Кирстен Уайт – Supernaturally (страница 6)
Lend turned to me. “Well, that was interesting. And a waste of time. However, since I’m already here, what do you say we make up for your sucky afternoon?”
I wished I could make him understand that Raquel wasn’t just my former employer—or worse, my captor, as he seemed to view anyone who worked for IPCA. And Jack puzzled me to no end. But extra time with Lend quickly took my mind off those particular problems. “What are you thinking?”
“How about the Mall?”
“Wait—you mean the Mall, as in a bunch of museums in DC that we would wander around and I’d pretend like I understood modern art while really thinking, holy crap, a gremlin could have painted that and for all we know did, or the mall, as in picking out a new pair of shoes, eating food that’s terrible for us, and making up life stories for all the people that pass us?”
“I can see now that I must have meant the second.”
“What a smart boy.” I smiled and he pulled me close.
“I still say that guy was CIA. Spy all the way.”
I laughed, turning to face him as he parked in front of the diner. “Lend, he was like five foot nothing.”
“Exactly! You’d never suspect him. He’s the quiet, nondescript-looking guy, doesn’t seem like a threat at all until—BAM. Say good-bye to all your country’s secrets!”
“Okay, fine. He was a spy.”
“We should have gone to that movie, though. I think some explosions would have done you good, helped you relax after a hard day.”
“It’s not my fault I wasn’t allowed in without an adult and you forgot your license.”
Lend rolled his eyes. Silver shot through his nearly black hair and I laughed, shoving him.
“Knock it off. That’s creepy. Besides, if you pretend to be old to sneak me in, it’d be super gross if we started making out or something. No more gray.”
“Fine.” His hair rolled into corkscrew curls, turning a coppery red.
I laughed. “Quit it! Someone will see you.”
His eyes got serious and his hair shifted back to its normal appearance. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I can blow off classes tomorrow if you aren’t feeling well.”
“You really don’t have to.” Lend never missed class; I loved that he was willing to skip for me, and part of me was tempted by the offer … but I’d feel too guilty.
He sighed. “I do have a bio lab. You’re really okay? Nothing hurting from your fall? No weird side effects from the sylph?”
“I’m okay.”
“Alright. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Not Friday night?” I hated the whine that crept into my voice. I wouldn’t be that girlfriend, the whiny, clingy one who couldn’t have a life outside her boyfriend. Even though she totally justifiably wanted nothing more than to spend every minute of her life with him. Nope. Not that girl.
“I’ve got a group project in vertebrate anatomy, and the only time we could schedule it was then. I doubt we’ll get done early enough for me to get here at a decent hour, and if I stay in my dorm where there are no beautiful, fun distractions, I can finish up my homework and be absolutely yours all weekend. So first thing Saturday morning.”
He leaned in and kissed me. I wished he could melt away his glamour and kiss me as himself, talk to me as himself, but it wouldn’t do for someone to walk by and see me making out with a nearly invisible silhouette. The downside of dating a half-human, half-water elemental, I suppose.
Pulling back far sooner than I wanted him to (which, let’s face it, could have been several hours—I never got tired of kissing him), he got out and opened my door for me. The second I stepped out of the car, a strange chill breeze wrapped itself around me. All the hairs on my arms stood up in response. Shivering, I hugged Lend tightly, ignoring my bruises.
“Don’t do it, okay?” he whispered.
“Do what?”
“Work for IPCA again. Just—just don’t do it.”
I looked up into his face. “What if I can do some good?”
“You’re doing enough good being yourself. I worry about what might happen to you.”
I frowned, making a noncommittal noise, which he seemed to take as an agreement, judging by his smile. “I’ll see you Saturday.” He kissed me again and then waited for me to walk up the steps before getting back in his car and driving away.
Long-distance relationships? Suck. Majorly.
Sighing, I walked in and through the brightly lit diner. David bought On the Hoof a decade ago as a front for his paranormal-hiding operation. It provided jobs for paranormals in need and a good place for everyone to meet and keep track of one another. The decor was cheerful, a slightly tired fifties theme. Nona, the manager, waved at me, her gorgeous blond glamour hovering over oaky brown skin and greenish, mosslike hair. Allegedly she lived in the upstairs apartment with Arianna and me, but really she went back to the forest at night, setting down roots until the sun came up. Tree spirits—another species of paranormals I’d never met on bag-and-tag duty at IPCA. I was all about the violence and mayhem back then.
I nodded distractedly at several of the regulars, mostly vamps and werewolves, noting yet another new paranormal I’d never met, who made my heart hurt a little—she looked like a cross between Lish and a human, complete with gills on her neck and fins lining her bare legs beneath the glamour. Lately we’d been seeing more and more species neither David nor I had ever come across.
Come to think of it, a lot of new paranormals other than the werewolf or vamp variety had been visiting Nona, hanging around the diner or meeting her out back. And the sylph was certainly new. Maybe Nona would—
I shrieked, narrowly avoiding tripping over the kitchen gnome, a particularly grouchy specimen named Grnlllll. At least, I think that was her name. Or his name. Hard to tell with gnomes. Maybe that’s why she—he?—hated me. The glare seemed pretty feminine, though.
The desire to get away from Grnlllll’s baleful looks outweighed my desire to talk to Nona, and I slipped through the kitchen door. Upstairs at last, I collapsed onto the faded, floral couch.
“Evie?”
“Yup.”
Arianna skipped into the room, a glass in her hand. I deliberately did not look at what was in it. I never avoided looking at Arianna, though, even if her shriveled corpse body beneath her normal glamour (if you considered freakishly white skin and spiked red and black hair normal) creeped me out like all vamps did. It hurt her feelings, and despite our rough start last spring, I really did think of her as a friend. It wasn’t like she asked to be what she was, and she never drank human blood. Plus, she could be pretty fun when she wasn’t pissed off at me.
“Big afternoon?” Arianna settled onto the love seat and grabbed the remote, turning the television to our show.
“You could say that.” I rubbed my tender hip, wondering how black and blue I’d be in the morning.
“Okay. Loser does dishes for a week. I bet Landon and Cheyenne hook up but have a fight and break it off by the end of the episode.”
Trying to sound more enthusiastic than I felt, I countered. “No, Cheyenne rejects him because of some misunderstanding, and he starts shooting up again.”
“You’re on.” Arianna leaned forward, devouring the drama playing out on the screen in front of us.
I looked forlornly at the ceiling, trying to ignore the faint tingling sensation in my fingertips. I knew I should listen to Lend, stay away from IPCA, be grateful for my normal, boring life. I should live for the weekends, when I got to see him, and ignore the nagging pain always pulling at the back of my mind that it didn’t matter how much time I spent with him, how much I loved him, he could never really be mine because I was temporary and he was forever.
I was fine. This was enough. Besides, Lend didn’t want me to help IPCA.
But Lend wasn’t here, was he?
“Good morning,” he said, and I melted.
“Morning.” I tried to pull him down next to me, but he laughed and ducked out from under my arms.
“Get up, lazy. Unless you want to sleep instead of hanging out with me?”
“I don’t know.” I closed my eyes again. “I am pretty tired.”
He answered by tossing a pillow onto my face. I laughed and rolled out of bed, brushing my teeth and changing while he chatted with Arianna out in the living room. My room was tiny—a glorified walk-in closet, really—but I’d painted the walls “obnoxiously pink,” to quote Arianna. I missed my posters from the Center, but I was slowly making the place mine. Sketches from Lend took up most of the free space, which made me feel like he was around even when he wasn’t.
“Of course I’m a necromancer,” Arianna explained to Lend. She was sitting in front of the sleek desktop, her favorite game running. “It’s ironic. In real life I’m one of the hordes of the living dead, and in my online life I control them.”
She spent nearly every daylight hour there, running quests with violet-skinned, scantily clad digital cohorts. A few weeks ago I was annoyed at never being able to check email and snarked that she should find something productive to do with her time. She made a point of showing me just how long a vampire can go without moving from a single spot.