The Girl Who Wasn't Page 18

  Then, as if it all catches up at once, Gus groans and slumps sideways, and Daniel and Linc are both on their feet. Daniel positioned toward the open doorway, Linc crouched and ready to spring at him should he make a run for it.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Linc warns. “You won’t get three steps.”

  “You forget who is the employer and who is the employee,” Daniel says.

  “You think that excuses murder?”

  “You think it doesn’t?”

  They face off in a silent exchange I cannot decipher. Then Linc opens his mouth and yells at the top of his lungs, “Code Red!”

  Daniel leaps for the door. Instantly, two security men appear, blocking his path. Somewhere in the house an alarm sounds. Linc jumps on Daniel’s back, tackling him from behind and they both go down. The other two security guards help and within seconds they have subdued Daniel and relieved him of the long, slim knife stained with Gus’s blood.

  Gus groans softly and I go to him. His hand twitches at his side and I catch sight of black ink peeking out from underneath his shirt sleeve. I know the symbol immediately and it makes sense. This is why I didn’t recognize Gus as someone like me. His identifying mark is in a different place. I scoot closer.

  Gus’s eyes are wide and glassy and some of his usual scowl is gone but only because the muscles in his face seem to have gone slack. I crawl up beside him and try to decide what to do with my hands. I’m not sure if I should touch him or if I do, where. I don’t want to hurt him but I’m not entirely sure I should comfort him, either. Aside from this attempt to save me, he has never done a single nice thing for me. He is not a nice man.

  But he is an Imitation. He is like me.

  “Gus?” I say.

  “Ven.”

  It gives me a weird feeling in my gut to hear him speak my name. My Real Name.

  “I’m here,” I manage.

  He squeezes his eyes shut. Opens them slowly again. “He was the one … trying to hurt you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He won’t anymore.”

  “No.”

  He nods once and then he is still.

  Beyond this room, down the hall, somewhere in the house, the alarm continues to blare. It echoes around me and mixes with the sound of baritone voices as orders are given and Daniel is carted off.

  Titus appears. “Raven?” he asks as he crouches next to me and looks down at his head of security who is no longer breathing.

  “I thought you were writing a speech.”

  “The alarm went off.”

  Neither of us speaks, and it is the most comfortable one minute I’ve ever shared with him.

  “He was an Imitation,” I say finally because it no longer matters whether I know.

  “Yes.”

  “This entire time?”

  “Since the night of your attack in the alley. One of the redhead’s men got him. I replaced him.”

  “I see.” I understand now why Gus never spoke up about recognizing Melanie. And I realize this particular Gus is not the one who stood by and watched while Titus struck me. A tear escapes. “He was trying to save me tonight.”

  “So I’m told.”

  “Daniel’s behind all of it.”

  “What do you mean?” he asks. For the first time, his voice holds a note of surprise.

  I tell him about the party and overhearing Daniel and Melanie as they spoke of kidnapping me. And using Gus to do it.

  “What do you mean he replaced Gus on purpose?” Titus asks me sharply.

  “He was trying to control Linc. He said Linc was the reason they’d failed to get to me all those other times. That he was too good at protecting me.”

  Titus lets out a growl. “You should’ve told me this days ago,” he snaps.

  “You’d never have believed me without proof.”

  Titus frowns and then looks at something behind me. “Crawford, come here.”

  He gets to his feet and I know the right thing would be for me to do the same, but I can’t make myself leave Gus. I can’t make myself stand next to his body, ignoring it as if it isn’t here, lifeless and finished. Terminated.

  In Twig City, they don’t allow us to use the term “dead.” They say it’s because we’re not real enough to be considered alive in the first place. We’re only created and terminated.

  I hear Titus asking Linc what happened. Linc relays the same story as my own with fewer details since he arrived after most of the conversation had ended. Titus frowns and nods but doesn’t interrupt.

  “Sir?” one of the security guards says from the doorway. Both Titus and Linc look up and I realize then the guard has no idea which one he should be addressing. He looks back and forth between them. “What do you want us to do with the prisoner?”

  Linc looks to Titus.

  “Restrain him and put him downstairs. I’ll be along shortly,” Titus tells him.

  “Downstairs? You want him in Doc J’s office?”

  “The floor beneath the medical wing, soldier,” Titus says, his impatience evident.

  The man’s face reddens. “Yes, sir,” he mumbles and ducks out.

  “Crawford, go with them and make sure they don’t screw it up,” Titus says to Linc. “And bring the doc back when you come. Tell her to bring her bag. I want a full exam and report on Gus before they move him anywhere.”

  “Yes, sir.” Linc looks down at me. “And her?”

  “She’ll need to be checked also,” Titus says.

  Linc doesn’t reply and I understand what he means. He’s asking whether I’ll be safe if he leaves this room.

  “I’m fine,” I say softly.

  Only then does he move for the door.

  When he’s gone, I look back at Gus and am sorry I did. The stain on his shirt has spread. It is seeping into the rug underneath him, leaving a bright ring that peeks out from underneath his torso. His face has gone slack and too white to be real. Or alive. Or created. Or whatever.

  “Raven,” Titus says, calling me back.

  I turn away, glad for something else to focus on. Even if it is my enemy. Tonight, Daniel has given us common ground.

  “Come sit.” He offers a hand. I don’t move. “You’re contaminating the scene. I need you to come away.”

  I look down and realize what he means. The blood from my nose has begun to drip onto Gus. This horrifies me. Partly because I am dripping blood on a dead man. And partly because I didn’t notice until now that I was bleeding. It doesn’t even hurt.

  I climb to my feet without the help of Titus—despite our cease fire, I must draw the line somewhere. When I’m seated, he hands me a wad of tissues and I use them to apply pressure to my bleeding nose. That is the extent of his medical attention.

  “I need you to think back over the attempts on your life and tell me if there’s anything you can think of that will help us find this Melanie girl,” he says. “Anything she has said, people you’ve seen her speak to, clues she might’ve given.”

  “She seems to know an awful lot about my kind,” I say. My voice is nasally from pinching my nose shut.

  “Does she know about Twig City?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Anything else?”

  And here it is. My moment. My opening to tell him about Anna. Not Authentic Annalyn but Imitation Anna from the bathroom. The one who said it was all a lie. The one who is in hiding with Melanie—and maybe others.

  “Nothing I can think of,” I say.

  His gaze is piercing, holding me in place. “Are you sure about that? Because it seems like you’ve been holding back an awful lot, daughter.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Voices drift closer from the hall. I can hear Josephine speaking to Linc, asking him questions about Gus and the extent of his wounds.

  “Keep thinking about it,” Titus says to me as they enter. “I’m going to speak with Daniel.”

  I assure him I will and he walks out, gesturing at Linc to follow. Josephine crouches next t
o Gus using two fingers to search out a pulse. She pauses for a long moment before rising and coming over to where I’m perched on the couch. The same couch where Daniel touched me. The couch I never want to sit on again.

  “Oh, honey, you’re bleeding,” she says.

  I wave her off and speak in my nasally voice. “Looks worse than it is. Go to Gus.”

  “Ven,” she says softly. We both know there is no use going to Gus. Instead, she sits beside me on the couch and waits.

  “He was trying to save me,” I say at last.

  “Linc says Daniel attacked you. That he was the one doing all of this, sending people to hurt you.”

  “Looks like.”

  “Honey,” she says again. She slides a hand around my shoulders, pulling me in for a one-armed hug. I am careful not to bleed on her. She pulls away and her smile is sad. “Can I take a look at your nose now?”

  I let her pull the tissues aside and clean up the blood, which has apparently made the injury look a lot worse than it is. When she’s finished, the only medical supply she has attached to me is a small strip of adhesive bandaging across the center of my nose. The jostling has finally triggered pain. It aches and burns all the way across my cheeks.

  “It’s not broken?” I ask.

  “It’s not broken,” she assures me.

  “Hurts like it’s broken.” I wince as her fingertips press the bandage into place.

  “The more it hurts, the less damage there really is,” she says.

  She examines my throat where it feels like a new layer of bruises has cropped up over the old ones. Her fingers are feather-light and cold as they skim over my tender skin. I hold perfectly still, my attention focused on the activity in the hallway. I listen for voices but I cannot hear the words.

  Josephine reaches into her bag and produces a wooden depressor. “Say aah.”

  “Aah.” I open my mouth and stick out my tongue.

  “Does it hurt?” she asks when she’s finished.

  I close my mouth. “Some.”

  “It’s going to hurt tomorrow.” She gestures to her bag. “Do you want me to give you a shot like last time?”

  The damage left by Daniel isn’t even close to the pain I felt after Melanie’s attack. I wonder if that means he is weak or she is that strong. A shot is tempting. Oblivion would be welcome, at least for tonight.

  Before I can answer her, Linc appears in the doorway, alone. I catch his eye and hold it for a long moment. There is something in the way he looks at me that wasn’t there before. Knowledge.

  “No shot,” I say.

  Josephine looks back and forth between us and then hastily repacks her things. “I’m going to check on you in the morning,” she tells me. “If you want something I can give it then.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her.

  She removes a white sheet from her bag and spreads it over Gus. Her movements are slow, careful. This is how humans care for their dead. I’ve never seen it before. It seems … reverent.

  I wonder if Josephine knows yet that this Gus isn’t human.

  I wait on the couch until she’s finished and then I make my way toward the door. I can see men outside, their hands folded stiffly behind them, faces solemn.

  “What are they doing?” I ask Josephine.

  “Waiting for us to leave,” she explains. “So they can take Gus.”

  I nod. I don’t know where and I don’t ask. I need to get out of here. To be done with this.

  Linc is at my side the moment I’m clear of the room. Not close enough to touch but I can feel his proximity just the same. Josephine remains inside the parlor, her hushed orders directing the men how to handle the body. I can’t bear to listen.

  Linc keeps pace with me. I don’t even know where I’m going. I have no desire to go to my room. To be alone. But I don’t want to see Titus, either. Linc’s face is the only comfort and he is already here so I stop abruptly and face him.

  The words die on my lips. I don’t know what to say and even if I did, I probably couldn’t for fear of being overheard.

  “In here,” Linc says, reading my thoughts.

  I plant my feet as he tries to lead me through a doorway. “They will be watching, listening,” I whisper. “It’s not safe.”

  “No, they won’t.” He pulls on my hand but I don’t budge. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

  In the end, I let him lead me inside and close the door.

  It’s another parlor—this one warmer, friendlier, without any residue of Daniel. Or Gus. Or death. Linc gestures to a chair but I don’t sit. I watch as he wanders the edges of the room. He runs his hands slowly over all of the table surfaces and finally stops when his fingers catch on something at the edge of the lamp. He fiddles with it and then resumes his search. In all, he disables three devices. I’m not sure if they were for listening or watching or both.

  When he’s finished his sweep, he crosses back to me with a satisfied expression. That’s when I really notice the difference in him that I’d glimpsed before. The set of his shoulders, the way he holds his hands just inside his pockets. He is bracing himself.

  Whatever he knows isn’t enough or he wouldn’t still be here. But it’s more than he knew before. Either way, for better or worse, it’s time. He is the only one on my side and the only one I trust in this world.

  I don’t think I can lie anymore. And even if I could, I don’t want to.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I wait for Linc to speak first but he only leans against the wall, expressionless. I stand behind the chair—a barrier. A defense. Not for a single second do I think he will hurt me. Not like Daniel, not physically. But if he rejects me, rejects what I am … that would hurt far worse than any near-strangling at the hands of a psycho.

  “Titus told you about Gus, I take it,” I say finally.

  “He mentioned something about him being not quite human, yes.”

  He’s still watching me with a guarded look that makes it impossible to know what he’s thinking. “That’s all he said?”

  “He called him a ‘product.’ I was given the short version. The details are a little fuzzy.”

  I force myself to hold his gaze, waiting for him to go on, but he only stares pointedly back at me. He’s waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

  “Linc, I—” The words stick in my throat, a cotton ball wrapped in truth wrapped in lies.

  “If you don’t tell me the truth, I refuse to keep saving you.”

  I nod. I don’t quite trust my voice. All I can think as I look at him is that there was a time I thought he wasn’t worth dying for. I was wrong. The reality is I cannot live without him. But I cannot speak around it any longer. I either say these words to him now or starve from the emptiness.

  I begin again. “I am not who you think I am.” I pause but he does not react. He already knew this. I suck in air and my lungs fill to bursting. When I expel the breath, it is on a burst of words. Of truth. “My name is Ven. I am an Imitation. A product. Like Gus.” Still, his expression hasn’t changed. And then I deliver the killing blow. “I think the popular term is clone.”

  There is no more air. Inside me. Inside this room. In the atmosphere.

  A cacophony of emotion plays like a strobe across his face. Shock, disbelief, curiosity, confusion. The dark splotches in between are filled with fear. Maybe horror.

  “You’re not … human?”

  A scream bubbles up in my chest but I shove it down and lock it in the box with all the others. Screams that deserve to see daylight but I’m too cowardly to let them out. And too paralyzed.

  “No,” I answer. “Not like you.”

  A full minute passes while he watches me, head tilted. His gaze is unfocused, distracted. He’s trying to understand.

  He pushes off from the wall and walks up to me and I have a heart attack and die right there while my heart still beats. Gently, he reaches up and lays his hand on my cheek. His fingers are warm and rough and tender all at once.

  “A
mazing.”

  Before I can decipher a sensible meaning behind his word, he is cupping my cheeks in his palms and sweetly pressing his lips to my face. My cheeks, my nose, my forehead. Tiny reassuring kisses that make me want to turn my head so that my mouth captures the next one. But I don’t. I stand frozen. Nothing about this moment makes sense.

  “How?” he asks, his mouth moving against my hair.

  I give him the simplest answer I know. “Titus.”

  He holds me a moment longer, no doubt processing my words into a more solid reality, before stepping back to face me. His hands trail down my arms until his fingers intertwine with my own. He is looking at something above my shoulder. “Your tattoo … the tree.”

  I press my lips together and slowly pull my hair away from my ear. He leans forward and studies it.

  “The tree is a symbol for life,” I say. “We all have one.”

  “Gus didn’t.”

  “It was on the inside of his wrist,” I explain. “I saw it earlier, when he …”

  I trail off and he doesn’t make me finish. “And the numbers?”

  “My identification code. Unlike my DNA the numbers are unique.”

  “How many … codes are there?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Hundreds?”

  “There are hundreds of you?”

  “Well, not me, exactly. I’m the only … Ven.” I can’t bring myself to say that I’m the only copy of this particular original. It makes me sound entirely too fake for the authenticity of the very human emotions I feel for him. How can my feelings be so real when I am not?

  “Ven,” he repeats.

  The sound of my name from his lips makes my insides curl. I lean closer. On a soft sigh, I say, “I like it so much better when you call me that.” His lips quirk upward on one side. A half smile. It gives me hope. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you before. I couldn’t.”

  His smile vanishes. “You didn’t trust me. I can’t fault you for that. You had a lot at stake.”

  “No, it’s not that. It was at first, but not now. Titus—if he knew I’d told you the truth, I don’t know what he would do.” He huffs out a breath that sounds suspiciously like laughter. I eye him. “What’s funny about that?”