Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(61)

“You could’ve killed me, should’ve killed me, more than once already. But I’m still here. And while I have no doubt you’d lock me away in a second, I can’t help but realize your hesitance to terminate. Why is that, Titus? What’s so different about me that you would keep me after throwing away all those Ravens before me?” My voice rises with desperation and renewed tears.

His piercing stare stabs into my chest and out the other side.

“You are …” He doesn’t finish and even those two words are hoarse. There is something uncertain in his eyes. Like he can’t quite figure out whether to answer me truthfully or punch me in the gut. I desperately want the first but I brace for the second. “You are not like them,” he agrees quietly. “I haven’t killed you because you are … you.” He blinks and the uncertainty clears. His head tilts, a curious predator studying its meal.

“You really don’t know yet, do you? I am more impressed with Daniel than I expected. It will be a shame to kill him.”

“Does Daniel know I’m different?” I ask. It’s a silly question. One I already know the answer to, but it’s the only thing I have.

“Daniel knows everything. And that’s the problem with knowledge. There’s no real way to unknow something, daughter.”

His words are cryptic, but more than that, they are clearly about more than just Daniel. I have no idea what to say. No idea the right question to ask. “The woman in the photo in the cabinet,” I say instead. “Who is she?”

I half-expect him not to answer, or worse, to explode. But he surprises me, his voice silky, when he says, “That is May. She was my wife. You were made in her image.”

“Where is she now?” I ask.

“She is untouchable. Gone. Like so many others. And no amount of copying can bring her back.”

My shoulders sag. For the most fleeting moment, I’d half-hoped she was out there somewhere. Waiting. Capable of caring for or better, saving, another of Titus’s castoffs. I can only imagine how she must’ve met her end, married to someone like Titus.

“You are not far behind her,” he adds, the steel finally returning to his voice. He pushes to his feet and stands over me. “Remember that tomorrow.”





Chapter Sixteen


The scent of musky perfume fills the entryway of Whitcomb Manor. It is a heavy but invisible cloud left behind by whoever arrived before me. I wrinkle my nose to suppress a sneeze and hope my senses dull soon. I can only imagine how bad it will smell by the end of the night when the many perfumes and colognes mix with body odor and sweat.

The mansion boasts a large foyer and even larger ballroom from the looks of the space ahead, but the crowd is already spilling out the door and more arrivals are lined up behind me. It’s a big night.

I still don’t know why. Titus never came home before the party. I suspect he’s already here somewhere. So is Linc. He wasn’t allowed to escort me or even ride with me.

It took everything in me not to smear my makeup with fresh tears on the way over. My afternoon is a haze of mourning. Ida. Sweet, gentle, fragile Ida. I wonder what Lonnie’s doing. How she’s taking it. Would they have told her what happened?

I hand my coat to the gloved butler, my tiny dress shifting and rising in strategic place as I move. I resist the urge to shove it down for the eighteenth time. The prickle of lingering eyes against my exposed skin tells me any attempt to fix it would only draw more attention. I’m aware of Alton and his goons leering nearby but do my best to ignore them.

Alton says something to one of the men. He walks up to me and slides his hand underneath my elbow. I yank it back.

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss.

A few people turn to look but they don’t seem overly interested. The bar for drama is set pretty high in this crowd.

My grabby guard is undeterred. “I’ve been instructed to escort you,” he says.

“Like hell,” I snap. “I can escort myself.”

“Your father insists.” His smile is an innuendo in itself.

“I can take it from here,” a male voice smoothly interrupts. I turn and find Caine Rafferty walking toward me, a plastic yet much more harmless smile on his face than the man he’s stealing me from.

I allow him to slide his hand beneath my elbow and guide me away. “Hello, Caine.”

“Hello, Raven. You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you.” I study him as we walk.

His light hair is still cropped and edged perfectly. His suit is stylish and somehow formal while being laid back with his skinny tie and crisp white shirt rolled to the elbows. He looks exactly the same as the first time we met. In fact, every single person here is unchanged. As if no time has passed in upper society and it’s all one big party that melds together.

The only different thing about this night is me.

“Where have you been, lovely?” Caine asks. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s been two months,” I say wryly.

“Exactly. Forever.”

Caine smiles disarmingly and continues leading me toward the grand hall’s entrance. People begin funneling our way, all headed to the door. Soft orchestra music spills out. Even from here, I can see the throngs of people dancing in the center and even more milling about at the fringes. My skin tightens in claustrophobia. To my left, a woman laughs at something her escort says. It’s a high-pitched, abrupt sound that grates on my insides and goes on for way too long.