Supernaturally. Kiersten White

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      “Oh, sorry, that’s a big word, isn’t it? It means I was scoping the scene, getting the—”

      “I know what it means! What, is IPCA investigating me now? Screw them, they can forget about any help from—”

      “Do you ever let anyone else finish a sentence?” He smiled at my glare, flashing his dimples. “That’s more like it. You’re much prettier when you aren’t talking. True of most people, I’ve found. Anyhow, I needed to see the address Raquel gave me so that I could find it again.”

      “Why?”

      “As you so graciously pointed out the other day, I’m not a faerie. I need to see a place before I can open a door there. Or at least open a precise door there. Otherwise it’s anyone’s guess how close I’ll get.”

      I sat down on the edge of my bed. As long as the weirdo was already here, I might as well get some answers. It had been nagging at me: how he could do what he did? It shouldn’t be possible. “How did you learn? To use the Paths, I mean.”

      His mouth twisted into an impish grin. “Don’t let my good looks fool you. I’m terribly clever.”

      I rolled my eyes. “Clearly. But you still shouldn’t be able to use the Paths.”

      He shrugged, standing. “Watch and wait long enough, want something bad enough, and you can figure out a way to make it happen. I make a lot of things happen.” Smiling enigmatically, he reached out a hand to my wall. “I’ll pick you up later?”

      “I haven’t agreed to anything.” I narrowed my eyes.

      “Of course,” he said, distracted as he focused on the white lines snaking out to make a door. “So, I’ll pick you up later, then.”

      “No! Don’t you listen to anything? Tell Raquel I’m not going to—”

      Before I could finish my sentence he walked through the faerie door, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Girls are annoying.”

      The wall formed again behind him, becoming the innocent recipient of my withering glare. Jack might look my age, but he was like a little kid on a sugar high—in need of a good spanking.

      Good heavens, that sounded creepy. I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes. What a mess. I focused on letting the stress melt out of my body, letting myself drift into a restful, weightless state. It felt like if I could find peace, think things through, everything would be okay with my life, with Lend and me. I could figure out how to tell him the truth just right so that he wouldn’t even think of giving up on his mortal lifestyle. I’d come up with some way for us to work, some way for me to have all the important people in my life in my life, for as long as I wanted them to be.

      A loud rapping on the door jarred me, shattering whatever epiphany I was undoubtedly about to reach.

      “EVELYN, GET YOUR LAZY, SCRAWNY, PALE BUTT OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW.”

      I opened my eyes with a roll, then walked out to the hall, feeling justifiably surly. “You have volume control on that mouth?”

      Arianna shrugged. “You sleep like the dead. Nona needs help downstairs.”

      “Great. Exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend. Lend free and grease filled.”

      “Funny, I’d choose sleeping in and going shopping, but to each her own. Get down there.”

      “What about our movie?” I whined, hoping that Arianna would help get me out of work.

      “Creature of the night and all that jazz. I’m good with a late show.”

      “Fine.” I stomped down the stairs, sulkily pulling my apron down off its hook on the wall and fastening it. It was great having an income now that I didn’t have an IPCA spending account (and, trust me, I missed that account something fierce), but working in a diner was a little less interesting than going on bag-and-tag missions.

      And by a little I mean a lot. Keeping with the charming diner cow theme, we had to wear skirts—poodle-style skirts—in cow print. Cow print. There are many animal prints that are fabulous in any style. Cow is not one of them. It’s insulting, really. Which was why I stubbornly kept my own skinny jeans on. I wasn’t scheduled, I wasn’t going to dress bovine.

      Just my luck, Grnlllll (or was it four l’s? Or a double r, triple l? If you think Welsh is weird, try reading Gnomish) was in the kitchen. Gnomes are earth elementals and usually live under the ground, mining and digging. They even look kinda like moles, with furry heads of hair; small, squinty eyes; and noses more snoutish than anything else. They’re happiest burrowing around in the dark and damp. What on earth Grnlllll was doing in this bright kitchen I had yet to figure out, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t making her happy.

      And her French fries? Not good.

      Grnlllll growled something at me that I didn’t bother trying to interpret, and I went out to take orders. Afternoon business was pretty typical—mostly the local paranormals, which meant an abundance of steaks so rare I could hardly stomach looking at them and shakes, the ingredients of which I didn’t even want to think about.

      Things picked up as evening began curling against the windows with its cold insistence. My feet and back ached, and if I had to smile one more time and pretend like I didn’t notice the vamp in the corner licking his lips whenever I walked by, I was pretty sure I would scream. It was bad enough that half of the local vamps tried to use their mind-control powers to convince me I didn’t want a tip.

      I always want a tip, you undead creeps.

      Still, it was kind of funny watching vampires get more and more frustrated when they couldn’t persuade me. David and Arianna had kept my glamour-piercing abilities secret, which I appreciated. It made things less complicated.

      I ripped off the bill and slapped it down on Lip-licker’s table. “Fifteen percent, like always.”

      He scowled, then his face smoothed into a stunning smile. Stunning if you couldn’t see through his glamour to notice that every single tooth was grinning out at me through his rotting cheeks. He reached out to try and take my hand, but I whipped it away.

      “Seriously. Fifteen percent or I’m slipping garlic powder into your next Bloody Mary.”

      He fixed me with a scowl that could launch a thousand horror novels. I smiled. Muttering murderous things under his breath, he pulled out his wallet and handed over the money.

      “Come back soon,” I chirped, beaming as I went back to the cash register. I might not have Tasey on me regularly, but I could still best vamps.

      Nona swished by. Even the way she walked looked like a tree swaying in the wind. Local guys, non-paranormals, came by the diner sometimes to watch her. If they could see her hollowed-out tree trunk of a back, complete with tail, they’d probably feel different.

      Then again, you never know with guys. And she was a pretty hot tree.

      She stopped in front of me, smiling. “Thank you for working tonight.”

      “Sure. Oh, hey,” I said, remembering my earlier question. “I’ve been seeing more and more paranormals that СКАЧАТЬ