House Immortal (26 page)

“Dumb, dumb, dumb,” I muttered as I hurried up and followed her. I'd promised Abraham I'd walk straight over to Gray Towers. Oscar was waiting for me, right?

Still, if she could give me answers, it would be worth being a little late.

I paid attention to street names so I could navigate my way back. She was another block ahead of me, waiting next to a car. I looked around for guns or other signs of ambush. Didn't see any.

Every fiber of my body was tense. This was probably a trap. But I had a gun in my duffel and it wasn't there for decoration. I stopped a few yards away from her.

“You know where my brother is?” I asked. “Prove it.”

She gave me a look, one that said she didn't like it when I asked questions.

Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out Quinten's pocket watch. I knew it was his, just like it had
been Dad's and Granddad's and Great-Grandad's, all the way back to the early twentieth century. Quinten always carried it and wouldn't have given it up easily.

My heart sank and then started pounding its way back up into my throat.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Get in.” She pointed at the open car door. “I'll take you to him.”

Bad idea,
I thought. But that didn't stop me. I got in the backseat, expecting the car to be crowded with muscle and threats. But it was clean and empty.

Helen got in the driver's seat and started the engine.

“Sit back. Relax,” she said, pushing the hood away from her face now that she was safely hidden behind the darkened windows. “Have a drink if you like—there's a small selection of spirits in the center section of the seat.”

“Where are we going?”

“It's not far.”

House Silver. Abraham told me House Gray had contracted Quinten to work for House Silver. Oscar talked to Reeves Silver about it. Maybe Quinten was still there.

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“He's alive.”

Relief hit me so hard, I almost went light-headed. “Are you holding him prisoner?”

Helen laughed, and it was the sort of low, sexy sound that makes men cut off their wedding rings.

“That's a question for Reeves to answer.”

“Is that where you're taking me?”

Her black-lined eyes shifted to look at me in the rearview mirror. “Yes. To meet the Saint of Sin.”

The Wings of Mercury device still exists, filled with the pulse of a long-dead comet.—2196

—from the journal of L.U.C.

H
elen navigated the streets to a downward ramp and then drove through a series of tunnels lit with alternating yellow and red lights. We emerged into daylight and eventually turned down another street, and climbed up that to a huge mansion on top of a hill that overlooked the entire town.

She parked the car beneath an awning, turned off the engine, and paused before opening the door. “I'll take you in. You can keep the gun in your duffel, but my advice? Leave it stashed, sugar. You don't want to play hardball here.” She checked her lipstick in the mirror, then put on a smile and got out of the car.

She opened my door.

“I want my brother's pocket watch,” I said.

She shrugged and handed it to me. I tucked it immediately into my duffel.

“This way,” she said.

I followed her to the door beneath the awning and into an elevator. We didn't say anything on the short ride.

When the elevator opened, she waved her hand, indicating I should step out into the room.

I did so.

Plush
was the first word that came to mind. Plush furniture, plush blinds framing the windows that looked over the city that rolled out at its feet. Plush greenery and flowers. Plush carpet. Even the fireplace crackling away with real wood was polished marble and gold.

Plush.

Helen strolled past me. She was my height in the heels she wore, her dark straight hair cut in chunky bangs that highlighted the heavy makeup around her eyes. She'd taken off her coat and wore a fitted silver tank top that enhanced her toned arms and the silver stitches down them.

“I hope you aren't too disappointed with me,” she said without a lick of sincerity. “But orders are orders.”

“Did you take my brother?”

“That's a question you can ask Reeves. Or I suppose you could have asked Neds years ago.”

“What? What does Neds have to do with this?”

“You didn't know?” she asked with a cruel twist of a smile. “He's been working for us all these years. Spying on you, out on that dirty little farm of yours.”

That couldn't be true. Not Neds.

“You didn't think he was working that farm for the money, did you?” She raised one eyebrow and gave me the up-and-down. “Or the company? One late-model stitch and her crazy grandmother? I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

She could bad-mouth me all she wanted. She could bad-mouth Neds. I knew him. I had lived with him for years. I'd seen his good days and his bad days. And no judgmental galvanized was going to make me change my mind about his character.

If he told me everything over the past two years had been a lie, that he'd been spying on me for House Silver or whatever, I'd believe it. But only when those words came out of his mouths.

“Is my brother here or not?” I asked calmly.

She glared at me. What had she expected? Hysterics? Yeah, well it took more than a few accusations to ruffle my feathers.

“This way.”

She crossed the carpet, making no sound over the
thick fibers. To all appearances, she didn't care if I followed her or not.

I took note of all the windows, halls, doors, and anything I might be able to use as an escape route if I needed one.

“Here.” Helen stopped outside a sleek silver-plated door. “Reeves is waiting for you.”

She opened the door but did not enter the room.

I pulled back my shoulders and walked right on in. I'd faced down nearly every kind of dangerous beast the scratch could cook up. I could handle one overly entitled man.

“Hello, Matilda. Please have a seat.”

I'd expected the room to be dripping in silver. Not only was it smaller than I'd thought it would be, it also leaned toward dark leather and rich redwood in the desk, wall shelves, and carved ceiling tiles. The carpet was a tight black-and-silver-checked design, and a bank of three door-sized windows to my left looked over a balcony and the city in the distance. Cloth-shaded lamps on the walls made the entire space feel comfortably intimate and warm.

The man, Reeves Silver, stood behind the desk, pouring two tiny cups of coffee. His hair was startlingly white, cut short and clean, no beard. He had the build of a swimmer: wider shoulders and a long, lean torso. He wore a silver sweater and slacks.

Since I hadn't moved, he glanced over his shoulder at me. “Please. I thought you and I could have a cup of coffee and get to know one another.”

He placed one cup on his side of the large redwood desk and the other nearer me, in front of the two pale wood-and-silver-cushioned chairs tipped invitingly toward the desk.

“I've come here to get my brother, Your Excellency,” I said. “I don't want to take up any more of your time. If you'll just tell me where he is, I'll be leaving.”

“I assure you, he is fine,” he said, as he pulled out the
dark leather chair behind the desk and sat. “Didn't Helen tell you he is fine? This won't take but a moment, Matilda. You have my word on that.”

I didn't believe him. I sat anyway, hoping it would hurry things along.

He took a sip of coffee from the delicate china, his eyes the color of arctic ice.

I took a sip of my coffee. Rich, warm, and sweetened with dark sugar. It was the finest I'd ever tasted.

“I do want to apologize for this invitation,” he said. “Stealing you off the street. But I wanted a chance to meet you without interference.”

“You mean without anyone at House Gray knowing?”

“Anyone at House Gray or any of your galvanized friends. I prefer uninterrupted time when I'm first meeting someone with whom I assume I will be doing business.”

“Business?”

“Have you been informed of the gathering tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“I brought you here before that event to make you an offer that would benefit us both.”

I shook my head. “I'm not interested in moving to any House. I'm claimed by House Gray and I'd like to stay that way.”

He just smiled. “Why don't you listen to my offer, and then make your decision? Tomorrow all the Houses will gather. What I want is for you to let things play out as they may.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your presence is already drawing lines between the Houses. But the game the Houses play is a very old one. The pieces have been in place for more years than you have been breathing. You, Matilda Case, are fate's twist, chaos' card stacked in the deck between the Houses. We all want you. We all want to use you.”

“Why?” I breathed. My heart was starting to pound again. He wasn't talking to me in a threatening way. If anything, he seemed more amused than angry.

“Everyone has their reasons,” he said with a smile. “I will tell you mine. You are the key to a very old story. One that most people do not believe. But, then, I enjoy getting to the root of stories. Especially if there is a profit to be made.”

He waited, drinking his coffee.

“What story?” I asked.

“The end of the world. The fall of the Houses. And all that entails. Everything has its end. It is the cycle that allows for new beginnings. New opportunities. In this story, you are the one who will decide the fate of the world.”

“There isn't a story with me in it,” I said. “I think you're reading into me much more than you should. All I want is my brother returned to me and both of us returned to House Gray. I promise you I have nothing to do with anything else.”

“No piece knows its place on the game board, nor its future,” he said. “It knows only the square it occupies and the touch of the hand that controls it. I want a promise from you, Matilda Case, daughter of Dr. Renault Case and Professor Edith Case. Whatever happens tomorrow at the gathering, do not get involved. Let the game play out as if you were not a part of it. Watch, but do not act. If you can promise me you will not interfere with my story, I will give you a great gift.”

“What gift?”

I didn't believe he was really going to give me anything. I'd seen more than my share of salesmen in the
past, and Reeves Silver was just a salesman who had all the power and all the time in the world to make people buy what he was selling.

“I know where your brother is.”

“So I've been told,” I said. “Where is he?”

“I will show you, though if you speak of it, Matilda, I will change my mind as to which piece you are playing on
my
game board. You will fall from rook to pawn.” He tipped his cup, took another drink. “Betray me, and I will remove you from the board completely.”

I wasn't an idiot. I recognized a death threat when I heard one. I nodded.

“House Orange holds him prisoner.”

I heard him—really I did. But the tightness in my chest wouldn't allow me to answer. Hope was a painful thing.

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I make it a priority to uncover the yearning of every sinful heart,” he said. “I do not promise what I cannot deliver.”

I stood. “Then deliver. Take me to him.”

Pure delight glinted in his eyes. He'd gotten what he wanted out of me. And while it rankled, I didn't care what I'd have to do to save Quinten.

He stood and stretched out his hand, palm upward. In his palm was a silver coin with the image of wings pressed into it. There was a small hole at the top of the coin, as if it were intended to be worn on a chain.

“This is a personal token. It entitles the owner to one favor granted unconditionally by me, House Silver. You can use it now or keep it for the gathering. People want you, Matilda. People will do anything to have you. While I, on the other hand, am offering you my assistance.”

He tapped his wrist.

The wall behind his left shoulder became a screen.

An image of a white-walled room pulled into focus, though the recording was shaky.

“This is a room in House Orange,” Reeves said, as he
watched me. “A room Slater Orange thinks is unable to be tapped by any House or device. He is wrong, of course.”

The recording device panned from the ceiling down to the center of the room.

“Oh,” I said, the sound escaping me as if I'd been punched.

My brother sat on the edge of a bed, cuffs on his wrists and ankles connected by chains to the walls. He was tapping his fingers, two fingers together in the signal for House Brown. Morse code.

S.O.S.

He really was in trouble. A prisoner.

“Do you know where that room is?” I asked, my mind racing through solutions, options, resources.

“I do.”

“Can you get to him? Can you free him?”

He hesitated. “It wouldn't be easy.”

I met his gaze and held out my hand. “I won't get in the way of your House games.”

He tipped his hand and dropped the silver coin into my palm.

I stood and pushed the coin across the desk with one finger. “Free my brother and bring him to House Gray alive, by the time the gathering is over.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“That is the personal favor I want from you, Reeves Silver. If you want me to stand aside and let your games play out, you bring me my brother.”

“If I agree,” he said, not touching the coin yet, “you will say nothing of our agreement. You will say nothing of anything that has transpired between us.”

“And if I do?”

“I will tell Boston Sue to kill your grandmother, Lara Unger Case.”

His smiled like a fox that had just caught dinner by the throat.

Boston Sue was working for him too. My stomach hit my knees, but I didn't let it show.

“I agree to say nothing of our agreement to anyone.”

“Good. I will see that Quinten is returned, alive, to you immediately after the gathering,” he said. “Look for him there.” He plucked up the token with long fingers.

“And my grandmother?”

“As long as our agreement stands, she'll come to no harm. Helen will drive you back to the city. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Matilda Case.”

I walked out of the room, wanting to be as far away from him as quickly as I could. If he owned Boston Sue, who else did he control inside House Brown? I didn't know who I could trust anymore.

Helen was on the other side of the door. “This way.”

We strode back to the same elevator.

“Why do you care for him?” Helen asked when we were alone.

“Quinten?” I asked. “He's my brother.”

“You were made of dead people,” she said. “You aren't really Dr. Case's child. You aren't really his sister. You're nothing more than just a chunk of medical waste that didn't have the good sense to die.”

I reached over and grabbed her wrist, squeezing just a little harder than necessary.

“Flesh and blood doesn't have anything to do with family and belonging. Not that you would ever understand that. If you ever let your House hurt my family again or if Reeves Silver betrays me, I will reach down your throat and pull out your pretty guts. And I can make sure you feel every single second of it.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She felt my hand on her arm. She'd feel anything I did to her.

I let go and we rode in silence back down to the car.