House Immortal

by Devon Monk

  “I thought I’d do some sightseeing around town,” Left Ned said.

  “Have you considered our offer, Mr. Harris?” Oscar asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Right Ned said. “I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

  “Good. Well, then?” Oscar raised his brows at Abraham. “Haven’t you had enough of me for a while, Bram?”

  Abraham gave him a small, almost fatherly smile. That familiarity surprised me a little. But, then, if Abraham was as old as he said he was, and if he had been serving House Gray for much of that time, he would have known Oscar from a young age.

  “If anything comes up . . .” Abraham started.

  “I know where you are,” Oscar said. “Go on now. Enjoy.”

  “Not yet,” Elwa powered into the room, her stride short and punctuated. She was carrying two bags. “Clothing and sundries for Matilda,” she said, handing the bags to Abraham. “Are you sure I can’t pack for you, Abraham Seventh?”

  “No, thank you, Elwa. I already packed.”

  Elwa frowned, looking disappointed. “Well, I’ve had the car brought around.”

  “Thank you.” He turned toward me. “Shall we, Matilda Case?”

  “Lead the way.” I kept one hand on my duffel and the other on my rifle, as we entered the elevator and left House Gray behind us.

  22

  Millions of people joined their fight. And for fifty bloody years the galvanized tirelessly led that war, that uprising of House Brown.—2160

  —from the journals of L.U.C.

  We drove through the city to another speed tube. Once Abraham had finished inputting our destination and other information, the pod shot us off at ridiculous speeds while projecting fake pastoral views around us.

  “Is it an animal?” I asked.

  “What?” Abraham turned so he could better see me. We were both sitting in the front of the luxurious car, our bags in the trunk, my rifle in the backseat, my duffel at my feet.

  “I haven’t gotten any solid clues out of anyone about the training we are apparently required to attend today. I thought I’d narrow it down a bit. Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

  He grinned and scratched the stubble at his jaw. “You must be a delight at birthday parties.”

  “So, it’s a secret I can’t know? That’s dumb.”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t know it.”

  “So? Tell.”

  “After facing you on the sparring mat? I’m comfortable on this side of caution.”

  “Are you saying I’m unpredictable?”

  “I’m saying you find solutions. You find answers. You don’t follow the path that seems the most logical choice. You question . . . everything, as near as I can tell. You decide and you act. Rather quickly.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should,” he said.

  He didn’t look like he was going to change his mind about the training, so I changed the subject to something else that was bothering me.

  “Before we left, Oscar mentioned something about House Red,” I said.

  He looked out the window, suddenly interested in the scenery that was filled with quaint cottages and bubbling fountains and moss-covered statuary. I didn’t think that idyllic little town existed anywhere in the world.

  “He said that calling off the bombing of the Fessler compound continues to be costly.”

  “Mmm.”

  “How costly?”

  Abraham squinted as if he could see beyond the fake sheep and fake hills and fake world around us. “You do understand what happened there.”

  “You asked Oscar to call off the people who were trying to level the Fessler compound?”

  “Mostly right. I asked Oscar for a personal favor. I asked him to call off the people who were working unregulated, uncontracted night hours on the project for House Red. To do so, Oscar had to halt all workforces for House Red in North America.”

  “Everyone?” I asked, startled. “That must be hundreds—”

  “Thousands.”

  “—of people. Why?”

  He turned back to me. “It was the only fair way to deal with the situation while calling attention to the problem in a manner House Red would respond to.”

  “Couldn’t he have called off that one workforce?”

  “Yes. But it would have painted a target on the Fessler compound, on the families who were running for their lives, and on the people who took them in. House Gray oversees people, but every House has ways to make life miserable for those who cross them. People who remain unclaimed, the rebels—House Brown—are uncounted, unnoticed, and, therefore, very easy to eliminate.”

  “House Red would have been angry enough over stopping one work site that they would have eliminated people? Killed people?” I pictured Aranda Red’s stern image in the training room, everything about her hard and perfect and edged.

  Holy crap, I thought she might be angry enough to do just that.

  “Hell,” I exhaled. “I made you call off all the workers in North America to cover for one small group of people who should have had the sense to run when they had the chance.” I scrubbed my fingers back through my hair.

  How many other people had that one small action affected? Would any of them come to harm, or be seen as suspicious enough that Aranda Red would order them eliminated?

  “Let’s be clear on this, Matilda,” he said. “I asked Oscar to call them off. I knew the consequences.”

  And he’d gone forward with it.

  “Because you were that desperate to get me off my property and signed up to your House?”

  Something dangerous kindled deep in his eyes. “Because there were children in that compound. Families.” His gaze challenged me and my judgment of him.

  I finally looked away.

  “There is a reason I claimed House Gray,” he said. “Reasons I drafted the peace treaty that ended the Uprising between galvanized and the Houses.”

  “So you could destroy the only chance House Brown had at making the world a different place for people? A better place?”

  “So House Brown had a chance to survive. At all. As long as galvanized fought alongside House deserters, they would remain a target.”

  “And how did leaving them help? House Brown scratches by on luck and pure stubbornness. If the galvanized had continued to fight for House Brown to stand equal to the other Houses, the world would be a better place.”

  “One,” he said, “House Brown will never be equal to the other Houses, because it is made of people who think for themselves, fight for themselves, and care for their neighbors. It is not a power-hungry monarchy. The day it turns into that is the day it is truly dead. Two, galvanized can’t die. Cannot. The Houses knew that. The soldiers knew that.

  “If the fight had continued, it wouldn’t have been galvanized blood that was spilled, wouldn’t have been the galvanized hearts that were stilled. Men, women, and children fell. By the thousand. Too many dead. Far too many.”

  I knew what he’d bargained away for that peace between House Brown and the other Houses. The right to be recognized as human. The right for the galvanized to be free.

  For the first time, I wondered how he’d talked the other eleven galvanized into signing away their freedom for House Brown. I wondered how he’d convinced them to bow to the shackles of the Houses.

  “I never looked at it quite like that,” I admitted.

  “This training is important,” he said, changing the subject, for which I was grateful. “We will go over the basics of what’s expected of you at the gathering.”

  “When Oscar announces I’m a part of House Gray?”

  “Yes. And when the other Houses verify and give their approval.”

  “We’re still waiting on their approval? I thought we just did that this morning. I p
roved I was strong in front of everyone. I let them scan me to see that I’m galvanized.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean the Houses will stand by and allow Gray to claim you. The gathering will be their last chance to negate your contract.”

  “They can do that? How?”

  “If you step out of line, if you offend another head of House, if you offend another galvanized or in any other way break the code of conduct expected of you at the gathering, the contract will be voided, your loyalties put into question, and your service will go to the highest bidder.”

  Hell.

  “How long do I have to be perfect in their eyes?”

  “Just to be safe?” he said. “I’d start now.”

  Great. I pressed my lips together and wondered how long it would be before I messed this up.

  It took us three hours to reach the west coast. After that, a very short drive took us to a sprawling building lit up with pulsing lights and colors.

  “Someone’s having a party,” I remarked.

  “Several someones,” he said.

  He wasn’t kidding. The expanse of parking area around the building was filled with vehicles, and a steady stream of people flowed into the building from streets and skywalks.

  “What is this all about?” I asked.

  “Let’s find out.”

  He drove the car around to the back, where a door in the side of the building opened up for us. He drove into the very nice garage, parked, then got out of the car and started off toward an elevator.

  I got out too, pulled my duffel over my shoulder, and after a moment’s hesitation, left the rifle in the car. I had my revolver and a scarf full of time. I figured I could handle just about anything that came at me.

  Abraham was waiting in the elevator, so I picked up the pace and joined him there.

  He punched the button for the main floor.

  “You’ll want to hang back a bit, blend in, but don’t get out of my eyesight, understand?”

  “Sure. Of course,” I said.

  He didn’t buy it.

  “Just . . .” He turned and set his shoulders, taking up all the room in front of the doors. “Try not to draw attention to yourself, okay?”

  “Like anyone would notice me.”

  “I don’t know how anyone could miss you,” he murmured.

  The elevator came to a soft stop, a light chimed on, and then the doors opened wide.

  Before Abraham had even taken a step, a rise of excited voices got louder. The crowd out in the huge lobby area milled between rows of three-story columns that were lit a vibrant green, washing the ceiling, the reflective floor, and everyone else in that light.

  But when Abraham stepped out of the elevator, the columns were washed in a soft gray light, making it feel like early dawn in the room. Hundreds of people oohed; more than a few shrieked. A rising chant of “Seventh, Seventh, Seventh,” spread across the room in a rising wave of sound.

  Abraham strode out into the crowd, his arms stretched to either side like a beloved warrior returned from battle.

  The room erupted in cheers.

  Don’t draw attention to yourself, he said. Ha! No one was looking at anything but him.

  I strolled out of the elevator and threaded through the crowd until I was leaning against one of the columns, out of the way of the main flow of people.

  “First time?” a woman asked me.

  She was about my height and general coloring, maybe a little younger than me, and had dimples and a generous mouth. She wore a white shirt, blue overshirt, green pants, and bright orange shoes. Strips of yellow, violet, and every other House color ringed her arms.

  “My name’s Listra.” She held out her hand.

  What was the correct thing to do here? What was the thing that wouldn’t get me kicked out of House Gray? For all I knew, she was a House spy come to check on my behavior.

  “Matilda.” I took her hand, and when we shook, she tapped two fingers against the inside of my wrist. The House Brown signal. Thank goodness. I tapped the inside of her wrist too, and she grinned.

  “I thought so,” she said.

  “So, what is all this?” I gestured toward the people taking pictures and shouting questions at Abraham.

  “The jumble. You know, all the galvanized get together before the big gathering, talk to fans, answer questions, pose for photos.”

  “Right. I’ve heard about it, I just didn’t think it would be so . . .”

  “Noisy?” she asked as a huge cheer went up and all the columns washed with violet.

  “Happy,” I said.

  The cheer went louder and the crowd clapped as a tall, rawboned woman wearing a purple plaid shirt and loose plum slacks walked across the room toward Abraham. Her hair was lavender and cut like a boy’s, short and combed to one side.

  Abraham smiled, and when she was close enough, they hugged.

  The crowd went wild.

  “Friends?” I asked.

  “You don’t know? I heard you went into a House to deal with something.” At my look, she added, “Word got out about the Fesslers’ place. You know how House Brown is. One person says something to another person, and pretty soon the whole world knows.”

  I nodded.

  “So when you showed up here with Abraham Seventh, I figured it was House Gray you had business with.”

  “You’re right. I’m dealing with House Gray. But I’m still a little behind on all this galvanized stuff.”

  “Not much to get, really,” she said. “That’s Clara Third. Works for House Violet, Faith. Kind of shy, doesn’t say much, but Abraham’s always been kind toward her. Other galvs already in the building are House Green’s Dolores Second, House Red’s Loy Ninth, and the threesome from House Blue: Wila Fifth, Vance Fourth, and Obedience Tenth.”

  “Do all the galvanized show up here and do—this?”

  “Every year, for one evening before the gathering. It was their idea, and no matter what’s going on between the Houses, they go out and meet their fans. It’s nice of them, don’t you think?”

  I still thought it was weird that the galvanized had fans.

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s nice.”

  Abraham gave Clara one last pat on the shoulder, then walked away, scanning the crowd for me. He quickly spotted me—so points for the man—and I held up my fingers in a short wave. He nodded toward a door that opened behind him.

  “Apparently, I am being summoned,” I said.

  “Are you all right?” she asked in that House Brown tone that said both I will help you escape and I want info so we can keep an eye on you.

  It was sweet.

  “No worse for the wear,” I said, because I was not going to screw this up now.

  “All right. I just thought the message from your brother sounded like he was in over his head. If you need anything, you know how to find us.”

  “What message from my brother?” I asked.

  Abraham had noticed I wasn’t following him and threw me a hard glance. Several people around him looked my way, but I half turned with a smile on my face, pretending it wasn’t me he was looking at.

  “What message?” I asked Listra again.

  “It came through yesterday. Didn’t you get pinged? I thought Boston Sue would have sent it to you.”

  “Maybe she did and I missed it,” I said. “Basics?”

  “House Orange, hidden enemy, and coordinates.”

  “Do you remember the coordinates?”

  “No.”

  “Was his message coded to me?”

  “I don’t know. I caught it on a half-second scrounge banking off the hub at your place.” She glanced over at Abraham. “You’d better go.”

  I looked that way too. He had moved into the next room, and four people stood at the door, keeping others
from entering the room. He was both chatting with a woman with long, light brown hair who had her back toward me and throwing angry glances my way.

  Crap.

  “If you need anything,” Listra said again.

  “I’ll find you,” I said. “May the earth rise to your feet.”

  “And the wind at your back,” she finished.

  She faded into the crowd quick as a drop of water in a stream, and I wandered my way through the traffic toward the door.

  The lighted columns shifted from violet to white, and the crowd gasped and cheered.

  House White galvanized January Sixth sashayed into the room like a celebrity. I caught a glimpse of a knockout figure and long, pale yellow hair before the crowd practically rioted to get closer to her.

  No one seemed to be paying me much attention, which was good. The guards at the door ignored me completely, even after I’d politely tried to get their attention.

  “Please let her in,” Abraham said behind them.

  As soon as he spoke, it was like I was suddenly visible. They gave me that up-down look, and one of the men leered at me. “Good luck, sunshine,” he said, stepping aside.

  They shut the door behind us. The room was nice, just this side of luxurious; couches and chairs coving up the corners, a table off to one side spread with food and drinks so fancy they looked like artwork.

  There were also six people sitting on those luxurious chairs and eating those fancy artworks, staring at me.

  A woman in her midfifties with long brown hair pulled back loosely from her suntanned, heart-shaped face walked over to Abraham and me.

  “Bram,” she said, “put on your manners, boy.” Green stitches ran along her hairline and down beneath her cheeks, then mouth, giving her a slightly sewn-doll look. “Introduce us to this young lady properly.”

  Abraham gave her a tolerant smile, then extended his hand toward me. “Matilda Case, I would like to introduce you to Dolores Second, House Green, Agriculture.”

  “Call me Dotty, honey,” she said in a soft drawl. “We’re all friends here.”

  Abraham pointed at the tall, rawboned woman with lavender hair who was curled up in a wingback chair. Her pale purple stitches made a map of her plain face.