Infinity Bell: A House Immortal Novel

by Devon Monk

  Not that there was any breeze down here. There was hardly any air. The place stank of sweat and sewage and fish, the air so hot and damp, I wanted to spit out each breath to get rid of the taste.

  And while San Diego had been silent and Callaway Station had been busy, this place was packed with people—nothing but jostling crowd as far as the eye could see.

  The small bubble of space that our little good-bye with Slip had afforded us collapsed in on us, and I felt like I’d just been swallowed whole by sheer mass of humanity around me.

  “Do you have any idea where we’re supposed to be?” I asked Neds, trying to keep up with him and not get separated.

  “Yes,” Right Ned said. He pushed through the crowd, one hand out to sort of warn oncoming people to move out of his way.

  My bad shoulder was bumped, jostled, and wrenched back by people squeezing by in the other direction. I clenched my teeth against the pain. My leg started shaking after we’d traveled only a few yards.

  This underground rail obviously wasn’t a secret like the one in San Diego. My guess was the line in California was mostly used for smuggling, since it was so close to a port. Whereas this landlocked station was just a cheap, if crowded and slow, way for people to get across the country.

  I counted twelve different rail lines as we shoved our way through the river of people. That was a lot of trains taking people to a lot of places. I wondered which one we’d be getting on.

  Neds turned a corner and then we were walking along a very thin platform with a railway ten feet or more below us. One shove to the side and someone would be in for a bone-cracking fall.

  Of course, we weren’t the only people trying to navigate the narrow one-way walkway like it was a spacious two-way highway.

  To complicate it all were the bags, boxes, and baskets everyone was carrying.

  Neds took it all in stride, literally. But, then, he used to run with the circus. I suppose heavy crowds and deadly drops were just every other Thursday for him.

  The walkway bent again to the right, moving away from the rail. A very thin metal-and-wood bridge was built out over this section of the rail. On the other end of that very thin wood-and-metal bridge was a separate wing of the station. The two-story structure on the other side was made of windows and doors. The top story had a matched set of guards standing on the balcony, sniper rifles casually resting in their hands.

  No one was walking that way. As a matter of fact, people were going to extreme measures to not so much as brush an elbow on the railing of the bridge. Everyone knew that the bridge didn’t belong to them, and so they pretended it wasn’t there.

  Except for Neds. He strode right on across the bridge like he was coming home for supper.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mumbled.

  Yes, I trusted Neds. But I had a bad feeling about this whole Sallyo thing.

  Even Quinten hesitated before he and Gloria followed. Abraham brought up the rear.

  Neds stopped on the other side of the bridge and held up both his hands so the guard above could get a good look at him. I’m sure they had already scoped and scanned us all. If they had any inclination to want us dead, they were in the perfect position to either turn us in to the Houses or pick us all off nice and clean.

  The door opened.

  A woman dressed in black stepped out. “This way,” she said.

  We went that way into the building.

  Correction: into the office. A very clean and modern office space, the white walls covered by security screens that showed every corner of the station and a collection of old route maps. No extra chairs, just an expansive cast-iron desk with paper logbooks and other files spread out across it.

  It was cool here. A light, pleasant breeze perfumed with a hint of gardenia wafted through the air, making the stench of the station behind us a faint memory.

  In front of that desk were two pyramids of stacked little brown boxes tied up with string.

  Behind that desk sat a woman. Her skin was the same light almond of my skin, but that’s where our similarity ended. Her jet-black hair was shaved up off her ears and spiky on top. A cascade of jewels fastened around the top of her ear and ended in what looked like a set of snake fangs at her earlobe.

  Her tailored jacket was gray with wedges of white and brown slicing through it, sharpening her curves. Her face was triangular, a small mouth and chin widening to incredible kohl-lined eyes that were a golden green, the pupils slitted like a snake’s.

  First impression? She was the boss, and she wasn’t afraid to kill people until they understood that.

  Second impression? She had something for Neds.

  A slight movement of her lips, a minute widening of her pupils, gave away a world of history between them. They’d been close. Maybe lovers. Maybe more.

  “I didn’t think you’d come,” she said, her voice a soothing alto.

  “If I had any other choice, I wouldn’t have brought this to your doorstep,” Left Ned said. “I just want that said.”

  Then Right Ned said, “It’s good to see you, Sal.”

  She sat very still, but I could see the jewels on her ears trembling to the beat of her rushing heart. She might look cool on the outside, but there was a storm of emotions rolling through her.

  I didn’t know if that storm was blowing from fury or sorrow.

  She nodded once. “This wipes our debt,” she said softly.

  “I understand,” Right Ned said.

  “And you?” she asked Left Ned.

  This woman must really have known them a while. In my experience, most people thought of the Neds as one man. That Neds thought the same thoughts and spoke the same opinions.

  Nothing could be farther from the truth. Those men were two very different people, so much so that sometimes I wondered how each could stand the other.

  But Sallyo, for that’s who this must be, understood that, which meant she had an intimate knowledge of the Harris boys.

  “I understand,” Left Ned said.

  “There are rules to this deal.” She stood up from behind her desk. I’d put her at several inches shorter than me, even in those heavy-heeled boots.

  “You will be blindfolded.”

  Quinten made an annoyed sound, which she completely ignored.

  “And if you make one more noise, you will also be gagged. You will be allowed to keep your weapons. Once on my transport, you will be locked in your quarters. It will take two hours to arrive at your destination. We will have your quarters under guard, locked, and wired. You will not send or receive data of any kind. Complete technological blackout conditions.

  “When you have reached your destination, you will be blindfolded and taken to a drop point. Do not speak. Do not argue. Count yourself lucky this man has claim to a favor from me. Do not think I am unaware of what and who each of you are. Do not think I am unaware of what each of you has done.” Here her eyes flicked to Abraham, who regarded her with a soldier’s boredom.

  “If I ever see any of you again, I will kill you, no questions asked, no hesitation.”

  We sure were hearing that a lot lately.

  She didn’t do anything to signal anyone, but suddenly the room was filled with a dozen guards, her people, carrying guns and black hoods.

  There were enough people that one person could throw a hood over each of our heads and there would still be plenty more people with guns in the room.

  The woman who walked up to me was yellow-haired and brown-eyed. She paused in front of me, probably a little startled by my eyes, which I assumed were red, since I was still hurting.

  Eyes of red, you’ll soon be dead.

  I just nodded, and she snapped out of it.

  She dropped the hood over my head and tugged on a string around my neck. It was snug but I could breathe.

  Darkness. The cloth smelled like cedar and whiskey and dust. Even with my eyes open, my eyelashes scraping the cloth, I couldn’t see a damn thing. I couldn’t hear very well either.

  S
o this was more than just a blinding hood. They’d rigged up some sound buffering in the thread composition; might even have had them wired to tune out sound on command.

  The idea of the hood being wired brought other, more gruesome ideas of what it could be used for.

  I did not like putting my head in Sallyo’s hands. A bullet to the temple would end this trip awfully quickly for any of us.

  But Neds could be trusted. He’d promised he could be trusted. He’d promised that he wasn’t a spy for House Silver too, which had been a lie. But he’d promised he hadn’t been spying for a long time.

  He’d even promised he’d take over House Brown if I died.

  Whether it was smart or not, I believed him.

  “Move,” someone—I think the woman who had hooded me—said. She grabbed my bad arm, and I grunted in pain.

  Was that it? Was that enough of a noise that Sallyo would kill me, kill us?

  “She’s injured,” Right Ned said. “Take her other arm.”

  How did he know what had just happened? The only way he could have seen that was if he wasn’t wearing a hood.

  Did that mean he wasn’t going with us? Did that mean that he’d just sold us out?

  A strong hand gripped my other arm and forced me to walk.

  I could hear the scuff of footsteps from the others around me, so I knew we weren’t being separated, but I didn’t hear Neds’ footsteps. No, what I heard was his voice, barely above a whisper, as he said something halting and tender, and was hushed by Sallyo.

  Then a door shut behind us and it was impossible to hear anything through the damn black hood.

  I went up a bridge or plank or ramp and then down something similar, and was told to stand still. Something rumbled, maybe a door on tracks. I was led along a space that echoed loudly enough I could hear all our footsteps almost clearly, unless that was a trick of the hood, and then there was a blast of cold. I held my breath on a gasp as we pushed through the cold quickly, and then there was more walking.

  I have a good sense of direction. You grow up in the scrub, you keep your whereabouts about you. But I didn’t have any idea where the hell I was in relation to where I had just been.

  I did not like it.

  Finally, we stopped and the woman’s hand left my arm. Fingers fumbled against my neck. The string released, and I took a deep breath even though it hadn’t been restricting my breathing. Then the hood was pulled free.

  We were in a room decorated like a nicely appointed study.

  A quick check showed me we’d all made it. The last guard was removing the hood from Abraham. Neds were here too, sitting on the plush couch and watching mostly me.

  Any other day, I’d make myself comfortable, and there was plenty of room to do so. Three couches; several wide, stuffed chairs; a wall with shelves that held books; and another that seemed to have a window that looked out over the ocean, a selection of alcohol and chemical delights below it.

  Thick carpet at our feet. The guards exited through a door that I didn’t think was carved rosewood, as it appeared to be.

  There were a lot of visual tricks going on in this room.

  The door locked, bolted, and sealed.

  “We can talk now,” Right Ned said.

  “Where the hell is this?” Quinten asked. But Neds were still watching me.

  “It’s mostly hologram, isn’t it? The window, the door?”

  Right Ned nodded slightly.

  “We’re in a speed tube, aren’t we?” I asked, putting it all together. It was the only manner of transportation that wasn’t a plane that could fling us across half of the country in two hours. I was certain this was not a plane compartment.

  “Speed tube?” Abraham asked. “Those are all owned and closely guarded and regulated by the Houses. There are no other speed tubes.”

  “None that the Houses know about,” Right Ned said. “Sallyo will go to extreme measures to make sure it stays that way. Breathe a word of this to anyone, ever, and she will know. And then she will kill you, everyone you love, and anyone you’ve been in contact with for the past ten years.”

  “Little brown boxes,” I said.

  “Tied up with string,” Right Ned said.

  “That seems . . . excessive,” Quinten noted as he paced the parameter of the room.

  “She’ll follow through on it,” Left Ned said.

  “I’m sure she would.” Quinten opened a crystal decanter, smelled the amber contents, and replaced the stopper.

  I sat down on the couch next to Neds while the others continued to look around the place. “You were lovers?” I asked.

  Neds were silent a minute. I waited him out.

  “There are some things a man doesn’t want to share,” Left Ned said.

  “She was . . . when we knew her we were young,” Right Ned said.

  “You don’t have to tell the woman our life story,” Left Ned said.

  “We were in the same institution together,” Right Ned said, ignoring him. “You know the places where they send babies so different from other babies it’s assumed they won’t survive?”

  “But she’s not . . .” I stopped. Her eyes had been snake-pupiled. And I knew Neds said touching a person let him see things about them, visions and such that were always true, whether or not the person knew them to be so. Maybe she had a hidden ability like that.

  “She is different, isn’t she? A mutant?”

  “Lord,” Left Ned muttered.

  He nodded. “Some of us were found to be . . . useful. Houses got interested in our potential. And so we were used.”

  “Hold on. Have you been working for House Silver all your life?” I asked.

  “No. But when a House wanted to know something about someone, a thing only I could know . . . I was bought. Many times.”

  “And Sallyo?”

  “Don’t bother asking,” Left Ned said. “What she can do, what she is, that’s personal and it’s hers to tell.”

  “Sallyo bought out my contract,” Right Ned said. “Found a loophole I could drop through and out of sight. So I did. Met Sadie and Corb. We ran with the circus for four years.”

  “Do you still love her?” I asked again.

  “Time changes everyone, Matilda,” Right Ned said quietly. “Time changes everything. Sallyo and I have said our good-byes. Our final good-bye. I hope you will leave it at that. All of you,” he said, raising his voice to the rest of our group. “Please.”

  I could count on my hand how many times Ned had asked anyone please.

  He hadn’t just cashed in a favor when he’d brought us here; he’d cashed in a lifetime.

  I did him the kindness of not touching him and also of dropping the subject.

  “Thanks for getting us this far,” I said.

  “Thank me when we get back to the farm alive.” Left Ned closed his eyes, and Right Ned just gave me a small shrug.

  I got up, pulled the screen out of my duffel, and paced with it in the palm of my hand.

  “Sallyo said no sending or receiving data,” Abraham said.

  He had settled down on a love seat, his feet up on a footstool, a book in one hand.

  “I know.” I paced over to him, restless, paced away, then back.

  He set the book on his knee, watching me.

  I finally stopped near him and leaned against the wall. I tucked the screen away in my duffel. It was no use to us now anyway.

  Quinten had decided on a liquor to pour and was filling five tumblers. Gloria sat on the couch. She had taken off her shoes and was now pulling off her socks to shake the bits of concrete debris out of them.

  “Do you remember the Wings of Mercury experiment?” I asked Abraham. “Do you have any recollection of that day, of the moment time broke?”

  “I don’t know,” he said on a sigh. “I remember the last day I was human.” He sat forward and removed his jacket, taking the time to fold it even though it was filthy, and laying it across the arm of the love seat. “I’d been detained by the sh
eriff who didn’t like me spending time with his sister. It was raining—hard—and he’d been drinking harder. Accusing me of things . . .” He shook his head. “He was a gun looking for a target, and I was right there behind bars, making him angry. He came over waving his pistol at me, and I knew I wasn’t going to be walking out of that jail cell. Ever.” He paused, his gaze distant. “You never forget the first man you kill,” he said softly. “His name was Virgil Milne. We struggled for the gun, the bars between us. I got the draw. He got shot.”

  “Neds saw that,” I said. “Back on the farm when he first touched you. He saw you behind bars. Warned me that you were trouble, and I shouldn’t go following you around.”

  Abraham grunted and looked over at Neds, who were sitting with their fingers laced together in their lap, lost in their own thoughts. Since each of them operated one side of the body, this was the position I’d seen them unconsciously take when they wanted comfort.

  “Did he see anything more?” Abraham asked.

  “A girl?” I said.

  “Yes,” he said, his words slow, as if dredging the water of deep memories. “There was a girl in the doorway, wearing a dress and boots. She was soaked and muddy, as if she’d been running through the rain. . . .

  “I’d never seen her before,” he continued. “But there were always families coming through town, settling in while they looked for a fortune, then moving on.

  “She knew my name. Told me we had to run. Had to stop . . . something. Then there was this sound. Greater than a bell, louder than metal breaking. It thickened the air until I could hear the ringing in my bones, my teeth. A ringing that filled the jail with the scent of lightning and taste of copper. It was the strangest thing.”

  “Did you see anything else?” Quinten asked from across the room. “A flash of light? Sudden darkness?”

  “No. There was that sound, that great, infinite bell. . . . Then . . . then I woke on an operating table, and it was twenty years later.”

  Quinten picked up three of the tumblers. Took the first over to Neds. Right Ned accepted it with a nod.

  “Do any of the other galvanized remember that day?” Quinten asked, bringing the tumblers to us.

  “They all do, in some manner or other,” Abraham said. “Under the circumstances, I wish I remembered more.” He took the tumbler from Quinten, frowned at the liquid, sniffed it, then tossed it back in one shot.