Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(70)

The car hits a bump. The blade sinks in, drawing a spot of blood. Linc swears and sits back.

“What’s the problem?” I ask. I stare at the blood a second longer, surprised and intrigued as the spot of red pools. It doesn’t even hurt.

“I can’t do it. I can’t hurt you on purpose.” Linc hands the blade to Obadiah, who holds up his hands in surrender.

“Nu-uh. NO way. I’m not doing it either,” Obadiah says.

“We’re wasting time,” I say. “Please. We have to take it out.”

Linc hesitates. I resist the urge to snap at him. If it were me in his position, I would feel the same. Instead, I take the blade from him and, before anyone can tell me not to or I lose my nerve, I press the tip to the small opening already made and slice downward.

Both boys yell.

I gasp.

It’s not so much pain as a rush of feeling. Adrenaline. Energy. Blood pools. The car hits a bump. I pull back and reposition, slicing across and then down until I’ve severed a square of skin the size of my thumbnail.

I whimper and blink back tears. Now it hurts.

“Hell, Ven, you’re making a mess,” Linc says. He looks lost, his eyes wide with panic. He’s on the edge of his seat, like he wants to run or jump up and help somehow. There’s really no way to do either.

The car goes left. We’re off the freeway now.

Stinging pain shoots into wrist and hand. My fingers flex and curl. Blood pours from the wound on my arm, running in two thin rivets down my arm and dripping onto the seat and floorboard. I drop the blade onto the seat beside me and look to Linc. He’s helpless and stricken as he stares at my cut.

I know what to do next, I just don’t know how I can.

I grab Linc’s hand in mine and squeeze. With my other hand, I reach over and press my finger into the opening in my skin. The sting of pain becomes a sharp, cutting agony. I cry out and then clamp my jaw shut, gritting my teeth. I can’t stop. I have to get it out.

Every second it’s in there is a roulette wheel, a stopwatch of certain death. My finger moves against my cut flesh and a tear escapes. White, hot pain burns through my arm and into my shoulder. I don’t stop.

My finger hits something hard. The car jolts and my finger presses down. The object recedes deeper into the raw flesh beneath it. I scream and it takes everything in me to grab the tiny chip between my finger and thumb and tug. It catches on flesh and sticks. I yank again and, with a final cry, it finally comes free.

I fall back against the seat, winded and exhausted. My arms and legs are shaking, either from the effort or the pain—or relief from being finished with the worst of both.

Neither Linc nor Obadiah says a word.

Blood continues to run down my arm. I barely notice.

The pain is nothing now compared to what it was. Even so, black dots dance against the edges of my vision.

“What are you doing?” Obadiah asks.

I open my eyes to find Linc peeling off his jacket and balling it up in his hands. “She needs to put pressure on it,” he explains as he presses the fabric to my arm.

“What, no first aid kit? I thought you were the ultimate boy scout,” Obadiah says. Linc glares at him, fire in his eyes and Obadiah’s grin vanishes. “Sorry, just trying to lighten the moment,” Obadiah mumbles.

“It’s not like I thought this would happen tonight,” Linc says.

“No shit,” Obadiah agrees. They both fall silent and I know they’re thinking of her. The other me. My replacement.

I meet Linc’s eyes and attempt a smile. I refuse to think of her yet. I am determined to enjoy this moment in case it’s the only one I get. “Thanks,” I tell him. Even through the pain, I am elated, as if I’ve removed a weight that has been dragging me down.

“I can’t believe you,” he says, shaking his head, but instead of anger he sounds awed.

“Yeah, that was pretty gnarly,” Obadiah says.

“What’s ‘gnarly?’” I ask.

“Badass,” he explains. When I still don’t respond he adds, “Ninja.”

“Oh.”

“We’re almost home,” Linc says.

There’s a pause. Obadiah looks at me. “Do you think Daniel can be trusted?”

“I think so.” Linc makes a noise of disagreement. “He’ll do what it takes to beat Titus,” I clarify.

“It’ll have to be good enough.” Obadiah unbuckles his seat belt. “All right. I’m getting out here.”

“What? Why?” I ask, alarmed as he moves toward the door. The driver is rolling to a stop as the light ahead changes from green to yellow. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get us a ride. I’m the getaway driver, remember? I’ll meet you in the alley out back of your place. If something happens, and you don’t show …” Obadiah trails off.

“She’ll be there,” Linc says. His jaw is set and he and Obadiah share a look I don’t understand. “No matter what, she’ll be there.”

“I might not be able to come back from this,” Obadiah adds, regarding Linc with a heavy expression. We all understand the implications of him helping us.

“Pack a bag,” Linc tells him. “We’ll worry about the rest later. You just get her underground.”