Paranormalcy (9 page)

R
aquel
was sitting in a chair near my kitchen, talking quietly on her communicator when I woke up on the couch. She had stayed the whole night. I didn't want to be alone.

Her eyebrows were knit as she rubbed her forehead with her free hand. I sat up. She looked over and gave me a strained smile, then continued her conversation for a few minutes. When she had finished, I sat on my hands so they wouldn't shake. “Did they find it?”

She shook her head and heaved a new sigh. This one was laced with more stress and tension than any I had ever heard before—even more than her
Evie, Evie, Evie
sigh that
showed up whenever I messed up big time, like when I was fourteen and stole her communicator in an attempt to reprogram mine to play music. I screwed up the entire system and locked everyone in their rooms for a few hours. It didn't go over well. I was on Containment cleanup duty for a month.

If only things were that easy this time.

I didn't want to ask, I didn't want to know, but I had to. “Jacques?”

She shook her head sadly. “He was dead.”

I looked at the floor, tears welling in my eyes. I hadn't done a thing to help him—I hadn't even tried. Raquel sat next to me and put her arm around my shoulders. “There was nothing you could have done. If you had tried to help him, you'd both be dead now. And I know Jacques would be glad he died helping you escape.”

Actually, I was sure Jacques would be glad to be alive right now. Still, he had been armed and had supernatural werewolf strength. If he could be taken out that easily, I really wouldn't have been able to do anything.

Telling myself that didn't erase his scream from my mind.

“I've got to go to a meeting with all the department heads. We'll figure it out and stop whatever's doing this.”

I remembered my theory and sat up straight. “It's Reth!”

“What's Reth?”

“Reth, the killer! I think Reth's doing it!”

“Why would you say that?”

“The handprint! On the hag's chest—she had a handprint that was glowing gold! Just like—” I stopped dead. I hadn't told Raquel about the glowing in me and I wasn't going to. “He left a handprint on me, I think it's him!”

Raquel shook her head. “I know you're mad at Reth, and with good reason, but it isn't him.”

“How do you know? You don't know anything about faeries!”

She gave me a level stare. “I have been working with faeries far longer than you. And I know Reth didn't do this. While you were out there, he was in a disciplinary hearing.”

“A—what?”

“His actions with you were under review. There were seven people on the council; they can all vouch that he was there the whole time.”

A disciplinary hearing? Who were they kidding? Faeries didn't care in the slightest about us or our rules. Like I told Lend, they were only here because of the named command they had been given in the very beginning—to serve IPCA. “So, what, are they punishing him?”

“His actions were deemed inappropriate and he was firmly admonished.” The way Raquel said it, I knew she realized how lame it sounded.

“Ah, admonished. That'll teach him! I feel totally safe now!”

“You don't need to worry about him anymore. I gave
him a named command not to touch you. He can't, ever again. So please, stop letting it bother you so much.”

I looked down at my wrist. It was mostly covered by my sleeve, but I could see the swirling glow where the skin stuck out a little. Yeah, nothing to worry about at all. “I still think he had something to do with this—or maybe another faerie. One IPCA doesn't know about.”

“Well, I'll suggest your theory during the meeting, but we have no reason to suspect the faeries. You and I both know faeries don't do anything without motivation.”

“Yeah, and we both
should
know that we really don't get their motivation.”

Raquel heaved an
I'm done talking about this with you
sigh and stood up. “Lish wanted you to go see her as soon as you felt up to it. I would feel better if you spent the day with her. I don't want you alone. And, please, this time, take your communicator.”

Raquel patted me on the head like I was five, then left. I was freezing, so I took a shower that was too long and too hot. I tried not to, but I couldn't avoid looking down. My chest still had its spot of liquid gold fire, undimmed.

When I got out, I stared hard at myself in the mirror, but I could see my freaky liquid flames only if I looked directly at them. It felt like my face should look different, but it was the same old Evie—cute but not gorgeous, button nose, pretty mouth. And my pale, pale gray eyes.

But then something hit me—something horrible. If I
could see what was paranormal about myself only by looking directly at it, I had no idea if there was something my face was hiding. I could never look into my own eyes without a mirror and, for all I knew, I'd been glowing my entire life. Maybe that's what was so weird about my eyes that Lend couldn't imitate. Suddenly my face felt like a mask, hiding whatever I really was underneath.

It was a terrible thought. A terrible thought that I had no way to either confirm or deny. That was the great thing about being one of a kind. No answers. Ever.

Upset, I dried off and pulled on my biggest, softest sweater. It was a pretty pale blue and the sleeves came down past my hands. That was a bonus, since I didn't have to see my wrist. I braided my hair and grabbed my communicator. When I walked into Central Processing, Lish practically slammed herself into the glass in her urgency to talk to me.

“Evie, are you okay? I have been so worried.”

I smiled weakly. “Yeah, it's been kind of a sucky couple of weeks.”

“Please, sit down. You have not visited me much lately. I missed you.”

I dragged over one of the rolling chairs, sitting down and pulling up my legs.

Lish made me recount everything that had happened with Reth and then the hag. Being with her now made me realize how much I had missed my best friend. Between all
the extra attention Raquel was giving me, the increasingly botched and dangerous jobs, and Lend, I had been busy. Lish, being a very clever amphibious immortal, narrowed her eyes in a sly smile.

“And this Lend—who saved you from Reth—is he very…cute?”

I laughed. “He can do a perfect Landon.”

“Landon from
Easton Heights
? Oh, then you really must be in love with him.”

I shook my head. “No, his real face is nicer. And he's funny, and nice. Don't tell Raquel, but I do kinda like him….”

Lish nodded, still smiling. “Is he a raging bundle of human hormones like Landon?”

I laughed at the absurdity of her question. “Umm, I'm thinking no. I'm kind of glad, too.”

“Ah yes. Too much—” Lish paused and winked one clear eyelid at me exaggeratedly “—baggage, right?”

“You know me—I like to pack light.”

Lish blew bubbles laughing. “See how good I am getting at metaphors?”

“You're a pro!” We practiced metaphors and clichés a lot; it was important to her to be able to relate to me in spite of our differences.

“The most vital question, though, is does he like you?”

“Umm, probably not. I'm the girl who keeps getting him fried, remember? And he's stuck here because of me, too. He shouldn't be. It's stupid that they're keeping him.”

“What else can they do?”

“I don't know—listen to him, help him! Wherever he's from, they know what's going on, too. If IPCA wasn't so concerned with bagging and tagging and tracking and all that other nonsense, if they'd treat him like an equal or an ally, they could probably work with Lend and figure this thing out before any other paranormals end up dead!”

Lish looked proud of me. Maybe she wasn't as pro-IPCA as I'd always assumed.

“Have you talked to Raquel about this?”

“Not really, no.” I had been too nervous. I used to be secure in my place at IPCA, but knowing I was a Level Seven made me worry that everything I did would be suspect. Paranormals weren't equal around here—they were always, always
other
. Pushing for Lend's freedom was about as suspect as anything I could do right now.

But then I realized I was sitting there, worried about whether or not Lend liked me as more than a friend (if he even liked me as a friend), worried about my status with the normal humans at IPCA, worried about myself. Always about myself. Just like when I ran sobbing for my life and left Jacques alone. Paranormals were dying. It was easy to forget about hags and vamps being killed, but Jacques didn't deserve that. It had to stop.

“I'm going to talk to Raquel about it. Whatever they're doing isn't working.”

Lish smiled with her eyes. “Good girl.”

I smiled back, wondering if maybe Lish had been trying to help me realize this stuff for a long time. I'd never had a problem with her. I even liked some of the other paranormals, especially the werewolves. After all, it wasn't like it was their fault they were how they were.

Of course, once I thought about that, it really wasn't any of the paranormals' faults. It's not like hags woke up one morning and thought, hey, wouldn't it be fun to eat children? They were like vultures. Sure, they were disgusting and horrible, but that's just what they were.

But did that make it okay? Did that mean they should be allowed to continue hanging out in ponds and swamps, hoping for a nice snack? The whole train of thought was giving me a headache. I needed a break from thinking.

“So, umm, would you feel really bad if I left to go see Lend?”

“Bleep no. Go see your weird boyfriend.”

I laughed, smashed my face against her glass as a good-bye, then made my way to Lend's cell.

He was still wearing his standard, the dark-haired, dark-eyed hottie, and drawing in the sketchbook I'd given him. When he looked up, relief flooded his face. “You're back.”

I nodded, trying to smile. Then, to my immense embarrassment, I burst into tears. He jumped up and pulled me into a hug. “What's wrong? What happened?”

“It was there. It killed the hag and then it killed Jacques. I just ran.”

He didn't let go of me. “Did you see it?”

“Sort of.” I described what little I could to him. “Oh! And it left a handprint! On the hag, on her chest. A shimmering, pale gold handprint that faded and disappeared while I watched.”

“On her body?”

“I think it was under her glamour. I doubt anyone else would have been able to see it. It kind of looked like what's under my skin now. But Reth has an alibi.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “Are you okay?”

“I don't know. It was—I've never been so scared. I really thought I was going to die. And Jacques—I heard him die.” I started crying again. Lend led me to the bed and sat next to me, his arm around my shoulders. “Sorry,” I said, wiping my eyes.

“Don't apologize. I'm just glad you got away. And you're the first person to see anything. It helps a lot, actually.”

“Or it would if you weren't locked up in here. But I'm going to talk to Raquel, try and make her realize that we need to work with you, not hold you like some criminal. This thing has to be stopped.”

He nodded, and I think he looked a little proud of me, too. Leaning over, he kissed me lightly on top of my head. How could I feel so terrible and wonderful at the same time?

D
etermined
to be as good as my word, I pulled out my communicator and sent a message to Raquel right then, asking her when we could talk. After a few minutes it beeped. “Oh. She's going to be gone for three or four days.” I turned to Lend. “But as soon as she gets back, I'll talk with her. IPCA has it all wrong. They're so busy being scared and trying to control things that they can't see the paranormals who can help. Like you. I'm gonna convince her to let you go without a tracker.”

“I hope you can.”

“Me, too.” I sighed. Everything had gotten so complicated,
so serious. “Tell me something about yourself—something fun, something easy.” I scooted back and leaned against the wall. He did the same, staying next to me.

“What do you want to know?”

“What's your life like out there? I mean, you don't have to tell me any secrets,” I added hastily. “But, like, do you go to school?”

“I'm a senior. Just got all my college acceptance letters.” He smiled. “Of course, I don't know how I'll make up the work I'm missing.”

“You're going to college? That's so cool! Wait, so normal high school? Wow. What's it like? Did you go to the prom? Do you go to a lot of parties? Do you have lockers?”

He laughed. “Lockers?”

“They just seem cool.”

“Oh, yeah, they're the best. High school's actually kind of boring. It's a little bit like living in the Center. Everyone thinks they know everything about everyone else, but really there's a lot more under the surface. But you already know that, don't you?” He nudged me. “And as far as prom, no, I don't really date.”

“Why? Look at you, you're hot!” I blushed. “I mean, you can look like whatever you want, I'll bet the girls love you.”

“Yeah, they always like this face.”

“Whose face is it really?”

He smiled enigmatically. “Mine. Kind of. But it's just
weird with other people—like I'm pretending, playing a part. And they only like the part. They don't really know me.”

“I get that.” I didn't add that I was really, really happy he wasn't dating anyone. Best news I'd had all week. If Lend were like one of the characters on my shows, he would have hooked up with every single girl, on-and offscreen. For once I was glad real life wasn't one of my television dramas.

Then I thought of something I really wanted to know. “Do you have a family?” My voice caught. More than high school or prom or dating—or even lockers—family filled me with the most regret and sadness about my life. Aside from Raquel and Lish, I didn't have anyone. I never had.

“That would fall into the category of things I can't tell you about.” My face fell and he added, “Yet. What about you? How did you end up here?”

“They kind of found me.” I told him the vamp-in-the-cemetery story.

“So you never had a family?”

“Nope, just the foster system. Some of the families were okay, but it wasn't a really happy or stable way to spend a childhood.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too.” I didn't like to think about it; it hurt too bad knowing that whoever my parents were, they didn't want me. Giving me away I could understand, but they
had just abandoned me. I couldn't remember them, or anything before the foster homes and the series of families that took me in and then passed me along. “It's okay, though. Raquel's actually a way nice person—she nags me so much I can almost pretend she's my mother. She took me on my first bag-and-tags just to make sure I was comfortable, and she tries to make my life here as normal as possible. And Lish is an awesome best friend, even if she's the worst hide-and-go-seek player ever.”

Of course, he hadn't met Lish, so we talked about her and then everything else under the sun for a few more hours. I made him describe his typical day to me in excruciating detail, where he wanted to go to college, what he would study there. I thought he should study art, but he laughed and said he wanted to do something more practical. Then he asked about what life was like growing up in the Center. We traded stories, and I was grateful for the distraction.

Finally I was too tired to form a coherent sentence. “I need to go to bed. But I'll come hang out tomorrow, okay?”

He smiled. “Good. Oh, here.” He opened the sketchbook and pulled out a page. He had written out the poem for me. “Just in case it helps you think of anything.”

“Yeah, thanks. I won't show it to anyone.”

“I know.” Then he pulled out another page and handed it to me, grinning. It was the drawing of me in my zebra dress and pink boots.

Oh, heavens, I liked that boy. When I got back to my unit, I stared at the drawing. He really captured me, which made me hope he spent a lot of time thinking about me. I sure spent enough time thinking about him, after all. I cleared off my bed and lay down with the drawing next to me.

Reading over the poem a few more times, I didn't have any new brilliant ideas. The whole thing was too weird and vague. I could come up with a lot of explanations that kind of fit, but nothing was perfect. Plus I kept coming back to the fear that it had something to do with me, which made it hard to concentrate. I tucked the poem under the drawing, turned off the lights, and fell asleep.

 

I opened my eyes to the dark room. There was a pale light near me and someone hummed a soft, haunting melody. It made me ache inside. Reaching out in a panic, I almost knocked my lamp over as I switched it on. Reth was sitting on the end of my bed.

“Hello,” he said, his voice and smile pleasant.

“You can't touch me!” I sat up and pulled the covers over myself.

“Yes, about that. You need to negate the command.”

“Excuse me?”

He looked at me patiently, like he was explaining something to a stubborn child. “You need to break that command.”

“And why on earth would I ever want to do that?” I glared at him. Lunatic.

“Because I wasn't finished.”

“Oh, no, I really think you were.” I held up my wrist. It still bore the scarlet mark of his hand and, to my eyes at least, was bright against the light of the lamp. Then, since I was holding up my hand anyway, I flipped him off.

“You're going to need more.”

“Well, that's easy.” I held up my other hand and flipped him off with that one, too.

His golden eyes shimmered softly in the dim light. “It didn't work; you're still cold.”

“I'm just fine, thank you very much.”

“‘Eyes like streams of melting snow, cold with the things she does not know.'”

I glanced down at the poem; it hadn't been moved, still hidden underneath the drawing. “Yeah, I know that one. Ends with lots and lots of death.”

He shook his head. “No, that's not yours. That's hers. Yours has a different ending. You'll understand everything if you let me fill you.”

“What are you talking about?” I shouted. He was really starting to frustrate me. If he had to be obnoxious, the least he could do was be clear. The whole obnoxious and mysterious thing wasn't working for me.

“We need to finish. I cannot explain it to you now—court secrets and whatnot. Simply let me finish and
then you'll be able to see.”

“Tell me what you did to me or get out.” He had answers, but I knew he wasn't going to give me any. I was too tired to deal with faerie nonsense tonight.

“There are many who would rather she be the one. If I don't finish, you might not survive. I'd like you to survive.” He smiled affectionately at me.

“Who is this ‘she'? One of your faerie friends?”

“Bless me, no.”

Could he
be
less helpful? “Are you doing this? Killing the paranormals?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Why would I do that?”

“You tell me.”

“I have no reason to kill those creatures.”

I took a deep breath, trying again. “What did you do to me?” Every nerve was strained as I waited for his answer.

“I'm going to fill you, to create you. I tried to be gentle but you never held on to it. Then you wouldn't accept any more, so you left me no choice. It won't hurt if you behave and stop denying that you want it. Shall we finish?”

“Fill me with what?!”

“Please break the command, Evelyn.”

“I won't! Not ever; you're never touching me again.”

His large, ageless eyes narrowed and he smiled again. It had a touch of cruelty. “I will enjoy it when you beg me to touch you again.”

“Get out of my room.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Until you call for me then, my love.” The light went out and I swore, not wanting to be alone in the dark with him. By the time I found the switch and turned the light back on, he was gone.