"They were all questioned by the witches council. Proven innocent."

Kylie shook her head. "We don't even know if death angels really exist. Chances are, they are just powerful ghosts," Kylie said, repeating another thing Holiday had said. If Della and Miranda had heard even half of what Daniel had done by pulling her into his dreams, and pulling her out of her own body and into his so she could relive his death, well, they'd probably think he was a death angel.

Della leaned her chair back on two legs. "If you don't believe they exist, then why do you even want to go?"

"Because if there's even the slightest chance that they exist, and are more powerful than regular ghosts, then they might be able to help me save someone I love." She'd never explained any of this to Della or Miranda.

How could she when the moment either of them heard the word ghost they freaked?

"Save who?" Della, balancing the chair on two legs, started looking around the room as if they had company.

"I don't know. It could be you." Kylie stared right into Della's black eyes. "Or you." She pointed at Miranda. "There's a ghost who just keeps telling me someone I love is going to die. And it's up to me-"

"I hope it's not one of us," Miranda said.

Della snorted. "Maybe it is one of us and we die because you take us and offer us up as a sacrifice to the death angels."

"You know I wouldn't do that." Frustration buzzed around her gut even stronger than before. She tapped her left bare foot on the tile floor, trying to be patient, but her patience seemed to be in short supply lately.

Della shook her head. "I mean, it's bad enough that we have to accept that you have ghosts popping in all the time, but to actually go looking for the death angels..." She dropped the chair down with a whack. "I don't want to wind up with scars all over this face. Nope."

Kylie glared from one friend to the other. "Okay, even if they exist, what have either of you two done that is so bad that ... that they would set you on fire?" She glanced at Miranda. "You aren't casting spells on anyone."

She looked back to Della. "And you don't-"

"You don't know what I've done," Della snapped, her eyes glowed brighter. "Hell, I don't even know what I've done. There's a time when you turn vampire that you lose it completely, and I lost it. I don't know what happened for a whole two days. I don't want to know. Which is why I don't live in a glass house. Why I don't waste a heck of a lot of time judging others. And why I don't go to places where death angels are said to hang out. Maybe you haven't ever sinned, but I'm not perfect."

Kylie heard the undercurrent of guilt in Della's voice. "I don't think you would have done anything that bad."

"I wouldn't bet on it." Miranda made a face. "Look how mean she's to me," Miranda mouthed off.

Della glared at Miranda. "Oh, please, I haven't ever been mean to you."

"Bull crappie," Miranda said. "That's all you've been to me these last few days. I'm hurting and all you've done is poke fun at me."

"Yeah, but I do it out of love. Hoping to make you see what a dumbass you're being. Grieving over a guy who gets his shorts in a wad just because one of his friends kissed you. You should be out kissing all his other friends just to show him that you don't care. Not whining-"

"I'm not a dumbass." Miranda held out her pinky finger.

"I told you never to point that damn pinky at me." Della jumped up and started screaming something about how all witches should be doomed to hell.

Kylie sat there, listening to them sling insults. Then frustrated and completely out of patience, she got up, collected her shoes by the door, and walked out. She stopped outside on the porch to put on her Reeboks.

Dropping her butt down on the porch, she slipped on her right shoe. Her toes felt cramped, just like her chest, and she loosened her laces before she tied them. Did Della or Miranda even realize she'd walked out? That's when she realized that frustration and impatience weren't the only emotions fighting for a spot in her chest. This hurt.

Didn't they realize how badly she needed them right now? Then taking her time to lace up her shoes, she hoped they'd have a change of heart. That they'd decide their friendship meant enough to trust her on this. Right shoe tied, Kylie slipped on the left and commenced the process.

She could still hear them yelling at each other. They still hadn't realized she'd left. Or maybe they had and didn't care. That really hurt, too. If either one of them had needed her, she'd have been there.

She stood, realized that she still wore her nightshirt over her jeans and was without a bra, but she didn't care. She jumped off the porch.

Taking off down the trail in a solid run, she wasn't even sure how to get to the falls. But something in her gut said she'd find it. She'd do this. And she'd do it alone.

Kylie came to quick stop at the edge of the woods, unsure which way to go. She recalled hearing the falls at the rock where she and Derek had gone. She also recalled hearing it at the creek where the dinosaur tracks were. The falls had to be between the two, so she took off down the trail.

She'd only moved a few feet beneath the thick umbrella of trees when the dusty dawn light faded to a foggy shade of purplish gray. She could feel the mist on her face.

The early morning heat chased away the night's coolness, forcing it to leave in the form of fog. But the cloudy haze clung to the trees and hung a few feet off the ground. Apprehension prickled the back of her neck.

Believing she was slightly paranoid, she ignored the sensation and kept going. Going faster.

After about a quarter of a mile on the trail, she ventured off the cleared path, hoping the sound of the falls would call out to her as it had seemed to do before. She listened and she continued to sprint. No falls.

Only the sound of the soles of her tennis shoes hitting the earth accompanied by the normal sounds of nature.

She kept moving between the trees, finding a path or making one as she went. The thorns in the thick brush snagged on to her jeans, as if trying to stop her from going any farther. She didn't slow down.

Occasionally, a low-hanging branch would seemingly just appear in her way, but she either ducked in time or brushed it back with her arms.

She recalled trying to keep up with Della through a patch of woods very similar to this one on the night of the first campfire. She'd barely been able to walk it. That wasn't the case anymore. Her legs moved one after the other in succinct, effortless strides.

The thought hit again: change. Everything was changing. She felt it in how she moved, the speed with which she moved, she felt it in how her mouth pulled oxygen into her lungs. What else would change?




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