alarms, it was my personal alarm. The alarm that meant my tutor, Charlotte, would be here in exactly ten minutes.
“Oh, bleep.” I hadn’t done any of my homework.
The last few years I’d tried to convince Raquel that I really didn’t need to study math, English, science, world history, and four—yes, four—foreign languages. It wasn’t like I was going to go to college or anything. Sure, I wanted to attend real high school, but that had more to do with being around actual teenagers than learning stuff. Besides, I doubted IPCA cared whether or not I had my GED. As long as I could keep seeing through glamours, I had a job for life. But every time I brought it up, Raquel looked at me with those almost-black eyes and heaved her patented I know you think it’s not important to know these things but one day you’ll appreciate that I’ve made you into a well-rounded adult sigh.
I pulled out my Spanish book, pretty sure that’s what I had this morning. Hastily filling in my irregular verb chart for morir, I wrote out example sentences. Tú eres muerta carne. Scratched that—adjective after the noun. Tú eres carne muerta. Oh, who was I kidding, I wasn’t even using morir in the verb form anyway. Yo soy carne muerta. Translation: I am dead meat.
Right on time my unit door beeped and I let Charlotte in. She was a pretty woman, looked to be in her late twenties. A couple inches shorter than me with shiny brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and these adorable rectangular glasses over her blue eyes, which were over her bright yellow wolf eyes.
Charlotte always smiled so sweetly. Teaching had been her life’s passion until she was infected. After she realized what she was and what she had done—attacked a family member—she tried to kill herself. Fortunately we found her before she could figure out the few things that can bring down a werewolf. I could never tell if it was my lack of motivation as a student or her pain and regret about the past that made her look sad even when she was smiling.
We sat down on the couch and pulled up a table. She glanced over my worksheet and suppressed a smile. “You are dead meat?”
I gave my best don’t get mad, aren’t I cute? grin and shrugged.
“That’s an American expression—the meaning doesn’t translate. And you didn’t finish your verb charts or the short story you were assigned.” She looked up at me with those sad, sad eyes. Those eyes killed me.
“I’m sorry.” I hung my head. “Yesterday was crazy. First I had a vamp job, and then there was the break-in, and then Reth paid me a late-night visit, and then I couldn’t sleep.”
“It sounds like you had a rough day. But you’ve had this assignment for a week. Perhaps next time if you didn’t leave it to the night before?”
“Hey, now, let’s not start talking crazy, Char.” That, at least, got me a less-sad smile.
We spent the rest of the morning conjugating (a word that sounds dirty but is, in fact, boring) and conversing in good old español. She stayed and ate lunch with me, and then it was time for my afternoon training session.
Bud, my self-defense and combat skills teacher, was still trying to get me to learn knife fighting. “Silver knives! Painful and sometimes deadly to nearly all paranormals!”
“Tasey!” I countered. “Hot pink and sparkly!”
“You can’t always count on technology.” Bud was human, but you’d think he’d grown up in the Middle Ages. In case you were wondering if he was cute, well, maybe thirty years ago. Now, not so much. “And, since we’ve had this argument before, I made you something.”
I perked up. “A present?”
He nodded, an annoyed look on his face. Pulling out a cloth-wrapped bundle, he revealed a slender dagger with a bright pink, pearlescent handle. “No way!” I yelled, taking it from him.
“I can’t believe I made a pink knife.”
“It’s so cute! I love it. Finally, a companion worthy of Tasey.” I gave him a quick hug. Hugs always freaked poor Bud out, but he was relieved I’d finally agreed to take a knife. “Oh, gosh, what should I name her?”
“Whatever it is, please don’t tell me. Just keep it sheathed and on your belt.”
I took the sheath—which was black. “Can you make me one in brown, too? And pink?” You’d think Bud was a werewolf by the way he growled as he shooed me out of the training room.
The rest of my afternoon free, I banked on the hope that Raquel would be in meetings. She was pretty high up in IPCA. I used to think she was only assigned to me, but it turned out she ran the entire Center and was in charge of all bag-and-tag missions. I guess I was just her favorite. That, or the most useful.
I had been thinking about Lend on and off all day. He was the most interesting person/thing in here right now, so I went to Containment. I stopped in front of Lend’s cell, then did a double take. He wasn’t there. And not in an almost-invisible way, in an actually-not-in-the-cell-anymore way. Not cool.
Jacques was at the very end of the long corridor. “Jacques!”
He walked down. “You are not supposed to be here, Evie.”
“Yeah, yeah. Where’s Lend?” What if they had let him go? Not likely, once I thought about it. He’d broken into the Center. I couldn’t remember that happening—ever. But what if he was in more trouble than I thought, and they were hurting him? That idea bothered me. Then the rational part of me wondered if maybe he was dangerous and they’d taken him to a higher-risk placement area.
Jacques shrugged. “Raquel wanted him moved.”
“Why?”
“We are not equipped for long-term holding here. No beds, no bathrooms.”
“Oh.” Made sense. “Where is he?”
The werewolf shook his head. “Sorry. You are not cleared to know.” Today his normally cute French accent was seriously bugging me.
“Not cleared?”
“No. Raquel told me not to tell you.”
My face melted into a pout. This was so not fair. I turned on my heel and stalked to Raquel’s office. I had just put my palm up to enter when the door opened.
“Oh, good,” Raquel said.
“What’s the deal with—”
“I’ve got a job for you. You need to leave right now. A transport’s waiting.”
I frowned. “What is it?”
“Vampire activity in Istanbul. We’ve got a location, but you have to hurry.”
“I—Okay.” We ran to my room and I grabbed my bag with the ankle trackers. I always had Tasey on me, and now she was joined by my dagger. “I’m not really dressed for vamping.” I was wearing skinny jeans and a long-sleeved V-necked tee, my hair back in a ponytail.
“You look fine,” she said dismissively. “Your neck is showing—that’s all that matters.”
We were almost to Transport when I remembered. “Hey, why can’t I know where Lend is?”
Raquel rolled her eyes and heaved an is this really the time sigh. “You don’t need to know.” The Transport room door opened in front of us to reveal the waiting faerie. I hadn’t seen her in years, and my stomach immediately clenched with guilt and nerves. All the human employees were required to memorize two faerie names, the faeries assigned at random so no faerie had too many people attached. This faerie was one of mine, and I couldn’t remember her name for the life of me.
Hers had been the first one they’d told me; I was ten. They also told me to never, ever use it unless I absolutely had to, then explained all the ways in which I could be killed if I screwed up. It was a little traumatic; can you blame me for forgetting? I knew I should ask again but was too