“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.”
“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.