Imposter (15 page)

Mira

In the morning, the knock on my door gets me out of bed before I even have the chance to fully fall asleep. Ben barks gruffly and trots over to the door to greet our visitor. I stand up, stretch, and grab his collar.

“Come in.”

The beautiful young woman who enters has thick dark hair and glowing, golden skin. She balances a tray on her very pregnant stomach and huffs slightly from the effort.

“Hello.” She looks familiar. A memory niggles at the back of my mind. I swear I know her from somewhere. Maybe I saw her around the Smith, but never talked to her. That must be it.

With a glare, she scowls at me and drops the tray down on my table. “I was told to bring you an early breakfast.” So she’s not one of my fans then. This is odd, usually I have to get to know a person a little bit before they hate me.

“Thank you.” I offer her what I think is a friendly smile, but the hatred that flashes across her face makes it falter.

“You’re welcome.” She picks up the tray’s lid and slams it down on the next to it, causing the synthetic eggs to jiggle on the plate. Her hands are shaking as she smooths the light blue fabric draping over her stomach.

I take a step back at the hostility in her voice. “I… I’m sorry, have I done something to offend you?”

She curls her lip. “Of course not. You’re Socrates. You can do whatever to anyone or anything you want.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes narrow as anger fills them. “No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Her expression dissolves into a sea of tears.

I bridge the space between us and take her hands in mine. After leading her to a chair, I urge her to sit down. “Please, tell me what this is about.”

She jerks her hands out of mine, regaining some of her composure.

“Tell me what I did, so I can fix it.” I wrack my brain for why she would hate me, but don’t come up with any ideas.

“You can’t fix it. No one can.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

After drying her eyes, she tilts her head and studies me. “You really don’t know, do you?”

I scowl at her. “Enlighten me, please.”

“It’s Mira. She’s the one… the one who…” The girl turns away, sniffling.

“It’s okay.” I squeeze her hands. “You can tell me.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Give me a chance. If I can fix whatever’s wrong, I’d like to try.”

“Can you make someone fall out of love with a ghost?”

Will

The banquet hall stretches before me, a long, open mouth with white-clothed tables for teeth. Servants buzz back and forth setting ornate golden candlesticks in the centers of the tables and polishing dark wooden chairs. A stage rests in the front of the room, the same stage at which Socrates made his speech before the Exchange.

I slouch back into the shadows. If the supervisors don’t notice me, then they won’t ask me why I’m not either training or at Socrates’s side. Antony sprained his ankle learning how to correctly side kick, so I let him go back to his room early.

“Will!” One of my fellow servants, Gregor, hefts a heavy aluminum box from one thick arm to the other. He cranes his neck as he searches the hall to see if anyone’s close enough to overhear him. “Where’s the First?”

“Probably still asleep.”

“Then why aren’t you tucked in with him? I heard you like it like that.” He smirks.

I scowl. “That’s disgusting. He only keeps me around as a favor to Mira.”

“Why would he care? The girl’s dead, and yet you’re still assigned to him. Some of us find that quite interesting. It makes us question your loyalty.” The threat hangs off his words long after they’ve faded from my ears.

I grit my teeth. “Shut up. You know I would never do anything to jeopardize any of us.”

“Don’t I? Sometimes loyalties change.” He raises his voice, and a couple of the servants closest to us turn around.

“Shh. You’re going to get us in trouble.”

Gregor grins. He’s missing one of his front teeth. “I don’t have anything to be afraid of, do you?”

I jam my hands deep in my pockets and glare at him. “Just get out of here. Leave me alone.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

I scan the room again. “Taking a break. Antony sprained his ankle so we ended training early. With everything going on in preparation for the speech, I thought I’d check it out before I got called back to duty.”

“Yeah.” Gregor follows my gaze. “It’s going to be an interesting couple days, that’s for sure.”

My curiosity piques. “What do you mean?”

Gregor’s face turns red, which is not a good color for him considering the unfortunately similar shade of his hair. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.” He switches the box to his other arm. “So you gonna stand around all day watching us work, or are you gonna help?”

I crack a smile. “What do you need me to do?”

“You might as well make yourself useful.” Gregor points at the boxes stacked under and behind the backdrop of the stage. “Help us finish moving these boxes.”

“What’s in them?”

“Plates, napkins, and extra tablecloths for when some First spills his wine all over the place. I don’t know. I just put them where they tell me to.”

I walk over to the stack by the back of the hall and grab one of the boxes. Despite what I would consider light contents, it’s surprisingly heavy. Something metal rattles around inside, so I give it an experimental shake.

Gregor grabs my arm. “Don’t do that!”

“I thought you said there were napkins in here.” I stop carrying the box and study Gregor. My fellow servant ignores my statement and stacks one box on top of another. His movements are stiff and uneven. Something’s wrong. “Napkins don’t rattle around.”

Gregor scowls at me. “Are you gonna help or just get in the way? It ain’t my place to ask questions. I just do what I’m told.”

I press my lips into a firm line.
Who is he taking orders from? Our supervisors or someone else?
As I set down my box next to his, more servants fill the back of the room.

Near the service entrance, three young men break away from the crowd and approach us. Two of them could be brothers, or even twins, both with blond hair and muscular fighters’ builds. The third, a young man with reddish-brown hair, is vaguely familiar. The silver gloves covering his hands are so sheer they’re almost like a second skin. When his cold glare meets mine, it’s brimming with hostility and anger. “Do I know you?” I ask the one with the silver gloves when they stop in front of us.

He opens his mouth to say something, but one of the others puts his hand on his arm to stop him. He glares at his companion.

One of the twins chuckles. “That’s impossible. We just transferred here from Berkeley.”

I study them further. “No, I swear I’ve seen you before.”

Silver Gloves clenches his hands into fists at his sides. The twins step forward and flank him. “Who are
you
?” one of them asks me. They ignore Gregor.

“My name is Will.”

Not one to be left out, Gregor clears his throat to draw their attention. “He’s Socrates’s servant. He follows him everywhere, worse than the dog.”

The twins chuckle, but the other man frowns, his face dark with anger.
What’s his problem? Why does he care?

“Shut up, Gregor. You’re not helping.” I glare at him, and he turns away, grinning.

The brothers eye each other and then turn to the third man. They know something I don’t.

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” He stares me down. “We’re just”—he jerks his head, indicating his companions—“passing through.”

After a few tense seconds, I can’t stand his scrutiny and break away. The force of his expression unnerves me. “Fine, whatever,” I grumble. “I better get back to Socrates.”

The third man tenses up, and his companions each take one of his arms to hold him back.
What’s he going to do, attack me? I haven’t done anything.

As I leave the room, I turn around one more time. The three men are in a heated exchange with Gregor, who abruptly stalks away. After he leaves, they approach the boxes carefully, pick them up, and stack them under the stage all the way to the top. This isn’t right. They’re up to something.

On the way to Socrates’s room, the familiar form of my supervisor, Brennan, approaches.

“Will, wait up.” He jogs toward me. A slim man in his early fifties, his easy-going nature and posture are deceiving. Many times, he’s laid me flat on the ground during a training session. I had bruises for months.

I stand smartly at attention and wait for him. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He scowls at me, his thick black brows sinking into the folds of his forehead. “Your First pulled quite the stunt out there with the rebels. What were you thinking? You should never have let him do that.”

I straighten my back. “It wasn’t my idea. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Did you even try?”

I open my mouth to speak, but Brennan raises his hand to stop me. “Look, I get it. After what happened with Mira, you hate the man. I understand that. Unfortunately, hating him isn’t your job. Keeping him alive is.”

I stare at the ground. “Yes, sir.”

“I get that he’s a First, and he’s used to getting what he wants, but try to use some common sense. Call his wife… what’s her name?” He snaps his fingers.

“George Eliot.”

“Yeah. Call her for help if you have to; just keep him alive. If something happens to him on your watch, well… it wouldn’t be good.”

“I’ll protect him with my life, sir,” I say, but Brennan is already turning away. As he disappears around the corner, I can’t help but wonder if the trickle of unease running down my spine might signify something more sinister.

Mira

“Is this what you wanted?” Eliot hands me a black plastic-wrapped package.

It fits in my arms easily and hangs over the edges. “Thanks.” I take a deep breath, biting back all my questions about Will, his fiancé, and his unborn baby.

I peel back the top flap, peek inside, and a smile blossoms on my face. “This is perfect. How did you get it so quickly?” I hug the package to my chest.

Her eyes light up with humor. “I have connections.”

“Do you think it’ll help?”

She shrugs. “If nothing else, it’ll be good entertainment. These things can get boring as hell sometimes.”

I bite my lip as nerves twist my stomach into knots. “Do you think the Bill will pass?”

She pats my hand and offers me a sympathetic look. “To be honest, I don’t know, but I hope so. Besides, it’s your baby, so you can’t back out now.” Eliot pats me on the knee. “We don’t have much time left. I know you said you have it under control, but can I please see it? I know your audience better than you. I want to make sure this sets the right tone.”

“That makes sense.” I pull the holo-reader from the desk drawer and turn it on.

Eliot scans the very short draft, taking what feels like forever just to read the notes I jotted down. I start to get fidgety and shift from side to side. After a few seconds, I can’t stand it anymore. “So, what do you think?”

When she finally returns my gaze, Eliot’s eyes glisten. She turns off the tablet and dabs at them with a handkerchief from her pocket. Without another word, she pulls the EG from her pocket and turns it on.

“Eliot?” My voice comes out tiny and unsure. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a deep breath, and anguish contorts her face. “Nothing. I—I’m sorry. It’s not you; it’s…” She pauses for a few seconds to compose herself. “Socrates and I were together for so long, it’s still hard to believe he won’t walk in the door or call me up, complaining of something or other, or bring me a cup of tea. Anything. I just miss him so much.”

I take her hands. “He loved you. I know he did.”

Her chest deflates as she lets out a deep breath. “I know. I just wish he’d told me about his plans. Then I’d be able to help you.”

“Maybe he wanted to protect you.”

“Protect me from what? I’ve already decided this is my last life so they can’t take that away from me.”

Resolutely, she turns on the holo-reader. After the words appear, she lifts her hand and traces them with her fingertip. “If this is what you’re planning on talking about”—she underlines the words—“then I think it will definitely get their attention.”

“In a good way?” I crack a weak smile.

The grin she returns isn’t very comforting. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

I pick up the holo-reader and hold it in front of me. The sick feeling in my stomach intensifies. Am I capable of this?

I glance down at Ben lying stretched out at my feet. “What do you say, boy? Think I can do this?” He groans, and his feet twitch in his sleep. “Thanks for your support.”

Someone knocks on the door and then enters without waiting for a reply. “I hope you don’t mind my intrusion, but I was told you required my assistance,” Will says.

All at once, the pregnant servant girl’s words return to me. How could he do this? How could he betray, not only me, but his fiancé, as well? Acidic bile floods my throat.

I stumble to my feet and rush to the bathroom before throwing up in the toilet. Behind me, Eliot says something about how I’m nervous and it’s getting the better of me. I don’t hear Will’s response. I don’t want to. His voice slices through me, cleaving my soul in two. This is worse than the agony of not being able to tell him who I am. He lied to me even before the Exchange, when I was still Mira. He made me fall in love with him, and all the while, he was with someone else.

I lean over the toilet again. Hands start massaging my back. For a moment, I imagine they’re Will’s hands and jerk away, ready to snap. But they’re too small to be his. Too delicate.

Eliot turns on the water to wash her hands. “Want to tell me what that’s all about?”

I shake my head, and tears flow down my cheeks. 

Eliot sighs, takes her EG from her pocket, and sets it on the counter. “Come on, Soc. Whatever it is, you need to get yourself together. You have bigger things to worry about. More important things.” Her words are harsh, but they have the intended effect.

I groan and splash water on my face. “He’s engaged, Eliot. His fiancée, Evie, brought my breakfast today.” My voice cracks. “She’s pregnant. He’s going to be a dad.” I shift my focus to the window as more tears threaten. “It was all an act. Some sort of game to get me to fall in love with him. How could I have been so stupid?”

Eliot grimaces in the mirror, her expression changing to one of sympathy. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

I jerk my head toward her. “You knew?”

She folds her hands in her lap. “Yes. But at the time, we were more worried about his suspected ties with the Lifers.”

My stomach convulses and I lean over the toilet again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally croak when I pull myself away.

Eliot is silent for a few long seconds. “I honestly didn’t think it mattered.”

Because I should have died. Staring into the gaping hole in my heart, I think she’s right. Even death would be better than this.

“If it’s any consolation, he’s been estranged from his fiancée for several months. Long before you came into the picture.”

“Not long enough, apparently! He’s marrying her, and they’re going to have a baby. How could he do this to me?”

“I imagine his pregnant fiancée felt the same way.” Her words are a cold slap to my face. I’m not the only one he betrayed, and Evie has more right to be angry than I do. “He loved you, I believe, as much as he was able. I don’t think he planned it or necessarily wanted it to happen, but it did. When you died, I believe that hurt him more than anything else ever has.”

The blood rushes from my face. “You think he loved me?”

She leans back against the bathroom counter. “Absolutely. I wasn’t sure before, but no one could be that good an actor. These last few days have been sheer torture for him. I’ve seen it, and surely you have as well.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he did love me. “It doesn’t matter now, not after what he did. Will lied to me.”

“Did you ever ask him if he was married?”

“Well, yes, of course. That was the first thing we talked about, right after we introduced ourselves.”

She pushes herself away from the counter, ignoring my sarcasm. “I can’t condone his actions, nor can I explain his reasoning. All I know is that he received a directive from the Lifers to get close to you. He did, and compromised his own heart in the process. Now every day he has to see the body of the woman he loves, knowing the five-hundred-year-old soul of her murderer resides inside.”

I splash some more water on my face, scrub at it so I’m uniformly red all over. “What do we do now?”

She picks up the foil bag of clothes and hands it to me. “We get dressed. You introduce the Free America Bill, and we both pretend this never happened.”

“I can’t do that!”

Eliot cuts off my complaints by barely shaking her head. “You have to. Your feelings don’t matter right now. You have to push your emotions aside and think about what’s most important. If you have to fall apart, do it later away from the audience, away from the reporters, and away from the Smith. Wait until it’s all over and we get back home, then figure out some brilliant way to castrate Will.”

A short laugh escapes my throat before I can stop it, and I give her the best smile I can muster, even though it’s fake. As she shuts the door behind her, I grab the packet and rip it open.