Imitation

Chapter Fourteen

I wait for Linc to speak first but he only leans against the wall, expressionless. I stand behind the chair—a barrier. A defense. Not for a single second do I think he will hurt me. Not like Daniel, not physically. But if he rejects me, rejects what I am … that would hurt far worse than any near-strangling at the hands of a psycho.

“Titus told you about Gus, I take it,” I say finally.

“He mentioned something about him being not quite human, yes.”

He’s still watching me with a guarded look that makes it impossible to know what he’s thinking. “That’s all he said?”

“He called him a ‘product.’ The details are a little fuzzy.”

I force myself to hold his gaze, waiting for him to go on, but he only stares pointedly back at me. He’s waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

“Linc, I—” The words stick in my throat, a cotton ball wrapped in truth wrapped in lies.

“If you don’t tell me the truth, I refuse to keep saving you.”

I nod. I don’t quite trust my voice. All I can think as I look at him is that there was a time I thought he wasn’t worth dying for. I was wrong. The reality is I cannot live without him. But I cannot speak around it any longer. I either say these words to him now or starve from the emptiness.

I begin again. “I am not who you think I am.” I pause but he does not react. He already knew this. I suck in air and my lungs fill to bursting. When I expel the breath, it is on a burst of words. Of truth. “My name is Ven. I am an Imitation. A product. Like Gus.” Still, his expression hasn’t changed. And then I deliver the killing blow. “I think the popular term is clone.”

There is no more air. Inside me. Inside this room. In the atmosphere.

A cacophony of emotion plays like a strobe across his face. Shock, disbelief, curiosity, confusion. The dark splotches in between are filled with fear. Maybe horror.

“You’re not … human?”

A scream bubbles up in my chest but I shove it down and lock it in the box with all the others. Screams that deserve to see daylight but I’m too cowardly to let them out. And too paralyzed.

“No,” I answer. “Not like you.”

A full minute passes while he watches me, head tilted. His gaze is unfocused, distracted. He’s trying to understand. I doubt he will.

He pushes off from the wall and walks up to me and I have a heart attack and die right there while my heart still beats. Gently, he reaches up and lays his hand on my cheek. His fingers are warm and rough and tender all at once.

“Amazing.”

Before I can decipher a sensible meaning behind his word, he is wrapping me in his arms and holding me against him. I stand frozen. Nothing about this moment makes sense.

“How?” he asks, his mouth moving against my hair.

I give him the simplest answer I know. “RogenCorp.”

He holds me a moment longer, no doubt processing my words into a more solid reality, before stepping back to face me. His hands trail down my arms until his fingers intertwine with my own. He is looking at something above my shoulder. “Your tattoo …”

I press my lips together and slowly pull my hair away from my ear. He leans forward and studies it.

“The tree is a symbol for life,” I say. “We all have one.”

“Gus didn’t.”

“It was on the inside of his wrist,” I explain. “I saw it earlier, when he …”

I trail off and he doesn’t make me finish. “And the numbers?”

“My identification code. Unlike my DNA the numbers are unique.”

“How many … codes are there?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Hundreds?”

“There are hundreds of you?”

“Well, not me, exactly. I’m the only … Ven.” I can’t bring myself to say that I’m the only copy of this particular original. It makes me sound entirely too fake for the authenticity of the very human emotions I feel for this boy. How can my feelings be so real when I am not?

“Ven,” he repeats.

The sound of my name from his lips makes my insides curl. I lean closer. On a soft sigh, I say, “I like it so much better when you call me that.” His lips quirk upward on one side. A half smile. It gives me hope. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you before. I couldn’t.”

His smile vanishes. “You didn’t trust me. I can’t fault you for that. You had a lot at stake.”

“No, it’s not that. It was at first, but not now. Titus—if he knew I’d told you the truth, I don’t know what he would do.” He huffs out a breath that sounds suspiciously like laughter. I eye him. “What’s funny about that?”

He shakes his head. “And here this whole time I thought I was the one protecting you.”

For reasons I cannot explain, this makes me angry. “You are protecting me. And this isn’t funny. Nothing about it is funny. I just told you that I’m not human. I’m a manmade product.” I spit the word, hating how it sounds but needing him to understand. “And you’re standing here laughing about something useless like who kept whom alive.”

“That,” he says, “is not useless.”

“It is if we both end up dead for having this conversation.”

He glances toward the door and I know what he is thinking. No place inside Rogen Tower is completely secure.

“Titus promoted me,” he says.

This is not what I expect him to say. “What?”

“Interim head of security. Until someone else can be appointed—or I prove myself worthy. I forgot to tell you before.”

“You’re in charge?”

“Looks like. I wonder if this means I get to know all the secrets now.” He shakes his head. “I knew there was more going on, that I was being lied to, but I never imagined … This is huge. Monstrous, government-crumbling stuff. I can’t believe he’s kept it a secret for so long. And with Gus and you right here in front of me …” He pauses, as if remembering I can provide an answer if only he can formulate the question. “How does he keep it a secret?”

I make a decision. After this, there’s no going back. But I’ve been past the point of no return where Linc’s concerned since that first night on the rooftop. And I know my choice isn’t just between telling him the truth or holding onto it. It’s more about choosing to risk for something more important than my life. I’m choosing something most Imitations would never dream of doing. I’m choosing to feel. And to maybe let someone else feel something for me.

I lead Linc into a corner of the room and pull him down onto the floor next to me. I am careful to keep my voice low but I no longer hold back, picking and choosing what to admit. I tell him everything. About Twig City. About how an Imitation is created to serve his or her Authentic in life and in death—but mostly death. About Lonnie and Ida and how much I love them despite being told it is an emotion I am not capable of.

“I knew Ida was special to you by the way you spoke of her,” he says. His expression clouds. “Wait, you almost called Obadiah by her name that night on the terrace.”

“He is her Authentic.”

His confusion deepens. “How …?”

“I don’t know, but they are definitely a match.”

“Do you think he knows?”

“I doubt it.”

He is silent then.

I tell him about notes from Marla and how they are a written trigger for the end of an existence. Or at least as far as residence in Twig City. My sudden departure. Anna in the bathroom. Melanie.

Linc doesn’t interrupt again.

Through it all, my voice is nothing more than a hushed whisper. Even so, I am certain that any second someone—probably Titus—will burst in and drag me away. But no one comes.

When I am finished, we are both quiet so long, I hear a hum coming from some electronic device I can’t see. It makes me think of the pipes. Something giving life to something else.

I can’t take it any longer. “Say something,” I whisper.

“It’s … unbelievable.” There is malice in his tone that wasn’t there before. A lump the size of his rejection forms in my stomach.

“I want to hate him,” he continues. “I mean, I do hate him. For being a tyrant and a dictator and for dangling you like he did. But for the rest, he’s sort of a genius, which kind of makes me hate him more. He creates … people.”

“I’m not a person,” I say. “I was manufactured.”

Something in my words gets his attention because he looks up at me sharply. His jaw is set. He’s daring me to argue when he says, “No, you’re an angel. Titus Rogen is in the business of manufacturing angels.”

I open my mouth to say something, though I have no idea what, but he rushes on. “I’ve been fighting this ever since you were hit on the head. Ever since I met you—I realize that now. I knew you were different. Not just from the amnesia and it didn’t make sense. The old you—or her, I should say—is nothing like this you. Ugh, I don’t even know if this makes sense. My point is, I’ve been trying so hard not to feel this way and all it’s done is made my feelings bigger and harder to fight. I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m not going to fight it.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“This.”

And then he is leaning forward and I feel his breath hit my mouth just before his lips do and the combination is by far the sweetest thing I have ever tasted.

There’s nothing I can do to stop the noise that follows. It is surprise—for experiencing something I never thought I had the right to want—and pure happiness that manifests in a quiet whimper. Linc’s response is to pull me closer and hang on tighter. I do the same.

When our lips part, Linc regards me with a smile and even though I feel the urge to smile back, I don’t. There is one more thing left to be said. One more reason why he and I shouldn’t even be here together, solidifying our feelings. Sealing them with kisses.

“I need to say something,” I say.

“What is it?”

Saying it out loud is hard because it makes it more real, but I have to make him understand. “Catching Daniel tonight … especially if he gives up Melanie … Titus may decide I’m not needed anymore.”

He is silent for a moment and I can see him working it out, trying to understand where this is going. Sadness claws at me but I don’t give in. I refuse to let it ruin things just yet. “I see. You’re afraid you’ll be sent back to …?”

“Twig City,” I finish for him. “And no. That’s not a possibility.”

“What then?”

“When Titus is finished with me—any time an Imitation’s mission is considered complete—they are terminated.”

“What do you …? Oh.” I see the moment my words hit him. His lips part. He searches my face, perhaps looking for an alternative answer. But there isn’t one. “How can he do that?”

I hold up my arm and gesture to the seemingly undisturbed skin. “I have a GPS implanted inside me.”

“I know that. It’s how we’re able to monitor you. It’s how I knew where to find you on that rooftop,” he admits.

“There’s also a kill switch. Titus can use it whenever he decides I’ve become unnecessary.”

“And you’re worried that after tonight, you’re no longer necessary,” he finishes.

“Aren’t I?”

He reaches up and places his hands on my cheeks, drawing my nose to his and staring with an intensity that seems to burn through me. “Titus isn’t going to touch you. I’ve protected you this long and I’m not going to stop now. Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

I blink and feel myself tear up at the enormity of what he’s promising.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

My voice is thick with emotion when I respond with a quiet, “Yes.”

“Good.” He presses his lips to my forehead and then draws me close, holding me against his chest. I can feel his chin propped gently on the top of my head. I cannot remember ever feeling so safe when I had such reason to be scared. We sit that way for a while and I don’t ask what he’s thinking because I’m tired of talking about death.

When I sit up, the intensity is still there. If anything, he is more determined, more set on his course.

When he speaks again, I don’t doubt his promise for a single second. “No one is ever going to hurt you, Ven. Not while I have breath.”