The Girl Who Wasn't (17 page)

Darkness edges into my peripheral
vision and widens until it’s all I see.

Fog encroaches, threatening to take me
under but I refuse. I am vaguely aware of a commotion beside me. A
small scuffle. I kick out and my toe connects with the girl’s shin.
She grunts. The pressure around my throat releases. By the time I
understand it, the redhead is gone and Linc is kneeling over
me.

One of his hands cradles my back and
the angle at which he holds me sends a sharp jolt up my side. The
other is pressed tightly against the back of my scalp. Too hard. I
wince against the pain that is not unlike the migraine I
experienced a few days ago.

When it’s obvious I’m awake, Linc’s
voice breaks. “Raven,” he says. It’s half whisper, half desperate
cry.

“
Linc.” My lips form the
word but the sound is garbled to my ears.

He shakes his head and shushes me.
“Don’t talk. Your throat … it must hurt.” His expression is full of
agony, his tone soft and smooth, like a blanket. I shiver. He
shakes his head again. “Josephine is on her way down. Just sit
tight. Don’t try to move, all right?”

I shake my head once but the pain
pinches sharply so I lie still. With measured movement, Linc frees
one arm while still holding pressure against my head with the
other. Gently, he brushes strands of escaped hair away from my
face, smoothing it sideways and sweeping it behind my ear. I don’t
realize it’s the right side until his glance catches on the
ink.

“
This tattoo… it’s different
than the others.” His hand stills and he leans closer, inspecting.
“Is that a … tree?”

I am blissfully grateful he’s
instructed me not to speak. Behind Linc, footsteps sound, and we
both stiffen. He glances back, his body blocking my view. I don’t
breathe until I feel him relax.

“
Raven?” I recognize
Josephine’s voice at the same moment she bends down and her face
swims into focus. “Oh my God.” Her gaze sweeps down my neck and
chest and her jaw slackens. Her reaction to my appearance is almost
as bad as the pain.

Beyond her, I can make out the blurry
shapes of more security guards as they finally arrive from upstairs
or wherever Titus has summoned them from. Gus’s white hair shines
in the glare of a streetlamp as he moves between the men. None of
them approach us but many glance my way with twisted
expressions.

“
Does it hurt terribly?”
Josephine asks, calling my attention back to her, to the
pain.

I open my mouth, prepared to attempt an
answer, but Linc beats me to it. “I don’t think she should talk.
Her chest and neck look badly bruised, Jo.”

Josephine nods. “What
happened?”

“
She was strangled,” he
tells her in a strained voice.

“
Who …? Did you catch
them?”

He shakes his head. “A couple of her
thugs but not the ringleader, the one who had Raven.”

“
A girl did this?” Josephine
asks. The disbelief is clear.

“
Well, not alone,
obviously,” Linc says. I want to laugh at the defensive note in his
voice but I don’t. Nothing about this is funny. Then the face of my
attacker appears in my mind—the memory of that burning halo of
hair.

I struggle to sit forward, determined
to tell them what I know, but Josephine’s hands gently push me
back. “Don’t try to move just yet. Let me have a closer
look.”

She pulls a stethoscope from her bag
and presses the cold metal to my skin. I flinch. Not because of the
coolness but because even the light contact of the metal pressed
against me reignites the sharp pain of my raw and bloodied skin.
Some of the scabs covering my tattoos have broken open. The fresh
blood and dark ink run together with the swollen
bruising.

“
It’s all right,” she
murmurs over and over, her voice doing that sing-song thing again
where I don’t so much hear the words as feel safe and comforted by
the sounds they make. A small light is shined directly into my
pupils and then pulled away. I blink and squint until it
disappears. I am asked to recite mundane facts. Date, time, my
address. I stumble over my full address but manage to get out the
correct alias in a garbled whisper.

When it’s over, I sit back. My throat
burns and my chest aches.

“
What do you think?” Linc
asks when Josephine has thoroughly looked me over.

“
Believe it or not, I don’t
think anything’s broken,” she says. “This bruising to her windpipe
is another story. And her chest and neck are pretty battered
although some of it is the fresh tattoo breaking open.”

My confusion is dulled by pain. How can
my body hurt this badly and not be broken?

“
Can we move her?” Linc
asks.

“
Let me give her something
first,” Josephine adds. She reaches into her bag and produces a
syringe identical to the one she used the day of my headache.
Without being told, I stretch out my arm, exposing the vein in the
crook of my elbow and will her to hurry.

She takes the time to swab my skin with
a white cotton cloth and then the needle pricks as it enters and
she depresses the plunger. I begin to count. At five, the pain
recedes. At eight, it is bearable. At ten, I can breathe
again.

“
Better?” Josephine
asks.

“
Nod, don’t speak,” Linc
reminds me. We both shoot him a look. “It might not hurt now but
those drugs are only so strong.”

I decide it’s better to be safe than
sorry and nod my agreement.

“
Good, let’s get you
inside,” Josephine says. She looks to Linc. “This would be easier
with a gurney. A wheelchair. Something.” There is a hint of
frustration I’ve never heard from her before. She’s usually so
patient.

“
He doesn’t want her to
appear weak. You know there’s a crowd gathered at the door,” Linc
says. “Half of them are reporters.”

“
Isn’t there a back way in?”
she asks.

“
There is. He’s ordered us
to bring her in the front. He wants them to see her walk away from
this.”

“
What the heck does he think
she is? Some sort of superhero?”

Linc doesn’t answer. I see them
exchange a look before finally turning back to me. “Do you think
you can walk?” Josephine asks me gently.

We all know there’s no other choice but
to say yes. I nod.

They talk me through how we’re going to
do it and then gingerly, with one of them on each side, they pull
me to my feet. The drugs have dialed the pain back enough that I
manage to keep my legs under me. Josephine produces a towel and
directs my hand to the place where pressure should be applied to
stem the flow of blood. Then we are ready.

Adrenaline fuels my steps. I am
determined to see this through. The thought of being in my own bed,
the soft sheets, the mountain of blankets … Maybe Josephine will
give me another shot and I can sink into oblivion and forget about
what happened for a few hours.

“
Wait,” Linc says, pulling
us to a stop at the mouth of the alley. Already, I can hear the
volume of the crowd gathered around the corner.

“
What’s wrong?” Josephine
asks.

“
I think you should let me
lead her inside. You can cut a path for us to get
through.”

“
Linc, I don’t know, she’s
really unsteady.”

“
You know it will only make
her look weak to be carried by both of us.”

Josephine doesn’t argue.

“
Raven?” Linc says. “Do you
think you can walk well enough for Josephine to let go?”

I think long and hard about his
question before answering. I don’t want to say yes only to stumble
and fall halfway there. But I know that Linc won’t let that happen.
He will hold me up. I nod.

“
Good girl. These people
will be looking for weakness. Your attackers could be among them.
You need to appear strong. Can you do that?”

I nod again.

Josephine slides her arm free from
where she’s wedged it underneath my own. I lean harder on Linc to
compensate. I waver and then recover as he pulls me closer against
him. When I am ready, I put one foot in front of the other and we
begin.

The men part for us as we pass. I see
Gus watching but I turn away from him. He is no better than Titus,
standing by and watching others try to kill me, only picking up the
pieces when it’s clear they have failed. I hate him almost as much
as I hate Titus Rogen. And that’s no small thing.

We pass through the last of the
security perimeter and I see the onlookers. They are blocking
traffic where they’ve crowded the street in front of Rogen Tower.
The doorman is back, looking rumpled and scratched but otherwise
intact. He looks beside himself with all of the bodies pressed in
around him.

“
Bad news travels fast,”
Linc mutters.

Just along the front is a narrow
pathway for me to pass by the cordoned area. It is so close to the
surging crowd, I can feel some of them reach out and touch me as we
pass. They all shout questions. Flashbulbs go off.

It is obvious why Titus wanted me to
walk. These people are like vultures, claiming they want to see you
well but ready to swoop in and devour you the moment you show
vulnerability. I will not show them weakness. To do so would
confirm everything Titus thinks about me.

I keep my head down, allowing my hair
to curtain my face and neck as much as possible. Still, I can hear
the gasps and whispers from those in the front as they see my
bruised and bloody flesh. I know it must be bad.

“
Who did this?”

“
Was it about sex? Or
drugs?”

“
Does Daniel Ryan know you
like it rough?”

The last one is enough for me to turn
my head. A reporter with a beaked nose and thinning hair smirks at
me. Linc growls and I look away.

After what feels like hours, we reach
the lobby door. It is swept open with gusto as the doorman is
finally allowed to complete his only task. We enter, and I can feel
the moment it shuts again. The noise and swirling air cuts off
abruptly and leaves a quietness broken only by the sound of our
labored breaths as I hobble toward the elevator.

Josephine rushes ahead and presses the
call button then races back to where Linc and I continue our trek,
slow and steady. She hovers beside me, matching her pace to mine
but never touching me. I can feel the stares of the crowd boring
into my back through the glass front doors.

On the ride up, all I can
think about is the redhead’s words:
I know
your secret.

When the elevator doors open, Josephine
tucks her arm underneath mine and they lead me down the hall. By
the time we reach my bedroom, I am terrified. I still haven’t seen
or heard anyone since stepping off the elevator. Even Maria is
conspicuously absent.

As I’m helped into bed, I am aware of
the gown that still clings to me, though it hangs precariously off
one shoulder and has holes all along the bottom hem. Neither Linc
nor Josephine comments on it as they go to work bandaging my head
and sponging off the open skin along my ink. They tuck me in and
pull the covers up tight against my chin. Only then, with the
silken sheets rubbing against my bare arms, do I realize I am
shivering.

Linc and Josephine retreat and for a
moment, I am scared they will leave me but they only hover near the
door and exchange whispers.

“
He’s going to be furious,”
Linc says. “But I couldn’t just leave her there to go after the
chic.”

“
You did the right thing,”
Josephine tells him.

He snorts. “That all depends on who you
ask. I’m probably fired. Or worse.”

Josephine doesn’t comment on the last
part. I shiver, wondering how real the possibility is that Titus
would harm Linc for failing an assignment. “Who do you think she
is, the girl who did this?” Josephine asks.

“
I don’t know. I didn’t get
a very good look at her. That red mane of hers is pretty
recognizable, though. Shouldn’t be hard to spot again.”

“
You think she’s the one
behind all of these attempts?”

“
Maybe,” he says. “And that
other kid she was with. We brought him back here. He’s DOA but Gus
will do a whole workup, I’m sure. Not that any of it will take into
account her safety.” His voice turns to a growl on the last part.
Something inside me flutters at his concern.

Josephine’s voice is full of
understanding when she says, “But that is obviously why she has
you.”

Linc doesn’t answer but I can hear him
shift his weight and I know they are still there. I begin to drift
on a cloud of medication and exhaustion when a sharp knock sounds.
The door opens.

Titus steps in, jarring me awake. Some
of the pain returns. He engages Josephine in hushed conversation.
Then it is Linc’s turn. Titus’s expression is deadly serious but
there is no trace of stress or worry, only concentration. He asks
Linc something and then scowls at the response. Before I can guess
what it is, Titus breaks away and strides toward the
bed.