House Immortal (18 page)

When the Houses discovered the undead soldiers' secret meetings, they were punished and tortured for treason and collusion. That was the last mistake the world made.—2099

—from the journals of L.U.C.

T
hat man standing in front of me, the head of House Black, was the man who had sent people to murder my parents.

He might be the one who was holding my brother. Which meant he might be here to release him. Or to try to take me.

“Matilda Case.” Oscar motioned for me to step out of the elevator, which I did. “May I introduce to you John Black, head of House Black?”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Case.” John Black said with an accent that made me think of warmer climate.

He was taller than Oscar, built like a bulldog, and appeared to be in his early sixties. His brown hair was dusted with gray, cut short, and receding at the temples. A mustache curved downward to the edges of his mouth beneath a nose that looked like it'd been on the wrong side of a fist more than once.

The lines on his face and the hound-weary set of his eyes gave him the look of a man who drank his pain.

“Morning,” I said.

I glanced at Oscar for a clue. Was House Black here to negotiate my brother's release? Or was this about my morning coffee and bone breaking?

The galvanized man who stood behind John Black
frowned at me. The black stitches that speared across his tawny skin through his eyebrow and all the way down his cheek, jaw, and neck, did nothing to distract from his intensity and good looks. His hair and beard were shaved to a shadow, making his angular features and ocean-green eyes pantherlike.

He had on a short-sleeved black T-shirt, which showed the stitching on his muscular arms.

I couldn't tell if he was angry at me or just angry in general.

“Perhaps you could give us a little privacy, Mr. Harris?” Oscar asked.

Neds looked at me.

It was sweet of him to wait to see if I said it was okay. I nodded. No need to get him into any more of my trouble.

“Of course,” Right Ned said. “Good day, Excellencies.” He strode toward the suites.

“So, this is the new galvanized.” John Black strolled toward me, his galvanized walking beside him.

Abraham had also left the elevator and stood a respectful distance to my right, about midpoint between Oscar and me. I wasn't the best at reading body language on a person—give me a wild critter, and I could tell exactly what was going through its brain—but Abraham didn't seem worried about this man or the galvanized with him.

“How old did you say you were?” John Black asked.

“I didn't, sir.”

He stopped and the galvanized—Buck, that was his name—flicked a look to Abraham, who gave a slight shrug. Buck went back to frowning at me.

“No,” John Black said. “You didn't, did you? So I'm asking you now. How old are you, Matilda Case?”

“Twenty-six, sir.”

“Since your reawakening?”

Oscar, who was still standing by the window,
answered, “She's twenty-six and apparently wasn't reawakened like the others.”

“Are you strong?” John Black asked.

“Would you like me to show you how strong I am?” I offered, maybe with a little too much challenge. Okay, with a lot too much challenge.

Abraham quickly stepped forward. “If I may, Your Excellencies?”

He never spoke that formally around Oscar, but apparently when there was another House in the room, he pulled out all his manners.

“Continue, Abraham,” Oscar said.

“I would be happy to test Matilda's strength, reflexes, and other measures that prove her as galvanized.”

What? Was the man picking a fight with me?

I glared at him. He glared right back.

Oh, this was so on.

“Will that satisfy you?” Oscar asked John Black.

“It will.”

“Good,” Oscar said. “We will meet you in the training hall.”

Abraham gave both men a shallow bow. They turned and walked down the hall that led to Oscar's office, Buck following behind.

“Matilda.” Abraham strode past the elevator and took a cleverly hidden staircase beside it.

I assumed I was supposed to follow so I did.

Abraham stormed down two gray carpeted flights of stairs. I kept my gaze on my feet and my hand on the metal railing as we descended. A test of strength and reflexes seemed pretty straightforward. But I didn't know what those other measures he mentioned would be.

Abraham pulled up short on the next landing. I threw my hand up, palm slapping against his chest to keep from running into him with a full-body press.

Not that I'd mind getting him in a full-body press.

Yes, I was still thinking those kinds of things about him.

“This is not the time to be foolish,” he said.

Apparently he was not thinking those kinds of things about me.

“Again with calling me a fool. You know that's no way to sweet-talk a girl.”

“I understand you have history with House Black,” he said.

“No. I have
murder
and dead parents with House Black.”

“Matilda.” He wiped his hand over his face. “Listen to me.” He took a step backward so there was room between us. “You need to know what's going to happen. Right now.”

“All right.” I crossed my arms and leaned my hip against the rail. “I'm listening.”

“This is more than a test of strength. They are going to be watching you so they can bid on you.”

“House Gray and House Black?” I asked.

“Every House. By the time we enter that room, the head of every House will be present in some manner. And since you haven't signed on with House Gray, you will have no say in who claims you.”

“What? No. Why did you do this? Why did you tell them you would test me?”

“It was either that or have House Black claim you with no display.”

“He can do that?”

“Currently? Yes. After the gathering, some debts between our Houses will fall away. But right now, Black has more power than Gray.”

“I am not working for Black. Not ever.”

“Black might not win the bid,” he said. “There are other Houses that have more power. Blue, for certain. Perhaps Yellow.”

“No,” I said. “My life isn't going to be taken away from me by a
perhaps
.” I turned and jogged up the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“The contract is in my room.”

“You're expected. We're expected. In the training hall.”

“Well, they'll have to expect me a little late.”

I had put an entire flight between us before I heard him cuss quietly, then pound up the stairs after me.

“This is a stupid idea,” Abraham snarled as we jogged across the living room area. “A foolish, foolish move.”

“I thought you wanted me in House Gray.” I opened the door and rushed into the ridiculously fancy suite. I stopped, turned a slow circle.

Where had I left the contract?

“What?” he asked.

“Give me a second.” I jogged into the bedroom.

“Did you lose the contract? Tell me you didn't lose the contract.”

“I didn't lose it. It's here.” I threw the covers off the bed, then pushed them aside so I could search the floor. Nothing.

“Matilda, you are
killing
me,” he said from the doorway. “We have to go. Now.”

“Just a second.”

“There are no more seconds,” he said.

“Oh!” I snapped my fingers. “Hold on.” I pulled the duffel off my shoulder and opened it, dragging out the scarf.

“What–”

I yanked on the thread, stitches slipping away, freezing time and muffling the world with a heavy silence. Abraham was frozen in place, his mouth still open.

I carried the scarf with me and continued to pull on stitches as I searched for the piece of paper. Finally found it, a third of the scarf later, on the desk in the sitting area.

I gathered scarf and thread in one hand and quickly signed the bottom of the agreement.

“Thank you, Grandma,” I whispered. The silence
lifted, the world buzzed back to life and time picked up again.

“—are you,” Abraham said from the other room. “Fuck.” He strode through the door. The look on his face made me laugh.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Disappear?”

“I didn't disappear. I walked right past you. And found the contract.” I held up the paper to prove it. “I'm quicker than I look. Don't forget it.”

“You signed?”

I glanced down at the paper, the reality of what I'd done sinking in. “Um. Yes. I did. Ten years.” The last came out too soft.

I'd just given away a decade of my life.

Abraham was suddenly in front of me. “Matilda?” He touched my shoulders, then drew his palms down to grip my upper arms. His hands were hot as furnaces.

I felt like I'd been swallowed in ice.

“We need to go.”

I was too frozen to move.

“We really need to go,” he said a second or two later when I still hadn't moved.

I heard him, I was just stuck on the reality of what I'd just done.

His hands shifted, sliding up and up until the heels of his hands were braced beneath my jaw, his fingers spread back into my hair, his thumbs stroking the corners of my lips gently.

“Matilda?” he said softly as he lowered his head to mine, his eyes shifting to gaze at my lips, then back to my eyes.

He was going to kiss me.

That realization came with a collision of feelings and wants and things I didn't know how to define. That realization also came with a heartbeat that pounded heat
through my veins and unfroze me. I melted into his touch, wanting that kiss more than anything else.

“Y-yes?” I breathed.

His lips were almost on mine. His body bent over me, closer, closer. I thought I'd burst for want.

I held my breath and closed my eyes.

His fingers squeezed the back of my neck, gentle and possessive.

“If you make me late,” he murmured, his breath warm across my mouth, “I will throttle you.”

Wait.
What?

My eyes snapped open.

He drew away so quickly a cold breeze whisked over my skin.

By the time I pulled my thoughts together, he was already out the door.

His voice floated back to me. “Move, Matilda. We're late.”

That was it? No kiss? What was wrong with that man? He was sending off more mixed signals than a three-armed traffic cop.

I stuffed the scarf back in my duffel, zipped it tight, and tucked it under the desk.

“You know what you are, Mr. Vail?” I said, storming out after him.

“In a hurry?” he answered.

“A coward.”

“Is that so?”

He was already a set of stairs ahead of me. I pounded down them to catch up. “Yes. A man makes a move like that, he follows through.”

“And what makes you think I won't?”

“Men like you are all talk and no tango.”

He paused in front of a metal door, his hand on the latch. “How would you know?” He yanked on the door and held it open, blocking my passage with the bulk of his body, a smug smile on his face. “You've never met a man like me.”

Yeah, well, he hadn't ever met a woman like me either.

I pushed by him and stepped on his foot hard enough, he winced and sucked in a surprised breath.

Galvanized didn't feel pain. But the galvanized that I'd touched had felt me.

That was to my advantage in this fight. Working the farm with the beasts and ferals meant I was no stranger to bruises and breaks. I was used to pain.

Abraham Seventh had been practically numb for nearly three hundred years. Maybe it was time to see if he remembered how to take the hurt.

The training hall stretched across the entire floor of the building and was beautiful in its simplicity. Light wooden floors soaked up the sunlight pouring in through the huge windows overlooking the city, while white and wood panels separated the space into smaller areas.

Oscar Gray sat on the other side of the training mat that filled a quarter of the space. John Black sat next to him, and Buck stood at his back. The white panels behind them were filled with images of very pretty, very young people, each wearing a distinct color.

The heads of the Houses. Well, seven of them, and one blank screen that held the symbol of House Gold, Money, which probably had a committee listening in.

I took a minute to gawk at faces I'd seen on only scratchy feeds, displayed here in such clear rendering, it was as if they were really in the room with us.

Troi Blue, Water, didn't look a day over twenty. She wore a plunging pale blue dress that rippled against her midnight-dark skin. Her hair was glossy black and fell in gorgeous waves around her shoulders, and her features were soft and perfect. She held herself like royalty, a ruler, superior to all others.

Feye Green, Agriculture, was almost her opposite. Small and slight, she was ghost white and doll-faced. Her pale yellow hair formed a kinky mane that only made her look smaller and more fragile. She was moonlight,
and even the pale green of her sweater threatened to swallow her.

“Matilda Case,” Oscar was saying. Introducing me, I thought.

I was catching only about half of it, too nervous about all the eyes of all the world's power on me.

I had promised Quinten I would stay hidden.

So much for that.

Gideon Violet, Faith, paced while Oscar talked, his corporate-style plum suit almost old-fashioned, his tie loose, his steel-gray hair making what may have been a handsome face sad and old.

“Newly awakened, newly discovered,” Oscar went on.

The other two women were Kiana White, Medical, and Aranda Red, Power. Aranda Red wore her dark hair short and slicked into points at each temple. She had the coloring of a woman who avoided the sun. Her lips were bloodred, her eyebrows and lashes darkened and arched. She looked at me with a slight smile, calculating, predatory. I wondered if her smile would contain fangs.