LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

       Cover

      Title Page

      Dedication

      Out of the Blue

      Flying Lessons

      Job Interviews

      Open Sesame

      Sparkles Make Everything Better

      A Trashy Life

      Ex Marks the Spot

      Dream on

      Like Aphrodite on Steroids

      There’s No Place Like Home

      Old Haunts

      Deadly Reunions

      Bite My Tongue

      Extracurricular Activities

      Virgin Dreams

      Oh, So Busted

      Grim Prospects

      Tourist Friendly

      A Teeth-Gnashing Good Time

      Like a Bad Movie

      I Like the Night Life

      Honestly a Liar

      Lies, Lips, and Lunatics

      Alternative Lifestyles

      Caramel-Coated Complications

      Happy Freaking Halloween

      Uber-Bleep

      Guilty Is As Guilty Does

      Matters of Life and Undeath

      Tree Hugger

      Vamptastic

      Going Nowhere, Going Somewhere

      Matchmaker, Matchmaker

      Old Friends

      Do Ask, Do Tell

      Family Reunions Always Suck

      What He Said

      The Truth Will Set You Free—or Break Your Heart

      Sleeping Beauty

      Dimpled Terror

      Hello, Hell

      Meet Me in the Middle

      Acknowledgments

      Praise for Paranormalcy

      Copyright

      About the Publisher

      I was going to die a horrible, gruesome, painful death.

      My hand twitched at my side, reaching for the pink Taser I knew wasn’t there. Why had I ever wanted this? What was I thinking? Working at the International Paranormal Containment Agency might have been close to indentured servitude, and sure, I had some nasty run-ins with vampires and hags and creeptastic faeries, but that was nothing compared to the danger I faced now.

      Girls’ gym.

      We were playing soccer—without shin guards. The girl I was supposed to cover (a creature so hulking I swear she was a troll) charged toward me, steam practically flowing from her nostrils. I braced for impact.

      And then I marveled at the clear blue autumn sky. Not a cloud in sight. But why was I looking at the sky? Maybe it was connected to my sudden inability to breathe. Come on, lungs. Come on. They had to start working at some point, right? Bright spots danced before my eyes and I could just see my obituary: Tragedy Strikes During Soccer. How mortifying.

      At last, blessed air filtered through. A familiar face, framed by long, dark hair, leaned over me. My one normal friend, Carlee. “Are you okay?” she asked.

      “Green!” a tenor barked out. I was pretty sure that Miss Lynn had a deeper voice than my boyfriend. “Get off your butt and get back in the game!”

      Ah, Green. It seemed like such a cute last name when Lend made it up to fake my legal documents. However, the more Miss Lynn shouted it, the less I liked it. “GREEN!” Carlee held out a hand and helped me up.

      “That’s okay. I suck at soccer, too.” She smiled and ran off. She totally did not suck at soccer.

      It wasn’t fair. Here I was, standing like an idiot on a muddy field, while Lend was away at college. What a waste of time. And who knew how much longer I had left, anyway? What if I was expending the precious remnants of my soul on soccer?

      Maybe I could get a doctor’s note. I could see it now: “To whom it may concern: Evie has a rare condition in which she doesn’t have enough of her own soul to live a normal life. Therefore, she should be immediately and permanently excused from all physical exertion involving sweating and getting knocked down in the dirt.”

      Ridiculous. But then again, it might be worth a shot. Lend’s dad had some connections at the hospital….

      I ducked as the ball whizzed past my head. One of my teammates, a vicious redhead, swore as she ran by. “Header, Green! Header!”

      Carlee stopped. “Just fake cramps.” She winked a mascara-heavy eyelid.

      I put my hands on my lower stomach and shuffled over to Miss Lynn, who stood at the painted white line on the crunchy grass, surveying the game like a general at war.

      She rolled her eyes. “What is it now?”

      Hoping my pale face would come in handy for once, I whimpered. “Cramps. Bad.”

      She didn’t buy it and we both knew it, but instead of calling my crap she rolled her eyes and jerked her thumb toward the sidelines. “Next time you play goalie though.”

      Thanks a lot, Carlee. Brilliant idea. I put some distance between us and slumped to the ground, picking at the sparse, browning grass.

      This wasn’t how high school was supposed to be.

      Don’t get me wrong, I’m super grateful to be here. I always wanted to be normal, go to a normal school, do normal things. But it’s all so, so …

      Normal.

      Since school started a month ago, there hasn’t been a single catfight. No wild parties where the cops got called, either. And as far as masquerade balls and moonlit rendezvous and passionate kisses in the hallways, well, all I can say is Easton Heights, my former favorite TV show, has taken a serious hit in my estimation.

      I still think lockers are awesome, though.

      I kept a hand on my stomach for appearances. Lying on the ground was a much nicer position when voluntarily assumed. I watched a tiny wisp of a cloud stream across the sky.

      I frowned. It was a weird cloud. All by its lonesome in the otherwise blank sky, and there was something else about it … something different. Was that a flash of lightning?

      “I

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