House of Slide: Hunter

by Juliann Whicker

  “He must think that your blood is for harvesting, just like Dariana’s and Devlin’s.”

  I shivered. “Isn’t it?”

  “No,” they said in unison.

  “Neither is yours any longer,” my mother said calmly.

  “Unless they’ve found a way to conciliate that much Nether blood with taint,” Matthew said slowly.

  “So my blood can’t be used any more to make demon Wilds?”

  “No, but don’t sound so happy about it. She still wants you dead.”

  “Why?” I demanded. “Does everyone want me dead? The Wilds are after me, even Hunters were searching for me. Why? I’ve never done anything to anyone.”

  “You’re an antithesis. These Wilds hunt you with their bare hands,” my mother said, her voice slurring slightly. “You destroy all the technology they would use to control you. You do it without even noticing. The whole world is running to technology. Helmets with lasers and energy pulses and mental wavelengths, it’s all useless against you. If they can’t use you, they need to destroy you. You upset the balance of power.”

  “Shut-up, Helen,” Matthew snarled. “Save your energy for yourself.”

  “I’m not dying,” she said, reaching up to pat his cheek. “I’m just absorbing the taint. I believe the creature tried to bond with me. He must have bled into my shoulder. Such a strange thing to do.”

  “It’s almost as though they wish to recruit you,” Matthew said, his mouth a thin line.

  My mother laughed, but it sounded off, tinny and strange.

  Matthew took her to a tree where he laid her on the moss at the roots. He leaned a hand against the tree as he placed a hand on her chest and began singing.

  I could barely hear any sound, like he was directing all of his voice into my mother.

  “What can I do?” I asked, needing to do something.

  He glanced at me with a frown before he nodded and broke off of his singing. “There’s a bottle of death in the left bottom drawer of my desk.”

  I turned and ran, leaving my mother talking to Matthew about yellow flowers while Matthew sang to her.

  They were both crazy.

  Chapter 7

  In the days that followed, my mother seemed more honestly subdued. Every once in a while she’d shift her shoulder as if it still hurt.

  I spent my time studying with Matthew about plants and my mother would not offer contradicting theories. Studying about plants had to do more with my abilities than their simple chemistry, although knowing which plants would staunch blood and could be used to destroy taint seemed very relevant. I learned how to sing them into life, to lean them until they would respond to my will more than random chaos like the plants from the woods.

  Matthew could look at a plant and it would respond with small movements or large, shooting out growth rapidly, or slowly budding. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t even replicate the vines shooting out of the end of the stick that I’d done with Lewis. I simply felt too ambivalent to focus on it. I had ability but lack of motivation.

  Matthew tried to teach me to control the birds, but overall, the most I could get them to do was flutter around me, brushing my face with the tips of their wings before they fluttered back to their shadowed branches.

  I had nightmares about demons, about killing them and turning them over and seeing Lewis instead of demons. I hated those dreams. I should not feel torn about destroying something evil that wanted to destroy me and the rest of the world, but I did anyway.

  “Matthew, is there any way to defeat demons without destroying them?”

  He looked up from the kitchen table where he studied a book about arcane plant lore and frowned more deeply than usual. “Of course. Destroy their food source and they cease being a problem.”

  “What is their food source?”

  “Humanity.”

  “Destroy humanity? Wow. That’s brilliant.”

  He smiled slightly. “I should say, corrupted humanity with schisms in their souls. It’s human nature to have weaknesses, but when they’re allowed to grow, they become ripe for demons.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “But mother was saved.”

  “Through great sacrifice,” he said tersely. “Yes. People can be rehabilitated but only through great effort. And now, she’s not whole enough to go back to killing them. She could have destroyed all three of those demon men easily enough if she’d wanted to. It took great effort for her not to.”

  “But she wanted me to kill them.”

  He scowled. “You haven’t broken the Code. You should be safe.”

  “You don’t think so.”

  “I think you may be safe from demons, but not from grief.”

  “I’m not going to kill myself,” I said, frowning at him.

  “Or lean yourself either,” he said, his muddy gray eyes mocking. “Now it matters less if you break the Code for fear of demon possession, more for other things, like becoming your very own brand of evil.”

  I shook my head but felt in my heart that something, the slight flicker of satisfaction I’d felt ending someone’s life, the death I’d absorbed a rush that blocked out the pain of a broken bond and a lonely heart.

  “How do we fight evil if killing it makes us evil?”

  He sighed. “We use caution and retire from Hunting before it becomes an addiction.”

  I nodded my head. “That makes sense. How long am I supposed to learn about plants before I’m trained?”

  “There’s no end to training,” my mother said from the door where she held a heavy tome.

  “And yet, we call people trained,” Matthew said turning to frown at my mother. He hadn’t quite forgiven her for forcing me to kill the demons. He turned back to me. “You’ve been doing a lot of resting since you’ve been here. Most of your wounds have healed.”

  “Is that part of my training?” I asked, unconsciously running my finger up and down the slash in my left cheek.

  “Yes. Your first grand lesson: do not faint from unhealed wounds. Not only are your enemies unlikely to catch you, you’ll find that while you’re unconscious, they’re trading you for an alliance.”

  “I am sorry,” my mother murmured and I realized he was talking to her.

  I frowned at her. “You shouldn’t be. I need to learn not to hesitate.”

  “There are other ways,” Matthew said, scowling darkly at my mother.

  She laughed as she looked up at him. “Neither of us would know, would we? Build strong rune wards, have others fight in your place, but when it comes down to it, you have to be willing to die rather than give in to the darkness.”

  Matthew’s mouth thinned. “Death can be a beautiful thing.”

  She stared at him, her smile gone as they faced off, leaving an uncomfortable silence.

  “What about my Wild abilities? I was able to create a kind of force-field with my anti techno powers, drawing on the life energy of the plants around me. What else can I do with it, besides blow up tech?”

  “Lacer,” my mother said quietly.

  Matthew frowned thoughtfully until he stepped towards me and put his hand on my forehead. I gasped as I saw a woman pointing at people with her fists, sending waves of energy into them, blasting them away from her.

  “Not very effective however impressive it looked,” my mother said, bringing me back to the stone walled kitchen with oppressive dark beams softened by Matthew’s ever present vines. Her dark blue eyes looked thoughtful as she gazed at Matthew. “What about Cyrus?”

  Matthew snorted. “For someone who nobody could kill, he died terribly easily when you got to him.”

  She smiled thinly. “I used my feminine wiles on him. Also, I crushed his windpipe before he could get in range of me. Sometimes it’s the simple things that mean the most.”

  “You’re scaring your daughter,” Matthew said, frowning at her. “Not that he didn’t deserve death, you shouldn’t talk about such things.”

  My mother shrugged. “Not talking about it won’
t help her. Dariana, try the skills Matthew showed you. After that, he can show you Cyrus.”

  “I’m her trainer. I decide what she knows about the twisted people who could manipulate the structure of matter.”

  I shook my head. “Sure, it’s creepy hearing about the people my mother killed, but at the same time, just because I know what I can do doesn’t mean I’ll do it.”

  “Cyrus melted people’s brains. I’m not showing you that,” he said firmly.

  My mother frowned slightly. “Not just brains, the tiny bit of your brain without which you instantaneously die. It’s very precise. It took many autopsies to finally see how he killed people.”

  Matthew shook his head. “Forget about Cyrus. Show me what Lacer could do. Send a wave of energy from your hands to me.”

  He send up a streak of green defense runes while I closed my eyes and tried to focus on what I’d seen of Lacer, blonde hair in a ponytail while her silver romper and gauntlets looked a bit sci-fi. I sent a tentative wave of energy towards Matthew and flew backwards from recoil or something so I cracked my head against the stone wall of the kitchen, reeling while Matthew and Helen looked at me bemusedly. My head hurt for a few minutes and I tried it again, bracing myself, but I still got some blowback that singed my face.

  “Now Cyrus,” my mother said nodding.

  “No,” Matthew and I said at the same time. We exchanged glances while my mother laughed, shook her head then turned to leave the kitchen.

  Later that day, I felt compelled to climb the stairs lined with well-trimmed vines. I walked past my room and opened another door.

  “Welcome to my office,” Matthew said, looking up from his desk, the bright light from the walls of windows that weren’t covered by vines showing his wrinkles more clearly. He gestured to the chair beside the wide desk.

  “We’ll do some imprinting lessons today.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Don’t sound so excited. Your gift can be incredibly useful if you know its proper application.”

  “Remembering how Devlin betrayed me isn’t my favorite thing.”

  He glanced at me, his eyes sad while his mouth smirked in amusement. “Your brother had gifts that he used very well. He still died. We’re not here to commune with him, but succeed where he failed to use his play wisely.”

  “This isn’t a game.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Matthew said as he walked past me, closing the door. Everything is a game. The stakes are life and death, but sometimes just death.”

  I stared at him, shaking my head. “No…”

  “Enough,” he said even as my throat grew thick and my vocal chords tightened.

  I opened my mouth but nothing else could come out.

  “You are in my House, therefore under my power.”

  Suddenly I could speak again. “What did you do that for?” I asked as I rubbed my throat.

  He eyed me as he went to the desk, picked up a book then flipped it to a certain page. “I demonstrated my power. I could have taken control of your whole body, but I take it that you don’t require that much proof before you are convinced that I am indeed your trainer here.”

  “Is this about my mother, to prove that you’re just as strong as she is?”

  “It’s about being your trainer,” he snarled.

  He put the book in front of my face, so close that I couldn’t make out the words. I jerked back and stumbled into the wall.

  “How long will it take you to absorb this tome?”

  I stared at him.

  “You don’t know how to read a book?”

  “Yes, I can read, thank you very much, but you made it sound like osmosis or something.”

  “Osmosis, no. However, if the book has been read before, the imprint of that person, the images, thoughts, perceptions, and so forth of the contents would be at your disposal at a touch. This is why Cools understand so much but know so little.”

  “Devlin didn’t read that book.”

  “You should be able to read any imprint with a little effort.”

  I took the book, gingerly, worried it would attack me, but it was just a book. I concentrated, closing my eyes and trying to ‘read’ it, but all I felt was the cracked leather of the cover while the moldy, musty scent of old paper tickled my nose. I waited for a long time until I felt a flutter of unease in my stomach, a worry that coalesced and grew until I slammed the book shut, suddenly anxious, staring at Matthew while my heart thumped in my chest.

  The door flew open and my mother stood there, searching the room before she stepped forward and took the book out of my hands.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  I blinked at the accusation in her tone.

  “Reading?”

  “Helen, how nice of you to join us.”

  Matthew stared at my mother while her anger melted away until she stood, uncertain.

  “I’m sorry, but this book isn’t good for you,” she said quietly before turning and throwing it on the desk.

  “Mother, it’s just a book,” I said, frowning at her. “I’m going to learn how to read imprints off of it. It might not seem like the most relevant training in the world, but Matthew is my Trainer.”

  She gave me a tight smile. “Of course Matthew is your trainer, but did you read the title? Most of the books in this House have been banned for good reason.”

  “You would know that, wouldn’t you, Helen? This book was acquired from my father’s house,” Matthew said to me, smiling slightly. “Helen read most of them, all of the ones relating to two topics: Demonology and Hollows. She wanted to learn exactly how to stop him.”

  “There is no way to stop him,” my mother said in a quiet voice that made chills run up my spine.

  Matthew shrugged. “You’re probably right. At any rate, with a demon mistress in the game we don’t need the Hollow to exterminate us all. The demons,” he drawled, leaning over the book. “Make the end game even more dynamic.”

  “It’s not a game,” I mumbled.

  “I’m sorry,” my mother said with a fleeting smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “This is the last time I’ll disrupt your lesson. I don’t want you to absorb anything about demons, though.”

  “Helen, your dear husband wrote the book. I’m certain that if she can cope with cutting out the beating heart of a demon man, she’ll survive reading a book.”

  My mother’s face tightened. “You are the trainer.”

  “I am the Trainer,” Matthew agreed, smiling at her charmingly. “Although you’re free to observe our lessons any time, the next time you interfere, I will be forced to paralyze you.”

  My mother inhaled sharply and glared at Matthew. “Of course,” she murmured, but her eyes flashed as she withdrew.

  “After dinner, which I hope you’ll make, we’ll go into the drawing room and sing more of Dariana’s soul into place,” he informed her.

  She paused and raised her chin slightly. “I live but to serve,” she said before she left, closing the door a little too hard behind her.

  I shook my head and picked up the book off the desk. The title on the spine read, ‘Demons, a Short History’, with Woods lower, as the author.

  “My dad really wrote this?” I asked Matthew.

  He shrugged, frowning at the book in my hands.

  “She doesn’t want me to read it. She doesn’t want me to touch it. My father wrote it, but she doesn’t trust me not to become corrupted by something as stupid as touching an old book that was fine for her to read?”

  My voice was rose, my heart beating faster. I didn’t mean to be angry, certainly not at my mother, but how could she expect me to put up with that much hypocrisy?

  “She’s probably right,” Matthew said, taking the book out of my hands and sliding it back onto the desk. “We’ll find something else for you to practice reading imprints. I like her trying to protect you. After the demon occurrence I began to doubt.”

  “It makes sense that I learn how to ki
ll demons. It really should be part of my training considering how often they’re trying to kill me.”

  “Yes, but that’s my job to be the cold, calculating, practical one,” he said with a slight smirk.

  “I don’t think she considers you very practical,” I said, rubbing my fingers together. I felt something from the book, a residue that whether I liked it or not, I recognized.

  That night, dinner was a somber affair with Matthew’s scowl and my mother’s grim silence. My mother had done more than fix food, she’d fixed the dining room, which instead of being a room covered in vines, with a dining table buried beneath layers of dirt and leaves, was an immaculate space with vines artistically clinging to a few walls but otherwise unobtrusive. The table looked freshly sanded and the fresh wood mixed well with the scent of braised greens and baked root vegetables. The salad had nuts and berries that were not bitter.

  “Thank you,” Matthew said, with a smile that looked more like a grimace as he raised his fork to his lips.

  “It’s nothing,” my mother responded coolly as she lifted her sparkling goblet, fiddling with it.

  “How are things with Slide?” I asked, breaking their icy politeness.

  “Slide?” my mother asked, raising her eyebrow.

  “The House with which you sometimes associate,” Matthew clarified in a crisp accent.

  “Thank you, Matthew,” my mother said, saccharine sweet. “Are we British this evening? How posh.”

  “What is with your accent?” I asked. Sometimes he sounded all English and sometimes southern. Sometimes both at the same time.

  “He was born in England and then shipped to Louisiana when his father’s new wife disapproved of him. He was raised as a southern gentleman, but born an English nobleman.”

  “That explains his excellent manners,” I said sending Matthew a sidelong glance.

  He looked back at me with slightly glinting eyes, but a smirk drifted across his mouth. “I’ve worked my entire life to overcome my upbringing,” he drawled.

  “That really is the weirdest accent. Lewis would shift accents sometimes, but he always sounded true to who he was being.”

  “Did he?” my mother asked, leaning forward as though that were a fascinating thing.