Кирстен Уайт - Paranormalcy

“Cool. It’ll be fun.”

The afternoon passed quickly. Every time I thought about the prom, a sort of giddy sense of unreality descended on me. Surely this couldn’t be my life. It was too amazing. I was going to the prommy prom—with Lend.

GIRLS, CRYING, WOLVES

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.

HEY, STUPID

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-cuteguy-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.”