Paranormalcy (16 page)

D
inner
was a little uncomfortable. I hadn't been to an actual family dinner in years. Sometimes in the Center Raquel or Charlotte ate with me; when they didn't I took my food into Central Processing, but it wasn't like Lish could exactly sit down at a table with me.

No crying at the dinner table. No thinking about Lish.

Stacey and Luke sat on the opposite end of the table, and every time I glanced up, Stacey was darting looks at me that hovered between terrified and furious. I could barely even make eye contact with either one of them, not now that I knew what would have happened if they
had been caught by IPCA.

David was on the phone in the other room all through dinner, but when we were nearly done eating he came in, and sat down heavily in his chair, a relieved and weary smile on his face. He turned toward me.

“We did it.”

“Did what?” I asked.

“I didn't want to say anything until everyone was safe, but your Canada tip was enough. I have an old friend who's a CPM, Canadian Paranormal Monitor. They always maintained a degree of separation from IPCA because they were uncomfortable with an international organization having rights to their citizens. He'd been tracking IPCA activity, and with your info he found all the werewolves.”

I sat back in my chair. “All of them? And they got the trackers off?”

David nodded happily. Stacey's eyes had gone wide; I couldn't read her expression.

“Where are they going to go?” They couldn't go back to their old lives—IPCA had records on all of them. They'd be retagged in no time.

“Some of them are going to be folded in as CPMs, hidden right under IPCA's nose. Another busload just arrived in town so we can get them new identities and then help them settle somewhere.”

“Here?” Stacey whispered. “What about—”

The doorbell rang. Stacey turned toward the entry, her
face as white as a sheet.

Lend, puzzled, got up to answer the door. After a few seconds he came back in. With Charlotte.

“Charlotte!” I said, shocked. Stacey stood up and burst into tears, throwing her arms around Charlotte's neck.

“I'm so sorry!” Stacey sobbed, burying her face in Charlotte's shoulder. “I never should have said those things—never should have—I'm sorry.”

Tears spilled down my former tutor's face, too, and she pulled Stacey in closer and stroked her hair. “It's okay. Really, it's okay. I'm sorry, too.”

That's when it clicked, why Stacey looked so familiar. This, then, was the family member Charlotte had attacked and felt so guilty about she'd tried to kill herself.

David and Arianna stood; Lend and I followed them out to give the sisters some privacy. Guilt twisted, sharp and gnawing in my stomach. I knew none of it was my fault. I hadn't turned Charlotte into a monster, hadn't made her bite her sister. I hadn't personally separated them when they needed each other the most. But then again, I'd helped IPCA every step of the way.

“So, any other news?” Arianna asked, lighting a cigarette as we gathered on the porch.

“You know I don't like you smoking those things,” David said, frowning.

“Yeah, 'cause they might kill me?” She grinned bitterly, but put it out.

David sighed. “The news isn't good. IPCA lost another center.”

“Which one?” I asked, fear tightening my throat.

“Bucharest.”

Bucharest, so mostly vampires. I was instantly relieved, and then felt even guiltier. Would I have been relieved if Arianna were one of the victims?

“At least Bucharest is far away,” she muttered.

“The attacks are getting worse. I'm going to send as many of the paranormals away as I can. It's not safe anymore, having such a high concentration here. We don't know how she's finding these places; we can't take any risks.”

“What about everyone who stays?” Lend asked.

“We'll make do. It seems like she's got some sort of target on IPCA, so hopefully we'll stay under the radar. In the meantime, my contacts are going to smuggle out as many tagged paranormals as they can and filter them through us.”

“What's IPCA doing?” I asked. Surely they were doing something more to protect themselves and the paranormals.

“Near as I can tell, running around like a chicken with its head cut off,” David said with a sigh. “They're trying to work in some emergency plans, get things moving, but they've always been the bully, never the victim. They don't know how to handle it.”

“What can we do?” Lend asked.

“You can go inside and do your homework.”

Lend looked ready to protest, but David silenced him with a raised hand. “None of this is your problem. Inside, homework, now.”

I followed Lend, sitting by him on the couch as he glowered at his calculus book. I knew he was frustrated, but I was with David on this one. If IPCA couldn't do anything, who could? The best we could do was protect paranormals and hide.

Hearing the murmurs from the kitchen made me nervous. I didn't know what to say to Charlotte, what I could possibly do to make up for what had been done to her. What I had been a part of.

After about an hour she came out with Stacey and Luke, along with a couple of suitcases. Stacey gave me a tight smile as she walked out, but Charlotte stopped. I stood awkwardly, staring at the ground.

“Charlotte, I didn't know about—I'm so sorry.”

She put her hand on my shoulder and I looked up. Her warm blue eyes sparkled over her yellow wolf ones. “Please don't apologize. We're both free now. Enjoy it.” She leaned in and pecked me on the cheek, then left, giving me one last smile. For once, it had no trace of sadness at all.

I
was relieved later when Lend finally shut his books; I'd had too much time to sit there, stewing over lost friends, werewolves, and Fire Girl's escalating attacks. I was tired of feeling guilty and scared.

“Want to watch a movie or something?”

I enthusiastically agreed, and we scanned through the channels, debating the merits of various movies they had on demand. Settling on a romantic comedy (yeah, I totally won the debate), I snuggled into the couch while Lend made popcorn. When he came back, he sat down so we were touching.

Just after the opening credits, he took my hand and wove his fingers through mine. I knew from the triumphant, happy flips my stomach was doing that, this time, we were holding hands for real. And it was the best thing ever.

Have I mentioned how amazing Lend's skin was? Unbelievably soft and smooth. And his hand was so warm, it felt wonderful. Not weird, creeping-up-my-arm warmth like Reth, just nice, very-normal warm. Tingly and happy-all-over warm. Over-the-moon, I'm-holding-hands-with-a-super-cute-guy-who's-taking-me-to-the-prom warm.

He stroked the top of my thumb with his. “Is this okay?” he whispered. I loved that he actually sounded nervous.

I snuggled into his side more, squeezing his hand and laying my head on his shoulder. “Yeah.” I smiled so big I thought my face would break. “It's okay.” He let out a relieved breath and rested his head on the top of mine.

When the movie was almost over (best movie ever—no idea what it was, though, didn't really care) Lend's dad came into the room. I quickly lifted up my head, but Lend didn't move. After a second of taking in the scene, David smiled. “I'm headed to bed. Don't stay up too late, it's a school night.”

“Okay, Dad, good night.”

“Good night,” I added. That had gone well. I put my head back on Lend's shoulder, never wanting the movie to end.

I guess Lend felt the same way, because when the credits
rolled he said, “Want to watch another one?”

“Yeah!” Did I ever.

He picked another movie, then pulled a throw blanket from the side of the couch and put it over our legs. The last few weeks had been so strange, so scary, that this little piece of wonderful normal was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Halfway into the movie my eyes drifted shut. When I opened them the light in the room was different. I couldn't put my finger on it until I realized it was brighter, warmer—and not coming from the TV. I lifted my head. Vivian was sitting in the armchair, watching the movie. Her golden sphere of flames floated tantalizingly behind her.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. I looked over at Lend; he was staring at the TV, oblivious. Then I glared at Vivian again. “You shouldn't be here!”

She rolled her eyes, slouching down and propping her feet on the coffee table. “Relax, I'm not.”

I frowned. “Oh. I'm asleep.”

“Duh?”

“This is so stupid. You aren't real.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I'm not? Ouch. Here I thought we were finally connecting.”

“You're just my brain trying to make sense of everything that happened.”

“Wow. Okay.” She smiled, a mischievous glint in her pale eyes. “How about I prove it to you? You still have that
phone thingie from IPCA?”

“I don't know.” I didn't like where this was going.

“Find it, take a look at your messages.”

Nerves gnawed at my stomach. This was ridiculous—it was a dream. “If you were real, I'd be totally scared right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you're crazy and you run around killing people?”

“I don't kill people.”

“You killed Lish and Jacques and all those vamps!”

“Yeah, last time I checked—not people.”

“Whatever. And can you move your stupid glowy thing? It hurts my eyes.” Truth was, I just wanted to look at it. If Lend's hand hadn't been firmly anchoring me to the couch, I would have gone over to it already.

She laughed. “You're so weird. Didn't you already get more?”

“No! I don't want any.” My eyes lingering on the brilliant mass probably gave away the lie.

“Well, you're brighter than you were before. I thought you figured it out.”

I looked down. My shirt was gone, and I was sitting there in my bra. Sure enough, my heart was even brighter. “That's weird,” I said, both about the missing shirt and the brighter flames. I looked at Lend, panicked about my near nudity, but he was still staring at the TV. I turned back
to Vivian. “I didn't do anything. And I know Reth hasn't been around.”

Vivian shrugged. She kept her eyes on the movie. “You can't keep going on your own forever, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you're already on borrowed time. When they made you, they only gave you a little bit.”

“Wait—
made
me?” Reth had said the same thing. “You mean our parents? Did you know them?”

“So you still don't think I'm real, but you want me to answer questions? Face it, you know it's true. Anyway, what makes you think we had parents?”

I frowned, fighting panic. “Don't be stupid. Of course we did. How else could we be sisters?”

“We're two of a kind. I figure that makes us related, right?”

“Fine, Miss Two-of-a-Kind, what are we, then?”

“The Empty Ones. Didn't they tell you anything?”

“Who?” I was almost shouting now. She was so frustrating, and the temptation of the flames behind her grated on my nerves. I wanted them.

“No wonder you're so confused. What, did your faeries lose you as a baby or something?” She saw my blank look and laughed. “They did! Oh, that's rich. Gotta love faeries. Idiots. Here the court has been trying to pit me against you in some sort of epic showdown and you don't know a thing.”

“I thought you didn't know any faeries.”

“No, I said I'd never taken any soul from a faerie. They don't let me touch them—they're not
that
stupid. Anyway, what I'm saying is, who cares about them? They're always trying to meddle, fix things to line up with their stupid little poems. You and me, we're what matters. So screw the fey, let's be a family.” She smiled at me, her face both tender and slightly manic.

What was she talking about? Had she been raised by faeries? And why wouldn't her dumb flames stop swirling around, drawing me in?

“I don't know.” I closed my eyes. “I don't get anything you're saying. And I don't like what you're doing.”

“Grow up, Evie. You'd better figure it out if you want to stay alive.”

“Are you going to kill me, then?” I opened my eyes and glared at her.

“No, stupid. You're going to kill yourself if you don't get with the picture. I'm bored. I'm gonna go now. But check your communicator, then give me a call. We'll hang out—conscious, next time.” She smiled at me, then the golden flames were sucked back into her. I shielded my eyes against her light, tearing up. I didn't know if it was from how bright the flames were or how much I wanted them to stay. To come to me, to make me warm.

“Evie?”

“What?” I opened my eyes and squinted against the
expected light. There wasn't anything—not even the glow of the TV.

“We should probably go to bed,” Lend whispered. “I think you fell asleep.”

“Oh, yeah.” I shook my head, trying to get the insidious dream out of my mind.

“Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I'm okay.” I squeezed his hand, forcing a smile. “Really okay.”

I wanted nothing more than to walk upstairs with Lend, maybe even kiss, but I couldn't get the dream out of my head. I bid him a quick good night to cover up my nerves and went to my room. When I took my shirt off, I risked looking down. It was probably just the power of suggestion, but my heart looked brighter. Frustrated, knowing it was dumb and feeling guilty, I waited until I heard Lend's door shut, then sneaked back downstairs to the kitchen.

I was sure my communicator wouldn't be in there, sure that David would be suspicious enough to hide it, but I looked around anyway. And then, in a drawer filled with kitchen supplies, there it was.

I pulled it out. “This is ridiculous,” I whispered. There wasn't going to be anything weird there, because there wasn't anything real about those dreams. I looked at the screen. Twelve new messages were flashing. The top one had come in about two minutes ago, from Raquel's communicator. None from Vivian—Vivian who was not real, a
figment of my imagination, not actually Fire Girl. I shook my head, relieved. Then, hit with a sudden pang, I missed Raquel. I wouldn't respond because that would give away my location, but I wanted to see what she was writing, make sure she was okay. I opened the message.

I shouldn't have.

“Hey, Stupid,” it said. “Where do you want to meet? Love, Vivian.”