Imposter (12 page)

Will

Most of the people who help the Firsts but aren’t servants are housed in a slightly smaller, dingy wing of the Natural History Museum. I knock, and a man named Rodney flings open the door. He’s short, balding, and walks with small, mincing steps.

“Oh good, you’re finally here.” He waves at a silver platter on a long countertop. “If you’ll just grab that, we can be on our way.”

I pick up the platter and follow him into the hall. When we get to Socrates’s room, he walks in without knocking. Both Firsts are sitting at the desk, talking quietly until we interrupt them.

“Hello.” George Eliot gives us a faint wave. “We were just discussing Soc’s speech.”

The little man takes the platter from me and sets it on the desk, pushing their untouched breakfast aside before bowing deeply to the Firsts.

“Good morning! My name is Rodney, and I’m so very honored to be serving you!” I cringe as his squeaky voice grates on my ears. I wonder if anyone would notice if I snuck out. Probably. I sigh and settle myself against the wall. This had better be good. I drift off and in my mind recall Evie’s touch from last night. I snap my eyes open. It’s better to be awake and bored than daydreaming.

“Do I have a treat for you!” Rodney glides over to the silver-domed tray, and lifts the top with a flourish. In the middle of the platter sits a rich, mahogany mop of hair already styled in long, sparkling ringlets.

Socrates’s pales and his back stiffens.
What’s wrong?
He’s been through this before. He can’t possibly think the light brown fuzz growing on his skull is attractive. At least the healing patches covering the puncture wounds match his skin color.

“Let’s go.” I hold my arm out to Mira, and she slips her hand through mine. As we leave her room, I breathe in her heady, floral scent, and run my fingers through the long blond wig floating around her shoulders. As soon as the door to her room closes, I lean down until my face is less than an inch away from hers. “You look amazing.” Her gaze flashes to mine before she blushes and turns away. “But I favor you without the rug.” I gesture to the wig. She smiles at me, tentatively, before we continue down the hall toward the Acceptance banquet.

“I’m not wearing that.” Socrates’s voice is flat.

Rodney gasps, and his hand flies to his mouth overdramatically to cover it. “Why not? It’s the best piece we could find. Our most experienced designers chose the color specifically to complement your new skin tone and gender. It’s from the finest farm.”

“I don’t care.” His sneer is so like Mira’s that the image shifts and I almost convince myself I see her sitting there
.

Rodney’s face turns red. “Is it the color? We can change that. It wouldn’t be as attractive, of course. This shade has been precisely formulated for you.”

Socrates stares at the clothing for a few long seconds. “It’s not the color. It’s the principle. I want to go as myself.”

Rodney gestures at the top of Socrates’s head. “Are you sure? Your own hair is…”

“Just fine.” His tight-lipped glare dares Rodney to challenge him. “I’m not afraid of my scars, and I don’t want to hide them.”

“Well would you at least consider wearing this?” He lifts up a dress. Through the clear bag, I can see it’s made of a fine black fabric that flows from the hanger.

Socrates shakes his head. “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I have my own clothes to wear.”

“But your speech…”

“It doesn’t hinge on what I’m wearing. After it’s over, no one will care about that.”

Eliot watches the exchange with an amused expression.

“But—”

“No, thank you, but my decision is final. I appreciate you coming and all the effort you’ve put into choosing what you think I should wear.” Socrates inclines his head at Rodney. “But I’m not in need of your services.”

“Well…” Rodney’s mouth opens and closes, like that of a gaping fish out of water. Hands shaking, he slams the lid on the wig platter and throws the dress over one arm.

“Do you need any help?” I reach out to take the wig platter, but Rodney shakes his head. “No, I’ve got it.” My eyes meet Socrates’s, but he shrugs helplessly.

After a few blustery seconds, the heavyset man leaves, toting the wig and dress behind him.

The door shuts quietly, and Eliot chuckles. “That went well.”

Socrates shrugs, but the self-conscious expression on his face tells a different story.

“What’s your plan now? You certainly can’t wear your pajamas.”

A grim smile spreads across his face. “I won’t wear makeup, a wig, or a suit, but I do have a plan.” He leans forward and whispers in Eliot’s ear.

The other First throws her head back and laughs. “Did you just come up with that? It’s brilliant!”

Socrates nods smugly and sits back in his chair. “I was hoping you’d agree with me.”

Mira

After Rodney leaves, I start to feel as if the room’s closing in on me. “Would you mind if I went for a walk?”

“Right now?” Eliot peers at her com unit and frowns.

I let out a deep breath. The healing wounds around my head ache, but I resist the urge to rub them. “I need to go and clear my head.”

Eliot sighs. “All right.” She starts to stand up.

“No, please don’t get up.” I give her an apologetic smile. “I’d like to go by myself.”

Ellie tilts her head and studies me. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” I slip on my shoes and cast her one long look. “I’m at the Smith. There are cameras everywhere. It’s probably the safest place I could be.”

She stands up anyway and takes my hands in hers. “There could be danger sitting right in front of you, and you’d never even see it.” The ghost of a smile disappears as she grows solemn again. “The Lifers are not the only danger stalking these halls.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, and if it does, I’ll be fine.”

She arches her eyebrows. “Because you’ve managed to stay out of trouble so far, right?”

I flush. “That’s different.”

“You’re only one person. You can’t handle a whole rebellion that’s out for your blood.”

I pull my hands from hers and grab Ben’s leash from the desk drawer. “You mean they’re not willing to sit down and talk it out with me?” I grin, trying to add some levity into the heavy air.

She grimaces and implores Will with her gaze, but he ignores her and stares blankly out the window. “You make light of a situation that might cost you your life.”

“Why now? Why not try to take me out before the Exchange?”

“They tried, remember?”

Heat creeps up my neck as I remember the aborted kidnapping attempt at Chesaning farms. “Oh, yeah.”

Ben senses my mood and pulls himself to his feet. He whines and nudges my hand with his nose. Without even thinking about it, I rub behind his ears with my fingers. The simple action soothes us both.

“Fine. But if you still insist on your little
walk
, then at least take someone with you.” She nods at Will.

“If that’s what it takes.” I glare at Will. “If you don’t mind babysitting me, that is.”

Will inclines his head toward me. “As you wish, sir.”

After I stand up, I cluck my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Come on, boy. Let’s go.” I clip Ben’s leash onto his collar and head for the door with Will trailing behind us.

We walk the halls aimlessly for a while. After a few turns, they all look the same. I steer clear of the lobby and the building’s actual museum parts. I don’t really feel up to tourists staring at me.

After a few minutes, Will clears his throat.

I spin around. “What?”

He schools his face into a blank mask, but I see the flash of surprise at my outburst. “I was just wondering if you had any destination in mind.”

I gesture helplessly with my hands. “Do you have somewhere else you need to be? I don’t mean to keep you if you’re busy. I just had to get out of there.”

“Why? You’ve done this before. Why would this speech be so different?”

I curl my lip in disgust. “It’s not just the speech, though that’s a lot of it. It’s everything.” I turn around before sniffling. “I just want to go home.” My last few words come out softly, more like the old Mira than Socrates. No, I have to get rid of her. I can’t be Mira. Not right now. Maybe not ever again. I turn back to him and stiffen my back, daring him to argue with me.

“Home?” For a second, I think Will sees through the mask to who is really underneath. His attention turns inward.

Is he lost in his memories, too?
I squint my eyes shut and focus on the stars bursting behind my eyelids. “Yes. I want to go back to my house in Santa Fe.”

Will opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt him. “Never mind. I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you know anywhere we could go? Maybe someplace outside?”

Will stops and stares at me as if I’m crazy. “Outside the Smith?”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“George Eliot would kill me if anything happened to you.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“We could visit the museum, I suppose. You haven’t been there since you cut the ribbon opening day.”

I run my fingers over the old wood paneling that runs along this section of hall. “Even with all my apparent wealth and privilege, I’m still a prisoner, aren’t I?”

His harsh laugh echoes down the halls.

I ignore him and mull over my thoughts. How do I phrase this without giving my cover away? “Before I became a First, I could do what I wanted. I could still walk outside and not worry about being assassinated, abducted, or attacked. Now, I can barely walk in an artificial garden without needing an armed escort. I don’t want to live like this.”

Will crosses his arms over his chest and studies me. “Why change now? You’ve had several lifetimes to come to this decision.”

“I don’t know.” I gesture down at my body. “Mira made this incredible sacrifice for me, and I don’t think I’m doing enough to honor her wishes. I—I keep feeling like she’d want me to do more, be more, in fact, than I already am.”

“How come the others didn’t inspire that change of heart?” Will’s voice is flat, expressionless.

My shoulders twitch in response. “I’m not sure of that, either. The only reason I can think of is that they didn’t have her spark, her fire. Perhaps it’s because this is the beginning of a new era and the start of something huge. Yes, the change was coming beforehand, but Mira triggered that shift. She is the foremost reason I’m doing what I’m doing.”

“Not because it’s the right thing?” His voice is dry, and I feel like he’s mocking me.

My face heats up. “That too, of course.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you except—” Several pairs of footsteps down the hallway break the illusion that we’re alone. In a flash, Will scans the door to the closest room and pushes me in, dragging Ben behind me.

“Will, what’s—?”

“Shhh. We don’t know who they are,” he whispers.

“Eliot probably sicced security on us, that’s all.” I reach for the doorknob, but he shakes his head to stop me.

“Just wait. If it’s George Eliot’s security guards, then that’s fine, but these are strange times here at the Smith. You never know who it might actually be.”

I’m saved from answering when the clomping footsteps stop in front of the door. I wait, breath lodged in my throat for what seems like an eternity, until three quick knocks break the silence.

“Socrates? Are you in there, sir?”

Will jerks his head from side to side when I open my mouth to speak. After a few seconds, whoever is on the other side knocks again. Ben sniffs the bottom of the door, his tail stiff and hackles raised. A low growl resonates from his throat.

“We saw you enter the room. The President sent us.”

Will bends his head down toward me, still keeping an eye on the door. “What do you want to do?”

I gesture to the door. “They know we’re in here, and we can’t stay locked away in this”—I look around, taking in our surroundings for the first time—“storage closet forever, so we might as well see what they want, right?”

Concern furrows Will’s brow. “If that’s what you want.”

I nod, hoping I made the right decision.

“Okay, stay behind me.”

Will

On the left side of the door, I run my hand over an invisible panel and a small section of the wall slides aside to reveal a hidden screen. A crisp black and white image winks into existence, revealing two armed security guards.

In their customary jet-black uniforms, they stand at attention in front of the door. Pencil-thin visors slash their faces in half and hide their eyes.

Equal parts dread and adrenaline pulse through my system, and I slowly twist the door handle. As soon as it opens, both men focus on me. Even though I can’t see their entire faces, I can feel them sizing me up, and I automatically tense in response.

The shorter of the two, one old enough to be my grandfather, shifts his attention to Socrates while the younger one stares at me.

“Hello.” Socrates peeks around my shoulder. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Good day, sir. We’d like a minute of your time, if that’s all right.”

Socrates slips under my arm and joins them in the hall. Smart thinking; they can do less to us in the hall since someone could walk by at any moment. “Okay.” He offers them an uneasy smile.

“The president asked our supervisor to check with you and see if you’ve noticed any unusual activity since you arrived.”

Socrates’s gaze meets mine, the disbelief in his eyes probably the same reflected in mine.
Can he tell they’re lying as easily as I can?
I shake my head. The younger guard, seeing our exchange, wrinkles his nose as if smelling something unpleasant. “No, is there something I should be looking for?”

“Lifers.” The younger guard attempts to peer around us, probably trying to see what we’re doing in a storage closet. He has red hair buzzed short and an unfortunate abundance of freckles. . “They’re everywhere.”

“Did something in particular happen?” Socrates meets the older guard’s blatant stare head on.

“Not exactly. We want you to keep your eyes open, just in case.”

“Do you suspect anything will happen?”

“I don’t know.” The redheaded guard jerks his head toward me. “Why don’t you ask him?”

I tighten my hands into fists, and Ben growls.

“Are you implying something?” Socrates’s voice, although still calm, has a dangerous ring to it.

Redhead shrugs, but I can tell by his rapid breathing and the flush to his skin that he’s unnerved. “Nothing at all, sir. We would like to question him though—” he points at me—“in private.”

My spine stiffens. This is it. This is what James Scoffield warned me about. After glancing at me, Socrates darts in between us.

“Is that the real reason you were following us?” When the guards don’t try to deny it, he takes a deep breath and puts his hands on his hips. “That’s not going to happen. You see, I’ve been
questioned
before by you types, and it hasn’t been pleasant. Will hasn’t done anything wrong. Why don’t you spend your time trying to find the Lifers instead of harassing us?”

Redhead tightens his hand on the laser gun at his hip.

The older man steps closer. “Come on now, Wren.” He frowns at his teammate. “Socrates is right. We’ll just come back later.”

“You bet we will,” the younger man scoffs and then turns his glare directly at me. “You may try to hide it, but we know what you are.”

Socrates curls his lip in disgust. “That’s enough. Will isn’t a Lifer. He’s a loyal, dedicated servant.” He takes a deep breath. “If you have any problems with my servant, you’ll have to go through me first. And I can assure you, that wouldn’t end well for you.”

The older man gulps and wrenches Wren backward a step. “There’s no need for that, sir. We’ll talk to our supervisors about doubling the patrols.”

“Then I’ll trust this is the end of this matter, right?”

With a sharp, almost sarcastic salute, the guards hurry away, and a grim sense of satisfaction at their discomfort puts a smile on my lips.

After the men disappear from sight, I turn to Socrates. “Why did you save me? You could have let them take me.”

“I know.” His gaze searches the ceiling tiles.

“Thank you.” My voice comes out stilted, but it’s because I don’t quite know what to say. “If those men had arrested me, I would have…”

“Disappeared, yes. I have some experience with the government’s form of interrogation, and it’s not pleasant.”

When I don’t respond, he sighs. “Mira favored you. That’s why I helped you.”

“She told you that?”

“Yes. I think she cared for you deeply.”

For some reason, the words piss me off, and my muscles tense up. All I want to do is make him understand what he’s done, but I can’t. Not while he wears Mira’s face. Instead, I tell Socrates, “Yeah, well, that’s funny, because I loved her.”

“Really?” Socrates examines me curiously. “I thought she was just an assignment to you. You’ve cared for dozens of Seconds during your tenure at the Smith. She was no different from any one of them.” I swear I can see a hint of moisture in his eyes.

His words dig deep inside the healing hole in my chest and pull it apart even farther. I couldn’t respond to him if it meant life or death. There aren’t any words to explain how I felt about Mira.

“Could you take me back to my room, please?” Socrates’s voice shakes me just a little bit out of my misery.

“Of course.” I scan the halls again, checking for guards. There are none, so I sweep my arm down the hallway from which we came. “This way, please.”

Socrates wears a troubled expression the entire way back to his room. However, his silence doesn’t irritate me. Instead, I welcome it. Anything is better than hearing Mira’s voice every time I talk to the man who killed her.