Paranormalcy (Paranormalcy #1)

Paranormalcy (Paranormalcy #1) Page 9

THERAPY BILLS

Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered as I stomped down the halls. I wasn't sure what exactly was stupid, but it seemed like a lot of things were lately. Lend, for one, with his dumb questions, making me think about stuff I'd rather not. I stopped in front of Raquel's office. She needed to believe me about Reth, do something about the command I'd given him. She still thought that faeries didn't care about humans at all. Sure, she knew the histories, how they kidnapped mortals to take to their realm and dance (yeah, it's as weird as it sounds), but since IPCA gave their faeries a named command not to, they figured it was a non-​issue now.

I knocked and the door slid open. Raquel was standing at her desk, gathering papers and looking tired and stressed out. “What is it, Evie? I'm due back in five minutes.”

I walked in and sat down, scowling at her desk. I was all set to tell her about Reth, using as evidence the creepy comments Fehl had made about me being his, but when I opened my mouth the first thing that came out was, “What if I want to leave?”

She looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if I quit? What if I'm tired of doing this? What if I'm sick of stupid vampires and clueless werewolves and poltergeists and trolls and the Center? What if I'm done dealing with psychotic faeries? What if I want to go to college?”

She sat down. “Honey, where is this coming from?”

“I don't know, I'm just--You didn't answer the question. What if I left?”

“You don't want to leave.” She looked at me with understanding, a motherly smile on her face. It pissed me off. She wasn't my mother.

“Maybe I do. What are you going to do--slap an ankle tracker on me?” I waited for her don't be ridiculous, Evie sigh. It didn't come. In fact, not only did she not sigh, she looked anxious. My eyes widened in horror. “Holy crap. You would, wouldn't you?”

She shook her head. “Don't be silly. You know I care about you, and I want the best for you. I--”

I stood. Her pause had been enough to confirm it; no amount of pretending to be my surrogate family would erase this. I really couldn't leave. Without a word I walked out, heading straight to Central Processing.

Lish was surprised to see me again. “What is up, Evie?”

“What's my classification?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what's my classification, Lish. Look it up. Now.”

“They only classify paranormals. You know that.”

“Well then, I shouldn't be in there, so it won't matter if you try to look me up.”

“I suppose not.” She shrugged and waved her hands in front of her screens. Then her eyes narrowed. “Oh.”

“What?” My stomach felt like a brick, heavy and sharp in my abdomen.

“I--you--there is a classification.” She looked up at me, concern shadowing her face.

“What does it say?” I whispered.

“Evie, it does not change anything. It does not change you.”

“What does it say?” My voice was hard. After a few seconds, Lish looked back at the screen.

“It says you are a 'Level Seven Paranormal, unknown origin, mortal form.' Your status listings are 'protected, in use,' and 'under observation.'”

I shook my head in disbelief. Paranormals were categorized according to several factors: level of power, how common they were, how dangerous they were, and how much was known about them. Vamps were a two. Lish was a four. Faeries--faeries--were a six. I had never met a seven.

I felt like my mind had short-​circuited. I always knew I was weird. But I figured I was a normal human who could do something paranormal. Not a paranormal who could do some things human.

“Evie,” Lish said, waiting until I met her eyes. “You have always known you were different. Do not let this change the way you see yourself. IPCA is--” She paused, then moved closer to the glass. “IPCA is not always right about everything. You are not paranormal.” She smiled at me, sadness behind her wide, green eyes. “You are special. There is a difference.”

I couldn't cry, not yet, and being with Lish right now hurt. I knew she understood, but I wasn't ready to face this, so I just nodded and walked slowly out. I wandered, numb, through the Center. When I was nearly back to my room, the white outline of a door showed up on the wall ahead of me. I paused, waiting to see who would come out. I might even have welcomed Reth at that point.

It turned out to be a different faerie. She had done a few transports for me but I didn't know her name. She walked out with a werewolf, then turned to go back through.

“Wait!” I called. The Faerie turned to me, her large, violet eyes disinterested. “I need a transport.”

“I don't have transport orders for you.”

“Just came in; you know I have clearance.” I tried to look impatient. “This has priority.”

Nodding impassively, she held out a hand. I took it and we walked into the dark. “Where?”

I bit my lip. I hadn't actually thought about it. “Umm--” Then I remembered one of my bag-​and-​tags a couple months back. It had been in Florida, near a mall. What was the mall's name? “The Everglades Shopping Center, in Miami.” I hoped that was enough. Usually their instructions came from Lish--I didn't know how specific the directions had to be. The way Lish explained it to me once was that all names are powerful for faeries. If you could name where you wanted them to go, they could find it.

Weird, but it came in handy today; after a few more steps a door opened in front of us. I stepped out. “Thanks,” I said, but the faerie was already gone.

Nearly all my trips out were at night. Lifting my head, I enjoyed the feeling of the sun on my face, the tickle of humidity. It was March but the weather was perfect here. The entrance to the mall was just ahead of me. Nearby, surrounded by palm trees and hibiscus with brilliant red blossoms, were a couple of benches. I sat down, soaking the heat in through my T-​shirt. I was still a little cold--I was always a little cold--but this was a world of improvement from the Center.

After a few minutes I went in, wandering through the crowds and annoyed at the excessive AC. Watching normal people usually cheered me up whenever I got a chance to do it. Today it made me feel even worse. What if I really didn't belong here? I had always felt almost smug toward the paranormals, because at the end of the day, no matter what, I was still human. I didn't have to be monitored or neutered. I wasn't stuck in a glass tank. They made my life look a lot better. Now I wasn't so sure.

Depressed and worried, I found a bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Maybe I had been missing something. If Lend didn't know what he really looked like, maybe I had never looked at myself closely enough. I searched for anything underneath, lingering on my pale eyes, looking for any clue that I, too, was more than what I seemed.

Nothing.

There was nothing there. No shimmering hint of something, no glowing eyes, no body underneath my body. It was just me, just like every other human I'd ever looked at.

Except not just like them, because I could see things no one else could.

I left the bathroom dejected. I had nothing. No wallet, no purse, no identity. There was nothing for me in the real--in the normal--world. Whether or not I was paranormal, I didn't belong here. I sat down on another bench and watched. Couples that couldn't seem to get their hands out of each other's back pockets. Girls with their arms linked as they gossiped about who liked who and who said what and OMG, are you kidding me. All of them going about their wonderful, normal lives. They didn't know anything. I envied them.

I was still sitting there when someone sat next to me. “Evie.” Raquel took my hand. “Hon, what are you doing?”

I shook my head. “I don't know.”

“I should have told you about your classification a long time ago. I'm sorry.”

I sniffled. If I started crying in the mall I would never forgive myself. “Why didn't you?”

“I didn't think it mattered. All it really means is that you can do something no one else can and we don't know how or why. It doesn't mean you aren't human, or that you're somehow the same as the vampires or faeries or unicorns.”

“Wait--seriously? There are unicorns? You're lying.” I narrowed my eyes.

She laughed. “Maybe if you're really good and start doing your homework I can take you to see them.”

“Shouldn't being a Level Seven get me out of homework?”

“Not on your life.” She brushed some stray hair away from my face, smiling. “I let you get away with quitting piano lessons when you were ten because that troll teacher scared you, and I've never forgiven myself. No slack on homework. Now, since we're here, we might as well do a little shopping, don't you think?”

I sighed. Mine was nowhere near as impressive as one of Raquel's sighs, but maybe if I worked at it someday I wouldn't need to talk at all. “I'm not really in the mood.”

She looked worried. “You're kidding, right?”

“Yeah. Come on.” I loved shopping but did all mine online. Raquel used to buy my clothes for me, but I put a stop to that years ago. A girl can take only so many navy blue skirts and starched white shirts. But being here, actually being able to try things on, feel them, and see the color in real life was way better than pointing and clicking. By the time we were finished Raquel and I were both loaded down with bags.

She shook her head. “I don't know how I'll fill this out on my expense reports.”

“Just list it as therapy bills,” I suggested. She laughed and we headed for the door. A small store caught my eye. “Oh, just a sec!” She gave a you've got to be kidding me sigh, but followed me into the art supply store. I picked out a nice sketchbook and some charcoal pencils. Then, for good measure, I threw in colored pencils and pastels.

“Taking up a new hobby?” Raquel asked as she paid for all of it.

“I figured my wall could use a break, right?” She had patiently ignored my decorating, but I knew it bothered her.

We walked out and into a delivery alley. When she was sure no one was watching, she called for a pickup and a door appeared. I guess that was a perk to being Raquel--my pickups always took a few minutes. The same faerie who had dropped me off stepped out and took our hands. You'd think she'd be mad after I lied to her, but faeries only care about the things they care about, if that makes any sense. She didn't so much as give me a second glance.

When we walked back into the Center, Raquel helped me carry the stuff to my unit. We set the bags down and she put her hand on my shoulder, searching my face. “You're okay?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I'm fine.” She seemed satisfied and left. My smile dropped off. Things weren't fine, and I had no idea if they ever would be again.

I CAN SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU

The next morning I was still feeling down. My marathon of Easton Heights last night hadn't done anything to cheer me up. If anything, it kinda made me feel worse. I knew it wasn't like real life, but it still reminded me of all the things I wouldn't have: proms, catfights, best friends who actually had legs and breathed air, boyfriends. Boyfriends especially.

I pulled Lish up on my vid screen. “Raquel available today?”

She shook her head. “She is not in the Center. More meetings. Do you want me to call her?”

“Oh, no, no big deal. Just wanted to ask her something; there's no rush.” I smiled and waved to Lish, then shut off the screen. Going through my bags of new stuff, I pulled on a zebra-​print wrap dress and fitted hot pink stiletto boots. My style was a little over-​the-​top, but if you lived in a place where everything was white you'd want to liven it up a bit, too. The boots didn't make me as happy as I thought they would. Still, I looked good.

I grabbed the bag of art supplies and was about to walk out the door when I had a better idea. A few years ago Raquel had given me a pair of Rollerblades for Christmas. I wreaked such havoc zooming through the hallways and smashing into everyone and everything that she took them away. I did, however, have a rolling chair at the desk in my room. If riding that through the halls didn't make me at least a little happier, I didn't know what would.

I hooked the bag around the back of the chair and pushed it into the hall. Backing up a few feet, I got a running start and jumped on. It shot down the hall, veering to the left until I slammed into the wall. I took the long way, with very odd stares (and a few swear words if they had to dive away) from the people that I passed. In Lend's hall I leaned so that the chair would roll into his room and made it halfway to the bed before tipping over. I looked up at his very surprised face. “Hey.” I giggled.

“Hey?” He raised one eyebrow. Dang that one eyebrow! Today he was wearing the dark-​haired, dark-​eyed hottie again. I liked that one.

“So.” I jumped up, straightening my dress. “You were right.”

“I was right?”

“Yup. IPCA has me right up there with faeries. All this time I thought I was part of the family; turns out I'm under observation. Awesome.”

“I'm sorry.” He sounded like he meant it.

“Yeah, well, I think they're wrong. Because when I look at myself, all I see is me. Nothing else.” I had been thinking about it pretty obsessively and it made sense. If I were a paranormal, I'd see something.

“So you can see through other things? Not just me?”

I wasn't supposed to talk about it, but I didn't care. “Sorry, you're not that special.” I grinned at him. “If it's a paranormal, I can see what it is, no matter what's on the top.”

“Wow. Nice trick.”

“Comes in handy. So, I brought you a present.” I handed him the bag. He looked inside and a smile spread across his face.

“Thanks! This is great.”

“I thought you could teach me a little bit. I'm not really great at figures.”

“What are you talking about? You've got a great figure.”

He was flirting with me! I laughed, blushing. “Dork.” He laughed back and sat on the edge of his bed, patting the space beside him. He spent the next hour explaining proportions and how to depict them. By the end of the hour I was still terrible but getting better. And having fun, too, which was nice.

“So, can you see through anything?” he asked, sketching me again.

I watched his hands, fascinated by the interplay between the hands he was showing me and his real hands underneath. “No. I can't see through clothes or anything. Just glamour skin. Except I can see through all of you, since your clothes aren't real.” I stopped, horrified. “I mean, I don't look--It's hard to see you, and I like looking at your real face, but I don't try to see anything, because--Oh gosh, this sounds terrible.”

He had a funny look on his face, like he wasn't sure what to think. “Huh. That's never been an issue before. Maybe next time you could bring me some shorts.”

I nodded, still mortified. Desperate to change the subject, I said, “So what about you? Are you just, like, projecting things, or can you actually make your hair longer and stuff?”

He shimmered, a long-​sleeved shirt replacing his short-​sleeved one. He held out his arm and I hesitantly touched the fabric. It was tangible, but felt too smooth to be real. “Hair's the same way.”

“That is so freaky.” I took the fake material between my fingers. “Can you feel this? Is it like part of you or something?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I have no idea how I do it or how it works.”

“Is that why you broke in? To find out what you are?”

He laughed. “No. I don't care what I am according to IPCA.”

I frowned. “Yeah, me neither. Why did you sneak in?”

After a pause, he shook his head. “I'll tell you later, okay?”

Much as I wanted to know, I realized it didn't really matter. Neither of us were going anywhere. “Sure.”

“How can you stand traveling that way here, though? When I took that woman's hand, I had no idea what was going on. It was all I could do not to freak out.”

“Oh, yeah, the Faerie Paths. They suck. You didn't know she was a faerie?”

“I don't know much about faeries, really.”

“Lucky. You don't want to.”

“Why? Seems pretty useful, being able to open doors to anywhere.”

“Oh, sure. Super useful. But then you have to deal with the faeries.” I got started talking and somehow ended up telling him all about faerie history. I wasn't sure how many faeries IPCA controlled, but the ones we did have hated us for it. I'd also heard that there were different types of faeries, but as far as I could tell there was just the one--beautiful, powerful, and psychotic. I explained as much as I could about how they manipulated the natural world to some extent and traveled pathways between Earth and the Faerie Realms, but that was one area Raquel wouldn't talk much about. She always acted like faeries were around just for transportation, but I suspected there was more to it. I finished by telling him about all the operatives that had been lost over the years by screwing up a command.

“Why does IPCA use them if they're evil?” he asked, confused.

“They aren't evil. They aren't even really immoral, per se. They're amoral. They don't operate on the same level that we do. For a faerie, the only thing that matters is what they want. That's their good. Anything else is superfluous. So like how they kidnap people, not a big deal--they want the person, they take him. Or killing someone. If you live forever, how much does one mortal life matter in the scheme of things? When you exist outside time, cutting off the forty years a person has left is a non-​issue. They don't even notice.”

“So you like faeries?”

“Oh, heavens no. I think working with them is the dumbest thing IPCA could possibly do.”

“Why do they keep using them, then?”

“The first named command every faerie gets is to serve IPCA. They think they can control the faeries--I know they can't,” I muttered darkly. I looked down at his sketch. “Man, you are so good at that.”

“Nice subject. And I like your outfit.” I couldn't tell from his smile whether he was serious or poking fun at me.

“I can bring you some boots like this along with the shorts, if you want.”

He laughed. “Just because I can look like a girl doesn't mean I want to dress like one.”

“You're right. You probably don't have the calves for them, anyway.” Standing, I stretched. “I'd probably better go. Technically I don't even know where they're keeping you.” I winked at him.

“You should take these, then. You can practice.” He handed me the sketchbook and pencils. “You'll come back, right?”

“Sure. You're the coolest person here.” He started to smile, so I shook my head, putting on a mock-​serious face. “Don't be flattered--most of your competition is undead.”

I sat down on my chair and rolled backward out of his room. He watched me, laughing silently, and I gave him a jaunty salute. Back in my unit, I pulled out the sketchbook and looked at his drawings. Mine were pathetic in comparison, but I was much, much happier than I had been before I went to see him. Pulling out the pencils, I started practicing.

The whole next week I didn't get a chance to sneak into Lend's room. Between my usual classes and Raquel being extra attentive (read: annoying) I didn't have any free time. Every day that I didn't see him got more frustrating. Finally, the weekend came again. I was hoping against hope that Raquel would be busy.

The buzz at my door as I finished getting ready Saturday morning made me think otherwise. Raquel walked in, smiling. “Don't you look nice,” she commented.

Of course I looked nice--I wanted to go see Lend that day. I forced a smile. “What's up?”

“I don't know, I thought maybe we could go somewhere today. Anywhere you like--the beach, the mall again, a movie.”

“Really?” This was new. Usually field trips were carefully scheduled and coordinated. For the most part we visited museums that had to do with my current curriculum. I used to like that when I was younger. We'd walked around and I'd pretended Raquel was my mom and we were a normal mother and daughter. Of course, taking the Faerie Paths back always ruined the illusion.

“Things have been pretty hectic; we could both use a break.”

“Okay, sounds good!” I meant it. Much as I wanted to see Lend again, I hadn't been out of the Center all week.

Her communicator beeped. She looked down at it and a deep, worried frown crossed her face. And then, just when I was expecting a sigh, Raquel swore. She swore. That had never happened before, not as long as I could remember. Whatever the news was, it had to be really, really bad.

“I'm sorry,” she said, already racing for the door. “It's an emergency.”

“Don't worry about it.” I watched her go. I wanted to know what was up, but I knew that unless it involved me she wouldn't say anything. Never one to waste an opportunity, I grabbed my art supplies and the shorts I had ordered online, then headed for Lend's room, surprisingly fluttery at the thought of seeing him again.