The Girl Who Wasn't (33 page)

“
And?” he
prompts.

I almost don’t finish. I am too afraid
it will ruin the moment. But his earnest curiosity is too much. I
tell the truth. “I don’t want you to think I’m not capable of
loving you as much as you love me just because I’m not
human.”

He growls, a sound that’s
become familiar from him. Especially anytime we discuss this
particular subject. “You
are
human. You heard what Melanie said.”

“
I don’t trust
Melanie.”

“
Do you trust
yourself?”

I pause. “Yes.”

“
So do I. And I can see it
inside you, shining through like a beacon, drawing me closer and
closer. It’s what keeps me tied to you.”

“
What does?”

“
Your humanity.”

I open my mouth to respond but he holds
his finger to my lips and continues. “Melanie was right about one
thing. No one else gets to make you feel like less because of how
you were born. It’s the same in my world, only they use money,
instead of science, as the measuring stick. Either way, who you are
at birth shouldn’t define you. We make our own destiny.”

Again, I open my mouth to respond, but
he shushes me a second time. His voice rises with conviction. “We
choose who we are. And who we’ll be. Not them.”

I shove his hand aside. “Are you done
yet?”

His shoulders sag. “Yes.”

“
Good, because that was
absolutely inspiring as pep talks go. And you should quit while
you’re ahead.”

The corners of his lips twitch. “I’m
glad you liked it.”

“
You had me at
humanity.”

His smile widens and then quickly falls
away, replaced by a serious determination. “We’re going to find
them, Ven. And we’re going to change things. For them. For
you.”

“
You believe that?” I
whisper because saying it out loud makes the whole thing sound
scary in a possible sort of way.

“
I do.”

“
How? How can you just
believe it?”

“
Easy. Because I believe in
you.”

Without hesitation, I throw my arms
around him and hold on tight. He stumbles back half a step, off
balance from my unexpected display. Then he rights himself and his
arms wrap around me too. “What’s this for?” he asks against my
hair.

“
For not being
less.”

Chapter Eighteen

Sharp drafts of wind cut through my
hair and sneak into my helmet, caressing my cheeks like whispering
fingertips. The sun is shining, sending a swath of light between
the skyscrapers that cast shadows along either side of the street.
Despite the bite in the air, I’m warm inside my jacket. Between my
thighs, the motorcycle thrums as we accelerate out of traffic. Any
other day, the experience of riding with Linc would be thrilling.
Today, it is impossible to enjoy.

The anxious thumping of my chest
threatens to drown out the hum of the motorcycle’s engine. Not for
what I’ve left behind—Titus was distracted enough by his newest
prisoner to let me go without much explanation this morning—but for
what we’re headed toward. I have no idea what we’ll find at the
address Melanie has given, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m
heading into something that will be impossible to walk away
from.

Red brake lights dot the road ahead,
but Linc barely slows as he darts around bumpers and weaves between
commuters. I am anonymous behind my helmet but I stare back at the
curious drivers who scowl as we speed past.

In no time, we navigate through the
congestion and break free onto the roads that lead to the
outskirts. These streets are far less traveled. I’m not sure if
it’s because so few people here own cars or that anyone who does
can afford to work uptown.

We slow for a right turn. The street
sign is chipped and weathered, barely hanging on to its steel
frame. I can just make out letters that spell “Waverly” before it’s
lost behind me. These buildings are long and squat, three stories
at most. None of them display numbers so we do a lap and circle
back.

Linc slows and raises his visor. “You
see it?”

“
No.”

He angles toward the shoulder and pulls
to a stop. I slide off and remove my helmet, shaking my hair free.
Beside me, Linc removes his own helmet and stares up and down the
street, frowning.

“
What?” I ask.

“
It’s … empty.”

He’s right. Not a single vehicle—not
even foot traffic penetrates from the main road we left a block
away. The quiet is eerie. The stillness suggests …
purpose.

“
Do you think—?” My words
are cut off by a scraping noise. I whip around but there is nothing
there. I stare at a corner of the building I can’t see
around.

The scraping comes again, like feet
dragging. A face appears at the very edge of the wall, two eyes
peering at us from around the corner. I go still. Slowly, the face
emerges far enough that I can make it out. “Anna.”

Linc and I share a look. We are
here.

“
Anna,” I call again,
louder.

She steps clear of the corner and waits
there. The minute I move toward her, Linc’s hand is on my wrist
pulling me back. “Wait.”

“
Linc, it’s her. Melanie was
telling the truth.”

“
We don’t know what we’re
walking into.”

I don’t want to admit I shared his
sentiment only moments ago. Instead, I stick out my chin,
determined that he is wrong. This is safe. I am supposed to be
here. “I know Anna. She won’t hurt me.”

He scowls and slides his hand down
until it joins mine. I hold fast. Together, we walk forward. Anna
watches us from the shadows, her eyes darting in every direction as
we approach. I can feel the tension in Linc as he squeezes my hand.
I force mine to remain relaxed—a sign of my own certainty, though
I’m not certain at all. Not with Anna biting her lip and looking
for trouble behind my left shoulder.

“
I’m glad to see you again,”
I tell her with forced cheeriness.

At my words, the lines in her forehead
smooth over and her shoulders relax. “Same,” she says. “I wasn’t
sure Melanie would come through. Well, we can’t stay out here. Come
on.”

We follow her into the alley. Shadows
grow and then cross, throwing everything into what feels like murky
twilight though it’s not yet noon. We pass a set of Dumpsters that
leave a stench in their wake. My nose wrinkles.

Empty crates and debris litter the
walkway. I step over several until I’m forced to go around a larger
set. The scraping sound from earlier comes again. I jerk my head
toward it so fast, I almost trip. With Linc’s help, I steady myself
and catch up to Anna who waits in an open doorway. The metal frame
has a thick coating of rust. It flakes off in tiny slivers, golden
dust motes in the rotten air.

“
Ven,” Linc murmurs, the
single word packed full of wariness.

“
I know,” I say as we walk
forward.

Warm, stuffy air hits me the moment I
cross the threshold. The scraping comes again as the door slides
closed. Anna leans on it, shoving with her entire body. She grunts
and heaves until the latch clicks shut. Then she slides a giant
deadbolt into place.

We’re sealed in.

I try not to think of it that way. I
know Linc could open it if need be. But there’s no way we could
exit in a hurry. I don’t allow myself to imagine possible reasons
for a quick exit.

“
This way,” Anna
says.

Linc blocks her path before she can
move. “No way. We’re not going any farther until you give us some
answers.”

“
Melanie should’ve—” Anna
begins, but Linc cuts her off.

“
Melanie’s a liar. We want
the truth.”

Anna’s expression tightens but she
nods. “I understand your concern. Melanie can be … self-involved.
I’ll explain everything. Answer all of your questions. But first, I
want you to meet someone.”

Linc’s voice is a few inches lighter
when he asks, “Who?”

“
His name’s Morton. He’s
been out of the City longer than anyone. Whatever questions you’ve
got, he’s the one with the answers.” She shrugs. “I’m just a
guest.”

“
How many of you are here?”
Linc asks.

“
A lot.” Linc opens his
mouth, probably to argue for specifics, but Anna shakes her head.
“I’m not giving you that kind of information without assurances.
Talk to Morton first. Alone. Then I’ll tell you what you want to
know about the others.” Her voice is firm, her gaze unwavering as
it holds Linc’s. No one breathes. The silence echoes around us. I
squeeze Linc’s hand.

Finally, Linc exhales and his shoulders
relax. “All right, Anna. Take us to Morton.”

A darkened hallway winds to the right.
Anna leads the way, our steps muffled by a thick coating of dirt on
the floor. The air becomes heavier the farther we walk. Even the
silence seems muffled. We pass several open doorways leading into
small, boxy rooms. They must’ve been offices at one time. Now
they’re empty, save for the second-hand sunlight filtering in
through high windows. Anna stops at the last door. It’s open
halfway and she pushes it wide with her knuckles as she
knocks.

“
Morton,” she says, though I
can’t see over her shoulders to who she’s addressing.

Furniture creaks and feet shuffle as
someone rises. More shuffling and then Anna moves aside and I see
him.

I blink and force myself not to step
back. The man before me is dark-skinned and tall. He is easily the
largest man I’ve ever seen. Not large like Marla—large like someone
has taken boulders and placed them underneath his skin. There are
defined mounds where his shoulders and biceps should be and sinewy
veins running the length of his forearms. Through the fabric of his
shirt, his chest is broad and hard like the rest of him. Despite
his formidable size, he is smiling.

“
Ven,” he says in a deep
baritone. “It is an honor to meet you.” His voice is accented with
something I don’t recognize. It makes him sound only slightly less
scary than he looks.

He holds out a hand three times the
size of my own. I take it gingerly, expecting to be crushed under
his grip, but he is surprising delicate with me. Rough calluses
line his palm and scrape against my skin. He drops my hand, the
smile still in place though somewhat smaller, like a secret, when
he turns to Linc. “And you must be the bodyguard I’ve heard so much
about.”

“
I am with Ven,” Linc says
in a clipped voice. The words are meant to be a simple agreement to
Morton’s statement but a ripple of pleasure goes through me at what
else he’s inferred.

Morton nods. “Please, come in and sit.”
He gestures to a faded loveseat underneath a high window. “I’m
afraid our accommodations aren’t the nicest in town. But they’re
the least threatening, I assure you.”

He doesn’t wait for Linc or
me to comply before he turns to Anna. “How’s the arm,
mon ami
?”

“
It’s fine,” Anna
insists.

“
Let me see.” His tone is a
gentle rebuke. Anna, head hanging, lifts her arm to Morton. He
peels away the bandage that covers the place where her GPS should
be. His face scrunches as he inspects the raised wound. “When was
the last time you changed the dressing?”

“
Yesterday,” Anna says, her
voice high-pitched and not at all believable. Morton
sighs.

“
I’ve told you about taking
care of this. My equipment, this facility, isn’t sterile. The
procedure is risky enough without adding to it the fact that you
aren’t cleaning it properly. It’s on the verge of
infection.”

Anna sighs. I suspect she’s heard all
this before. Morton presses the bandage back into place. “Go see
Rudy. He’ll help you clean it and apply a fresh
dressing.”

“
But Ven—”

“
Will be all right,” he
finishes. “Come find us when you’re done and you can show them
around.”

Anna promises she will and then slips
out. I scoot closer to Linc so our legs press against each other
and take his hand again. Morton’s done nothing threatening but it’s
difficult not to take notice of how much he fills empty
space.

Morton lowers himself into the creaky
desk chair and links his fingers, resting his hands over his
abdomen. “I am not sure what Melanie told you about us but I am
very glad you’ve come.”

“
She said she’s been helping
to hide you from Titus and the rest of the Authentics,” I say
slowly.

“
True enough. She’s helped
us a great deal.” It’s obvious from the tone of his voice there is
more he isn’t saying.

“
But?” Linc
prompts.

“
Melanie’s Authentic, and
beyond that, she’s what I call … an aggressive thinker. She would
like to see more action, I think, than the rest of us are looking
for just yet.”

“
What are you looking for?”
I ask. It is a bottom-line question. One that, depending on the
answer, will decide whether I can matter here.