House Immortal (21 page)

“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.

“Clara Third, House Violet, Faith,” Abraham said.

She nodded.

“That daredevil,” Abraham went on, indicating the redheaded man next to Clara, “is Vance Fourth, House Blue, Water.”

“Daredevil? I don't know what he's talking about.” He was trim, shorter than Abraham and me, and wore a blue shirt. His stitches were dark blue and tracked a diagonal line from the corner of his forehead across the bridge of his nose and down his jaw, neck, and under the edge of his collar. More stitches fanned out from the bottom of his jaw and spread around to the back of his head. His red hair and beard made the blue stitches even more noticeable, and his green eyes shone.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“That is the lovely Wihelmina ‘Wila' Fifth, House Blue, Water,” Abraham continued.

“Well, it's about time we had ourselves a new member of the family,” she said. Wila rested on the couch. She was a curvaceous, dusky-skinned woman with powder blue stitches that crossed above her right eyebrow and followed the round of her jaw to scoop at the base of her neck like a necklace. She had massively curly hair,
smoothed tight against her skull and left to fall in a tumble of dark curls. “Welcome, Matilda.”

“Thank you,” I said.

A waif of a woman next to her tucked her honey-brown hair behind her ears and gave me a smile. In her soft blue summer dress, she didn't look like she could be a day over sixteen. Her stitches were blue as the sky, curving in parallel lines across the right side of her pale neck and face.

“I'm Obedience, but you can call me Bede,” she said, tucking her hair back again in what was obviously a nervous habit. “Oh, Tenth, I suppose I should say. House Blue, Water.”

“Last but not least,” Abraham said, “this is Loy Ninth, House Red, Power.”

Loy lounged on the other couch, a beer in one hand and a ready smile on his lips. He was square faced, with short black hair and a strong, clean-shaven jaw. His eyes were deeply set. Red stitching licked like fire against his coal skin, down the center of his face and neck to where it split to ride the edges of his collarbone. He wore a button-down red shirt and loose pants.

“Enchanté,”
he said with a friendly grin. “Beer?”

“No, thanks,” I said. What I needed was a minute alone with Abraham so I could find out if he knew anything about my brother's message.

“But I could use a drink of water. Abraham, could you show me where to find that?” I said pointing at the door and hoping he'd catch the hint.

“Don't trouble yourself,” Dotty said. “We'll have some brought in.” She stepped forward and patted my arm. And just as quickly pulled her hand away.

“Oh,” she said, startled. “That's right. Bram mentioned you had that effect on a person.” She rubbed her fingertips together. “Aren't you just something?”

“I'm really not. Something,” I added. “I mean, I'm sorry that it's uncomfortable.”

“Now, don't go on and apologize,” Dotty said. “There's nothing wrong with you. I'd just forgotten what full sensation felt like. After all these years, it's a little overwhelming. Here, I'll call you in some water.” She patted my arm again on her way past me.

“You two going to stand there all day?” Wila asked. “Come sit and relax.”

“Sure.” I adjusted my duffel and overswung the bag, getting both it and me in Abraham's way.

“Careful,” he said.

“I need to talk to you. Now,” I whispered through a clenched smile. Then, louder: “Sorry about that.” I pulled my duffel closer to my side. “Um . . . where is the ladies' room?”

“Right out that door,” Wila pointed. “It's private, so you won't be bothered.”

“Why would anyone bother me?”

“Hon, you're galvanized. That's all anyone is here to bother.”

“About that,” I said. “I'm supposed to remain unannounced.”

Vance chuckled while accepting a beer from Loy. “Oscar always had a flair for the dramatic. Is he announcing you at the gathering?”

“I think so.”

And that was when I realized maybe I shouldn't have said anything in front of Loy. He was House Red's galvanized, and House Red wanted to kick Oscar out of his position.

Loy caught my panicked look and took a drink to cover his grin. “You don't have to worry about whatever is going through your head,” he said. “We're friends here, not Houses, no matter the color of the ties that bind us. I don't give a damn about Aranda Red and her lust for power. Frankly, I wish she'd leave poor Oscar alone. He has enough trouble on his hands dealing with Bram.”

Vance snorted.

“What he has,” Abraham said, “is a friend.”

“I know, I know,” Loy said. “Practically raised him from a boy, the poor guy.”

Bram shook his head. “This way, Matilda.”

We walked out of the room into a private hall.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“My brother sent a message. Yesterday. Why didn't you tell me about it?” I was whispering, but I was also angry. I couldn't believe he'd kept something so important a secret.

He frowned. “How do you know?”

“I know.”

“That's not going to be enough. Who told you your brother sent a message?”

“Someone in House Brown.”

“And you trust them?”

“Why would House Brown lie to me?”

He took a breath, let it out. “This is humanity we're talking about. Some people prefer the simplicity of lies.”

“I trust that a person intercepted a message off a low hack . . .”

He raised an eyebrow, disapproving, or maybe admiring our data-smuggling ways. “Anyway, this person intercepted the message,” I said.

“And this person is sure it's from your brother?”

“Um. Yes?”

“And what does the message say?”

“Like you don't know.”

“I don't know.” He held my gaze, all authority and heat and power. Waiting.

He didn't know.

“It said,
House Orange
,
hidden enemy
, and gave coordinates.”

“What coordinates?”

“I don't know.”

“Do you have proof your brother was the one who sent it?”

“No.”

“When did the message go through?”

“Yesterday.”

“I'll contact Oscar. See if he can have House Yellow run a trace for anything off network.”

“Is that all you can do?”

“That's all anyone can do. It's sketchy information, Matilda. But that doesn't mean it isn't real. I'll talk to Oscar. He'll take it seriously and do what he can to track it down. But we'll have to wait until he finds something concrete before we do anything more.”

“House Orange. That's not concrete enough for you?”

“Houses”—he glanced down the hall as if trying to put his words together, then looked back at me—“have been known to put out false information for other Houses to find. There are some Houses at odds with House Orange. Blue, for example. Troi Blue believes Slater Orange is jockeying to overthrow her position.”

“You think she would send out a fake note from my brother? Does she even know that House Gray cares that my brother is missing?”

“Probably not. My point is, information is easy to fake, and House Orange has its enemies.”

“All right, I can see that. I'll do a little looking into it too.”

“Don't.”

I didn't like his tone of voice. “In case you haven't figured it out yet? You're not going to get very far ordering me around.”

“Just . . . let us look into it first. If this came through yesterday, we have some time. Let us double-check the information before we act on it.”

“He isn't your brother.”

We stood there while that truth and my worry filled the silence between us..

“I'll call Oscar,” Abraham said. “Give me this grace at least: let me confirm where the message originated from and what it contained. Then we'll act on it. Will you agree to that?”

I hated the idea of Quinten being held against his will for a minute longer than necessary, but I didn't know if he was being held against his will. He'd been gone three years. It could be because he was so deep in research that time had slipped away from him.

“Okay,” I said. “I'll wait until we have more information.” Following rules was harder than I expected.

“Good. Anything else?”

“This celebrity thing. That's . . . something.”

“Does it bother you?”

“No, I just don't really understand it.”

“People need a thing to hold on to. A hope.”

“They see you as a hero.”

“My hero days are long ago and forgotten.”

“I still don't know what I'm supposed to be doing here.”

“You're here to meet the other galvanized and see how these things go. Be nice. Or at least be polite.” He started back toward the private room. “Coming?”

“I'll be right there. I need to use the ladies' room.” I walked down to the ladies' room and pushed through that door into a clean, quiet space. Toilets and sinks to the right; a cluster of couches in the silence of the low-lit room to the left.

I used the toilet, then washed my hands and stared at myself in the mirror. Abraham had good intentions. He'd done right by me so far, including throwing House Gray into conflict with House Red over the Fessler compound.

I didn't doubt his intentions. But I doubted the speed at which he could gather information on my missing brother.

“Sorry, Abraham,” I said as I dried off my hands. “I
know I promised I wouldn't do anything. But I never promised House Brown wouldn't do anything.”

No one knows what caused the galvanized to offer a treaty. Some say it was the cost of human lives they could no longer bear. Some say the Houses had threatened global annihilation.—2160

—from the journals of L.U.C.

I
had to stand on the arm of the couch in the little side room and press the old walkie-talkie against the wall to catch a spot clear enough to send a signal to Boston Sue.

She finally picked up. “Matilda? Is that you, baby sweet?”

“Yes. I don't have much time. Is Grandma okay?”

“Fine as can be.”

“Good. Did you catch that message Quinten sent?”

“No . . . should I have?”

“I know you keep your ear to the ground.” That was a polite way to put it. Boston Sue was the biggest gossip this side of the Mississippi.

“Nothing came through.”

“It was yesterday; bounced off our hub.”

Her hesitation was so slight, I almost didn't catch it. “I'm sorry, but there hasn't been nothing but the usual chatter around here. You know I'd tell you if your brother were trying to get in contact with you.”

I hadn't told her the message was for me.

She was either a really good guess or she was lying.

“Are you sure you didn't see anything come through?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Okay,” I said, “if you need anything . . .”

“We're fine here, Tilly. Keep yourself safe.”

“I will. I'll call you soon.”

“May the earth rise,” she said.

“And the wind at your back,” I answered.

I thumbed off the walkie-talkie and stuffed it in my duffel.

The door to the ladies' room opened. I jumped down off the arm of the couch, and walked out of the shadows.

Bede stepped through the door and smiled at me before heading into the washroom. “Needed a little time away from all the noise?” she asked.

Polite and nice, polite and nice.

“It's all a little overwhelming.”

“I can imagine.” She leaned forward at the sinks to study her reflection, tucked her hair behind her ears, then pulled a small sponge out of a pocket in her dress. “You grew up on a farm?”

“Yes.”

“In my first life I had a piece of land. Grew squash, corn, beans. And apples, of course. Had a hard cider recipe that would knock your knickers off.” She grinned then sponged gently at the blue stitches crossing her face.

“Do you miss it?”

“Every day.” She sighed but was still smiling. “It was a long, long time ago. I think my memory has rubbed the dirt off it and made those days shine, but they were nice. Really nice.”

“Well, I probably should get back,” I said.

“Sure,” she said. “Oh, and, Matilda, if you ever want to change Houses, I hope you'll keep Blue in mind. I know Troi Blue can come across as cold and imperial, but she's not unreasonable, like some of the heads of Houses.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I'll keep that in mind.”

I walked out and did some quick math in my head.

I needed to contact someone in House Brown so I
could send a message to Neds. He said he knew people who could help me disappear. Maybe they had other resources that could help find Quinten. But Abraham and the others were waiting for me and they'd get suspicious if I wandered away again.

So I pulled the small journal and pen out of my duffel and scribbled a note. When I got my chance to pass the note, I would be ready.

I tucked the note into my pocket and walked back into the room.

The warm roll of conversation and laughter made me pause a moment. Abraham spotted my entrance and stepped away from the stunningly beautiful blond woman he had been talking with.

January Sixth, House White, Medical gave me a cool appraisal and did not seem pleased with the results.

All right. We weren't going to be friends. But I could be polite to her until the end of the world. Or at least until I was announced at the gathering.

“Matilda,” Abraham said, as he escorted me over to January, who looked like she could model if she didn't have white stitches running a line up her left cheek. Forget that. She could model even with the white stitches running up her cheek.

“This is January Sixth. She's House White.”

She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Hello, Matilda,” she purred. Sounded like she was hungry for fresh meat.

“Hello,” I said with the same I-can-take-you-down tone I used on feral beasts.

Okay, so maybe I was a little rusty on my polite.

Abraham must have noticed the tension, and quickly stepped between us while guiding me over to the other side of the room.

“You've met Buck Eighth, House Black, Defense.”

He was sitting across from Loy and Vance. Just as when I'd first seen him, he wore a black T-shirt and dark denim, both stretched over a lot of muscle. Those light
green eyes of his set in a face that was pleasingly angular gave off a big-cat look.

“Nice to be properly introduced,” he said, standing up and offering his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Matilda.”

“And you,” I said, shaking his hand.

He grinned at the contact, which I assume allowed him to feel full sensation. “I was just telling the others about you taking Abraham down with one kick.”

“For the love of . . .” Abraham started. “It wasn't just one kick.”

“I was there,” Buck said. “I know what I saw.”

“This,” Abraham said, changing the conversation, “is Helen Eleventh, House Silver, Vices.”

Helen sat on the couch between Vance and Loy, a beer in her hand. She was compactly built, with a sweep of short black hair ragged across her forehead and just below her ears. Her almond-toned complexion was set off by wide, heavily made-up eyes. Silver threads swirled across her face and down her neck in intricate, lacy patterns, as if stitched there for decoration.

She stood and walked around the coffee table and stopped right in front of me. She was a couple inches shorter than me, but carried herself like she was my superior.

“I've been hoping to get my eyes on you,” she said, her smile attached almost as an afterthought.

“Pleased to meet you too,” I said.

She put some teeth in her smile. “If you need anything, you remember that my House is always open for business.”

“Relax, Helen,” Abraham said. “We don't do business here.”

She walked back to her place on the couch. “I'm just being friendly. Everyone has their vice, even our little country cousin. Don't you, Matilda?”

“Naw,” I said, leaning into my accent. “Clean living and the occasional killing before breakfast keeps me fine.”

Buck glanced up at me, then tipped his head down to hide his grin.

Abraham pivoted me around toward the rest of the room, so that Helen was at my back.

“Is this all of us?” Abraham said.

Dotty answered, “Except Robert and Foster.”

As if on cue, the door opened and Foster First lumbered into the room. He was just as tall and colorless as when I'd met him on the street, his long black coat lined with yellow that matched the yellow stitches over almost every inch of his skin and scars.

The room went silent.

And then Bede came through the other door. “Foster!” she squealed. “You're here!” She jogged across the room and threw herself into his arms, hugging him tight.

“Bede,” he breathed in a voice made of gravel and thunder.

“I am so happy to see you.” She leaned back a bit to look up into his red eyes. “Are you happy to see me?”

His mouth pulled up in a crooked smile. “Yes.” He patted her back fondly, and she let go of him.

Then each person in the room took turns walking up to him and greeting him.

It was like watching an elder or a holy man come to visit.

I was the last to say hello. Abraham walked with me.

“Foster First,” he said. “This is Matilda Case. She is the thirteenth.”

Foster searched my face, his own expression blank and unreadable. “Matilda Thirteenth,” he intoned. “I have known you as a child.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

But he only bowed to me, then paced over to the couch they'd left open for him, his footsteps heavy despite the lush carpet and padding.

Dotty handed me a glass of water. “Don't worry about Foster,” she said. “Words aren't easy for him. He didn't mean any slight by it.”

“Do you know what he meant? How he knew me?”

She glanced over at the big man who was accepting a glass of lemonade from Loy. “Maybe you remind him of a girl from his first life. It's difficult to say. Out of all of us, he has suffered the most.”

Even though Dotty didn't say it, I thought I knew why Foster recognized me. I was alive, or at least this body of mine was alive, all those years ago. I wondered whom she had been before she fell asleep, never to wake, until I was stitched into her body and mind.

The conversation geared back up to friendly levels, and just shortly after, there was a knock on the door.

A woman opened it and cheerfully announced that the stage was set and if everyone was ready, it was time to attend. Dotty thanked her and shut the door.

“What about Robert?” Vance asked. “Has anyone heard from him?”

I glanced at Abraham, who shook his head, his hands tucked into loose fists. “I haven't.”

Buck pushed up off the couch. “Well, Slater Orange keeps a damn tight leash. He'll be here when he can, I'm sure.”

Everyone exited the room through the private hallway. At the end of that hall was another hall, which eventually emptied out into the back of a stage.

There were maybe half a dozen civilians here who looked organized, helpful, and excited at being surrounded by almost all the world's galvanized.

I stayed off to one side, as far away from the entrance to the actual stage as possible while one of the people went over the call-out schedule, which apparently would count down from Helen Eleventh to Foster First.

“Hey,” a spiky-haired man shouted at me. “What are you doing here? Galvanized only.” He started my way, but Abraham overtook him in four strides and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“She is here at my request,” he said.

The man stilled like a rodent in the grip of a hawk.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “My apologies.”

“None needed.” Abraham melted from killer to kindness in less than a second. He smiled and patted his shoulder. “It was my fault. I should have told you I invited a companion this evening.”

“No need—no need at all,” the man said. “I'll see that she's comfortable.”

“Thank you.” Abraham glanced over at me, and I was pretty sure that hot smile wasn't just for the civilian's benefit.

Man knew how to handsome up a place when he wanted to.

Abraham returned to the others, and Spiked Hair walked my way.

“I'm sorry to shout,” he said. “But you wouldn't believe how many people try to get a little time backstage with the galvs.”

“It's okay,” I said. “I don't want to be in the way. Where should I stand during the show?” I crossed my arms and tapped two fingers against my elbow. He didn't notice.

“If you'd just step right over here, you'll have a good view.” He pointed to a chair set near the door.

“Thanks.” I dutifully took my seat.

There was a bit more rushing about and music was building in the room beyond the stage. I tapped two fingers, as if humming along to the song, but none of the workers responded.

So no help here. I needed to get that message to Neds.

Abraham turned to see where I'd gone off to. I smiled and waved my fingers at him. He gave me a “stay there” look and I turned on the “you betcha” smile.

Right.
As soon as the show got started and he was busy, I'd sneak out and find someone in House Brown who could run the note for me. If someone noticed, I'd just say I got lost.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called out. “The moment we have all been waiting for. Please help me welcome our esteemed guests, the galvanized!”

The audience erupted into thunderous cheers, whistles, applause, and stomping. I put my fingers in my ears to take the edge off it.

Didn't help much.

“Helen Eleventh, House Silver!”

Compact, lacy-stitched Helen strode out onto the stage.

From where I sat, the stage stretched out in a wedge beyond the rigging and gear, lights above and around pulsing silver, the audience a dark sea of bodies, noise, and flashes of light. Helen waved at the crowd as one of the multiple screens lit up with images from her life.

Her stitches were brown, white, black, silver as the images flashed by: Helen wrapped in survival gear, dragging half a dozen men out of icy water, a sniper rifle to her eye as she took the shot that ended the Left Street hostage crisis. Helen leading a hundred men, women, and children out of the devastating three-county inferno. Helen standing behind Reese Silver, Vice.

She sat in the chair farthest down the stage.

The noise hadn't lowered but the announcer called out for Obedience Tenth, House Blue.

Spritely Bede hopped out on stage, waving just as Helen had.

Images of her past rolled out under blue lights, stitches fading from brown to green to yellow to blue. Obedience's history involved her world-changing breakthrough in clean-water production, and a haunting image of her running through a cloud of poison gas, her gas mask on the child in her arms. In the last image, she stood beside the regal Troi Blue.

Two more galvanized to go before Abraham took the stage.

Loy Ninth was announced next, and he swaggered
out, kissing his fingertips and spreading his arms wide to the crowd.

Lights shifted to red and his past was played out on the screen: Loy opening the water valves of a damaged nuclear power plant, Loy digging through rubble of a collapsed mine shaft to reach trapped workers, and, finally, Loy standing beside the hard-edged Aranda Red.