,” Della snapped, and frowned when she heard her own heart pick up its pace. So what if she felt something, she wasn’t going to let it lead anywhere. Swallowing, she focused on the photo again.
“We pretty much figured that out,” Miranda said. “Or you’d be hooking up with him.”
“That sounds so stupid. What does hooking up really mean? We’re not dogs, you know!”
Kylie held up both hands as if requesting peace. “What’s going on, Della?”
“Nothing’s going on,” Della insisted.
“Yes, it is,” Kylie said. “You’re grumpy.”
“I’m always grumpy!” Della insisted.
“Then you’re extra arrogant,” Miranda snapped.
“There’s a difference between arrogance and confidence,” Della insisted.
Her friends weren’t buying it. “What happened this weekend?” Kylie asked.
Della felt a wave of emotion swell inside her, but she pushed it back and locked it away so she wouldn’t start blubbering like a little girl. Then, in a monotone voice, she told them about the weekend, about her nightmare, the hole in the wall, and her sister, Marla, saying her dad never talked about her. She told them what she learned about possibly having a vampire uncle. Oh, and she saved the best for last, getting caught in her father’s study and practically being accused of being a thieving alcoholic.
Kylie sat there, her light blue eyes looking consumed with worry. Miranda sat there, expression tight, her fingers laced together, except for her pinkies, which she twirled in tight circles.
“I’m so sorry,” Kylie said.
“Why? It’s not as if you did anything,” Della said, trying to make light of the whole thing.
“But I could do something,” Miranda said. “I could put a curse on your dad. A bad case of athlete’s foot. Or jock itch. I’m good at that curse. There was this football player at school that—”
“Leave my dad’s feet and junk alone!”
“I just want to help,” Miranda said.
“It wouldn’t help,” Della said in a calmer voice. “You can’t even blame him. It looked like I was into his brandy.”
“Why didn’t you just tell him the truth?” The somberness of Kylie’s words expressed empathy.