The Girl Who Wasn't (21 page)

He nods once, affirming my choice.
“I’ll be close if you need me. Just take it easy. Maybe don’t dance
so much.”

I cock my head at him—the burn of his
gaze, the set of his jaw. I remember the day in the wheat field
when he told me he didn’t want anyone else touching me. “It bothers
you.”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
Part of me loves that he minds. Part of me wishes he
didn’t.

I square my shoulders and put one foot
gingerly in front of the other. I hope walking daintily will make
me look more like a lady instead of a hobbling mess. Linc’s hand on
my arm stops me and I turn to face him.

“
Your hair,” he murmurs. He
reaches for my waves, arranging them gently around my face and
throat. He is looking intently at my hair and its placement, which
is a good thing. I cannot look away from his face. Something in my
heart cracks at the sight of him this way. Gentle, caring, worried.
He’s so … human. So Authentic. And I can never be.

The moment he is finished, I mumble a
thank-you and stride away as fast as my sore feet will carry me. I
cannot look at him any longer tonight. If I do, I will crumble. Or
worse, let him take me away. I owe him so much more than
death.

Chapter Eleven

“
Wake up,” Titus barks,
jarring me awake the next morning.

He is cross. I know it before I’ve
opened my eyes but there is more proof in his expression. He stands
over my bed with drawn eyebrows and fisted hands. I shrink back
into the mattress and clutch the sheet.

Somewhere in my mind, I know that he
will not kill me. But only because I am more valuable to him alive
so someone else can try. Beyond that, I am absolutely positive
nothing else is off limits. He is the Creator. Even sleep could not
blur my recollection of this. It makes me more scared, though it
shouldn’t. Nothing else has changed—except that I know something I
didn’t twelve hours ago.

“
What is it?” I ask. I can
hear the timidity in my voice and I hate it.

“
We have an agreement. Or
have you forgotten? You will abide by the terms or you will be
removed,” he says in a voice that isn’t yelling but is much
scarier. “And if you think that means you can go home to the City
and back to your meaningless existence consisting of tennis and
cafeteria food, you are mistaken.”

I want to ask what I’ve done to
displease him—mostly because there exists a long list of
possibilities—but I don’t say anything. I wait. I am sure he will
tell me. He seems to enjoy the buildup.

“
I know you’re capable of
pulling this off. You put on a good show last night, at the
beginning at least. Dancing and laughing at those idiot boys. Maybe
you thought I wasn’t watching but I see everything. He is not
acceptable for your circle.”

“
Who?” I can’t help but ask.
I am frozen—terrified he means Linc. That he saw us on the
terrace.

“
Obadiah
Whitcomb.”

Relief floods over me and Titus scowls.
“I mean it. He is not a part of your inner circle. You can’t change
that now.”

I stick my chin out, determined to
fight for this one. There isn’t much I’ll go against Titus for, but
this is one thing I cannot stand to lose. Ida, Obadiah … a single,
meaningful friendship. I will not give this up again. “He may have
useful information,” I say.

Titus’s mouth tightens. “What sort of
information?”

I shrug, like I couldn’t care less. “I
don’t know yet but I heard you talking to Daniel about the senator
and I thought maybe Obadiah would say something useful if I spent
time with him. Besides, he’s gullible and doesn’t ask questions. If
I slip and forget something or need to know a name, he will tell me
without suspicion.”

“
What did you tell
him?”

“
That I have temporary
amnesia from my bump on the head.”

“
He believed
you?”

“
Completely.”

I wait while he weighs my words. I can
see him turning it over. For him, it is one hundred percent a
business transaction. For me, it is everything.

“
Fine. But make sure you
don’t give up your inner circle. And don’t mingle the two. Daniel
had an errand for me last night but you need to make time for him
soon. Do whatever it takes.”

Daniel—the idea of spending more time
alone with him makes my stomach churn. But it’s the price I must
pay for keeping Obadiah. I nod, struggling to feign indifference.
“All right.”

The sinister look reappears. “And don’t
forget I will be watching. I am always watching.”

“
I know,” I say. Whether he
means here in Rogen Tower or at any moment of my existence in Twig
City, it is true. He is always watching.

He stalks out, slamming the door behind
him. I flinch at the sharp sound and then the tension drains from
my shoulders and I slump back against the pillow. Thankfully, my
bruises are less raw today and not nearly as sore after another
night with Josephine’s cream.

Light streams through my window, muted
by the sheer curtains. It is a new day. I have made it another
night in Rogen Tower.

After a late breakfast, I play tennis
against a machine but only manage to make contact with a handful of
serves. My shoulder burns and my legs protest the effort of running
or lunging. Mostly, I walk back and forth across the court to keep
the guard from fussing at me.

After lunch, Gus shows me a small
swimming pool on the other side of the gym. I swim laps for what
feels like hours, but is probably only minutes, until Josephine
appears and motions for me to stop. I am wheezing by the time I
emerge from the pool, dripping wet, shoulders stooped. The exertion
combined with my battered body is crippling. My lungs are on fire.
Black dots dance at the edges of my vision.

I stumble back to the clinic and
collapse, still dripping, onto the cot against the wall.

Josephine’s examination is slow and
silent. She stares at my yellowing bruises for a long time with
tightly pressed lips before rolling away on her stool and making
notes in a file on her desk.

“
You look better,” she says.
I snort. Her tone softens. “I can’t give you anything for the pain,
but I can let you rest in here with me instead of what they have
you doing out there.”

I lean my head back and sigh. “Thank
you.”

Josephine goes back to her
paperwork.

“
Have you had any more
headaches?” she asks a few minutes later.

“
No,” I tell her as my pulse
finally returns to normal. “Just sore from the bruises. Did those
tests tell you what caused it?”

“
Not exactly,” she says,
though not convincingly.

I turn and look at her fully. “What do
you mean?”

“
There’s something different
about you, Ven. Something I haven’t seen. You’re sure you’ve never
had a headache before?”

“
Positive. I would remember
something that awful.”

“
Hmm.” I watch impatiently
while she writes in the file in front of her.

“
What’s so different about
me?”

“
I’m not sure yet. I’m going
to run some more tests on the scan I took the other night.” She
looks up and gives me a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure it
out.”

I wait again while she scribbles a few
more notes. She closes the folder and slides it away before turning
back to me. “There’s something else. Titus wants you to get out
more. Alone,” she says.

I don’t answer.

“
I want to make sure you can
handle yourself first,” she adds.

I understand what she means. Titus
wants me to dangle myself, see who takes the bait. Living through
the experience will be up to me. “How long do I have before that
happens?”

“
I can give you another day.
Maybe two. I don’t think he’ll wait longer.”

I nod. The conversation ends there. We
both know there’s nothing else to say. It’s not a matter of “if,”
only “when.” Even Josephine knows that.

***

I don’t see Titus for two days. Either
Josephine has worked a miracle and given me time to heal before I’m
thrown to the wolves, or something has happened to draw Titus’s
attention elsewhere. The latter is not a pleasant possibility
because I don’t see Linc for the same amount of time.

My worry eats at me. I don’t bother
calling Taylor or Daniel, though I know I should after my
conversation with Titus. I contemplate calling Obadiah but I don’t
want to press my luck on that front. And I doubt anyone would
supply me with his number.

Instead, when I’m not forced into the
gym, I hide out in the library and play chess on a digital tablet I
find in one of the desk drawers.

I’m not very good at it, always gaining
the lead only to lose it in a rash attack at the end. But I play
anyway. I can’t focus enough to read despite the myriad of choices
stacking the shelves, and chess reminds me of Lonnie. She wins
every time. It used to make me so mad but now I’d give anything to
lose to her again.

By the end of the second day, I am too
worried to eat dinner. I excuse myself to my room, which I’m
allowed to travel to and from on my own now. I pass by the library
and three other rooms that are all different versions of a sitting
room. The fourth door is mahogany and heavy looking. So far during
my time here, it has remained closed and I’ve come to know it as
one of Titus’s personal spaces. Off limits.

The sound of voices coming from inside
slows me and when I near the frame, I realize the door is cracked.
Through the fraction of space, I see Titus speaking to someone
whose back is toward me. The scent of cigars wafts out the
opening.

“…
But the RNA sequence is
better than ever,” Titus says. “These new models won’t even have
the ability to question their fate, much less care about their
circumstances. They will be completely loyal to me.”

“
How long until they’re
ready to be woken and integrated?”

“
Three months, give or
take.”

“
None too soon,” the
stranger says. His hair is wavy black and his voice is rough like
he needs to clear his throat. “Twig City’s beginning to look like a
ghost town. We’ve depleted our numbers. Marla says the products are
nervous.”

“
They’ll be fine. Just keep
them in a routine. Once the new line is introduced, their
complacency will spill over and reassure the rest.”

“
That’s what you said a year
ago.”

I can hear Titus losing patience as he
snaps back. “I’ve done my best given the circumstances. They’re
under control.”

“
That doesn’t fix the
problem with the current products in place,” the man says without
turning. He sounds unruffled, and I wonder if anyone has ever
ignored Titus and his temper so blatantly.

“
The current line is
manageable. I should think I’ve made that obvious beginning with
Senator Ryan’s replacement.”

“
For now,” the stranger
agrees. “Your daughter’s product is another matter. And these
disappearances are disturbing in their frequency.”

“
We’re getting close to
neutralizing the threat,” Titus says.

“
What leads do you
have?”

“
Don’t worry about leads.
It’s handled,” Titus snaps.

“
Is it?” The man turns from
the window but he is too far right for me to see him through the
small crack. He sounds angry now. “You have had more than one
opportunity to catch her attackers. Instead, they’ve come way too
close to taking her out, or worse, taking her alive. If that
happens, everything crumbles.”

“
I would kill the product
myself before I let that happen,” Titus says.

My body goes cold. I can feel the blood
draining from my face. Titus whirls and I think he may come to
investigate some noise I’ve made but I am already hurrying down the
hall to my room. I run the last few steps and throw the door closed
behind me before I realize the sound of it slamming will probably
give me away.

I freeze and wait for Titus to storm
inside and punish me—but nothing happens. No one comes.

My shoulders slump and I exhale. I
don’t bother with undressing as I crawl underneath the covers and
bury my head in the pillows. Closing my eyes doesn’t erase what
I’ve heard, but it helps me concentrate on blocking out the worst
of it.

Senator Ryan is an Imitation. This is
much easier to think about than anything they said about me. What
happened to the Authentic Senator Ryan? I remember Linc saying
something about an attack but that the senator survived. Was there
another? And does Daniel know that his father is not his father? I
cannot afford to ask him and give away what I’ve heard. Not
yet.

They made it sound like the senator
isn’t the only one Titus switched out. The idea of so many more
Imitations in place is scary. It means the reach of Titus’s control
extends much farther than I ever imagined.