House Immortal

by Devon Monk

  “I’ll go see what they want,” I said. “Neds, get him in bed. Hide the guns and everything else, in case they search. Do not kill him. Understand? That man is not to be killed. If they want him and get surly about it, they’ll get him alive.”

  “We should hand him over now,” Left Ned said.

  “No.”

  I had no love in me for House White. I remember too well what my dad had said about them, how they had turned against their own scientists to sell the youth and other regeneration techniques only to the rich. How Kiana White, head of that House, had used medical advancements as bargaining chips to increase her own wealth, while common citizens were denied medical treatments. There was rumor she had even used medical advancements as biological weapons to secure her place in the House rankings.

  In my memories, I still heard Dad waking in the night, screaming from the nightmares of his time among them and the things they had made him do.

  Right Ned reached over and took the gun from his right hand. “Understood,” he said. Left Ned cussed, but didn’t fight him about it.

  “Grandma,” I said. “You can come along with me, all right?”

  “It’s time, isn’t it? Finally time to go?”

  I dipped my hands in the water bucket Neds had brought in. “Not far. Just the living room.” I took her gently by the elbow.

  “I thought we had somewhere to be,” she said.

  “We do. The living room. All you need to do is knit.”

  “Aren’t you smart?” she said.

  “I like to think so.”

  “What about the sheep, dear? We’ll need the sheep.”

  “Did you leave them in the kitchen?”

  “Did I leave who where?”

  Okay, that wasn’t going to work.

  I guided her over to the once-proud, now-thread-worn couch.

  “You get comfortable right here,” I said. “I’ll get you the sheep.”

  I lifted the edge of the curtain and peeked out. Grandma was almost right about our visitors. There were two cars—both white—and a box van, also white but armored up with plate metal and reinforced glass that looked strong enough to keep the lid on a fission bomb. The wheels were heavy enough to get them through what passed for roads out here, and likely easily switched out for the smoother, more modernized highways.

  There was a driver in each car, both men, and one woman driver in the van. The van had a male passenger too.

  The sheep would have to wait. House White would be on my porch and through my door any minute.

  Not going to happen.

  I pulled a sweater off the hook by the door and tugged my sleeves down as low as they would go, then untied my hair so it would fall to hide my stitches.

  It had been a long time since I’d faced a city dweller. I just hoped all the blockers we had in place held.

  I opened the door and strode outside.

  Too late, I realized I’d forgotten my gloves. Stupid. If they were smart—and since they were flying Medical, I figured they weren’t dumb—they’d notice the stitches along my thumbs and palms.

  I quickly shoved my hands into the pocket of my overalls, and swore there’d be no reason to take them out again as long as I was in their presence.

  I strolled out to the edge of the porch and stood at the top of the stair.

  Two women stepped out of the passenger’s sides of the cars.

  “Are you the property owner?” The first woman asked. Her voice was strong but it was not kind.

  She was tall and thin as a stem, her black curly hair forced back into smooth waves. Dressed in a white jacket and slacks, she gave me the overall impression of someone who enjoyed announcing terminal prognosis to patients.

  The vehicles were fully equipped with scanners, probes, and recording devices, new enough to not only catch every move I made, but also to sift through the house for signs of life and pull up our vital signs and House registry.

  I didn’t know what other sorts of detecting devices the people might have on them.

  Quinten had built blockers for just these sorts of technological advancements and updated them every time he came home. I’d been scrupulous in keeping them maintained. Neds had pitched in too; he was handy with tech. Upgrading had been one of the first things he’d done, taking several trips into the city to get the newest and best improvements for us.

  If she scanned the house for life, it should read three people: just me, Neds, and Grandma, unless I set it to read otherwise.

  Grandma and I both read human, even though that was stretching the truth on my account. But Neds threw weird vital readings from being the sort of man he was, so anything a little out of sorts could be blamed on him.

  “I’m not the property owner,” I said. “I just help out here.” I lied like it was my second nature, which I supposed it was. I couldn’t just go hide up in the barn when trouble came walking, like I had when I was a child. And stabbing intruders in the eye worked only for the dumber sort of creatures that roamed my property.

  Now that I was an adult, I did my hiding in plain sight and tried to keep the stabbing to a minimum.

  “Old Grandmother Case owns the place,” I said.

  “You work for her?” The second woman asked.

  She was stern lady’s opposite. Short and generously rounded at the hip and bust, her white came in a knee-length dress, stockings, shoes, and the jacket of their official uniform. Her hair was also white and cut so it cupped just beneath her ears.

  All together it made her look cute and harmless. Except for the gun on her hip.

  Since when did Medical make house calls with guns? Since when did Medical make house calls at all? They didn’t come out into the dirt, and it showed. They were tightly uncomfortable with the raw and wild of the place.

  “Yes,” I said, putting on the cheerful. “I help in the kitchen and keep the place clean.”

  They hadn’t moved more than a few paces away from their cars. Probably thought I had a gun trained on them.

  I didn’t, but I liked that they might think I did.

  “What House are you?” the taller woman asked. “Gray? Your . . . appearance is not up to code.” She gave me a scathing once-over, like I was wearing dead animals instead of relatively clean denim and wool.

  Color. It was the cover by which a book was judged.

  Each House was in charge of a world resource and took a color as its own. Gray was people and the management of them. I supposed caring for the elderly fell under that House, which meant I should say yes.

  Only I didn’t have a stitch of gray on me.

  This was one of those moments when I regretted being lazy about wearing colors. When I made a trip to town, I greened myself up from head to boot. Green was the House in charge of agriculture, and got me fewer looks and questions. My neighbors—though distant—believe me to be claimed by that House, and I didn’t see any reason to tell them otherwise. If White had been asking around, they’d already know that.

  Luckily I had on green socks.

  I shifted my leg forward and tugged up my trousers with my hands still in my pocket, flashing socks. “House Green. Sorry for the confusion. Got so dirty I had to dig into some clothing left behind by the previous residents a couple generations ago.”

  That wasn’t much of a lie. The shirt I was wearing had been my mom’s. Plain cotton with tiny red check against a white background. She had worked lace on the collar and here and there stitched little white hearts between the checks.

  I’d nearly worn the shirt out for the love of it.

  “Do you also work the land for the elder Case?” the shorter woman asked, tapping something into her palm, though I didn’t see a screen there.

  “Yes. I plant and harvest so she has winter stores. She donates a portion to the church too, of course. I have records if you car
e to see them.”

  “No. That’s not why we’re here,” the taller woman said. “We’re looking for a man. Has anyone been by in the past day? Do be aware we are recording, and your statement can be used in proceedings against you.”

  That last bit about recording and proceedings was common enough knowledge, I was surprised she said it. Then I realized she had to say it because of the gravity of the situation.

  They had lost a man. From the look of the van, he was a very dangerous man they wanted locked up and transported. From her statement, it was also very important they find him.

  Galvanized. Now I really wished I’d paid more attention to House politics and which galvanized was where and doing what.

  What I needed right now was a handy lie. I wasn’t going to tell them he was sleeping off elephant tranquilizer in the nursery.

  “Sure, sure. I understand you’re recording,” I said with a smile I did not feel. “But we haven’t had visitors in ages.”

  “So you are saying there is no man in this house? On this property?”

  “No stranger,” I said. Then I laughed a little. As long as I kept smiling, I could usually hide how angry and scared I was. Right up until I decided fists, and the throwing of them, was the solution.

  “My boyfriend, Ned.” I bit my lip and looked coyly over my shoulder, like he was half-naked back there. “He’s here too. Helps out on the farm.”

  “Sugarpookum,” Ned said right on cue, as if we’d practiced this ruse a hundred times. Which we hadn’t.

  And also: sugarpookum?

  “Is someone out there?” He pushed on past the screen door, still wearing the green shirt and overalls he’d had on since this morning. He’d tied a big old stripe of purple on each arm—indicating he was in hope of one day being transferred to House Violet to live a life dedicated to faith.

  Ha! I’d like to see faith try to angel up that devil boy. Both of them.

  Left Ned chewed on an apple, while Right Ned gave a big, innocent, blue-eyed smile.

  One thing about Neds: he was dollar sharp at making people think what he wanted them to think. A far better faker and actor than I was.

  “I thought I heard company,” Right Ned said with what sounded like real delight. Right Ned was the better liar of the two, a personality conundrum that had not escaped my notice, since generally he was also the nicer of the two.

  “Isn’t this a blessed day? Sugarpookum, you can’t just leave them out here in the drive. Bring them in and offer them up some of the Lord’s tea. Would you like some tea made fresh from God’s bounty?”

  The medicals, faced with a bucket load of country manners coming from a two-headed man bent on converting his life to religion, were caught flat-footed.

  Their shared look of disgust was so good, I wished I could put it in a jar and keep it on the mantel.

  “I was going to, but hadn’t had the chance is all, bumblebug,” I said.

  Left Ned choked on the apple, which gave me no end of pleasure. Two could play the pet-name game.

  “Why don’t you come on in?” I said picking up Ned’s lie. “We’d love to have you. Bumblebug has been reading scripture and talked my ear off.” I rolled my eyes and smiled. “I’m sure he’d love new people to share his devotions with. Especially if any of you have leanings toward House Violet.”

  Neds walked up next to me and slipped his arm around my waist, tucking his hand over my pocket and expertly avoiding even the briefest contact with my skin. Like I said, he did not enjoy touching me.

  “I surely would enjoy the company,” he said. “There’s so much of God’s love to share with you.”

  The taller woman glanced at her palm and then at Neds.

  I held my smile and breath. Please let it read three humans. Please.

  “Thank you,” she said. “We can’t stay. If you see a stranger in this area, do not engage with him. Please call Medical immediately.”

  “We’ll do that,” I said.

  The two women started back to the cars, and I resisted the urge to run into the house, bolt the door, and grab my gun.

  “Why do you want him?” Left Ned asked. “Is he dangerous?”

  I could have kicked him in the shins for that. That last thing we needed was for them to linger.

  The tall woman stopped, one hand on the car door, which was open so I could see the stripe of black down the side of it.

  Black and White?

  “He is very dangerous,” she said, answering only one of his questions.

  I casually stepped on Neds’ foot, putting a little weight on it so he would shut the hell up. Black meant Defense. Black meant weapons and security. Black was the color of the men who had killed my dad and mom.

  He didn’t know that because I’d never told him. I didn’t talk much about my parents to anyone.

  “We’ll keep the door locked and our eyes open,” I said. “If we see him, we’ll call.”

  I tugged on Neds’ tool loop so he would turn with me toward the house. Left Ned opened his mouth to ask another question. Probably one that would tip her off. Probably one that would get us searched, jailed, and killed; my property seized, claimed, burned; my grandmother locked away; and vital communication for House Brown shut down.

  So I did what any woman half-scared and half-fuming out of her mind would do to shut him up: I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the man.

  5

  One mad man, the scientist Alveré Remi Case, began building his tower. It would take him two years to construct the laboratory beneath it. Two years before the great machine he dubbed Wings of Mercury was poised to alter time.—1908

  —from the journal of L.U.C.

  It wasn’t a long kiss, just a peck on Right Ned’s cheek. Still, contact wasn’t a thing between us except in emergencies.

  I counted this as an emergency.

  The kiss had the desired effect. Left Ned shut his mouth in surprise.

  Luckily, Right Ned was a quick thinker.

  “Uh . . .” he said, the word coming out a little strangled. Then, louder for the medicals, “If you’ll excuse us, please. Do have a nice day.”

  He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and walked me into the living room.

  “Well,” Right Ned said. “Well.”

  “What in the devil’s blue was that?” Left Ned demanded.

  I crossed over to the window to see if our company was moving on yet.

  “That was me keeping your big mouth shut,” I said as medicals drove away. “You of all people know how it is with the Houses. Rule number one: don’t ask questions. Asking questions gets you noticed, and getting noticed leads to rule number two: don’t get noticed.”

  “How about rule number three?” Left Ned said. “Don’t kiss a man when he’s told you he doesn’t like to touch things like you?”

  He was angry. Trying to get a fight out of me.

  “It was an emergency. But, yes. I made a mistake,” I said calmly. “It wasn’t right of me to do that to you. I’m sorry.”

  “You kissed me,” he sputtered.

  “You were about to tell Medical about the stranger.”

  He shut his mouth and rethought his answer. I was not wrong. Both of us knew it.

  “Medical already knows he’s here,” Left Ned said. “The second you let him into your kitchen it was already too late to hide him.”

  “No,” Right Ned cut in. “I don’t think House White knows he’s here. They would have just shot us to get to him. The blockers were up. I think we’re sunny side for now.” He tugged the purple strips off his arms. “No need to apologize, Matilda,” he said. “We understand why you did it.”

  Right Ned hadn’t looked at me once since we’d come into the room. But he did now.

  He was hurt. Maybe because I’d fought with his brother, but more likely because I’
d kissed him. The idea of making Right Ned feel bad made my guts twist.

  “Ned,” I said to him, “I’m sorry about what I did out there.”

  “Don’t be.” There was no forgiveness in his eyes. Just a calm sort of anger that I’d never seen before. “You were trying to keep the things you care about safe. I get that.”

  Lord, the boy knew how to make soft words sting.

  “Not at the cost of our friendship,” I said. “Are we settled?”

  Right Ned nodded curtly. “We’re settled.”

  Why didn’t I believe him?

  “I’ll go check Lizard and the beasts, then,” Right Ned said. “Make sure House White didn’t detour out into any of the fields.”

  “No,” a voice said from the hallway. “We need to leave now.”

  “Black hell,” Left Ned swore.

  Right Ned gave me the same startled look I was giving him. That had been enough tranquilizer to drop Lizard for a day. It should keep an average person out for two. But not, apparently, the galvanized.

  He stepped out of the shadows, shoulders nearly touching each side of the hall, head tipped down so his hair curled toward his eyes. Pale and sweating, he looked like something that had woken up dead in the middle of the road and gone wandering in a daze.

  “Good to see you’re awake,” I said. “But you shouldn’t be out of bed. I haven’t had the chance to sew you up proper.”

  “I know how to use a needle.” He had his jacket on, his arm tucked against his gut, his eyes still that troubling pain-red.

  I glanced at Neds. He had backed into the room to stand closer to me, just the way he did when we got caught unawares by a mutated feral patrolling the edge of the property. Except he didn’t have his tranq gun, and I didn’t have my knives.

  “We have no time,” the man said. “We must go, Matilda Case.”

  He had a sincere and commanding way about him, like he was used to saying things and having folk follow without question or comment.

  Yeah, about that: I’d never been much of a follower.

  “No.”

  He frowned and his whole body straightened, as if he’d never heard that word before.