by Devon Monk
“You couldn’t afford it, Mr. House Gray.”
“I bet I could.”
“You mean your House could. It’s not nice of you to promise fortunes that aren’t yours.”
“I never said I was nice,” he said. “And I never promise anything I can’t deliver. Even though House Gray claims me—”
“Owns you,” I corrected over my tea.
“—I am my own man. I can make my own promises and I can keep them.”
“You’re working awfully hard to make me trust you.”
“Is it working?” he asked.
“Here’s an idea,” I said. “Why don’t you go back to House Gray and tell them there’s nothing out here but brush and dirt, and there’s no reason for any other House or my father’s old enemies to come looking?”
“Even if I did that, it wouldn’t change things. By now the other Houses have obtained your mother’s message. Old enemies might be the least of your worries.”
“Ominous, Mr. House Gray.” I pushed the last bite of my sandwich in my mouth and dusted my hands.
“Are you allergic to it?” he asked.
“What?”
“Saying my name.”
I paused over my tea. He was watching me, taking in the details of me again, like I was a photo fading all too quickly before his eyes.
“First names seem too friendly, since I’ve only known you for a day. You laughed at me when I called you Mr. Seventh.” I shrugged.
“Vail,” he said.
“What?”
“It’s my true last name. Though I’d prefer you didn’t use it around company or strangers.”
“Why not? Are you ashamed of it?”
He sat back, shook his head. “I forget how young you are, Matilda. That”—he held up one hand before I could defend myself—“isn’t a slight. It’s just . . .” He glanced over my shoulder, staring at the nothing in the shadows there. “Abraham Vail is a name from a life lived long ago.” His gaze shifted back to me. “It was a good life. And it is a good name.”
“All right,” I said. “Mr. Vail. I hope you don’t mind my manners, but I’m going to turn in early too.”
We finished eating. Abraham cleared the dishes, and I put the roast and veggies away in the cold box and wrapped the bread so it wouldn’t go stale.
“Nice job on the floor, by the way,” I said as we walked into the living room.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “It’s been . . . interesting. Good night, Miss Case.” He gave me a nod that was almost a bow, then walked down to his room.
Yes, I stared after him. I was having a hard time remembering he wasn’t on our side, wasn’t to be trusted. Especially since he hadn’t done anything untrustworthy all day.
Well, he’d showed up with drones tagging his location. But he’d called them off and had been mostly reasonable. If you didn’t count the whole thing about me having to leave my family home and get claimed by a House if I didn’t want to lose everything I’d spent my life fighting for.
I sighed and scrubbed my fingers over my scalp. I was tired, but took a second and peeked into Grandma’s room. She was sleeping, the little sheep snuggled around her, that ridiculously long scarf she’d been knitting draped over the foot of the bed like a wooly coverlet.
Down the hall, Abraham’s door closed with a click.
Grandma was sleeping, Neds were sulking, and I had a stranger who was the eyes and ears of one of the most powerful ruling organizations in the world bedding down in the spare room.
Not to mention fifty people out in the desert counting on me to save their homes.
I’d catch a couple hours of sleep, then head back down to the basement and see if I couldn’t dig up a miracle.
I stripped out of my coat, my overalls, and my shirt, leaving them all in a pile on the willow chair in the corner of the room. I needed a shower, and tromped off to take one in the little bathroom on this side of the hall.
I didn’t linger in the hot water, but instead scrubbed the dirt and dried blood off me, then toweled off quick. I pulled on a tank top and a pair of shorts and walked down to my room and crawled under my covers, shivering a little from the cool sheets.
Three deep breaths was all I got before the bell rang out. Not just one little jingle like earlier today; this was nonstop clanging.
Something was going very wrong with someone in House Brown.
I kicked out of my covers and ran for the basement door.
Neds were already running up from the basement—he must have decided to sleep on the cot down there tonight. He flicked the alarm off, but was breathing a little hard at the top of the stairs.
“It’s the Fesslers,” Right Ned said.
“What happened?”
Abraham was right behind me—still in his breeches—but barefoot and shirtless.
“This isn’t your concern,” Left Ned said, pulling on the door so Abraham couldn’t see behind him.
“What happened?” I asked again.
“They’ve sent air support. They’re being bombed.”
Oh, shit. “Are they running? Are they evacuating?”
“No.”
“Let me talk to them,” Abraham said.
“Step back,” Left Ned warned.
“Can you stop it?” I asked. “Can you call them off? Call off the bombing?”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit,” Right Ned said.
“Do it,” I said to Abraham.
“Matilda,” Left Ned warned.
“He’s doing it.”
Neds moved out of the way, and I ran down the stairs, Abraham then Neds behind me.
Abraham pulled up short at the bottom of the stairs. “Hell’s hooks. This is beautiful . . .”
“What do you need?” I stood between my workstation and Quinten’s, the screens and equipment stacked around and above me.
“Do you have a slip link?”
“Yes. Here.” I held the earpiece out for him.
He took half a second to scan the equipment we had rigged up, took the piece, slipped it over his ear, and tapped into the old keyboard, his fingers flying.
“Get me coordinates,” he said.
“Do it!” I called to Neds as I patched into every line I had for the Fessler compound. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I chanted through clenched teeth.
The monitors were locked on the compound, which was a mess of fire and smoke in the dark of night. I didn’t see anyone moving around down there, which didn’t mean they were dead, but didn’t mean they were alive either.
“This is Abraham Seventh of House Gray,” he said into the microphone, while keying in a string a codes that I wished I had time to memorize. “You are to cease your activities immediately. This contract is canceled until further notice. Abort.”
The old cell line clicked to life and a voice picked up. “Matilda?” It was Braiden Fessler.
“Get out of there, Braiden. Now.”
“This is our home.”
“If you don’t run, it’s going to be your grave.”
An explosion rattled through the connection.
“Where will we go?” he yelled. “There is nothing for us.”
I snapped my fingers, and Neds came over to join me at the feeds. We’d worked together enough that I didn’t even have to tell him to pull up the closest, safest homesteads that would shelter the Fessler crew.
“Got it,” Right Ned said. “Pocket of Rubies is just to the west of them, and looking for more hands. They could shelter there.”
“Braiden?” I said, “are you still with me?”
Nothing but static. All the screens locked, blinked down to black, then powered up again.
“What the hell?” I said. Our system had never faltered. Never.
A man’s face came i
nto focus on the screen, too large at first, then pulling away as if he were adjusting a camera to catch his image. He was in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper curly hair and small, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his round nose beneath thick eyebrows. His skin was fair, his eyes small and bright, and from the scruffy beard and mustache, he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a day or two.
“This is Oscar Gray,” he said in a pleasant tenor. “Abraham, would you care to explain why you used House authority—without my approval—to cancel the manpower contract with House Red?”
Dammit all. The last thing we needed was another House getting involved. And we certainly didn’t need the head of House Gray involved.
Abraham had taken off the earpiece and walked around to stand in front of the main screen next to me. Neds took care to step off into the shadows where he wouldn’t be seen. But it was too late for me, so I just stood my ground.
“There is a settlement in the line of their construction,” Abraham said.
Oscar frowned. “Are you sure? There are no records of House registration.”
“House Brown,” he said.
Oscar took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Abraham . . .”
“Children,” Abraham said. “Families.”
Oscar nodded. “How many?”
“Fifty people. They can be relocated.”
“Why aren’t they already relocated? I’m sure notice was served, surveys were done.”
“They can be out of there in three days,” Abraham said.
Neds, in the shadows, swore softly.
“I can’t give them three days. They have tonight.”
“Thank you,” Abraham said.
Oscar pointed one thick finger at the monitor. “You’ve put me in a uncomfortable position. Aranda Red is just looking for a reason to give my brother support, and you’ve handed her a breach of contract. She’ll roast me alive.”
“Maybe not,” Abraham said. “They were running night crews. We agreed to provide the manpower only for day construction, if I’m not mistaken.”
Oscar’s eyebrows ticked up. “You’re never mistaken, but I’ll look into it. It’s not much of a reason to cancel all the workforce for House Red in North America, but it’s something.”
“All the workforce?” I asked. “It’s only one small construction site.”
I knew Oscar had seen me when he’d first patched into our systems. But now he turned so he was addressing just me.
“You must be the daughter, Case.”
“I am,” I said, because, seriously? There was no hiding now.
“Abraham can explain it to you,” he said absently, “but if we are to pull entire crews off a job at a moment’s notice, we must suspend all workers on all contracts with that particular House until the matter is satisfactorily resolved.”
“I didn’t know,” I said.
“Of course you didn’t.” He gave me a small smile. “Abraham, on the other hand, knew full well.”
“Children, Oscar,” Abraham repeated.
“I know, I know.” Oscar waved his hand. “I’ll take care of Aranda. In return,” he said with a nod toward me, “you and Ms. Case will return to Gray Towers immediately, please.”
“I can’t leave yet—” I started.
“Miss Case,” he said firmly. “You must leave immediately. We’ve just involved ourselves in a contract dispute with House Red on your behalf, if I’m not mistaken?”
Abraham didn’t say anything and neither did I.
In a milder tone, Oscar went on. “Every House will notice the contract dispute. It will take them seconds to trace it back to me, to Abraham, and then to our sudden interest in your property, and finally to you.
“If you are not here to sign papers with me or with another House, you, your property, and everything on it, including, I am to assume, the advanced and unregistered communication system we are at this moment conversing on, will be forcibly acquired.”
“But the land doesn’t belong to me,” I said. “It belongs to my grandmother and she’s human. House Green.”
“Forcibly acquired,” he repeated. “I am sorry. This must all be happening rather quickly for you. But this is the safest course of action for all of you, including your grandmother. Abraham, bring Ms. Case here. Immediately. I’ll see what I can do to clean up this mess you’ve made.”
“Thank you,” Abraham said.
Oscar smiled briefly, then the screens went black, flickered, and snapped back with the feeds they were usually plugged into.
“Fuck it to hell,” Right Ned said.
Pretty much my sentiments.
“Matilda?” Braiden’s voice called out over the line.
“I’m here. Are you okay?”
“The bombing stopped,” he said. “The sky is quiet. They’re gone.”
“Good. Now listen to me. I had to call in favors with House Gray to stop them.”
“Oh, God, no.”
“Which means I owe them repayment. You are to leave the compound tonight.”
“But—”
“Right. Now. Pack up the kids and head over to Pocket of Rubies. We’re letting them know you’re coming their way.” I glanced over at Neds, who was already putting in the call to the girls at Pocket of Rubies. “Do you have vehicles and supplies to make it?”
“We do,” he said quietly.
“Go. And hand me over to your boy, Thad.”
There was a pause, then Thad’s baritone answered. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”
“I traded favors with House Gray.”
Into his shocked silence, I said, “Your father doesn’t want to leave. But this is only a temporary reprieve. Promise me you will get yourself, your families, and your pigheaded father out of there tonight.”
“The girls are happy to put them up,” Right Neds said.
“Pocket of Rubies is ready to take you in,” I said. “They’re good people.”
“I know,” he said. “I know. We’ll be packed and out of here in an hour, I promise. And Matilda . . . I’m so sorry about House Gray.”
“Just get somewhere safe and we’re gold.”
“Our homes?”
“Take a few pictures. You won’t ever be back.”
“All right,” he said quietly. Then, stronger: “We’ll be fine. May the earth rise to your feet.”
“And the wind to your back,” I replied, finishing the old House Brown blessing.
I broke the feed and pressed my cold fingers over my eyes, swallowing back the mix of fear and anger and sorrow. They had lost their land. Just like I was going to lose mine.
I stood there long enough, Abraham had time to walk through the room, quietly inventorying all of our equipment, all of our secrets.
There was nothing standing in the way of House Gray shutting us down. Like Neds had said, Abraham was galvanized—the ears, eyes, and mouth of his House. Whatever he knew, his boss, Oscar, must have known.
I pushed away my fears. I had a situation to handle and there was no time for crying. I set the main system back out of emergency status. “I’ll need a few minutes to pack my bag.”
Left Ned swore.
“Tilly,” Right Ned said.
“I want you to stay here with Grandma.”
“No.”
I glared at both of him.
“Wherever he’s taking you”—Left Ned stabbed a finger in Abraham’s direction—“we’re going.”
“You could bring your grandmother.” Abraham patted the short-wave radio receiver fondly and strolled over to the telegraph station, bending to study the straight key’s setup.
“This is her land and home,” I said. “Going in city would be too much of a shock. As long as the land is safe, she stays here.”
“Th
e land will be safe when you claim a House,” Abraham said.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I said.
“I’m not staying with her,” Left Ned said again.
“Fine. I’ll call Boston Sue. Go get your gear.”
Neds gave Abraham one last hard look, then walked up the stairs, leaving the door open at the top.
“Listen,” I said after Neds were out of earshot. “That was very kind of you, to put your House on the line for the Fesslers. I understand what kind of a risk that is. Thank you.”
“It was the right thing to do.” His gaze wandered over the room, and a longing softened his eyes before he looked back at me.
It was almost like he missed all this rebel-underground living.
“Not bad for out in the scrub, right?” I said.
“It’s impressive,” he said, “I’ll give you that.”
He walked over to a flat, underlit table in the corner. “I recognize all the equipment except this.”
He didn’t touch the table, but the white light beneath it cast his face in a ghostly glow, shadows from the gears and swinging hands slipping angles across his face.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Something my brother was working on.”
“It’s a countdown clock?”
“Is it?” I walked over and stared at the confusion of brass gears and needles that spun slowly in clear oil.
“I can’t make out the markers,” he said. “But it is either almost at the end or almost at the beginning of its cycle. Your brother didn’t mention what it was?”
“He always had some pet project he was working on down here.”
“Hm. Maybe we’ll get a chance to ask him soon.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be waiting outside. I’ll give you some time to say good-bye.”
Abraham walked up the stairs, leaving me behind with the impossible task of saying good-bye to my land, my grandmother, and my home.
10
They were not human, not exactly so. Raised from the edge of death, the twelve men and women who had survived the mad man’s experiment were rebuilt, piece by piece, until they were stronger than any human. Perfect for the war effort. Built for it. And sent into battle for their country.—1941
