Constance (Constance #1)(31)

Fenton smiled as if Con had just laid down the exact card she needed to make her hand. “You have an unprecedented degree of lag. How is that treating you? Have you begun hallucinating yet?”

“No,” Con lied, remembering how real Zhi had sounded. The way her grandmother’s slippers had scuffed over the concrete.

“Somehow I don’t believe you. I already know from Ms. Askari that you’re experiencing apraxia. Muscle memory issues. You couldn’t even tie your own shoes, could you? What about slurred speech? Double vision? Proprioceptive disruption?”

“A what-now disruption?”

“Body kinesthesia—trouble keeping your balance, basic coordination, that sort of thing.”

“A little bit,” Con admitted.

“Did it take you a moment to recognize me? A few minutes ago. Did you have trouble remembering my face?”

Con nodded.

“That’s prosopagnosia. Face blindness. There is a whole bouquet of agnosias for you to look forward to. Well, if you’re taking the medication that Ms. Askari provided, it will help mask your symptoms for a time. But it is going to get much, much worse.”

“Is it going to kill me?” Con asked.

“There are worse things than dying. Believe me.”

“Well, you’re all sunshine and roses, aren’t you?” Con wanted to believe that Fenton was exaggerating, feeding her a steady diet of gloom and doom to get Con to do what Fenton wanted. Somehow she didn’t think she was that lucky, though.

“But if you help me, Palingenesis will foot the bill for a new clone. It will take six months to grow one to the appropriate age, but when your new clone is ready, it will be a perfect fit for your consciousness.”

A new clone was one hell of a sweetener and underlined Fenton’s desperation to stave off Vernon Gaddis’s challenge. But even if she trusted Fenton, which Con sincerely did not, the prospect of being her lab rat sounded terrifying. Nor did Con trust Fenton to keep up her end of the bargain once she had what she wanted.

“I’ll think about it,” Con said in the voice of her sixteen-year-old self who had navigated her mother’s increasingly mercurial mood swings by avoiding firm answers on anything. Dr. Fenton didn’t seem to appreciate Con’s nonchalance and let her temper get the better of her.

“You’re a fool.”

“Careful now, Doctor. You wouldn’t want me in an unconducive emotional state.”

Dr. Fenton frowned. “May I at least run a few tests? Take a blood sample.”

“Not a chance,” Con said. “I don’t trust you or Vernon Gaddis.”

Fenton’s eyes narrowed. “You spoke to Vernon?”

“Yeah, this morning.”

“In person?” Fenton said, but Con could see that her mind was racing. She was so pale, she could have had bleach for blood.

“No, he doesn’t like to leave his island, apparently.”

“Well, I see he’s done an exemplary job poisoning the well. Fine, so be it. You’re still a fool, but keep taking the medication.” Fenton held out her business card. “If you change your mind or your symptoms worsen, please call. Let me help you. It’s in both our interests.”

Con took the card and tapped it against her LFD to add Fenton’s information to her contacts alongside Gaddis. She was accumulating quite the collection today. She didn’t think she’d be calling either of them, though. Despite all of Fenton’s apocalyptic warnings, there was only one thing Con could bring herself to care about—how had her original died?

Nothing else mattered.

But first, she had a man to see about a car.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Doors didn’t open for another hour, but the line of waiting concertgoers snaked down the block and disappeared around the corner. It was a younger crowd, affluent while trying hard not to look it. Con didn’t recognize the name on the marquee but loved the prospect of losing herself in the anonymous cocoon of a live show. It didn’t matter the kind of music; what she wouldn’t give to dance and sing shoulder to shoulder with people who knew nothing of her life.

Not here, of course. Anywhere but here.

Over the years, Glass House had taken on a mythic quality in her mind. Her last memory of that night was climbing into the van to drive to North Carolina, so, for her, this was where the accident had really happened. The place where her selfishness had set the band’s destiny in motion. It was ground hallowed by loss and guilt. Where her future had ended and her real life had begun.

Although she hadn’t been back since, Con would have sworn she could describe Glass House faithfully, right down to the studs. Standing across the street, however, she realized it was smaller than she recalled, less grand. Where were the windows? She couldn’t even find the parking spot where Zhi had left the van idling while he’d gone to hunt down Tommy. He’d parked under a large tree, but there wasn’t a single one on the entire block. Even the marquee was on the wrong side of the building, as if her memories were reflections in a mirror. The single most important moment of her life, and her memory was nothing but a shoddy quilt of different clubs she’d played. What else had she misremembered about Zhi’s last night?

Zhi. How was he? As soon as she got her feet under her, she should check in on him. Hopefully her original had visited him; she hated to think he’d been all alone these last eighteen months.