House Immortal

by Devon Monk

  There was no sense at all that we were moving, but the readouts were green. We were bulleting at about 350 miles an hour over land, straight into a mess of questions in a world I knew nothing about.

  And there was no turning back.

  11

  HOUSE ORANGE

  He preferred to keep his hands clean. Nails short and smooth, palms soft and pink. Slater Orange had the resources to limit how much of the world’s dirt and grime came into contact with him. On the rare occasion when he touched something soiled, he pulled on gloves spun of silk and dyed the color of the setting sun.

  This was such an occasion.

  Slater Orange strolled into the sterilized chamber, pressing his gloves securely down into the webbing between each finger. The repetition of doing so, of donning the barrier between himself and the filth of the world, was methodical and comforting.

  His surgeons waited for him, the hand-picked men and women he had employed—at great cost and no small amount of subterfuge—for the last five years. They stood, stiff-backed and at attention against the operating table behind them. The grim piles of their most recent failures cluttered the corners of the room.

  “And here it is,” Slater said, pacing in front of the six brilliant doctors, his footsteps punctuating his words. “The day of your reckoning, after five long years. The end of your contracts. You may show me your progress.”

  They parted, stepping aside like a curtain on pulleys to reveal the table behind them. A body, a man, lay stitched together with the finest black thread, wires fed into his shaved skull, tubes taped to his arms and snaking into his mouth, chest, heart.

  Interesting.

  “You may speak.” His stride slowed as a predator’s might when sighting prey.

  The lead surgeon was a narrow-faced woman whose dark eyes showed no hint of human emotion. “The body lives, Your Excellency. The brain is no longer viable.”

  “You are telling me you have failed in this task I set before you? A task you assured me you could complete?”

  The words hung in the air and drew beads of sweat across every doctor’s forehead.

  “We have failed, Excellency,” the lead surgeon agreed.

  “Such a pity,” Slater said. “Are you sure there are no other avenues you can explore?”

  This time it was a man who answered. “We have exhausted every report, every theory, every experiment. We have pored through all documentation collected in the world. Whatever it is that made the galvanized survive, whatever it is that makes them immortal, we cannot duplicate it with our present technology and knowledge.”

  Slater folded his hands carefully behind him. “How unfortunate. However, your efforts have not gone unnoticed. Your debt to me and to House Orange is paid. You are freed of your contract.”

  He could sense their relief like an exhale.

  Except for the lead surgeon. She stared at him, waiting. No hope, no trust in her eyes.

  She was, after all, a very intelligent woman.

  A pity he couldn’t use her for something more.

  Slater turned and paced toward the door. “Thank you, one and all. You have been very useful.”

  He stepped through the door. It locked behind him.

  A small button was hidden in the wall just outside the door. He pressed his finger against it, triggering the gas that filled the room and killed them all, quickly, silently, and without a mess.

  A pity they had not been more useful.

  He paced down the hall and tugged off his gloves, finger by finger. Five years of failure was still a success in one manner: he now knew there was only one way forward.

  If he wanted to live forever, if he wanted to change the world so that he alone ruled, he must force Quinten Case to pick up a needle and thread.

  To stitch him, as he had stitched the girl, Matilda.

  He tucked his gloves into his overcoat and then slipped the silk kerchief from his pocket. He wiped away the new blood from the corner of his mouth.

  He would need to press Mr. Case into service soon. Before there was no time left for him.

  12

  Their cobbled, monstrous appearance clothed human needs and desires that even torture and experimentation could not destroy. Heroes in war, they returned to a world in which they had no place.—1945

  —from the journal of L.U.C.

  “So do we walk right into House Gray?” I asked after we’d been traveling in the speed tube for a while.

  “No. First we will meet with a friend of mine who helped me find you,” Abraham said.

  “Who’s your friend?” I said to keep the conversation going. Sure, my mind was made up about going into the city and claiming a House, but my stomach was fluttering with nerves. This time, right here in this car, might be my last moments of real freedom.

  Abraham glanced over at me. “Robert Twelfth.”

  Right Ned, in the backseat, jerked at that name.

  “Isn’t he galvanized?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Since when did he go House Gray?” Left Ned asked.

  “He didn’t. He is claimed by House Minerals and works very . . . closely with the top of that House, Slater Orange.”

  “What does House Orange have to do with you finding Matilda?” Right Ned asked.

  Abraham shook his head. “Nothing. Robert is meeting us as a favor to me.”

  Right Ned whistled softly. “If he’s going behind his House to smuggle an unclaimed galvanized into an opposing House, then you must be very good friends.”

  “For more than one lifetime,” Abraham said.

  Immortality—everyone wanted that, right? From the sound of his voice, the answer was somewhere in the not-really zone.

  A chime rang out in the car, and then the scenery faded to reveal the tube’s internal walls and flat blue-white lighting. Our vehicle slowed and stopped, though it wasn’t until the vacuum released that I felt the clack and rattle of machinery moving our capsule out of the arrival port and onto the line of other vehicles waiting to take the ramps into the city.

  The front of the tube opened onto a lit street cornered by blocky skyscrapers. More buildings marched off in lines on either side of us, clogging up the horizon.

  I had many kinds of computers. I had books. I’d seen cities. But there was nothing I could see that made this city different from any other. Abraham could have taken us anywhere.

  “Chicago?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Abraham started the engine and took the ramp down to the street that was filling with cars rolling down the other dozen unloading ramps.

  I craned and dipped my head, peering down dim alleys draped with drying cloths and wooden crates and tables with people hunched over them.

  Even though it was still dark out, every street was filled with cars, bicycles, and people tangled in a mess of movement that didn’t seem to be getting anyone anywhere.

  I’d never seen so many people hurrying in great, clotted crowds, each wearing a dominant House color with stripes of secondary colors on their arms or legs, striding in and out of buildings, across intersections, and climbing stairs to the skyways, where they became silhouettes: caged like birds against the sky.

  It was enormous, and so crowded and overfull it felt small, busy, and constricting. I was suddenly glad for the generous space inside the car, for the luxury of not being pressed against the endless crowds and rush.

  Abraham drove the streets with the sort of familiarity that made me wonder if he had lived here for most of his life. Or one of his lives, at least.

  “Thing I don’t follow,” Left Ned said, “is how a stitch from House Mineral is going to help us.”

  “She needs to remain off the loop for as long as possible,” Abraham said. “So you,” he said to me, “have a chance to choose a House before anyone lays claim to you.”
/>   “Anyone except House Gray?” I asked.

  A brief smile played across his lips. “We aren’t above stacking the odds in our favor.”

  “Is that how your House operates? Cheating?”

  He glanced over at me, possession in his gaze. “We are willing to do anything it takes. When we see what we want.”

  “And have you?” I said. “Seen a thing you want?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you think? That I, of all people, see you as inhuman?”

  “I don’t know what you think.”

  He tipped his head down so that my gaze was caught by his. “I think you are a stubborn, strong, clever woman. I think you are frightened—”

  “Hey, now,” I interrupted.

  “—as any reasonable person should be in this situation,” he said right over my protest. “And I think you are fierce, loyal, and kind. Very much,” he said slowly, to give his words weight, “the sort of woman I’d want.”

  Oh. That hadn’t been the answer I was expecting. Heat stroked up my neck and cheek. I was having a hard time thinking over all the noise in my head.

  Had he just told me he wanted me? That he had feelings for me?

  “What are you offering?” I asked. “Exactly.”

  “My House is offering you protection,” he said, nicely dodging my real question.

  “Maybe I don’t want your House’s protection. Maybe I want freedom.”

  He shook his head. “You are galvanized, Matilda. Freedom is the one thing we’ll never have.”

  He turned the car and we rolled through an impossibly crowded street, then into what appeared to be a concrete gully.

  “But what I can give you is choices,” he finally said. “Robert is helping me achieve that.”

  “The same Robert who is keeping secrets from his own House?” Left Ned asked. “Sounds trustworthy.”

  “Houses rise and fall, Mr. Harris,” Abraham said. “Galvanized stand forever.”

  Ahead of us was another blocky building, old enough and disused enough the concrete had peeled away to reveal snags of bricks beneath.

  The building straddled the gully, creating a tunnel that Abraham drove into. The only light was from the streets around us, stabbing through the iron grille windows. He drove up a slight incline to a second level that opened onto a working machinery garage, though the equipment and workbenches were all silent and empty.

  He turned off the engine and twisted back to me as he opened his door. “Please stay here a moment.”

  He got out and straightened his bloody jacket as if adjusting a tuxedo, then strolled a short distance to the green metal door in front of us.

  “How much of this do you understand?” I asked Neds.

  “Which part?” Right Ned asked. “The driving into a trap or the agreeing to drive with a complete stranger into a trap?”

  “The Houses suddenly wanting me and my property?”

  “Now you ask me my opinion?” Left Ned said.

  “Now I’m terrified I made the wrong choice. Talk to me, Harris.”

  Left Ned rolled his eyes, then refused to look at me.

  “There’s been talk,” Right Ned said. “In the bar in town. Something big’s been brewing for months now. House Blue has some kind of announcement at the gathering. Maybe they were tipped off to you and your property. Maybe they think they can own you.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. I’m not big news.”

  “A living, modern, feeling galvanized?” Left Ned said. “There isn’t a House that wouldn’t do what it took to possess you.”

  “Why?”

  “What I’ve been saying,” Right Ned interrupted, “is you are not safe here. Not in this city. Not with this House. We should go. While we still can.”

  “Where? What House is better than Gray?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He wasn’t telling me everything. I just couldn’t figure was what he was trying to hide from me.

  The green door opened and a man stepped out to greet Abraham. He was nearly a foot shorter than Abraham and bald, with narrow features and a short beard and mustache.

  Abraham was built like the sort of man who could pull a tree out of the ground with his bare hands. The other man was whippet thin and bird sharp. He wore an orange long-sleeved shirt and brown slacks.

  They spoke for a moment, then shook hands, and embraced in a brief hug.

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  “Robert Twelfth,” Left Ned said.

  “Galvanized?”

  “You can’t tell?”

  From here I didn’t see any stitching on him. From here, I’d think he was standard human like Neds. Well, not like Neds, but not stitched.

  Then the two of them started toward the car, and the light hit Robert just right. A line of orange stitching zippered from his right eyebrow up his forehead and over his skull.

  Galvanized. Pieced together just like me. Just like Abraham.

  “Tired of sitting around,” Left Ned said. He opened the door, got out.

  “Great.” I grabbed my duffel and rifle, then followed him.

  The stale, warm air of the building swallowed me whole after the cool interior of the car. It was a lot hotter and damper here than back on the farm, and smelled of grease and rust and salt.

  “Robert Twelfth,” Abraham said as he walked our way, “may I introduce you to Neds Harris, and Miss Matilda Case.”

  Robert walked over to Neds and offered his hand, which Neds shook. “Pleasant meeting you both,” he said. “Welcome to the city. May your stay be memorable.”

  Neds’ shoulders took on that tightness that meant he was touching something he didn’t want to touch, seeing something he didn’t want to see.

  “Thanks,” Right Ned said.

  “And Miss Case.” Robert walked over to me, his smile both curious and kind. “It is such an honor to meet you, sister.” He gave a short bow and then held out his hand for me.

  “Sister?” I took his hand, which was warm and strong.

  His eyes went wide at that contact.

  “I felt that,” he said as he rubbed the fingers of one hand into his palm. “Your hand. I felt your hand. How . . . why did I feel you?”

  I shook my head, filled with my own unanswerable questions. I glanced at Abraham and Neds, but they were no help.

  “I felt her too,” Abraham said. “She doesn’t appear to know why.”

  It sounded like an accusation.

  They both stood there a second and gave me twin looks of puzzlement and maybe a little hunger.

  Awkward.

  “So, you don’t feel anything either, Robert Twelfth?” I asked.

  “Please, just Rob,” he corrected with another smile. “Do you?”

  “I felt that handshake,” I hedged.

  “Time is against us,” Abraham said. “We need to go. Apologies, Rob.”

  “No need, Bram. Anything. Anytime,” Robert said. “I’ll see you at the games, then?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Abraham said. “You owe me money.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure I won that square.”

  “You stole it.”

  “You were drinking maybe a little,” Robert suggested.

  “You were stealing maybe a little,” Abraham said.

  “Wasn’t I just?” Robert grinned.

  They patted each other on the shoulder, and Robert handed Abraham a thin band that he snapped in place over his wrist.

  “Be careful,” I heard Abraham whisper. Then he walked toward the green door and Robert strode toward the car. “This way, please,” Abraham said.

  Robert got in the car, started the engine, and drove away.

  “I’d always thought House Gray had a little more class than this,” Left Ned said. “Empty
garages and hidden back doors.”

  Abraham pressed the wristband into the scanner above the latch and the door swung open. “If you’d rather, you are welcome to walk up to the front door, Mr. Harris.”

  “No, this is fine,” I said, throwing Neds a look. “The quicker we get there, the quicker things can be put in order.” And the quicker I could find out where my brother was, and how I was going to keep myself, my grandmother, and my property safe.

  Also, how I was going to bargain for my freedom.

  Right Ned gave me another look that made it clear he was sure I’d lost my mind.

  I was beginning to think he was right.

  “Just this way,” Abraham waited, holding the door open.

  “Said the spider to the flies,” Left Ned muttered.

  I hesitated. It looked like a trap. It felt like a trap.

  “Please,” Abraham said, “I’ll answer any question you have as soon as we’re on the other side of this door. This garage isn’t safe for long.”

  So I stepped through the door, holding my breath and questions for the time being.

  13

  HOUSE ORANGE

  He preferred to wait until his captive looked up. It was power, eye contact. And once that contact was made, the power became his.

  “Ah,” Slater Orange said, looking into Quinten’s sharp blue eyes, “perhaps we can come to an agreement today.”

  He wiped the silken cloth over his forehead, mopping the perspiration there. Then he pressed the cloth along its edges between his fingers, folding and folding again, until he tucked it into his breast pocket.

  Quinten remained in the library, with access only to the small sleeping area and bathroom behind the door to the left. He was pacing, always pacing, his hands folded behind his back.

  “This.” Slater Orange held up the slim translucent screen. He was not wearing gloves. There was no need for them. The blood he was about to draw wouldn’t stain his flesh.

  “Your freedom,” he said.

  Quinten’s gaze ticked to the screen, then away. “I want contact with House Gray. There is nothing more I will do, nothing more I will say, until that human and legal right is fulfilled.”