House Immortal (6 page)

Since when did Medical make house calls with guns? Since when did Medical make house calls at all? They didn't come out into the dirt, and it showed. They were tightly uncomfortable with the raw and wild of the place.

“Yes,” I said, putting on the cheerful. “I help in the kitchen and keep the place clean.”

They hadn't moved more than a few paces away from their cars. Probably thought I had a gun trained on them.

I didn't, but I liked that they might think I did.

“What House are you?” the taller woman asked. “Gray? Your . . . appearance is not up to code.” She gave me a scathing once-over, like I was wearing dead animals instead of relatively clean denim and wool.

Color. It was the cover by which a book was judged.

Each House was in charge of a world resource and took a color as its own. Gray was people and the management of them. I supposed caring for the elderly fell under that House, which meant I should say yes.

Only I didn't have a stitch of gray on me.

This was one of those moments when I regretted being lazy about wearing colors. When I made a trip to town, I greened myself up from head to boot. Green was the House in charge of agriculture, and got me fewer looks and questions. My neighbors—though distant—believe me to be claimed by that House, and I didn't see any reason to tell them otherwise. If White had been asking around, they'd already know that.

Luckily I had on green socks.

I shifted my leg forward and tugged up my trousers with my hands still in my pocket, flashing socks. “House Green. Sorry for the confusion. Got so dirty I had to dig
into some clothing left behind by the previous residents a couple generations ago.”

That wasn't much of a lie. The shirt I was wearing had been my mom's. Plain cotton with tiny red check against a white background. She had worked lace on the collar and here and there stitched little white hearts between the checks.

I'd nearly worn the shirt out for the love of it.

“Do you also work the land for the elder Case?” the shorter woman asked, tapping something into her palm, though I didn't see a screen there.

“Yes. I plant and harvest so she has winter stores. She donates a portion to the church too, of course. I have records if you care to see them.”

“No. That's not why we're here,” the taller woman said. “We're looking for a man. Has anyone been by in the past day? Do be aware we are recording, and your statement can be used in proceedings against you.”

That last bit about recording and proceedings was common enough knowledge, I was surprised she said it. Then I realized she had to say it because of the gravity of the situation.

They had lost a man. From the look of the van, he was a very dangerous man they wanted locked up and transported. From her statement, it was also very important they find him.

Galvanized.
Now I really wished I'd paid more attention to House politics and which galvanized was where and doing what.

What I needed right now was a handy lie. I wasn't going to tell them he was sleeping off elephant tranquilizer in the nursery.

“Sure, sure. I understand you're recording,” I said with a smile I did not feel. “But we haven't had visitors in ages.”

“So you are saying there is no man in this house? On this property?”

“No stranger,” I said. Then I laughed a little. As long as I kept smiling, I could usually hide how angry and scared I was. Right up until I decided fists, and the throwing of them, was the solution.

“My boyfriend, Ned.” I bit my lip and looked coyly over my shoulder, like he was half-naked back there. “He's here too. Helps out on the farm.”

“Sugarpookum,” Ned said right on cue, as if we'd practiced this ruse a hundred times. Which we hadn't.

And also:
sugarpookum
?

“Is someone out there?” He pushed on past the screen door, still wearing the green shirt and overalls he'd had on since this morning. He'd tied a big old stripe of purple on each arm—indicating he was in hope of one day being transferred to House Violet to live a life dedicated to faith.

Ha! I'd like to see faith try to angel up that devil boy. Both of them.

Left Ned chewed on an apple, while Right Ned gave a big, innocent, blue-eyed smile.

One thing about Neds: he was dollar sharp at making people think what he wanted them to think. A far better faker and actor than I was.

“I thought I heard company,” Right Ned said with what sounded like real delight. Right Ned was the better liar of the two, a personality conundrum that had not escaped my notice, since generally he was also the nicer of the two.

“Isn't this a blessed day? Sugarpookum, you can't just leave them out here in the drive. Bring them in and offer them up some of the Lord's tea. Would you like some tea made fresh from God's bounty?”

The medicals, faced with a bucket load of country manners coming from a two-headed man bent on converting his life to religion, were caught flat-footed.

Their shared look of disgust was so good, I wished I could put it in a jar and keep it on the mantel.

“I was going to, but hadn't had the chance is all, bumblebug,” I said.

Left Ned choked on the apple, which gave me no end of pleasure. Two could play the pet-name game.

“Why don't you come on in?” I said picking up Ned's lie. “We'd love to have you. Bumblebug has been reading scripture and talked my ear off.” I rolled my eyes and smiled. “I'm sure he'd love new people to share his devotions with. Especially if any of you have leanings toward House Violet.”

Neds walked up next to me and slipped his arm around my waist, tucking his hand over my pocket and expertly avoiding even the briefest contact with my skin. Like I said, he did not enjoy touching me.

“I surely would enjoy the company,” he said. “There's so much of God's love to share with you.”

The taller woman glanced at her palm and then at Neds.

I held my smile and breath.
Please let it read three humans. Please.

“Thank you,” she said. “We can't stay. If you see a stranger in this area, do not engage with him. Please call Medical immediately.”

“We'll do that,” I said.

The two women started back to the cars, and I resisted the urge to run into the house, bolt the door, and grab my gun.

“Why do you want him?” Left Ned asked. “Is he dangerous?”

I could have kicked him in the shins for that. That last thing we needed was for them to linger.

The tall woman stopped, one hand on the car door, which was open so I could see the stripe of black down the side of it.

Black and White?

“He is very dangerous,” she said, answering only one of his questions.

I casually stepped on Neds' foot, putting a little weight
on it so he would shut the hell up. Black meant Defense. Black meant weapons and security. Black was the color of the men who had killed my dad and mom.

He didn't know that because I'd never told him. I didn't talk much about my parents to anyone.

“We'll keep the door locked and our eyes open,” I said. “If we see him, we'll call.”

I tugged on Neds' tool loop so he would turn with me toward the house. Left Ned opened his mouth to ask another question. Probably one that would tip her off. Probably one that would get us searched, jailed, and killed; my property seized, claimed, burned; my grandmother locked away; and vital communication for House Brown shut down.

So I did what any woman half-scared and half-fuming out of her mind would do to shut him up: I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the man.

One mad man, the scientist Alveré Remi Case, began building his tower. It would take him two years to construct the laboratory beneath it. Two years before the great machine he dubbed Wings of Mercury was poised to alter time.—1908

—from the journal of L.U.C.

I
t wasn't a long kiss, just a peck on Right Ned's cheek. Still, contact wasn't a thing between us except in emergencies.

I counted this as an emergency.

The kiss had the desired effect. Left Ned shut his mouth in surprise.

Luckily, Right Ned was a quick thinker.

“Uh . . .” he said, the word coming out a little strangled. Then, louder for the medicals, “If you'll excuse us, please. Do have a nice day.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and walked me into the living room.

“Well,” Right Ned said. “Well.”

“What in the devil's blue was that?” Left Ned demanded.

I crossed over to the window to see if our company was moving on yet.

“That was me keeping your big mouth shut,” I said as
medicals drove away. “You of all people know how it is with the Houses. Rule number one: don't ask questions. Asking questions gets you noticed, and getting noticed leads to rule number two: don't get noticed.”

“How about rule number three?” Left Ned said. “Don't kiss a man when he's told you he doesn't like to touch things like you?”

He was angry. Trying to get a fight out of me.

“It was an emergency. But, yes. I made a mistake,” I said calmly. “It wasn't right of me to do that to you. I'm sorry.”

“You kissed me,” he sputtered.

“You were about to tell Medical about the stranger.”

He shut his mouth and rethought his answer. I was not wrong. Both of us knew it.

“Medical already knows he's here,” Left Ned said. “The second you let him into your kitchen it was already too late to hide him.”

“No,” Right Ned cut in. “I don't think House White knows he's here. They would have just shot us to get to him. The blockers were up. I think we're sunny side for now.” He tugged the purple strips off his arms. “No need to apologize, Matilda,” he said. “We understand why you did it.”

Right Ned hadn't looked at me once since we'd come into the room. But he did now.

He was hurt. Maybe because I'd fought with his brother, but more likely because I'd kissed him. The idea of making Right Ned feel bad made my guts twist.

“Ned,” I said to him, “I'm sorry about what I did out there.”

“Don't be.” There was no forgiveness in his eyes. Just a calm sort of anger that I'd never seen before. “You were trying to keep the things you care about safe. I get that.”

Lord, the boy knew how to make soft words sting.

“Not at the cost of our friendship,” I said. “Are we settled?”

Right Ned nodded curtly. “We're settled.”

Why didn't I believe him?

“I'll go check Lizard and the beasts, then,” Right Ned said. “Make sure House White didn't detour out into any of the fields.”

“No,” a voice said from the hallway. “We need to leave now.”

“Black hell,” Left Ned swore.

Right Ned gave me the same startled look I was giving him. That had been enough tranquilizer to drop Lizard for a day. It should keep an average person out for two. But not, apparently, the galvanized.

He stepped out of the shadows, shoulders nearly touching each side of the hall, head tipped down so his hair curled toward his eyes. Pale and sweating, he looked like something that had woken up dead in the middle of the road and gone wandering in a daze.

“Good to see you're awake,” I said. “But you shouldn't be out of bed. I haven't had the chance to sew you up proper.”

“I know how to use a needle.” He had his jacket on, his arm tucked against his gut, his eyes still that troubling pain-red.

I glanced at Neds. He had backed into the room to stand closer to me, just the way he did when we got caught unawares by a mutated feral patrolling the edge of the property. Except he didn't have his tranq gun, and I didn't have my knives.

“We have no time,” the man said. “We must go, Matilda Case.”

He had a sincere and commanding way about him, like he was used to saying things and having folk follow without question or comment.

Yeah, about that: I'd never been much of a follower.

“No.”

He frowned and his whole body straightened, as if he'd never heard that word before.

“No?”

“You walked into my house, wounded. I'll see that you're patched up before anyone goes anywhere. And don't bother arguing. You won't win.”

He slid a look over to Neds, who were standing off to one side and behind me now, as if expecting the man to charge at any minute. I didn't think he got much support from Neds.

“Do you know who I am?” the stranger asked me.

“I do not. Well, galvanized, obviously. You can tell me more while I look at your wound. Neds, would you get the jelly, please? Here.” I pointed at a chair. “Have a sit so I can take a look at your gut.”

The man hesitated, paused there in the hallway.

I raised one eyebrow, my finger still pointing.

“If you don't want to sit, you might as well walk out that door. Medical's just left but a minute or two ago. I suppose they'll patch you up. Unless they're the ones who put that hole in you.”

He exhaled on a held breath and wiped his free hand over his face, pausing to scratch at the stubble on the side of his jaw. He finally strolled over and sat in the chair across from Grandma, who was humming to herself and paying no attention to what was happening around her.

Neds started off down the hall for the jelly.

“The sooner you leave, the better it will be for all of us,” Left Ned muttered as they left. Right Ned hushed him.

“I came here on a matter of some urgency,” the man said. “To take your father to safety.”

“I'm pretty sure the grave is as safe as man can get.”

He flattened both hands on his thighs, elbows out, studying me. “What House are you claimed by, Matilda? This is a farm, so I assume the farm is claimed by House Green?”

He said it like he might have the power to do the claiming. Which he didn't.

“How many questions do I have to answer before you tell me your name?” I asked.

“Abraham,” he said. “Seventh.” He waited for me to react to that, as if his name alone should mean something to me. But I didn't keep track of galvanized, as they mostly didn't affect me or mine.

“Good to meet you, Abraham. That there is Neds.”

Neds walked in and tossed me the jar of scale jelly, which I caught. “And that's Grandma Case. This”—I lifted the jar—“is the jelly that will keep your insides from rotting out.”

I nudged the footstool with my boot until it was in front of his chair.

“What is it?”

“You don't want to know,” Right Ned said quietly.

“Old family recipe.” I sat on the stool and unscrewed the ring on the jar. “Who sent you goose chasing anyway?”

“Looking for your father?”

I nodded.

“We had information.”

“We?” Neds asked.

“My House.”

“And what House is that?” I pulled the lid off the jelly and dug in my pocket for a cloth to use with it. No cloth. Fingers would have to do.

“House Gray,” he said.

“Since when,” Left Ned asked, “does House Gray send a stitch . . .”

Abraham pulled shoulders back so he could turn a glare at the man.

“. . . to comb the scrub for people?”

“What other House should look for people?” Abraham asked.

Neds shrugged. “There's nothing worth your time here,” Left Ned said.

“House and name,” Abraham ordered.

“Brown,” Right Ned said before Left Ned could
answer. “Harris. There still isn't anything here that involves House Gray.”

“You are claimed by House Brown?”

“I've filed the papers,” Right Ned said.

“When?”

“Recently,” Left Ned said.

“Filing papers to claim House Brown is the same as signing away all your rights, all your benefits, pay, and legal voice with any other House,” Abraham noted.

“Wasn't always like that, was it?” Left Ned said. “If you galvanized had stood with House Brown instead of selling out for the bribes and dirty deals the other Houses offered you—”

“All right,” I said, “you two can break up that old argument. Let's take care of the current wounds before you decide to give each other new ones. Jacket off so I can get to the cut.”

Abraham tipped his head, considering me.

“There are people who believe your father is alive, Matilda Case. It won't take them long to come looking for him. And when they find you, unclaimed, they will take you. Without asking. Without giving you a choice in the matter. They will own you.”

“That doesn't sound pleasant,” I said.

“It won't be. The longer we stay here, the less time you'll have to run.”

“Who said I was running?” I nodded at his jacket, which he still hadn't removed. “Off with it.”

“Do you understand who is looking for your father? House Medical, Defense, Technology, Mineral, Faith, Power.” He ticked off half the Houses. “They won't stop until they find something here.”

“What I don't understand is who got everyone hunting for a dead man. My father's not here. There's nothing to find.”

Just then the three sheep trotted in from the kitchen, making their tiny little
baaa
sounds.

Abraham opened his mouth, closed it, and watched
the sheep patter over to Grandma. She noticed them too, and cooed at them happily, then lifted each up into her lap, where they settled like round, wooly cats.

He opened his mouth again and it took him a second or two to put words in it. “Who stitched those?”

“My dad. He had a knack for nonsense.”

“What are they for?”

“Wool, mostly. Grows outrageously quick and keeps us in hats and sweaters. Now, are you going to take off your jacket, as I asked, or do I have to do it for you?”

“The faster you comply, the better,” Right Ned said. “She gets prickly when crossed.”

“I get prickly when people are bleeding on my furniture. We tend you, and
then
we tend the mess that's following you. In that order. Understand?”

My tone must have finally gotten through.

He unbuttoned his jacket.

“Do you have a price on your head, Mr. Seventh?” I asked.

He paused in the unbuttoning, glancing at Neds, who shrugged.

A smile tugged the corners of Abraham's lips. I didn't like being laughed at, but the smile did a world of good for his face. “It's just Abraham.”

“All right,” I said. “Abraham, is there a price on your head?”

He pulled his jacket open but did not take it all the way off. He hadn't bothered putting on his bloody shirts, although he'd wrapped his belly in bandaging. Not enough cotton, though. In the short time he'd been wearing it, the blood had soaked through.

“Not on my head, no,” he said. “I am secured, claimed.”

“Stitch out in the hedge?” Left Ned said. “That's not secured. You deserted House, didn't you? It's why you're busted open and looking for a peace offering to take back to your top man. It's why White is out beating the sticks looking for you.”

“Watch your step, Mr. Harris,” Abraham warned amiably. “My House stands with me and my actions. Does yours stand with you?”

“No fighting in the house,” I said. “You don't like each other. We've established that.” I pulled the bandage knot apart and let the wrap fall loosely around his waist. “So, you're not a criminal. Are you on the run? A slave?”

“I am galvanized,” he said in a soft tone that told me neither if that was a good thing nor a bad thing.

I dipped my fingertips into the jelly and the humming warmth of it resonated up through me. It had to do with the chemical makeup of the stuff, the blend of strange minerals and warped nanos natural to this land. The mutant beasts ate it out of the vegetation and rodents. When we fed Lizard, those minerals and odd tech filtered into its scales, which we harvested and boiled down to make the jelly.

“What does that mean, galvanized? I mean, I can see the thread that holds you together, but I don't know much more about you.” I meant it to be small talk. But he took so long to answer, I glanced up at him.

“It is how I was made,” he said in the way someone would explain that rain came from the sky. “Built piece by piece. Stitched,” he said, “like you.” He nodded toward my wrist, where the stitches shone a faint silver at the edge of my sweater.

“We aren't the same,” I said.

“Oh?”

I don't know why I'd said that. The last thing I needed was to point out that I was different. I glanced up into his eyes. He was waiting, patient as starlight.

“I just mean you're something of a celebrity, aren't you?”

“Yes. All of us are. Except you.” He said it as if I would fill in my story, tell him how I'd been made and why I'd been hiding out all these years. I had no intention of telling him anything more about me.

“So, there's more than one of you . . . of galvanized?” I latched onto safer ground in the conversation.

“Twelve.” He held my gaze. “Thirteen now.”

“I don't count myself as galvanized.” I reached out with a large glob of jelly on my fingertips. “Lots of people go under a doctor's needle and thread. I'm just like anyone else who's been mended. This might hurt a bit.”

“It won't,” he said. “Nothing does.”

I didn't care how tough he talked. This was going to sting.