Paranormalcy (3 page)

I
—no, that's not what IPCA does,” I said. “They don't kill paranormals, they—”

Lend raised a hand to stop me and sat up, large eyes narrowing. “Are
you
going to kill me?”

“Why would I kill you?”

After a moment he let out a deep breath. “I don't think it's you.”

“What's not me?”

Standing, he stretched. Did I mention how weird it was watching my body do this stuff? He even had the hair right—a little messy this morning, since I hadn't
bothered to brush it yet.

“Can you please go back to normal?” I wanted to look at him more now that I could see him better.

He smiled, flashing my perfect teeth at me. I had to go through three years of braces for that smile; no fair that he could copy it in a second. “Normal? What's that?”

“How you really look.”

“Can you take off all your clothes?”

Okay, weirdest thing ever—I just asked myself to take off all my clothes. It doesn't get much creepier. “Why on
earth
would I do that?”

“You asked me to be naked; I thought it was only fair.”

“I just meant stop wearing me. Be yourself. But yourself with clothes.”

“These are my clothes. But, if it bothers you.” I melted off him and he grew a few inches. In my place was a teenage guy. Black hair, dark brown eyes, olive skin, and, oh yeah, absolutely gorgeous. Like, belonged on one of the shows I loved so much gorgeous. “Better?” His voice had changed, deepened, and I wished I was talking with an actual teenage guy.

“Definitely.” I looked closer. Still Lend under there. Even the dark eyes didn't hide his water-colored ones; I could see him shimmering through.

“This seems to be a popular one.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Then I frowned, curious. “What does your real voice sound like?”

“What makes you think this isn't it?”

“I think it would sound different. Softer. Like water.” I realized how stupid that sounded, but his smile dropped off and he gave me a considering look.

“If you didn't come here to kill me, why
are
you here, Evie?”

Awkward. Here I was, no makeup, ratty hair, in front of the hottest teenage guy I'd ever seen, fake or not. Why
was
I here? “It's my job.”

His smile returned, this time with the usual ironic twist to his lips. “Oh. Your job. Quite the career for someone your age.”

“You're not much older than me.” Now that I'd seen him better, I was sure of it. Corrupted mortals like vampires show their real bodies' ages—old and nasty—underneath. True immortals, like faeries, have eternal youth, but there's something different in their faces. All those years don't add lines; they smooth, like a piece of glass turned around forever on the ocean floor. No mortal has that polish. His face was neither old nor ageless.

The shift in his expression confirmed it. “Ha!” I smiled smugly. “I'm guessing…fifteen.” I went low on purpose.

He looked indignant. “Seventeen.”

“See? You told the truth. That wasn't so bad, now, was it?”

Lend shook his head, then sighed. “Trouble.”

“You bet I'm trouble,” I countered with a smile. Sure,
maybe I was flirting, a little. Could you blame me? The only guys I ever met were too old, half monsters, living corpses, or immortal creeps. At least Lend was close to my age, whatever else he was.

“No, you're
in
trouble.” He looked and I followed his eyes right to Raquel, who was not happy. At all. She finished crossing the hall and fixed a steely glare on me.

I was about to apologize, but then I rolled my eyes. “What are you going to do, ground me?” Maybe I shouldn't have been so flip about it, but really. After the night I had, the last thing I wanted was a lecture.

“Out. Now.”

I walked past her, turning my head to glance back at Lend. He winked at me and I couldn't help but smile.

Instead of going to my room, I made my way to Central Processing. It was still early but that's another great thing about Lish: she doesn't sleep. I loved Central Processing. Unlike the rest of the Center, it didn't look sterile. The entire room was a circle, with desks placed against the wall and everything based around Lish's gorgeous aquarium. About fifty feet in diameter, it was fifteen feet high and a perfect circle. They even managed to transplant a living coral reef, complete with tropical fish in the crystal blue water. Way better than my unit.

Lish was staring at the series of screens that lined the front of the tank. She was like the ultimate personal assistant. No sick days, no vacations, no sleep, and she wanted to
be there. A lot of the paranormals couldn't be trusted with too much. Even though they're neutered, most of them harbor a bit of resentment toward IPCA because of the loss of freedom. But Lish loved her job. She was in charge of scheduling, monitoring, transports, you name it. Girl knew everything.

Apparently not today, though. Her green eyes widened with interest when I walked up to the tank. I smiled. “What's up, Lish?”

“How are you feeling? Are you okay after last night?”

Lish knew me better than anyone else at the Center. Raquel was in charge of me, but she was hard to talk to about feelings. After all, when the main way you communicate is through sighs, it makes it hard to relate to teens. Lish understood how bad a new run-in with Reth would mess me up. I could (and did) talk with her about everything.

“Been better. Didn't sleep.”

Lish tried to swear—which is always funny, because the computer won't translate it. It went something like this: “Bleep stupid bleep bleep faeries and their bleep bleep bleep obsessions. He had better stop bleep bleep bleep the bleep bleep rules or I will bleep bleep bleep the little bleeeeeeeeeeep.” All in a completely robotic monotone. Awesome. Lish could really get going sometimes. I loved her for it; she was like the big sister I never had. The big sister who happened to be shiny green and covered in scales,
with a long, finned tail and webbed hands. But she was beautiful in her way.

I laughed. The robot voice tirades always cheered me up. “Okay, you bleep bleep do that.” She shook her head, still mad about Reth. Something on one of her screens took her attention and she waved her webbed hands in front of it for a few minutes. I wasn't sure how all the tech worked in there, but it always looked cool.

Once she was done, she looked back at me. “So, tell me about what happened yesterday with the break-in.”

“What don't you know?” Lish was usually the font of all information. Granted, most of that information was classified, but we were best friends. We told secrets, and kept them, too. Like the time when I was twelve and the Center was processing a load of pixies. Lish knew how badly I wanted to see them and slipped me the when and where information—even though Raquel had grounded me for wandering off on a bag-and-tag mission. Too bad pixies turned out to be dirty, ugly little things, even their wings coated with mucous. Yet another cartoon dream shattered.

“They are not releasing much intel. What is it?” She looked worried.

“Don't know. I've never seen anything like him. Neither has Raquel.”

“Why was he here?”

“Don't know again. I caught him in Raquel's office, but he hasn't said why.”

“And he can take the appearance of anyone?”

“Yup. Pretty freaky when you're standing there talking to yourself.”

A small, wheezing laugh sounded. I looked over and noticed one of the office vamps standing close by, listening. “Something funny, Dalv?” I glared at him.

He glared back. “It's Vlad and you know it.”

“You and half the other vamps out there.” Vlad—or Dalv, as I liked to call him just to piss him off—was one of my least favorite parts of the Center. After neutering, IPCA always set the paranormals up with some mandatory job. Werewolves had the most job flexibility, depending on what they were before. Vamps usually worked in the satellite buildings or did cover-up for sightings using their persuasion skills. Vlad was pretty useless though. I guess I can't blame him for feeling bitter. Going from being the terror of Bulgarian nights to a janitor would kinda suck. And, since I was the one who had done the bag-and-tag, he especially hated me.

He shrugged as he swept the already spotless floor. His glamour was less flashy than most; he looked like a forty-year-old man, not handsome, not ugly, just thin and slightly balding. Underneath all vamps looked the same. Ugh. “He could be a doppelgänger,” he said, a sneer of a smile creeping onto his face.

“What's a doppelgänger?” I immediately regretted asking as his smile spread.

“Good news for the rest of us, if he took your form.” Giving another wheezy laugh, he walked out.

I turned to Lish; she was already looking it up on one of her screens. Her eyes narrowed. “What?” The look on her face was making me nervous. “What's a doppelgänger?”

“Doppelgängers appear to people as harbingers of—” she paused “—death. The tale was that if you saw yourself, it meant you were going to die. They were also bad spirits who would take your form and destroy your life, again leading to your death.”

I frowned. Not cool. “Wait, spirits?” She nodded. “Nope, dude's corporeal.” I had dealt with a few ghosts and poltergeists in my time. The great thing about them is they can't touch you. Their only power is fear. And there's a whole lot you can do with fear—make people see, hear, and even feel things that aren't there—but if you know that going in, it's a lot easier to see past it. “Besides, if I'm going to die, Raquel, Denise, and Jacques are all going with me.”

She blinked thoughtfully. “And why would a doppelgänger want to look through Raquel's files?”

“Exactly. Plus, he's only seventeen.”

Lish tilted her head. “He is not an immortal?”

“Nope. Oh, whoops, probably should have told Raquel that.” I frowned. I'd tell her when she decided to include me. “Listen, don't say anything, okay? I want in on this one, and info's the only leverage I have.”

Lish closed one of her transparent eyelids at me in her
best imitation of a wink. “They are not giving me research clearance anyway. I have no reason to tell.”

“You're the best, my fine fishy friend.”

Lish's eyes smiled at me. Different as we were, we were both exactly what the other needed—a friend. As was my custom, started when I first met Lish as a ten-year-old, I smashed my face against the glass and blew my cheeks out at her.

I
had finally fallen asleep later that morning when the alarm went off. I jumped out of bed, confused, thinking there was yet another break-in or emergency. Then I realized it wasn't the Center's alarms, it was my personal alarm. The alarm that meant my tutor, Charlotte, would be here in exactly ten minutes.

“Oh, bleep.” I hadn't done any of my homework.

The last few years I'd tried to convince Raquel that I really didn't need to study math, English, science, world history, and four—yes,
four
—foreign languages. It wasn't like I was going to go to college or anything. Sure, I wanted
to attend real high school, but that had more to do with being around actual teenagers than learning stuff. Besides, I doubted IPCA cared whether or not I had my GED. As long as I could keep seeing through glamours, I had a job for life. But every time I brought it up, Raquel looked at me with those almost-black eyes and heaved her patented
I know you think it's not important to know these things but one day you'll appreciate that I've made you into a well-rounded adult
sigh.

I pulled out my Spanish book, pretty sure that's what I had this morning. Hastily filling in my irregular verb chart for
morir
, I wrote out example sentences.
Tú eres muerta carne
. Scratched that—adjective after the noun.
Tú eres carne muerta
. Oh, who was I kidding, I wasn't even using morir in the verb form anyway.
Yo soy carne muerta
. Translation: I am dead meat.

Right on time my unit door beeped and I let Charlotte in. She was a pretty woman, looked to be in her late twenties. A couple inches shorter than me with shiny brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and these adorable rectangular glasses over her blue eyes, which were over her bright yellow wolf eyes.

Charlotte always smiled so sweetly. Teaching had been her life's passion until she was infected. After she realized what she was and what she had done—attacked a family member—she tried to kill herself. Fortunately we found her before she could figure out the few things that can bring down a werewolf. I could never tell if it was my lack
of motivation as a student or her pain and regret about the past that made her look sad even when she was smiling.

We sat down on the couch and pulled up a table. She glanced over my worksheet and suppressed a smile. “You are dead meat?”

I gave my best
don't get mad, aren't I cute?
grin and shrugged.

“That's an American expression—the meaning doesn't translate. And you didn't finish your verb charts or the short story you were assigned.” She looked up at me with those sad, sad eyes. Those eyes killed me.

“I'm sorry.” I hung my head. “Yesterday was crazy. First I had a vamp job, and then there was the break-in, and then Reth paid me a late-night visit, and then I couldn't sleep.”

“It sounds like you had a rough day. But you've had this assignment for a week. Perhaps next time if you didn't leave it to the night before?”

“Hey, now, let's not start talking crazy, Char.” That, at least, got me a less-sad smile.

We spent the rest of the morning conjugating (a word that sounds dirty but is, in fact, boring) and conversing in good old
español
. She stayed and ate lunch with me, and then it was time for my afternoon training session.

Bud, my self-defense and combat skills teacher, was still trying to get me to learn knife fighting. “Silver knives! Painful and sometimes deadly to nearly all paranormals!”

“Tasey!” I countered. “Hot pink and sparkly!”

“You can't always count on technology.” Bud was human, but you'd think he'd grown up in the Middle Ages. In case you were wondering if he was cute, well, maybe thirty years ago. Now, not so much. “And, since we've had this argument before, I made you something.”

I perked up. “A present?”

He nodded, an annoyed look on his face. Pulling out a cloth-wrapped bundle, he revealed a slender dagger with a bright pink, pearlescent handle. “No way!” I yelled, taking it from him.

“I can't believe I made a pink knife.”

“It's so cute! I love it. Finally, a companion worthy of Tasey.” I gave him a quick hug. Hugs always freaked poor Bud out, but he was relieved I'd finally agreed to take a knife. “Oh, gosh, what should I name her?”

“Whatever it is, please don't tell me. Just keep it sheathed and on your belt.”

I took the sheath—which was black. “Can you make me one in brown, too? And pink?” You'd think Bud was a werewolf by the way he growled as he shooed me out of the training room.

The rest of my afternoon free, I banked on the hope that Raquel would be in meetings. She was pretty high up in IPCA. I used to think she was only assigned to me, but it turned out she ran the entire Center and was in charge of all bag-and-tag missions. I guess I was just her favorite. That, or the most useful.

I had been thinking about Lend on and off all day. He was the most interesting person/thing in here right now, so I went to Containment. I stopped in front of Lend's cell, then did a double take. He wasn't there. And not in an almost-invisible way, in an actually-not-in-the-cell-anymore way. Not cool.

Jacques was at the very end of the long corridor. “Jacques!”

He walked down. “You are not supposed to be here, Evie.”

“Yeah, yeah. Where's Lend?” What if they had let him go? Not likely, once I thought about it. He'd broken into the Center. I couldn't remember that happening—ever. But what if he was in more trouble than I thought, and they were hurting him? That idea bothered me. Then the rational part of me wondered if maybe he was dangerous and they'd taken him to a higher-risk placement area.

Jacques shrugged. “Raquel wanted him moved.”

“Why?”

“We are not equipped for long-term holding here. No beds, no bathrooms.”

“Oh.” Made sense. “Where is he?”

The werewolf shook his head. “Sorry. You are not cleared to know.” Today his normally cute French accent was seriously bugging me.

“Not cleared?”

“No. Raquel told me not to tell you.”

My face melted into a pout. This was so not fair. I turned on my heel and stalked to Raquel's office. I had just put my palm up to enter when the door opened.

“Oh, good,” Raquel said.

“What's the deal with—”

“I've got a job for you. You need to leave right now. A transport's waiting.”

I frowned. “What is it?”

“Vampire activity in Istanbul. We've got a location, but you have to hurry.”

“I—Okay.” We ran to my room and I grabbed my bag with the ankle trackers. I always had Tasey on me, and now she was joined by my dagger. “I'm not really dressed for vamping.” I was wearing skinny jeans and a long-sleeved V-necked tee, my hair back in a ponytail.

“You look fine,” she said dismissively. “Your neck is showing—that's all that matters.”

We were almost to Transport when I remembered. “Hey, why can't I know where Lend is?”

Raquel rolled her eyes and heaved an
is this really the time
sigh. “You don't need to know.” The Transport room door opened in front of us to reveal the waiting faerie. I hadn't seen her in years, and my stomach immediately clenched with guilt and nerves. All the human employees were required to memorize two faerie names, the faeries assigned at random so no faerie had too many people attached. This faerie was one of mine, and I couldn't remember her name
for the life of me.

Hers had been the first one they'd told me; I was ten. They also told me to never, ever use it unless I absolutely had to, then explained all the ways in which I could be killed if I screwed up. It was a little traumatic; can you blame me for forgetting? I knew I should ask again but was too embarrassed that I'd forgotten in the first place. Raquel would flip.

The faerie didn't even look at me. “Do you have the location?” Raquel asked her. She nodded. Her skin was creamy white and her ruby hair contrasted sharply with it. Like all faeries, she was beautiful in a way no person could ever be. She held out her hand and blurred as her glamour went into place. The faeries were all required to tone down their looks during transports in case someone caught a glimpse of them. You don't forget a faerie face. The faerie's hair softened to auburn and her face took on more normal proportions, the eyes shrinking and moving closer together. She was still beautiful, but normal now. Unless you were me and could see right through it.

I walked forward and took her outstretched hand. It was warm, but not in the same way Reth's was. The usual outline of brilliant light formed on the blank wall in front of us and we walked together into the black. I put all my attention on the feeling of her hand in mine and just moved forward. It surprised me when she spoke—faeries don't usually deign to speak to mortals. Unless they're
trying to kidnap you, of course.

“Oh, you are Reth's,” she said in recognition, her voice discordant but oddly lovely, like glass raining onto concrete.

I missed a step, almost tripping. Her grasp never wavered. “No, I'm
not
.” As if the Faerie Paths weren't creepy enough already. Where did that come from?

She just laughed—more glass, falling faster. Then I felt cool night air on my face and opened my eyes. We were in a filthy alleyway between two old stone buildings. I let go of her hand and wiped my palm on my pants. She smiled at me, her faerie eyes glowing underneath the glamour. There was a cruel cast to her smile that made me shiver. She pointed toward the alley opening. “You should find the creature in this market.”

“Thanks a lot,” I muttered, turning and walking out of the alleyway. I hoped they'd send a different faerie for the return trip. Heck, I hoped they'd send a jet. I was sick of traveling by faerie. They were getting more and more intrusive.

The market was one of those sprawling open-air types, totally packed. The air beckoned with alluring spices, none of which I'd get to taste. Still,
Easton Heights
wasn't on tonight, so I was in no hurry. Lucky for me it seemed to be a big tourist spot and I didn't stand out too much.

I wandered around, pretending to look at the stalls but really scanning people. I liked this kind of job much better than the cemetery runs. There's no real reason for vamps to
hang out in cemeteries. They just do it because so many of them have bought into the whole pop culture concept of how they
should
act. Besides that, cemeteries are boring and lonely. Nights like this I could wander around and people-watch. People—normal people—fascinated me. Tourists and locals clashed in a wonderful mix of jeans and silk, baseball caps and black hair.

It was also nice to get out on my own. I used to always have one other person (usually a werewolf) go with me, but the last couple of years they'd sent me solo for the basic runs. Vamps weren't a threat now that I knew what I was doing. If it was something more dangerous I'd always have backup.

A guy called out to me in broken English from a jewelry stall. He was Turkish, kinda cute in a stretched out, throes-of-puberty sort of way. I was about to stop and pretend like I really was a shopper when I caught a glimpse of something walking by. Something not human. Smiling my regrets at stall boy, I turned and hurried after the person. All it took was one good look to confirm—through the cover of the man's thick, dark hair I could see the last stringy remains of actual hair clinging to his shriveled and spotted head.

It didn't look like he was stalking anyone; he moved purposefully through the market. I almost had to jog to keep up until he entered a derelict building near the very end of the market. Waiting about thirty seconds, I went in after him. A small hallway led to a single door. I pulled out
Tasey, walked forward, and kicked it open, striding into the room.

The vamp I was following turned and looked at me; so did the twenty other vampires in there.

“Oh, bleep,” I whispered.