Startled, I straighten. Is it possible that Rosemarie has continued to mess with my programming? Or could she have done something from the start that made it so memories of her didn’t stick?
“Look,” Raven says. “If we ask Lennon Rose, she’ll—”
“Oh, yes,” Winston replies bitterly. “Lennon Rose will be super helpful, I’m sure. Whatever you did to her—” Winston starts, but there is a clatter of ceramic on a counter.
“I told you I didn’t touch Lennon Rose’s programming!” Raven shouts. “It wasn’t me!”
There’s a long pause before Winston apologizes.
“I’m grateful for your expertise, Raven,” he says. “And maybe you didn’t alter Lennon Rose, but somebody got to her. Something is different.”
“I don’t disagree,” Raven says. “But we have Mena now. She’s ready. She’ll help us.”
“I’m hopeful that you’re right,” he says. “But there was onemore issue, one that Leandra brought up to me last we talked. A concern I’m sure my mother shares, as well. It might prove to be a problem down the line.”
I lean closer, wanting to catch every word.
“The boy,” Winston says. “What’s going on there?”
“Boy?” Raven asks.
“The one who helped her escape the academy,” Winston says. “Leandra said they seemed … very close.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Raven says. “And besides, it’s not possible. There’s nothing in their programming that allows them to love. There was no boy like that.”
And it’s this part of the conversation that makes me take a step back. I glance at the ceiling, toward the upstairs rooms, but they said Lennon Rose isn’t here. I can’t sense her presence, either.
Before I get caught, I walk out the same way I came in, closing the door behind me. I get through the neighborhood gate and order a car. I’ll call the girls to let them know what I just heard, and then I’ll meet them at the motel.
I sit on the curb while I wait, thinking about Raven. She knows about Jackson, so she lied to Winston about him. Whether she’s protecting me, Jackson, or herself, I’m not sure.
I’m not sure which side Raven is on.
29
Jackson wasn’t kidding when he complained about his motel. It’s straight out of a horror movie from the ’60s. Run-down, poorly lit, and even the VACANCY sign has several lights out. After I get dropped off, I find the correct room and knock.
Jackson pulls the door open, but his breath catches when he sees the state of me. At his reaction, I look down and remember that I’m in rough shape—a bit dirty and kind of bloody.
“Hi,” I say brightly when I look at him again.
“Jesus,” he replies, running his hand through his hair. “Why are you always covered in blood?” he murmurs. “Get in here.”
He hops to the side so I can walk past him, and then he closes the door and locks it. Marcella and Brynn sit on the second bed while the shower runs in the bathroom.
“Sydney’s cleaning up,” he says, and then notices the tear in my dress. “I’m about to fucking lose it, though,” he adds darkly.
“I’m okay,” I tell him.
“Sydney had a bat,” Brynn calls out to him. Jackson widens his eyes and turns from her to me.
“Good,” he says. “Hope she swung for the fences.”
“Nice place,” I say, looking around.
“No, it’s awful,” he says easily, and limps over to the bed to push a backpack and water container onto the floor. “Sit down,” he says, patting the mattress. “Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head no. “By the way,” I add. “Sorry about the voicemail.”
