House Immortal

by Devon Monk

  Abraham had said galvanized brains, if uninjured, were immortal and would continue living even if separated from the galvanized body. He had said their thoughts and personality remained. So what could have happened to this girl to send her into a coma she never woke up from?

  That question was disturbing, but I wasn’t as spooked about it as my farmhand seemed to be.

  “If you settle on what it is that bothers you about the visions, I want to know,” I said. “But until then, do you have any contacts that might help us find my brother?”

  “I know some people,” Right Ned started. “People who could make you disappear if you wanted.” He said it very quietly, cautiously. As if it were something he should not be sharing.

  “I can’t. Not yet, anyway. Maybe when I get my brother free, and my land clear, and Grandma safe . . .”

  “It would need to be now, Tilly,” he said. “Right now. We leave from here and are never seen again. You should say yes.”

  They were both wearing the same expression—a mix of dead seriousness and maybe just an edge of fear. They knew something they weren’t saying. Probably knew a lot of things they weren’t saying.

  “Tell me everything you know. I can’t make a decision that would leave Grandma and my brother stranded without something solid to go on.”

  The door to the diner opened.

  Three men in black jackets, black hats, and dark glasses walked in, scanned the shop, and moved to either side of the door, guarding it.

  Left Ned glanced that way. “Too late, I think.”

  Right Ned was still looking at me. “They work for House Black. And they’re looking for you.”

  House Black. The House that had killed my parents. Maybe even the House that still held my brother.

  “I got this,” I said, just before swallowing down the last of my coffee. “I’ve wanted to settle something with House Black for a long time.”

  I made my way through the crowd toward them. Neds cussed, and then I heard them move away from the table and head after me.

  None of the three appeared to be the head of House Black nor a galvanized, although that was just a guess. Two of the three men stood stock-still, staring forward, and one turned his head to watch my approach.

  So I guessed he was the boss here.

  I walked right up to him, stood out of arm’s reach, which wasn’t all that easy with the jostle and bump of people around us, trying to get in and out the door he stood next to.

  “Are you here to see me?” I asked.

  He tipped his head just a fraction, but I couldn’t see his eyes behind those dark glasses. I could, however, tell that those glasses were recording everything I said.

  “Matilda Case?” he asked in a flat tone.

  “You can go back and tell the head of your House that he owes me a blood debt,” I said.

  “Come with us.” He grabbed my wrist.

  I stepped to one side, twisted my palm open and down. Punched his arm hard enough to break it. He growled, dropped my wrist, and took a step back.

  I can hold my own in a fight. When a girl sees her parents dragged away, she throws herself into self-defense training for pretty much the rest of her life. Plus, I’d had to wrestle Lizard down more than once, and hunting feral creatures before breakfast was sort of a daily ritual.

  But this wasn’t a feral creature in front of me. This was a man.

  I pulled my gun, finger curled against the trigger, before he had a chance to grab for me a second time.

  “Don’t try it,” I said. “I don’t know you well enough to want you dead, but I am not afraid of sending you to the hospital to rethink your line of work.”

  If those glasses of his were any good, he already knew I had a gun. Just in case, I lifted it enough he saw it for sure.

  So did his two buddies, who had taken a step toward us, and paused.

  “Step back and step out of here. Tell your boss he has a debt to settle with me.” I thumbed back the hammer on the gun, which was old enough to make a very satisfying clacking sound.

  The two goons shifted their weight just slightly, suddenly more in the mood for a fight. I supposed they could pull the city down around my ears if they wanted to.

  Too bad I didn’t care.

  The boss man’s mouth twitched. He had a broken arm and hadn’t more than grunted about it. I was glad I had the gun.

  “I don’t follow your orders, girl,” he snarled. “You will come with us. Now.”

  The door behind him opened wide. A rush of chilly air whisked through the steamy café and cooled the sweat covering my skin.

  “Gentlemen,” Abraham said, his low voice both carrying over and silencing the crowd, “you now have the full attention of House Gray.”

  18

  It may have been the horror of so many innocent deaths. It may have been the human spark that still burned in the twelve that brought them together in secret.—2098

  —from the journals of L.U.C.

  The men from House Black glanced at Abraham, and their anger was palatable.

  “Fucking stitch,” the man who had grabbed for me muttered so quietly, I almost didn’t hear it even though everyone in the place was silent.

  Abraham heard it. His eyes tightened and his fist snapped out, faster than I could track, slamming into the man’s shoulder. The audible crack of a bone shattering filled the room, accompanied by the man’s scream.

  Even the silence got silent.

  Abraham pushed his forearm under the wounded man’s neck and lifted until the guy was on his toes, struggling to breathe. In Abraham’s other hand was a huge knife, which he flicked, taking off the man’s left ear.

  I supposed the guy might have been yelling if he had air to yell with.

  “You will show me proper respect, citizen, and you will extend that respect to this woman.” Abraham sounded like he was giving a polite lecture on manners while the man gasped and bled. “She is under House Gray protection.”

  My stomach knotted.

  Abraham was destruction held down by a thin pin. If the men from House Black wanted a fight, someone was going to be dead by the end of it.

  It wouldn’t be Abraham.

  “I am here to see that her well-being is intact,” he continued. “Have you damaged her, citizen Black?”

  “That was not my intent,” he gasped.

  “Understood. Now take your House Black business elsewhere before we have any other misunderstandings.” Abraham leaned back and lowered the man to his feet. The men from House Black all shifted as if they expected him to throw another punch.

  Instead, Abraham opened the door, walked through it, and held it open. Two of the men stepped up and supported the injured guy as they made their way through the door and past Abraham.

  Everyone in and just outside the café had decided they didn’t need to use the door. Though I didn’t think it possible, the crowd inside had pulled back a bit to give all of us a little breathing room.

  “You are insane,” Right Ned said quietly after the men were well on their way down the street. “No one picks a fight with Defense in a coffee shop.”

  “Yeah, well,” I said, releasing the hammer on the gun and tucking it away in my duffel again. “They picked a fight with me when they killed my parents.”

  I turned and Neds, both of them, were grinning.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You,” Right Ned said. “Rebel. Always have been.”

  “Don’t forget it,” I said.

  “Like I could,” Right Ned said with a grin.

  I stepped outside. Pulled up short.

  Abraham was blocking my way, scowling.

  “Are you done?” he asked.

  The crowd around us moved slower than before, a few people taking pictures of us.

  Well, of Abraham.<
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  Dressed in a light gray shirt and dark gray pants tucked into heavy boots, he made for a striking figure. Powerful, dangerous. Someone who stood out in a crowd without trying. He wore his sleeves rolled up so the stitching on his arms and wrists clearly showed, and his collar was unbuttoned just enough that the line that began under the edge of his stubbled jaw could be seen.

  He was making it very clear to anyone watching exactly who and what he was: galvanized.

  I was staring and didn’t care. It was hard to look away from the truth of him. He carried his scars, his pain, and the weight of hard years with a strength that radiated outward. It was primal, sensual, raw. And barely controlled. I couldn’t seem to look away. I didn’t want to look away.

  Something about him caught a fire in me. I licked my bottom lip as heat stretched and filled my body and thoughts. Then my imagination took over and stripped him out of his clothes, just like when he’d been wounded back on the farm. Except in my little fantasy, I was naked and he wasn’t bleeding. He was shirtless and pantless, and I was the one lying on the bed as he lowered himself down . . .

  One of the Neds kicked my boot with his foot.

  “I had clothes on,” I blurted.

  Abraham’s eyebrow twitched up.

  “Mental,” Left Ned muttered.

  “Say yes.” Right Ned said through clenched teeth.

  Right.

  I was standing on a sidewalk, lots of people watching. And recording. I should probably say something.

  “All right,” I said, even though I couldn’t remember what Abraham had asked me. “Sure. Yes. Thank you.” That should cover all the bases.

  Abraham’s stony expression did not change. “Come with me.”

  I fell into step just behind Abraham, blushing so hard, my ears hurt. The crowd ahead and beside us cleared out just like when Welton Yellow and his galvanized, Foster, had walked the street.

  No one asked us to pose for pictures. Probably because Abraham had just cut off someone’s ear.

  The Neds next to me seemed uncomfortable with all the attention.

  Abraham kept a brisk enough pace that it didn’t take long before we were down the stairs across the sidewalk and at the elevator door. Abraham opened the door with a key, waited for us to enter, and then stepped in behind us. The door shut silently.

  “Never,” he said, staring over the top of my head at the wall behind me, his eyes burning red, “do that again.”

  “Go for coffee?” I asked.

  His eyes ticked down to meet my gaze. Smoldered. “Leave without telling us. Without telling me.”

  I pressed my shoulders against the wall behind me and met that anger with a steady stare. “It was just coffee.”

  “No, it was not just coffee. You drew the attention of two Houses, who intercepted you, and four more who didn’t. In less than half an hour. Next time you want to go somewhere . . . Tell. Me.”

  “So you can follow me?”

  “So I, and House Gray, can run interference before you break someone else’s arm or start another in-House war,” he snarled.

  Right. That.

  “He got grabby, I pushed him. You destroyed his shoulder.”

  “And cut off his ear,” Right Ned added.

  “You.” Abraham’s voice rose. “Claimed a blood debt with House Black.”

  I shoved my shoulders off the wall and stood up in front of him, toe-to-toe, my hands on my hips.

  “They killed my parents. Walked into my house, murdered them, and dragged away the bodies. They owe me more than a debt.”

  So much for cooling down. Anger radiated from every inch of him.

  “House Gray can’t fight every wrong that’s happened in your life,” he said. “First House Red; now House Black. Who else are you going to turn against us?”

  “Us? I’m sorry,” I almost shouted, “but you seem to think that I’ve signed a contract and claimed House Gray. You seem to think that I want to be owned. I don’t need a House to fight my battles, Mr. Vail. And I don’t need you to do so either. Have I made myself clear?”

  He narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring. I thought for sure he’d explode. But when he spoke it was barely above a whisper.

  “I am very, very clear about you, Matilda Case. And how foolish you are being.”

  The elevator stopped and the door opened with a cheerful ping.

  I was locked in a glaring contest. There was no chance in Hades I’d be the one who looked away first.

  Luckily, someone else broke the tension.

  “Abraham,” Oscar Gray said. “So good of you to return. We have a guest.”

  Abraham’s eyes flicked up over my shoulder, and his mouth set in a hard line.

  I couldn’t help it. I turned and looked.

  Oscar stood with his back to the wide expanse of windows.

  Next to him stood a man dressed all in black. Black shirt, black slacks, black belt, and shiny shoes.

  From the way he held himself with equal poise next to Oscar, and the fact that there was a stern, black-stitched man standing behind him, I knew who he must be: John Black, the head of House Black.

  19

  HOUSE ORANGE

  He preferred to be obeyed. The arrogance of the galvanized, Robert Twelfth, had always been a fault in the creature.

  Perhaps it was because Robert was the last galvanized stitched together and shocked alive. It had the fortune of receiving the most advanced technological and medical support. Perhaps it even thought of itself as human.

  Slater Orange had owned several of the galvanized over the years. Robert Twelfth had been the least willing to obey him.

  It was distasteful. Something he had punished it for repeatedly.

  Still, the creature had been useful to him and his House in many ways over the years. And now it would be extremely useful to him one last time.

  Robert Twelfth stepped into the small, tastefully appointed chamber. It paused just inside the door, hands at its side, eyes cast downward, as was appropriate. “You called for me, Excellency?”

  Slater sat behind a desk and regarded the creature for a moment. Robert Twelfth was not his choice in bodies. Too small, bald, and sharp edged.

  But it was a strong body. And it was immortal.

  That last quality that made it the most desirable of all.

  “How many years are left in your contract with House Orange, Robert Twelfth?”

  “Thirty-one years, seven months, and two days, Excellency,” it said without hesitation.

  “Are you aware there is a clause in the contract that will allow me, at my discretion, to release you from your contract with House Orange at an earlier time if I so choose?”

  “Yes, Excellency,” it said.

  “I have decided to amend that clause. To redefine your role in House Orange.”

  Robert Twelfth didn’t say anything, but Slater could see that its breathing changed. Not speeding up from fear; it was suddenly slow and even, as if Robert Twelfth was readying for torture or a fight.

  A wasted effort. This would be a battle it couldn’t win.

  “Are you not curious as to your new post within the House, Robert Twelfth?” he asked.

  “I am here to serve,” it answered woodenly.

  “Yes,” Slater said, “you are. Good, then. Come with me, please.” He stood out of the chair, hiding how much effort it took to do so.

  The doctors had said the virus had accelerated. It would kill him within weeks, even with the hourly doses of medicine he took. Without the hourly doses, the virus would kill him within days.

  Slater had stopped taking the medicine three hours ago. From how quickly his strength had deteriorated, he believed his doctors were correct in their prognosis.

  “Attend me,” he said as he walked through the door at the back of the room.<
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  The galvanized followed him.

  They proceeded down a long, clean hallway to the room at the end. A room he had not allowed Robert Twelfth to enter before.

  Slater triggered the door to open just long enough for them to both step through before it closed and locked behind them.

  No computerized equipment or beeping machines cluttered the room, though such equipment could be at hand in seconds. Instead the room was filled with strange devices made of copper, wire, bolt, and leather.

  It looked like a madman’s laboratory.

  Or a torture chamber.

  These were the things taken from Dr. Case’s home. These were the designs meticulously sketched in his research.

  These were the things that Quinten had used to make a girl immortal, and these things would now make him immortal.

  Two clean tables with restraining straps draped off the sides, lay waiting in the center of the room. An array of lights and a spread of medical equipment that was a collision of low and high technology spread out across clean trays.

  “Today you will be undergoing modifications,” Slater said, holding his gloved hand out toward one of the tables.

  Robert Twelfth hesitated.

  “You will serve House Orange without question or pause,” Slater said. “I assure you no permanent harm will come to you, as is law by contract and seal.”

  The galvanized made eye contact this time, hatred hooded there.

  Slater met its gaze, waiting. His was the only power in this room.

  Finally, the creature walked over to the table and lay down upon it. “What is it you want of me?”

  “I want you to relax, Robert Twelfth. And when you wake, your purpose will be clear to you.”

  Slater knew the galvanized couldn’t feel pain. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t feel fear. The light sheen of sweat that covered its forehead betrayed its seeming calm.

  “You may come in now, Mr. Case.”