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“Shit!” She jackknifed out of bed, her feet thudding down on light blue carpet. She stood there, arms out, mind racing, trying to come to terms with the fact that she didn’t have a white dresser. That the walls in her room at Shadow Falls weren’t a pale yellow.
Her gaze shifted around. She didn’t have a white four-poster bed, either. She didn’t have a pink quilt. Or …
A loud crashing sound echoed from somewhere inside the house. Then came voices. No, not voices: screams.
Real screams like someone was about to die.
Della’s gaze shot to the mirror. Her heart stopped when the person staring back at her wasn’t … her. It was Bao Yu, her aunt. Somewhere deep in her mind, behind the wall of panic clawing at her conscious, she realized this was a vision.
“You okay?” Another voice rang out from somewhere, somewhere that wasn’t here. Somewhere that felt safe, but Della couldn’t go there. She had to stay here.
“Della?” a voice said her name.
A hand came down on her shoulder. Della swung around, growled, and showed her canines.
Suddenly the pale yellow walls disappeared. Her vision swirled, blurred, and then transformed into tunnel vision. She blinked, felt as if she were moving. She closed her eyes, then opened them. For one second she thought she was back in her room, but then something changed, everything changed. She lay on the floor, a cold tile floor; above her a ceiling fan whirled around. And around.
She cut her eyes left and saw a basketball about a foot from her face, sitting in a puddle of something red. She glanced right and saw … she saw a red tabby. Della fought to make sense of this, and then she did. The cat … Chester.
The feline rested on his side, he shifted his paw at her, his breathing labored. Just past the cat lay her husband. No, Mrs. Chi’s husband. But she was Mrs. Chi. She blinked, waiting to see his chest rise with breath. But no. He lay so still. Too still.
Someone’s foot landed between her and the cat. The shoe was a bright red tennis shoe that appeared to be made out of snakeskin.
Am I going to have to cut you again? A voice asked. And then, Shit, go get them before they go rattling their mouth. Take care of them.
Get who? Della wondered. She tried to look up to see the face of the killer, but her vision went black. A light, a soft light, called for Mrs. Chi. The woman’s fury at the killers swelled in her chest and she turned away from the light. She clung to what she knew. To the here and now.
A rushing sound filled her ears, the taste of blood filled her mouth. She felt it then, a kind of nothingness. Not fear. Not pain.
She was dying.
“No,” she yelled. But nothing came out of her mouth. Everything went dark, and all she could see was that beautiful light leaving her, floating away. Her husband of over fifty years was in the midst of that light, motioning for her to come. To hurry. But it wasn’t right. None of this should have happened. She needed to tell someone before these bad people hurt others.
“Della?” her name came again, but it was still far away. Her visions started to clear. She sensed she wasn’t alone. She saw his shape floating toward her in another light. A different light. Not Mr. Chi, but someone else. Someone … familiar. Chase?
Then he was gone. So was the light. A knife, blood dripping from its tip was held right over her face. Fear caught her by the neck and pulled her under. She felt a drop of blood from the weapon fall against her cheek. She tried to bolt up, but there was numbness in her limbs. Another spatter of blood dripped from the knife’s edge.
An odd déjà vu feeling pulled at her mind. She looked up from the blade, to the person straddling her. Feng.
Not Feng! See the freckle. There, beside his right brow. That’s not Feng.
Suddenly fighting mad, Della lifted her head up and let go of another growl. “No! No! No!”
The blackness returned and she welcomed it. Let it swallow her.
One.
Two.
Three.
She wanted to stay there. In the nothingness, but something, someone, brought her back again.
“I’ve got you. It’s over,” a male voice said.
What’s over?
Della sensed herself being lifted off the floor, cradled in someone’s arms. Her cheek came against a solid male chest. A solid bare chest.
