“All these years,” Slater Orange said, “I had assumed galvanized was a process that could be duplicated. Given enough time, enough medical and technical advancement, any body part could be grown, transplanted, replaced.
“But every body part ages . . . and the brain especially suffers, falters, fails. You must understand, Mr. Case, it is not just a new body that I desire. It is immortality. Forever in one body, with a brain that will never degrade.”
“I am not a doctor,” Quinten said. “I cannot help you with such things.”
“You are a genius, resourceful, willing to build with what you have on hand. Just as you built your sister, Matilda.”
Quinten did not stop pacing.
“But you had good parts to start with, didn’t you?” Slater said. “A body that had been forgotten, hidden, stored away. A brain that had slept for three hundred years instead of waking as all the other galvanized awoke. Your sister began, as all galvanized began: a human who survived the Wings of Mercury.”
Quinten stopped. Turned, folded his arms across his chest, and gave him a bored stare. “I demand contact with House Gray.”
Slater Orange held up the slim screen again. “I can only assume that you found a way to transfer her personality, memories, and self into that blank brain. Or perhaps the brain was not blank. Perhaps you cleared away the original personality so that your sister’s mind, thoughts, and awareness could be implanted unimpeded. What I do know is that the brain she now lives within was changed by that secret experiment centuries ago. I also assume that if a sniper sent a bullet into her brain or heart that she might survive it, that she would not bleed out and die. Shall we see if my assumptions are correct?”
The screen flickered and split, both images focused on the interior of an abandoned building. In that building were four people: Abraham Seventh of House Gray, Robert Twelfth of House Orange, a mutant with two heads, and Matilda Case.
“A single word from me and the triggers will be pulled.”
“It’s a recording,” Quinten said, studying the time stamp at the top of the screen.
“It is not. Shall I prove it to you in blood?”
Matilda crossed the warehouse and hesitated outside of the green door.
Both sniper scopes followed her movements without pause, holding a narrow bead on the side and back of her head.
“Make your decision now,” Slater Orange said. “Agree to follow my orders, or I will kill your sister. Five, four, three, two . . .”
“Don’t,” Quinten growled. “Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot her.” He took a deep, shaking breath and clenched his hands into fists. “What do you want?”
“Your hands, your knowledge, your stitches. I will provide the body, and you will imprint my memories, my thoughts, my mind into the brain. Into a galvanized: a house immortal.”
Not a twitch from the man, though Slater saw that he was sweating now. Good. He was listening. He was hurting.
“If you do so, I will release you.”
“You think I believe that?” Quinten asked.
“I think you have no other option.”
Quinten nodded, a rusty sort of motion.
“I need to hear that one word,” Slater said softly. “Your agreement. That you will make me galvanized. Tell me yes, Mr. Case.”
Quinten’s gaze did not move from his sister on the screen. “Yes,” he whispered.
And he had won.
“I am pleased you have finally agreed to our working relationship,” Slater said. “Please understand that there will be a gun trained on your sister every moment until your release. If I do not contact the gunmen frequently with the correct code words, they will shoot.”
He tapped the back of the screen and it faded to gray.
“Now then,” Slater said. “I will provide the galvanized body. Will you need more than one?”
“No,” he said quietly.
“I will send someone in a few hours to take you to the operating room. In that time, please compile a list of any other equipment you may need. After you have acquainted yourself with my resources, we shall make history together, you and I.”
14
Classified as property, the undead dozen were owned and used in secret. That was the world’s first mistake.—1963
—from the journal of L.U.C.
I shouldered my way through the green door with my duffel and rifle. It wasn’t a room on the other side but, rather, a large well-lit elevator.
“Garage isn’t safe from what? Spying?” Left Ned said. He stepped through the door, and I moved out of the way to make room for him to enter. “Why do Houses have to spy on every inch of soil?”
Abraham paused before stepping in. He frowned and scanned the empty warehouse, his gaze flicking to the shadows and corners as if he knew we were being watched.
“Problem?” I asked.
“Not if we move.” He shut the door and pressed the wristband into a scanner on the wall. I felt that vacuum-release drop of an elevator kicking in. The elevator came to a rest with a slight hop and the door opened.
It all happened so quickly, I hadn’t even had a chance to ask who he thought would be spying on us.
On the other side of the open door stood a man. I’d seen him once before, on the screens in my basement. Oscar Gray was about my height, blocky built beneath layers of shirts, a knee-length jacket, and scarves. His curly black hair was streaked with gray, his eyebrows thick on his affable, round face that carried a few lines at his forehead and the edges of his eyes. He appeared friendly, kind.
He tipped his head up to peer at us through the slim gray-lensed glasses perched on his nose.
“Ah, here you are. Good. I am so glad you could all come. Please, come in, come in, and welcome. We have a lot of ground to cover and not enough time, I’m afraid.”
Abraham stepped out of the elevator and leaned his arm across the door, holding it open.
“I don’t believe we’ve met officially,” I said offering my hand. “I’m Matilda Case. Pleased to meet you.”
Neds hissed in a breath, and Abraham coughed to cover a laugh.
Oscar just smiled wider. “Wonderful to meet you, Matilda,” he said. “Just wonderful.” He took my hand in one of his and then placed his other one over the top of mine.
His hands were warm and smooth, and very human.
“My name is Oscar. Oscar Gray, head of House Gray.”
Top man of House Gray. Ultimate manager of humans as resources.
Humans like my brother, like Neds.
But not me. Even so, I was a little starstruck and nervous. This man was one of the eleven most powerful people in the world. People I’d spent my life avoiding at all cost. Oscar Gray turned and strolled into the luxuriously appointed place, his hands clasped together in front of him. “Would you like some tea? Abraham, could you call for refreshments, please?”
The clean, quiet, and beautifully lit room showed sparks of colored art and tasteful gray furnishings amid the soft gray carpet and soothing gray walls.
“You don’t have to bother,” I said.
“It’s no bother. I enjoy company, and you are my guests. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
Okay. This wasn’t what I’d been expecting out of one of the most powerful people in the world. Kindness to strangers? Seemed a bit below his pay grade.
I wanted to like him for that, but no matter how much the Neds argued otherwise, I really didn’t fall into trust with every stranger who sashayed through my life. I needed Oscar Gray to do some things for me, and I knew he wanted something in exchange.
Probably me and my life.
Abraham strode across the room and exited the door on the far left.
I strolled over to the huge curve of windows that fanned out to look over the city.
The elevator hadn’t taken us
down, or maybe it had, but we had also gone way, way up. We were on top of a skyscraper looking over one of the original old cities: Chicago.
I’d been surrounded by familiar horizons for all my life. The spread of buildings and tubes and roads and aircraft and lights out there in the not-quite-dark was dizzying.
It was also the highest off the ground I’d been without getting pine needles in my hair.
“Do please have a seat, Mr. Harris,” Oscar Gray said.
I turned. Neds finally shook out of his shock and stepped into the room.
He was moving like the whole place was made of holy eggshells.
The man had nerves made of cast iron. It might have been funny to see him so rattled, but, then, nothing about my life was funny right now.
“Thank you kindly for your offer,” Right Ned said with formality I’d never heard out of him, “but I don’t believe I belong here, Your Eminence.”
Eminence? I shot him a look, but he was not joking. Not one bit.
Oscar opened his hand toward the couch. “Nonsense. Please. Relax and have a seat. Are you hungry? I could have food brought up.”
“No, thank you, sir,” Right Ned said. “I’m fine.”
“Good. Good. Although the cookies are not to be missed.”
Neds walked over to the couch, Right Ned throwing me a startled look. He obviously felt as out of place as I did here on top of the world.
“Miss Case?” Oscar Gray said.
“Yes?” I moved away from the window.
“You could rest your weapon here, if you’d like.” He pointed to the coffee table in the middle of the couches and chairs. His eyes were the twinkly kind that made one think he laughed a lot.
“Thank you.” I did just that and sat on the couch across from Neds. Oscar Gray took the chair with his back to the windows.
“I would like to apologize for my manner of invitation,” he said.
“What invitation?” I asked.
“Abraham. I sent him, rather abruptly I’m afraid, to get ahead of other forces zeroing in on you. It is certainly not an official way of conducting business, but time was of the essence. I hoped he would convince you and your father to come and meet with me so we could speak in person. Perhaps your father had second thoughts and stayed behind?”
“My father is dead,” I said.
“Ah,” he said. “I’m sorry for your loss. We had thought he was with you.”
“Abraham said his enemies are looking for him,” I said. “Do you know who those enemies are?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Abraham strolled into the room. Behind him was a short, brisk woman in a gray turtleneck and slacks, her black hair slicked back into a severe bun. She carried a tray with thin, beautiful glasses of iced tea and a platter of perfectly round butter-brown cookies.
Her curious eyes missed nothing.
“Thank you, Elwa,” Oscar said as he took a glass of tea and a cookie. He slurped the top inch or so off the tea and then popped an entire cookie in his mouth.
Elwa carried the tray over to Neds and finally me.
I took the remaining glass of tea but not a cookie. I was too worried to eat.
“You are safe,” Elwa said so quietly, I almost didn’t hear her.
I gave her a brief smile.
My safe was so far away from here.
Abraham moved over and stood behind Oscar, his hands folded loosely at his back in the stance of a man long used to standing guard. I wondered if that wound was bothering him.
“I would like to know who would want to hurt my father,” I said. “And I wonder if I might see the message my mother sent.”
“We can show you the message. Abraham, be sure that happens, please. As for your father’s enemies, it is a complicated answer,” Oscar said. “Do you know what kind of work your father used to do?”
Neds glanced at me. He didn’t like when I offered up my name to people. I knew he didn’t want me to tell a head of a House anything about my father’s past.
“He didn’t leave many records behind about it,” I said truthfully.
“He was claimed by House White—Medical.” Oscar took a drink of tea, thinking. “A brilliant man, your father. He had a degree in experimental physics, although he spent his career in Medical. It was a quiet career. Unremarkable in nearly every way. Until he quit and traded down for House Green. Suddenly, his career was remarkable.”
“Remarkable?” I asked.
“No person of his status trades down, Matilda. No one. That”—he lifted his eyebrows—“made it a remarkable thing. A remarkable thing that drew notice.”
“Didn’t he serve out his contract with House White?” I asked.
“Yes, he served his time. But when a man who has the kind of information your father had and the mind your father had leaves to another House, it is a concern. Foremost to Kiana White of House White. She was not amused that one of her premier physicists jumped houses to go farming, then dropped out of sight for years. She was even less amused when rumor of his continued research—research that should have belonged to White—surfaced.”
“What research?” I asked.
“You, Matilda.” He didn’t say it unkindly, but just the same, goose bumps rolled down my arms and spine and my stomach clenched.
“I’m not research,” I said with more conviction than I felt. “I’m his daughter.”
“You are much more than that,” Oscar said. “You are what his enemies are looking for. You are what Kiana White would like to claim as her property. A successful attempt at immortality. Forever young.”
“People can’t own people,” I said.
He sipped his tea and studied me a moment.
“Galvanized are not recognized as people,” he said. “They are not naturals.”
And there it was, straight out of the head of a House. I wasn’t a person. I was a thing.
Funny; I felt like a person. I loved and cried and laughed like a person. But hearing it out of his mouth made it more true in some way. Made it more real.
“I still have rights,” I said.
He tipped his head. “Mostly true. The first galvanized stitched together and reawakened were little more than laboratory experiments. It wasn’t until the process was improved that scientists realized galvanized may have retained the mental and emotional capabilities of a human being. Before then, galvanized were nothing more than locks on death’s door that scientists hoped to pick.
“Then there was the fall and the Restructure. During those dark times, the galvanized broke free of their keepers and led an uprising against the Houses, declaring themselves nonhuman and above the law. They almost succeeded in changing the world. They did succeed in branding themselves as nonhuman.
“You can imagine the fear that spread when it became known that the galvanized feel no pain, can replace injured body parts, and never die. They were seen as killing machines, as alien. Monsters. To be burned, crushed, and killed.
“The Houses joined together to pursue the destruction of the galvanized and all those in House Brown who followed them.
“In exchange for mercy for the civilians who had taken up their fight, the galvanized agreed to treaties and terms of surrender. The laws were already in place: galvanized were not considered human. They are a biological and technological result of an experiment.
“I think it’s a ridiculous distinction, but the fear of galvanized cut too deeply and bled too long for too many people. Powerful people. The heads of Houses still wear vials of Shelley dust.”
I shook my head. “Shelley dust?”
“It burns through stitches. While it won’t kill a galvanized, it will cause the limbs, connections, and internal organs to fall apart. Grisly stuff. Distasteful and inhumane.”
Abraham hadn’t said a word throughout this. He just stood exp
ressionless, staring at the far wall. But I knew he’d been there, been through all these events Oscar Gray related like they were dry text in a history book.
“So House White thinks they own me because my dad worked for them and I’m stitched?”
There was more. I knew the body my brother had transferred my mind into was once stored at House White laboratories. And if House White knew that, then they were right—they owned my body.
My stomach rolled. It was a horrifying thought.
“They believe any experiment that has a basis in the work he did in House White is their property. So, yes, they believe they own you.”
“He didn’t make me,” I said.
“Til . . .” Right Ned warned softly.
“Oh?” Oscar frowned. “We thought. I thought.” He glanced back at Abraham, who was still staring at the far wall.
“Who made you, then?” Oscar asked.
“My brother.”
“Quinten? Quinten Case?”
“Yes.”
“That is . . .” He closed his eyes, and pulled off his glasses. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “This is much more serious that I thought. If I’d known your brother could create galvanized, I never would have allowed him placement at other Houses. Has he told anyone? Did he have friends, people he would confide in?”
“No one in the Houses,” I said.
“That’s something,” he said. “And before the Houses find that I have brought you here and lay claim to you—especially House White—let me give you some choices.”
House White had been at my doorstep just a few hours ago. I broke out in a cold sweat at how close I had been to being discovered. I’d thought I was protecting Abraham by lying to them, but it had been more than that. My life had been on the line.
“Are you all right?” Oscar asked. “You’ve gone rather pale.”
I leaned forward and placed my glass next to my rifle. If I’d had a shred less control, I’d just pick up the gun, wave it around threateningly, and leave.
Instead, I leaned back and folded my cold fingers in my lap.
“I’m fine,” I said. “What choices?”