Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(2)

I breathe in a whiff of stale air as I pass from the stairwell into the dim hallway downstairs. The stillness sends a chill over me. Goose bumps coat my bare legs. If a soul screamed down here, not a single person would hear or ever find them again. Daniel and Melanie are proof of that.

One week after Titus took Daniel into the depths of his prison block, civilian police came to Rogen Tower. I saw dark uniforms and heard snippets of conversations in hushed voices, but Titus kept me far from the policemen. I know he was afraid I wouldn’t lie, or couldn’t. Either way, the search for the abruptly disappearing politician’s son has tapered off. I know because Taylor keeps me informed at every gala and dinner party I attend. The gossipmongers have cycled through the absent bachelor and moved on to the next big scandal, whatever that is.

I saw his father, Senator Ryan, at a dinner two weeks ago. He doesn’t know that I know his secret, that he is an Imitation replaced by Titus for political gain. And if I hadn’t overheard Titus say so, I wouldn’t have believed it. He is so convincing in his somber gray suit and red “remember” carnation pinned to his lapel. Everyone shakes his hand and offers comfort to a man that has no concept of the loss he is purported to have experienced. He is not Daniel’s father. Daniel’s father, the only person who could’ve truly mourned him, is gone.

I wonder if Daniel realizes how little the rest of the world cares about him. How easily he is forgotten. I wonder if he knows Melanie is the only person left who would sacrifice everything to save him. I wonder if she’s still capable.

The guard stops and produces a thin plastic card that he swipes over a panel on the wall beside the door. The panel is black and sleek—a modern addition in this forgotten tunnel. All around it the wall is faded from white to yellowing beige. I don’t dare touch it for fear of mussing myself. Titus hates that.

The panel beeps from red to green, something inside the door clicks, and the guard pushes it open. I watch him slide the card back into his pocket and hold the door for me to pass. The second I step inside, the door slams shut behind me. I jump and whirl but the guard is gone, standing watch on the other side, I assume.

“Ven, come here,” Titus orders.

I spin and find him waiting in front of what looks like a large window. It has been somehow dimmed to show no picture, but I know it’s more than just an ordinary wall. I can see my reflection as I pass by. The short, gauzy dress Titus made me wear. My hair curled at the edges where he insisted Maria take a rolling iron to it. My elaborate makeup that’s supposed to look subtle and natural but makes my skin heavy. I hate that I’ve been made to feel like bait on a string.

I don’t know if it’ll be worse for me in the end if Daniel takes the bait or leaves it.

I walk toward Titus, my nerves on edge but mixing with the bitterness in my mouth that always manifests when I am faced with the Creator. It is the passion of my dislike and it has kept me sane at moments I thought I might lose it. I swallow but the taste remains.

“Yes, Ti—Father?” I correct myself just in time to see his eyes narrow.

Titus gestures to the tray on the table. It is laden with fruit and meat and drizzled desserts. It is the quality of meal I eat with Titus and I know it’s not something Melanie or Daniel has experienced since being taken down here. “What’s this?” I ask quietly.

“It’s for Melanie, the redhead. I want you to take it to her.”

I meet his gaze, unwilling to simply comply even though I know obedience is inevitable. “But she tried to hurt me,” I say, voicing the only true thing I can say without betraying myself. “You said I was only coming to see Daniel.”

“Don’t argue with me,” he snaps.

“I wasn’t ….”

“She won’t hurt you again. Her hands and feet are tied,” Titus says. He looks at one of the guards with raised brows and seems satisfied at whatever gesture they give. “She can’t get up,” he finishes.

“How will she eat?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Spoon feed her,” Titus says. He picks up the tray and pushes it into my hands. I have no choice but to take it or risk dropping it all. I am not quite brave enough to make a mistake like that.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask.

“Whatever you have to. Be friendly or be a bitch. I don’t care either way. Melanie has information. I want it.”

“I don’t think she’s going to talk to me—”

He cuts me off. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. We have a deal. One that, thus far, you haven’t made a single inch of progress toward keeping.” His eyes narrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you no longer care whether your friends live or die. Maybe I’ll pay them a visit after all.”

Ida. Lonnie.

“No, don’t. I’ll … I’ll see what I can find out.”

“I expect results. Not tomorrow. Not four weeks from now. Today, Raven.”

I mumble a response to do my best and concentrate on steadying the tray in my hands. Titus watches with a frown. Apparently satisfied I won’t drop it, he nods at one of the men behind me. “Show her in,” Titus tells him.

The guard leads the way. I’m careful to balance the tray’s contents as I follow the guard back out the door and into the stale hallway once again. He stops at the next door down and swipes his card over the reader. It beeps from red to green and something clicks. Without a word, he pushes the door open and steps back to let me pass.