The Girl Who Wasn't

by Heather Hildenbrand

He shakes his head. “And here this whole time I thought I was the one protecting you.”

  For reasons I cannot explain, this makes me angry. “You are protecting me. And this isn’t funny. Nothing about it is funny. I just told you that I’m not human. I’m a manmade product.” I spit the word, hating how it sounds but needing him to understand. “And you’re standing here laughing about something useless like who kept whom alive.”

  “That,” he says, “is not useless.”

  “It is if we both end up dead for having this conversation.”

  He glances toward the door and I know what he is thinking. No place inside Rogen Tower is completely secure.

  “Titus promoted me,” he says.

  This is not what I expect him to say. “What?”

  “Interim head of security. Until someone else can be appointed—or I prove myself worthy. I forgot to tell you before.”

  “You’re in charge?”

  “Looks like. I wonder if this means I get to know all the secrets now.” He shakes his head. “I knew there was more going on, that I was being lied to, but I never imagined … This is huge. Monstrous, government-crumbling stuff. I can’t believe he’s kept it a secret for so long. And with Gus and you right here in front of me …” He pauses, as if remembering I can provide an answer if only he can formulate the question. “How does he keep it a secret?”

  I make a decision. After this, there’s no going back. But I’ve been past the point of no return where Linc’s concerned since that first night on the rooftop. And I know my choice isn’t just between telling him the truth or holding onto it. It’s more about choosing to risk for something more important than my life. I’m choosing something most Imitations would never dream of doing. I’m choosing to feel. And to maybe let someone else feel something for me.

  I lead Linc into a corner of the room and pull him down onto the floor next to me. I am careful to keep my voice low but I no longer hold back, picking and choosing what to admit. I tell him everything. About Twig City. About how an Imitation is created to serve his or her Authentic in life and in death—but mostly death. About Lonnie and Ida and how much I love them despite being told it is an emotion I am not capable of.

  “I knew Ida was special to you by the way you spoke of her,” he says. His expression clouds. “Wait, you almost called Obadiah by her name that night on the terrace.”

  “He is her Authentic.”

  His confusion deepens. “How …?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit, “but they are definitely a match.”

  “Do you think he knows?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  “It would get him killed, Linc.”

  He is silent then.

  I tell him about notes from Marla and how they are a written trigger for the end of an existence. Or at least as far as residence in Twig City. My sudden departure. Anna in the bathroom. Melanie.

  Daniel.

  Linc doesn’t interrupt again.

  Through it all, my voice is nothing more than a hushed whisper. Even so, I am certain that any second someone—probably Titus—will burst in and drag me away. But no one comes.

  When I am finished, we are both quiet so long, I hear a hum coming from some electronic device I can’t see. It makes me think of the pipes. Something giving life to something else.

  I can’t take it any longer. “Say something,” I whisper.

  “It’s … unbelievable.” There is malice in his tone that wasn’t there before. A lump the size of his rejection forms in my stomach.

  “I want to hate him,” he continues. “I mean, I do hate him. For being a tyrant and a dictator and for dangling you like he did. But for the rest, he’s sort of a genius, which kind of makes me hate him more. He creates … people.”

  “I’m not a person,” I say. “I was manufactured.”

  Something in my words gets his attention because he looks up at me sharply. His jaw is set. He’s daring me to argue when he says, “No, you’re an angel. Titus Rogen is in the business of manufacturing angels.”

  I open my mouth to say something, though I have no idea what, but he rushes on. “I’ve been fighting this ever since you were hit on the head. No, ever since I met you—I realize that now. I knew you were different. Not just from the amnesia and it didn’t make sense. The old you—or her, I should say—is nothing like this you. Ugh, I don’t even know if this makes sense. My point is, I’ve been trying so hard not to feel this way and all it’s done is made my feelings bigger and harder to fight. I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m not going to fight it.”

  “What are you going to do?” I ask.

  “This.”

  And then he is leaning forward and I feel his breath hit my mouth just before his lips do and the combination is by far the sweetest thing I have ever tasted. It’s different than his other kisses. This time, he’s kissing me. No pretenses. No lies.

  His hands roam my body, gripping my hips, sliding over my abdomen, cupping my breasts. I press tighter against him, desperate to eliminate every pocket of space that separates us. He pulls me closer, his fingers tangling in my hair.

  A strange feeling rises inside me. It grows larger inside my chest and creates a lump in my throat. Tears spring to my eyes. I squeeze them shut to hide it, determined to enjoy the physical sensations Linc’s hands stir up, but the feeling won’t be ignored. It’s an emotion heavier than I knew existed, more intense than I could ever anticipate myself capable of.

  There’s nothing I can do to stop the noise that follows. It is surprise—for experiencing a feeling I never thought I had the right to want—and pure happiness that manifests in a quiet whimper. Linc’s response is to pull me closer and hang on tighter. I do the same.

  Our kiss is sweet and full of passion. A tiny tear escapes the corner of my eye. It is the first and only time I’ve ever shed a tear of joy.

  When our lips part, Linc regards me with a smile and even though I feel the urge to smile back, I don’t. There is one more thing left to be said. One more reason why he and I shouldn’t even be here together, solidifying our feelings. Sealing them with kisses.

  “I need to say something,” I say.

  “What is it?”

  Saying it out loud is hard because it makes it more real, but I have to make him understand. “Catching Daniel tonight … especially if he gives up Melanie … Titus may decide I’m not needed anymore.”

  He is silent for a moment and I can see him working it out, trying to understand where this is going. Sadness claws at me but I don’t give in. I refuse to let it ruin things just yet. “I see. You’re afraid you’ll be sent back to …?”

  “Twig City,” I finish for him. “And no. That’s not a possibility.”

  “What then?”

  “When Titus is finished with me—any time an Imitation’s mission is considered complete—they are terminated.”

  “What do you …? Oh.” I see the moment my words hit him. His lips part. He searches my face, perhaps looking for an alternative answer. But there isn’t one. “How can he do that?”

  I hold up my arm and gesture to the seemingly undisturbed skin. “I have a GPS implanted inside me.”

  “I know that. It’s how we’re able to monitor you. It’s how I knew where to find you on that rooftop,” he admits.

  “There’s also a kill switch. Titus can use it whenever he decides I’ve become unnecessary.”

  “And you’re worried that after tonight, you’re no longer necessary,” he finishes.

  “Aren’t I?”

  He reaches up and places his hands on my cheeks, drawing my nose to his and staring with an intensity that seems to burn through me. “Titus isn’t going to touch you. I’ve protected you this long and I’m not going to stop now. Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

  I blink and feel myself tear up again at the enormity of what he’s promising.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks.
r />   My voice is thick with emotion when I respond with a quiet, “Yes.”

  “Good.” He presses his lips to my forehead and then draws me close, holding me against his chest. I can feel his chin propped gently on the top of my head. I cannot remember ever feeling so safe when I had such reason to be scared. We sit that way for a while and I don’t ask what he’s thinking because I’m tired of talking about death.

  When I sit up, the intensity is still there. If anything, he is more determined, more set on his course.

  When he speaks again, I don’t doubt his promise for a single second. “No one is ever going to hurt you, Ven. Not while I have breath.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, my breakfast is cut short by a phone call.

  “You can take it in the library,” Maria says, gesturing that I should follow the security guard standing in the doorway.

  I get up and walk out, too surprised to care about my unfinished meal. During my time at Rogen Tower, I’ve never once received a phone call. My stomach bounces along, feeling like it’s three steps ahead of me as I walk to the study where the landline waits. I barely ate more than a bite of toast but it’s threatening to make a reappearance.

  I’ve heard not a word from Titus since he left to interrogate Daniel last night. I have no idea what his plans are for me. Even with Linc in charge and all the promises he made, I don’t feel safe here. Not yet. The uncertainty of Titus’s intention hangs over me like a wet curtain, dripping, dripping, until it inevitably splashes down and soaks through.

  Josephine came earlier this morning, offering pain meds. Again, I turned her down. I can’t afford to be loopy right now. My throat aches but it’s nothing I can’t handle. The yellowing bruises below my eyes are barely visible through the layer of cover-up. And it’s nothing compared to the pain of the other attacks I’ve endured. I resolved to swallow delicately and waved her away.

  In the absence of the numbing drugs, my mind is crystal clear—and full of worry. The phone call is only added anxiety.

  “Who is it?” I ask the security guard waiting in the open doorway. But like the one who led me here, he only shakes his head.

  I sit in the rolling chair in front of the desk and hold the receiver to my ear. I guess at the button that will connect me by pressing the one next to the blinking red light. A buzz of background noise fills the speaker.

  “Hello?”

  “Raven? Is that you? Gawd, finally,” says the voice on the other end. And it is so feminine-yet-decidedly-male that I know immediately.

  “Obadiah,” I say. Relief for a worry I didn’t even realize washes over me. “How are you? How’s your head?”

  I haven’t spoken to him since the night of the party when Titus came and dragged me away before I could make anything worse by telling the truth. My exit was hasty but not before witnessing the sizable lump on Obadiah’s skull.

  “What? My head?” He sounds momentarily baffled and when he answers, I can almost see him waving an impatient hand at me. “Oh, that. I’m fine. Nothing a good pain pill couldn’t cure. Listen, I have some information.”

  “What sort of information?”

  His voice drops to a stage whisper. “The … secret agent kind of information.”

  “Okayyy. What is it?”

  “Not on the phone, are you crazy?” He pauses and then adds, “I can’t believe you’re even talking to me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I call you all the time. You’re never available.” The way he says it sounds like an impression of someone who has given him that same line over and over.

  “What do you mean ‘all the time’?”

  “I mean, twice yesterday, twice the day before … all the time.”

  It shouldn’t surprise me that Titus has vetoed phone calls but I wonder who else has tried contacting me or why Obadiah’s call was put through now. And then I know. Linc has allowed it. Linc is giving me my freedom. What little there is to be had in this place. It makes me want to kiss him again.

  “Raven, are you there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “What I need to tell you involves a certain mutual acquaintance,” he says. “A bathroom acquaintance. We should talk in person.”

  Anna.

  After last night, I’d almost given up on seeing her again. Surely Daniel will give up what he knows. Titus will find her and any others Daniel’s hiding, GPS or not, and do … what he will. I don’t allow myself to think about the possibilities if Titus finds all of his missing Imitations. It doesn’t matter that he thinks of them as products. That he calls it “termination.” As far as I’m concerned, it will be genocide.

  And though I am not sure I could bring myself to do it, the thought of having my GPS removed, of being free, is exhilarating. I want to ask Anna how it’s possible.

  If there is any chance at all of getting to them before Titus does, I have to do it. Even the thought of Melanie being at Titus’s mercy brings a small amount of compassion.

  What Obadiah’s asking won’t be easy, today most of all. Despite that, I say, “I can meet you.”

  My mind is already concocting reasons to tell Titus I need to leave the tower. Provided I’m not terminated by then. I try not to dwell on that possibility, or what it would do to Obadiah.

  We make plans to meet in the shopping district downtown at four. By the time I hang up, my security duo has disappeared. Any notes or instructions for the day were noticeably absent at breakfast and I’m not sure what to do with myself next. I need to figure out what to tell Titus so I can leave later. If he’s in the tower at all, he’s probably downstairs with Daniel. I don’t want to think about what sort of things are being done down there. Daniel was horrible to me but I can’t be okay with torture.

  I’m not going downstairs.

  I make my way around the curve in the circular hallway. My feet have carried me back to my room. It’s as good a place as any to think.

  Through the cracked doorway, I catch sight of someone else standing inside. Panic spears through me. My throat closes at the memory of pressure applied to my windpipe. But it isn’t Daniel. It’s Linc. I force myself to relax, concentrating on breathing evenly. When I’m convinced I don’t look harried, I push the door wider and enter.

  Linc looks up and his expression softens. “Close the door,” he says.

  I lean on it until it clicks closed behind me and wait. He crosses the room and gathers me close, burying his face in my hair. I hug him back just as tightly, just as desperate.

  “Hi,” he says simply when he pulls back.

  I smile. “Hi.”

  “I missed you.”

  “It’s been nine hours.”

  “I know.”

  “I missed you too.”

  He grins.

  And even though I know it’ll spoil his smile, I say, “You allowed my phone call.”

  “Not all of them,” he admits. “Taylor called before that and I told her you were still sleeping.”

  I’ve completely slipped in my ruse of a friendship with her. No doubt she suspects something. Titus will be angry if he finds out, but I can’t deal with her constant inane questions right now.

  “Thanks,” I tell him.

  “Before you thank me, you should know I listened in,” he says. “It’s protocol. Someone had to and better me than someone who will report it back to Titus.”

  I nod. “I expected as much.”

  His expression clouds. “Who is Obadiah talking about?”

  I hesitate. My eyes dart from a useless figurine to the overhead light in sudden paranoia. “It’s safe in here,” he says. “I swept it before you came in.”

  I exhale. “It’s Anna. The one you said died in a car accident last week. I saw her the night I overheard Melanie and Daniel. She’s an Imitation.”

  “Obadiah found her?” I can see his wheels turning and I am struck at how unafraid I am that any of his thoughts have to do with rejecting me. It’s a nice feeling
in the midst of so much uncertainty.

  “I need to get out,” I say.

  “I know. Okay, so there’s a fashion show at Grundy’s but that’s not until eight. I think we can convince him to let you have dinner. The paparazzi have been hounding him as well about this charity auction thing. They want updated photos, which isn’t anything new, but considering all of the threats and attacks lately … I will set it up and then ask him after the fact. He’s less likely to say no if he knows they are already expecting you.”

  I simply nod and watch him as he paces and plans. He’s obviously talking more to himself than me since I know nothing of this charity or auction or any of it. Nor do I care. I just want to find Anna.

  Someone knocks sharply and before we can move the door opens and Titus is standing there. He looks back and forth between us and I deliberately meet his gaze head-on. We cannot look guilty right now.

  My heart races and thumps double time. I wonder if he can hear it in the silence but he zeroes in on Linc. “Crawford. There you are. I need to go over some things with you regarding our prisoner.”

  “Yes, sir.” Linc moves toward the door, his movements jerky and too fast. Or maybe I am paranoid.

  “What are you doing in here?” Titus asks him.

  I hold my breath.

  “Sir, Grundy’s called to confirm Raven’s ticket for this evening. They had her down for a plus one for the charity dinner but I changed it.”

  Titus frowns. “I forgot all about that. It’s a benefit for some animal shelter or another. Senator Whitcomb’s platform, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir. It would be good for appearances if she went.”

  Titus stares at Linc as if he’s looking right through him and then nods thoughtfully. “Quite. I’d like to keep it quiet that we are detaining a senator’s son.”

  “Yes, sir,” Linc says.

  “Call them back and make her dinner reservation for a plus one,” he says.

  “Sir?”

  “You must accompany her at all times,” Titus says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The redhead is still out there and she will try again, especially when she discovers we have Daniel. It may even force her hand, a desperate move. We need to be ready. So far, you’re the only one who has been there when Raven needed someone most. Can I count on you to continue to watch out for my daughter?”