The Girl Who Wasn't (19 page)

He shakes his head sadly. “I checked in
after you fell asleep. Josephine isn’t allowed to treat you today.
They don’t want word of your injuries spreading. Not until they
have their desired outcome.” He spats the last two words, as if
they taste badly in his mouth and I know then what I’ve been
wondering for weeks. Linc knows my purpose here. Even if he doesn’t
realize I am not Authentic Raven, he knows they will do anything to
capture the ones who are after me. Including letting me die.
Especially letting me die.

“
I have to tell them about
the redhead,” he says.

I nod, knowing he’s right but that it
won’t make a difference in their consideration for my life. “All
right,” I say.

Linc steps back. “I’ll find you later.
Try to rest.”

“
I can’t. I have the
party.”

He scowls. “Screw the
party.”

“
You know Titus won’t let me
skip it.” He doesn’t argue. We both know I’m right. “I’ll have to
wear a long-sleeved dress,” I say.

Linc rubs a hand roughly over his face.
“I want to kil—”

“
Linc, don’t!”

He lets his unfinished sentence hang in
the air and then he turns on his heel and walks out. I sink into
the chair beside me, curl up, and cry silent tears.

***

Maria brings food in the afternoon. I
manage to eat some but mostly I just lie in bed and stare at the
ceiling. My thoughts are clearer but slow and lazy, an aftereffect
of so much medication. I don’t mind it. It’s easier to keep my
panic hidden this way.

Titus comes at five. Through the open
doorway, I see my guard in the hall. It’s not Linc but I don’t have
a chance to wonder about it before Titus shuts the door and faces
me. “Linc says you recognized the girl who attacked you last
night.”

“
Yes,” I say, my voice
scratchy but better. “At the party you took me to last week. The
girl who stopped us in the lobby for an autograph and
picture.”

He frowns. “You’re sure it was the same
girl?”

“
Positive.”

He is contemplative a moment longer
before turning to go. I stop him, knowing I have to tell. Partly
because if he finds out I held back, I’m not sure what he’ll do.
But another part of me can’t stand the uncertainty in my discovery.
“There’s something else. She knows what I am.”

Titus turns back. “What do you
mean?”

I relay the conversation that took
place between punches. When I get to the part about her knowing my
secret, his jaw juts forward. “How is this possible?” he
demands.

I don’t have an answer but he doesn’t
seem to be speaking to me. He looks past me, at the gauzy curtains
hanging on the window. I can see his wheels turning and despite
what that girl did to me, I can’t help it. I actually feel afraid
for her.

“
Have you told anyone else
about this?”

“
No, of course not,” I
assure him.

“
Good. See that you
don’t.”

“
What does this mean?” I
blurt out. “If they’re after me for … me, instead of
her?”

He pauses, his hand on the knob.
Without turning back, he says, “If I knew that, you’d already be
dead.”

He pulls the door open and steps out. I
don’t stop him.

When it’s time to get ready, no one
comes to help me dress. Even Maria stays away and I can’t help but
wonder what she’s done to piss Titus off—or what I’ve done. Maybe
it’s the dull throbbing of my injuries or maybe it’s that I’ve
finally accepted the inevitability of my death but I no longer care
if he’s angry.

I manage to find a floor-length navy
gown with sleeves that come to just below my elbow. Delicate blue
lace covers my midriff, connecting the fabric on top and bottom.
Another layer of lace exposes my legs from thigh to knee before the
slinky skirt pools at my feet. It is high-necked and only an inch
or so of bruising shows above the collar. The tattoos mingle with
the bruises, dampening their full effect. It will have to be
enough. There is nothing else that will even remotely cover the
extensive blues and purples that coat my upper body. Either
Authentic Raven stores her out-of-season dresses elsewhere or she
likes showing skin. My gut tells me it’s the second.

Gus knocks on my door to announce a
five-minute warning just as I’m sliding my feet into a pair of nude
heels. They are as uncomfortable as they look and I wince as I’m
forced to walk straight-backed and prim to keep from tripping. My
body screams in protest. I’ve already checked for flats but there
are none to be found in the room-sized closet.

I do one last mirror check and decide
Titus can like it or not. I sweep my hair back from my face and
then carefully arrange it in a braided twist over my shoulder to
cover what bruising the dress won’t. I must remember not to flip my
hair tonight. It is the only thing covering the large, purpling
mass that spreads from my back, over my shoulder, and along my
collarbone.

I walk to the door and pull it open.
Gus is waiting for me. His expression is impassive as usual, but he
spends extra time letting his eyes roam over me. Inspecting the
damage, I’m sure. I must pass the test because he gives a grunt and
then spins on his heel, leading me down the hall to the
elevator.

Linc is nowhere in sight. I don’t even
know if he’s on security detail tonight but something tells me he
will be there.

Titus is waiting for us in the foyer.
He is dressed in a black tuxedo with shoes so shiny they look wet.
He isn’t smiling when he sees me but his frown lessens as he takes
in my conservative dress, my hair spread over my
shoulder.

“
Move your hair,” he says
when I approach.

I comply without a word and wait while
he inspects my skin. Before he can utter a word, Maria rushes up,
breathless and harried. “Here, sir, I found it just now.” She hands
Titus a cream-colored scarf that reminds me of my
curtains.

“
Put it on her,” he
says.

Maria steps up to me and threads the
scarf around my neck, tying it loosely.

“
What is this for?” I
ask.

“
It covers what your hair
doesn’t,” Titus says. “Don’t take it off.”

When Maria is finished fussing with it,
she steps back and Titus inspects the results. “Hmm. It isn’t
something you’d normally wear, but it’ll have to do. If anyone
asks, the designer paid you.”

“
Paid me?” I blink back at
him, trying to understand.

“
To advertise the
line.”

“
People will buy this if
they see me wearing it?”

I can feel Maria watching me and I know
my cluelessness has confused her, but she says nothing.

“
Yes,” Titus says through
clenched teeth. He jams his thumb against the button that summons
the elevator and we wait in silence.

The doors ding as they open and we step
inside.

***

The party is held in a metal tower that
has been sculpted to look like ribbons at its apex. Twisted metal
glints in the moonlight as the car rolls to a stop underneath a
canvassed overhang.

When I reach for the door handle,
Titus’s fingers on my wrist stop me. I hate that he is touching me
but resist the urge to yank it back. There is hardness in the way
he stares and my body is too tender to go against him
tonight.

“
You will laugh and you will
drink and you will flirt. You will be her and you will not forget
who you are,” he says. “Do you understand me?”

“
I understand.” My throat
constricts, aching with the simple two words.

He lets go of my wrist and I
push the door open, in a hurry to escape this stifling car, even if
it means donning my mask.
I am her
now.

A doorman ushers me forward
with a sweep of his hand. The door slides aside automatically as I
approach, and I wonder what his purpose is if not for actually
assisting my entrace. He smiles politely, his expression distant.
He seems to know he is not a part of this world except as a
bystander. I start to smile back and stop myself.
She
would not smile.
Stone-faced, I sweep past him.

The lobby is crowded with arrivals and
coat-checkers. People waiting for their partners crane their necks
to see out into the night, searching for a specific face that has
yet to arrive. I skip all of this, knowing Titus is not far behind
me and not wanting to suffer through his escort. I hurry forward
until my shoulder bumps another. I wince and am driven sideways
half a step before I turn apologetically to the other
party.

“
Sorry,” I say, though I
realize as I utter the word it is not what Authentic Raven would
say.

“
No, it’s my fault.” The
speaker is a boy with dark hair and even darker eyes. His frame is
slight and bony, decidedly feminine.

The contrast of his features against
his creamy skin is all too familiar on this handsome stranger in a
tailored suit. I know his face in an instant, though I’ve never
seen it before, and it shakes me to my core. The pain in my body
fades against the seizing in my chest. It can’t be …

This boy in front of me with porcelain
skin and a sing-song voice—he is her. She is him. However
impossible, this is Ida’s Authentic.

“
Are you all right?” he
asks.

Before I can answer, recognition dawns,
and he blurts, “Shit! Raven, uh—Miss Rogen, apologies. I had no
idea it was you.” The way his shoulders slouch inward makes him
look small and afraid. Like her. That, more than anything, jolts me
out of my shock.

“
It’s nothing,” I assure
him. “What’s your name?”

“
Obadiah Whitcomb. I’m so
sorry for bumping you. It won’t happen again. I swear to God I’ll
be more careful.”

Obadiah. Ida. Does he know she exists
for him? Does the sweetness in his words reflect the pureness of
heart that is inherently Ida? “It’s fine, Obadiah, really. I’m not
upset.”

“
You’re not?” His eyes
narrow in suspicion and I can see the faint hint of black liner
around them. As if it’s been washed off but only recently and not
very well.

“
No.” I smile at him as the
tightness in my chest loosens. I am elated to have found a familiar
face and I do not care what Titus will say. “You and I, we’re going
to be friends.”

“
We are?” He sounds less
afraid, though still suspicious.

I nod. “Best friends.”

“
Why the hell would we do
that?”

“
Have we met
before?”

“
We … haven’t spoken.
Different circles.”

I know it’s his way of saying Authentic
Raven would never speak to this doe-eyed boy but I don’t care. I
will have this one thing. “Well, consider us in the same circle
now.”

He cocks his head. “I heard you had an
accident. Did you sustain brain damage?”

I laugh and it’s so foreign, I let it
go on longer than normal just to savor the sound. “No brain damage.
Just … more appreciative of life, I guess.”

“
Obadiah! I told you to get
the hell inside and mingle. You are not sitting on the sidelines
for this one. Not again,” a man snaps from across the foyer. His
face is pinched into a snarl that seems almost
permanent.

“
On my way, Dad. I was just
chatting with Ms. Rogen here.” Obadiah puts emphasis on my name.
His father tenses.

“
Sorry, sir,” I say, turning
on the charm that only exists because it’s been hardwired into my
DNA. “It’s completely my fault for bumping Obadiah and then holding
him up, making him talk to me.”

The man looks momentarily baffled.
“Right, well, when you’re finished …” His words have lost their
bite and he retreats.

Obadiah turns to me with the ghost of a
smile. “Huh. Well, regardless of your reasons, having you as a
friend may be useful if it shuts my dad up.”

“
Your dad is Senator
Whitcomb?”

“
The one and only.” His head
tilts sideways at my expression. “What’s wrong?”

I hesitate, unsure how much to say
about what I know. This is the man Daniel and Titus spoke of, the
one they are elevating to power if only he will swing the vote in
their favor. The vote on banning the poor from uptown, removing the
less fortunate to the outer rim of the city.

This is the man they will use as their
puppet. If not, they will replace him. Until this moment, I wasn’t
sure what that meant. But now, staring at this boy who is every
inch his Imitation, I know.

Titus means to replace Senator Whitcomb
with his Imitation. And there is only one way he would have the
power to speak so confidently about a move like that. Suddenly, all
of his comments, the knowledge he’s displayed of the City—it all
makes perfect sense. My subconscious knew it from the first
moment.

Titus is the Creator.

Twig City belongs to him.