Imitation (16 page)

“
She asked for my
autograph. She took my picture.”

There is an odd note to his voice when
he asks, “Did you give it to her?”

“
Yes.” I try to shrug but
it hurts and the motion is jerky and awkward. “She seemed so
…”

“
Harmless?”

“
Yes.”

“
I think that’s the
point.”

There’s something in his voice.
Hesitancy, though I can’t understand why. I recognize it because I
have the same feeling. I don’t tell him what she said to me about
my secret. Instead I say, “She got away tonight.”

It’s not a question but he answers
anyway. “Yes.”

“
Who is she,
Linc?”

He doesn’t respond and I wonder if he
knows more about this girl than he’s let on. There is something he
doesn’t want to say. “Where did you get that tattoo,
Raven?”

The change of subject is unexpected.
My brain is foggy from the drugs and I can’t remember which lie I
should tell. “I’ve had it since the beginning,” I
mumble.

“
The beginning of
what?”

“
Of me.”

“
So, you’ve had it since
you were born? You were given a tattoo as a baby?”

“
No. I … not a baby.” An
alarm bell sounds in the back of my mind. I am dangerously close to
a line that, once crossed, cannot be uncrossed.

Linc knows it, and he presses. “What
does it mean?”

I decide to tell as much of the truth
as I can and hope it satisfies. I am too muddled, too exhausted to
lie. “The tree represents life.”

“
And the numbers along the
branches?”

I curse inwardly. He’s seen more of it
than I thought. But I cannot tell him about the numbers. “Linc, I’m
tired.”

“
You’re not a very good
liar, Raven.” He isn’t angry, only resigned. We both know the truth
will come—eventually. Only, not tonight. Not like this.

I sigh and lean my head on his
shoulder. “I know.”

I wake sore and exhausted despite the
hours of rest. My bed feels like rocks underneath my skin. Sunlight
streams through the curtain. I’m still not sure what woke me,
though I have a vague notion of some noise grabbing my attention
from the subconscious. I shift from my side to my back to escape
the glaring light and wince as my tender shoulder is pressed
against the mattress. Last night’s attempt on my life has put all
of the others to shame.

I am not even fully awake
before the redhead’s words replay in my mind.
I know your secret.

Everything has changed. It’s no longer
her I am protecting through my silence. It is myself. They want me.
Not Authentic Raven but Imitation Ven.

When I remember the redhead and the
way her fists felt, I swallow a sob, unsure whether the faceless
security guard stationed outside my door will hear me if I let it
loose.

A noise sounds from the floor at the
foot of my bed. Every muscle in my body stiffens. I wince and then
very slowly push back the covers and crawl toward the foot of the
mattress.

I peer over the edge and find a wad of
blankets that rise and fall rhythmically. They rustle again as
whatever is wrapped inside rolls sideways. The corner falls away
and I see his face.

It is Linc.

He is sleeping in my room.

My initial elation is stamped out by
horror. I look to the walls, the dresser, the knickknacks where I
have always suspected cameras hide. They cannot see him here. Titus
would …

I cannot finish the
thought.

I jump up. Every muscle and nerve
ending in me screams in protest as I run over and crouch in front
of the pile of blankets that is Linc.

“
Linc, wake up,” I hiss.
My throat is scratchy but my voice is intact.

I shake him and he stirs. “Hmm? What
…?” His eyelids are sleepy, his words lazy.

I shake him again. “You can’t be in
here. They will see,” I say. I am pleading now.

I cannot imagine a scenario where Linc
is discovered in my room and gets to live through it. Whether I
knew he was here or not will not matter to Titus.

“
What time is it?” He
looks down at his watch, fully awake now. “Shit!”

He jumps to his feet and looks around
wildly, as if he can’t remember where the exit is. Then he focuses
on me again. He casts a quick look over his shoulder—at what, I
don’t see—and takes my arms with his hands. His grip is light as he
backs me into the corner between the dresser and the easy chair.
The walking is what makes me wince, the creaking of muscle on bone.
He frowns as he takes in my expression. My shoulders bump the wall
and he drops his hands, letting them slide lightly down my arms
before lingering on my wrists.

“
How bad is it?” he asks,
his voice low.

“
It’s … not good,” I
say.

His expression twists into something
so fierce it makes me want to weep. For him. For myself. For how
much I hate Titus Rogen.

“
Linc, you can’t be in
here. If they find you …”

“
I know. I just—I was
worried and you were in so much pain after the injection wore
off.”

“
Can you call Josephine
back so I can have another shot?”

He shakes his head sadly. “I checked
in after you fell asleep. Josephine isn’t allowed to treat you
today. They don’t want a record of your injuries. 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. It is
high-necked and only an inch or so of bruising shows above the
collar. 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 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.”

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 opening the door. 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.