The Girl Who Wasn't (16 page)

He growls. “When you say things like
that … it pisses me off. The old Raven would never apologize and
you’re just … not her. You don’t trust me enough to tell me why or
how. And I can’t get past that.”

“
I know,” I say. It is the
closest I’ve come to admitting the truth.

He stares at me another moment and I’m
sorry I brought it up because I can’t give him an answer he wants.
“Come on,” he says finally.

Maria is waiting in my room with a
steaming tray of food and a woman I’ve never seen before. She is
slender and tall. Taller than anyone I’ve seen, male or female. Her
brown hair is swept sideways into a twisted tail and her halter-top
gown reveals as much skin as possible while still being clothed. I
can’t help but stare at her bared arms and chest. Every inch of
skin is covered in tattoos. The designs are beautiful. Curving
lines with tiny symbols drawn inside intricate shapes. The ink is a
dark brown set off by her olive skin.

“
Raven, this is Stella.
Titus says she mark you for the show tonight,” Maria
says.

“
Mark me? You mean a
tattoo?” I ask, still staring at the woman’s ink.

“
Yes. You eat then lay on
bed. She work fast,” Maria says.

“
Hello, Stella,” I say when
the woman comes forward.

“
Hello, Raven,” she says in
a seductively deep voice. When she moves her arms, the symbols
along her chest elongate like feathery wisps reaching out to me.
She shakes my hand. Hers is warm and strong in mine. Her expression
is soft, not a smile but something else, mysterious yet
encouraging.

“
I’ll set up my equipment
while you eat and then we’ll get started,” she says.

“
Will I look like you when
you’re finished?” I ask.

“
You’ll look like the
beautiful flower that you are,” she says in a voice leaving no room
for discussion. I don’t argue. If my designs are as beautiful as
hers, I will take them happily.

I eat quickly under Maria’s hovering.
When she and the cart are gone, Stella directs me to remove my
clothes. Her eyes sweep the length of me and I am conscious of my
exposed skin, but then she smiles appreciatively and I am at
ease.

I stand unmoving while she approaches.
Her expression is serious now, her brows drawn in concentration. I
can almost see her mentally placing curving lines and complicated
symbols across my shoulders. Still, the scrutiny is thorough and
intimate and when her eyes sweep lower, my nipples tingle and
harden to points.

Stella approaches with silent
footfalls. Very slowly, she raises her hand and traces a curving
line across my flesh. Goose bumps break out over my arms. Her
almond eyes flit to mine and then back to my breasts. “You are very
beautiful, Raven. I am privileged to mark you.”

I nod, unsure of my voice or a proper
response to her compliment.

Her hand drops away. She returns to her
equipment and the tension between us lifts. “Lie down on your
stomach, please,” she says.

I do as she asks and she spreads a
sheet over my lower half before settling in a stool at the edge of
the mattress. She bends over me and sweeps my thick hair off my
neck. “Hmm,” she says.

“
What is it?”

“
Nothing, darling. I’m going
to attach my design to your existing mark. Are you ready to
begin?”

“
I think so.”

“
There is medicine mixed in
with the ink. It will be uncomfortable at first. Then you will grow
numb. Try to relax.”

“
I will try.”

She flips a switch on the metal tool
held in her hand and it buzzes to life. A sharp prick springs up
where it touches my skin. I grit my teeth and hold very still as it
moves over me. A few moments later, the discomfort is gone. I feel
nothing. The only indication she is touching me is the soft buzz of
her machine.

Stella’s designs take the rest of the
afternoon.

We stop twice for me to stretch and
move around between glasses of water. She doesn’t speak beyond
describing the designs she’s carving into me. The numbing agent
mixed into the ink helps me escape any pain or discomfort. I am
asleep before she’s finished.

When I wake, Stella is gone. The light
from my window slants sideways, signaling late afternoon. I sit and
stretch. The skin over my arm and ribs feels tight. I look down and
gasp at the designs Stella has given me.

Curving vines frame symbols and
pictures. My favorite is a flower too exotic for me to name,
wrapped amid thick stalks that curve all the way down my arm onto
my ribs. Small scabs have formed over the lines of ink. A couple of
them break open when I stretch my arm too far.

I frown down at my sheets that are
stained with small specks of blood where I rolled too far during my
nap.

There is a light knock and the door to
my bedroom swings open. It is Maria, a tray of food in her
hands.

“
You finished? You feel
good? You eat.” She sets the tray on the bed in front of me and
disappears into my closet without waiting for my answer. She barely
looked at my tattoos but they’re all I see as I eat the meal she’s
brought.

A moment later, Maria emerges. She
hooks a piece of floor-length fabric on the edge of the door and
goes into the bathroom. The gown she’s chosen for me sparkles and
shimmers and reminds me of a jungle pool I saw once on the nature
channel. For the first time since assuming my role, I don’t mind
the scanty designs of Raven’s wardrobe. It’s too beautiful not to
wear.

Maria is full of energy as she bustles
back and forth, ushering me to finish eating and then running a
bath that smells like freesia and lilies.

In the bath, Maria helps me to gently
scrub away the blood from the tattoos.

When I’m bathed and dressed, I sit
quietly in front of the mirror while Maria does my hair. It’s swept
up and piled thickly against my head with a variety of pins and
barrettes. Short wisps escape her capable hands and she leaves them
to frame my face. My neck and shoulders are left bare to display
Stella’s handiwork. The finishing touch is some foreign perfume
Maria sprays on me as I exit. I wrinkle my nose at the heavy
lavender scent and head for the door.

When I emerge, Titus is waiting for me.
He nods appreciatively at my dress and I see the relief on Maria’s
face as she disappears around a corner toward the kitchen. I have
to admit, the dress is magnificent. The way the fabric hangs and
glitters makes me feel as if a waterfall is being poured over me at
every step. The tattoos are a compliment, an artist’s design
enhanced by the framework of the dress. Titus leans in and
scrutinizes the area where Stella’s wok attaches to the tree on my
neck.

“
Very nice,” Titus says, and
though it’s probably meant to be a compliment I can’t help but feel
as if he’s simply given me permission—not praise—to look like
this.

“
The tattoos are
semi-permanent. We needed to do something to take the focus off
your product mark,” he explains.

I am not as surprised as I should be
that he would go to such extremes. Maybe this new world has already
changed me.

“
Tonight,” he continues,
“Gus and Linc and a few others will accompany you but not inside.
They would be too conspicuous and I want this dinner to solidify to
the public that you are healed and well from your past injuries and
your amnesia is gone. Do you understand?”

“
I will be alone in the
building?” I ask.

I can’t help the nerves that are
building in my stomach at the thought, especially after what Linc
said earlier.

“
Your security team will be
downstairs and you’ll be wired so they can hear everything going
on. Daniel will be there, as well as plenty of others willing to
spend any amount of time you’ll give them. You’ll be fine.” He
leans down and lowers his voice and adds, “Just be
her
.” He straightens and
pats my cheek in a way that feels like a slap. “Your bruises healed
nicely. Let’s not come home with new ones, all right?”

I am not sure if he means from an
attack or from his own hand if I screw this up. The thought of
either has me balling my fists at my sides and digging my nails
into my palms. Footsteps sound behind me and I turn to find Gus and
Linc.

“
Have fun, darling,” Titus
says loudly enough for them to hear. Then he moves away to speak to
Gus in a low voice.

Linc joins me in front of the elevator.
He takes in all of me and his jaw goes slack. My pulse
quickens.

“
Is it okay?” I ask
quietly.

“
It is … more than okay,” he
says, his voice hoarse.

I want to ask him to elaborate but then
Gus joins us and Linc presses the button, and we file into the
elevator. The last thing I see before the doors close is Titus, a
twisted smile pasted on his angular face.

The moment we step off the elevator, I
know something is wrong.

The doorman is missing and half the
lights in the lobby are out. I hesitate as we step off the elevator
and I feel Linc’s hand on my arm, gently pushing me behind him.
With one hand, Gus motions us forward. With the other, he is
talking rapidly into his radio, calling for backup.

“
Come on, the car is
waiting,” Gus snaps.

Through the glass front I can see a
black car idling by the curb. Normally, our driver is standing
there, waiting to open the door, but I don’t see anyone now. Still,
Gus tugs me forward. I exchange a look with Linc. His expression is
grave and determined as he searches our surroundings.

“
Boss,” Linc
begins.

“
I see it,” Gus says. “Keep
moving. We need them to show themselves.”

We walk quickly across the hollow lobby
and my breaths are coming so fast, my chest aches with the pressure
of too much oxygen. The absence of a doorman doesn’t deter Gus. He
shoves through the door without bothering to hold it for us. With
one hand, Linc holds the door for me. His other hand slips into
mine.

Behind me, the stairwell door bursts
open and several more of our security detail pour out and race
across the lobby. They are not fast enough.

The moment my feet hit the sidewalk, a
hand closes over my shoulder and I am ripped from Linc’s grasp. I
stumble backward until I slam hard against a chest and the hand on
my shoulder becomes an arm wrapped around my throat. Another
encircles my waist.

I have a full view of Gus and Linc—and
the men they are fighting off—as I am pulled farther and farther
away from them. Linc’s movements are a blur as he manages to
sidestep an uppercut punch and produce a gun from some hidden place
on his body. He points it at my captor for a split second before
realizing I am the barrier between his bullet and my freedom. He
lowers the barrel and his attention is redirected as he’s forced to
dodge another swing.

I am yanked again, this time into an
alleyway, and abruptly released. The momentum sends me hard against
the wall of the building. My back hits first, driving the air from
my lungs, and then my head. The pain is instant and splitting, and
I cannot see through the cloudy darkness that blurs my vision. I
swing out but my fists connect with empty air.

I blink furiously, but it’s not in time
to avoid the fist that crashes into my stomach. Then another. The
only thing keeping me on my feet is the force of the fists holding
me against the hardness of the wall.

A shot rings out. The blows cease and
my knees buckle. I’m aware of a body slumping to the ground at my
feet. The face of my attacker swims into focus. I know him. The
realization makes me sick. My stomach heaves though nothing comes
up. It’s the boy. The one I saw in the lobby last week. He and his
friend asked for my autograph.

I begin to crumple. Footsteps approach
at a run. A pair of arms dart forward and I flinch but it’s not
another punch. Instead the hands slip underneath my arms and yank
me up so that I’m somewhat on my feet.

“
Raven Rogen,” a voice says.
The fact that it is female startles me enough for my eyes to open.
I struggle to focus on the face swimming in front of me. The orange
hair is like a burning halo framing a face that is strikingly
familiar.

“
I know you,” I
mumble.

“
You don’t know anything,”
she says.

“
I met you … gave you my
autograph.”

“
Signature sample. Very
handy with the right technology. We had to be certain.” She leans
in until our noses almost touch. “I know your secret,” she
whispers.

Farther away, someone shouts. It pulls
both of our attention, though I can’t see far enough to identify
the owner of the voice. More shouts. Feet pounding.

She turns back to me but I continue to
crane my neck past her to the shouting. I hope help has arrived at
last.

“
Looks like we’re doing this
the hard way. Time for light’s out.”

I look back at the girl just
in time to see her petite fist slam into my temple. Then her hands
cup my cheeks and my head is slammed against the wall. There is a
sickening
thunk
and
I know she’s broken the skin. Her hands slide lower to my throat
and begin to squeeze. I manage two very short breaths before my
oxygen is cut off. I thrash wildly, kicking and clawing for
purchase. Anything that will make her let go. But it’s not
enough.