Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(24)

Lita’s eyes sparkle and she nods vigorously. “Yes,” she whispers so low I know I’m the only one who hears it.

I smile. “Great. Can you wait for me in the main room with the others and I’ll be out soon?”

Lita nods again but it’s not quite as energetic this time. After another moment of coaxing, I convince her to go with Anna and close the door behind them. I slip in between the boys again and Linc hands me a water Anna left before patting my knee.

We sip our drinks and wait for Morton to rejoin the conversation. He is staring at the desk again, eyes brimming with moisture. A moment later, Anna returns, slipping inside without a word and hovering near the closed door.

“Morton?” I call gently when he doesn’t snap out of it.

At the sound of his name, he straightens and sniffles.

“Is everything okay?” I ask. “You seem … distracted.”

“I suppose I am. Today is …” Morton’s eyes dart to mine and then quickly away again. I’m struck with the distinct impression that my face has somehow caused him discomfort. He clears his throat. “Today is Raven’s birthday. I can’t help but worry a little extra for her today.”

I stare at Morton in surprise. Of all the things I might’ve expected, this was not one of them. There’s something about the way he spoke her name, the way his features transform at the thought of her in trouble. I wonder how I missed it before—maybe because I’m only now learning what love looks like on a person. It is an expression all its own. His is unmistakable.

“Did you say Raven?” Linc asks, his tone a mixture of disbelief and distaste. He is either oblivious or uncaring of Morton’s level of attachment. I suspect the first. “As in, Raven Rogen?”

“Yes,” Morton says.

“So you … miss her?” Linc asks. Disgust colors his words.

Morton flinches and sets his water aside. “Very much,” he admits.

Linc lowers his voice, lacing his words with venom. “She is a spoiled socialite and a bigot. How can you miss her?”

Morton’s expression registers the words like a physical blow. “She’s not any of those. She is … kind and gentle and caring. She—”

“Look, I know she was good at acting but there’s no way she actually made you believe all of that. Not for real.”

“I have to agree with Linc on this one,” Obadiah puts in. “Raven is a piece of work. And not the kind you want to have hanging on proud display.”

Linc shifts in his seat. I squeeze his hand but when he squeezes back, it’s more from irritation than comfort.

Morton cocks his head at both boys. “Which Raven are you referring to?”

Raven number six. The memory of the words sizzles through me. I grip my water glass harder than necessary.

“What do you mean?” Linc asks. “How many are there?” All joking is gone from his voice. He believes it in a way he hadn’t before. Or maybe he’d let himself forget it until now. I can’t blame him. I’ve done the same.

Morton holds Linc’s gaze in a way that sends a shiver of dread down my spine and says, “Seven at last count. But I haven’t had contact with the City for some time now.”

“Seven?” Linc repeats, brows raised in challenge. “Alive?”

“They were when I left,” Morton says.

Obadiah says, “No effing way. Seven?”

Six. Plus me. Seven.

Instead of chiming in, I steal a look at Anna. Our eyes meet across the small room and her expression is full of sorrow and regret. It is the worst kind of proof. Morton is telling the truth. Anna emphasizes it in her empathetic smile. We share the same pain of being a copy. Or in my case … maybe even a copy of a copy.

My memory flashes back to the first time I met Morton. He’d told me about how he’d escaped his mission and fled into hiding. He’d told me about surviving for years on his own before others joined him. In the end, he’d admitted to working with Daniel despite their difference in approaches. Anna had been so surprised I’d chosen to work with them. She’d said something about Morton telling me everything. I thought he already had.

My head spins.

How many times has the Creator attempted me and considered it a failure? And why? What happened to the others? And where is the real Raven? The original? The Authentic?

“Ven?” Linc’s voice brings me back but the questions remain, creating a swirl of panic inside me. “Ven, are you all right?”

His face is bent low, only inches from mine. I can feel his breath on my face. Its warmth is a reminder of my realness. I am here. My heart beats. My mind works. My emotions are present to the point of painful.

“Ven?” Linc repeats, his tone more forceful now.

I don’t look at Morton. I can’t. Instead, I focus on Linc. “There are seven of me?”

Morton makes a noise resembling regret. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more delicate with that information.”

Obadiah scoots closer to me and puts his hand on my arm. His passive way of protecting me. I love him for it.

Linc shakes his head, his expression solemn. “There are not seven of you, Ven. There never could be. How many times do I have to tell you? There is no one like you and there never will be. Not ever. Not if Titus tried for the rest of his life would he ever make another Ven.” He watches me expectantly, waiting for his words to sink in.