Robert flinched at the name. A curious reaction.
Slater watched the galvanized for any other reaction as Quinten Case entered the room, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t blink.
Quinten wore clean clothes but not sterile scrubs. He had insisted that the kind of operation he was going to perform wouldn’t spill blood.
Slater did not believe him, of course. But to ensure that the procedure went according to his wishes, he had arranged for a small motivational offering to be on display.
Quinten Case walked over to the table and secured the galvanized’s wrists, feet, and torso with straps even a monster like it could not break.
The galvanized and the man made eye contact, but they did not speak to each other. They both understood the price they would pay for stepping out of line.
“The injection,” Slater ordered.
Quinten Case selected a syringe from the table and inserted the tip of it into the galvanized’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He thumbed down the plunger.
Robert Twelfth’s eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp. Unconscious.
“Now, Mr. Case,” Slater began. “You will note that your sister is still within my grasp.”
The wall behind Slater faded to display a screen.
Slater enjoyed watching the man struggle to close down his reactions to what he saw there.
His sister, Matilda Case, was standing in a room with the heads of House Gray and House Black, a mutant, and two galvanized. The screen showed the scene from three angles, as the scopes of guns followed the slightest shift of her every move.
“When you are done,” Slater said softly, “when you are successful in transferring my mind into the galvanized body, I will give those gunmen the code to stand down. It is a word only they and I know. If you try to kill me, your sister will die. If you try to stop me, your sister will die. If you are unsuccessful in transferring my mind, memories, and thoughts into that galvanized brain, your sister will die.
“And then you will die. Now begin.” Slater drew off his jacket and placed it neatly on a low table. He then lay on top of the table and clasped his hands across his ribs.
The body would be his, a house immortal. Death would be cheated. And then he would have all the time he needed to take rulership of this House and the others.
• • •
A man’s voice repeated a message, the words making little sense: Orange, hidden enemy, and coordinates. And then the words were gone, and so was his memory of them.
The exhaled hush of mechanical equipment cycling, a soft ticking, and the clink of metal against metal woke Slater Orange. He opened his eyes.
He was lying on an operating table, staring up at the ceiling and lights pocketed there. But he could not feel a thing. Could not feel his body, his face, his own heart beating.
He inhaled. Panic, sharp and sour, coated the back of his throat. What had Quinten Case done to him? Had he paralyzed him? Had the transference failed? Was he dying?
Hot rage surged through him. That, at least, he could feel. If Quinten had failed, then he and his stitched sister would die.
Slater would make them suffer all the way to hell.
“The disorientation should pass soon.” Quinten stood to one side of Slater, near enough he could see him. His face was an impassive mask. He held a syringe in one hand and a bone saw in the other.
“The paralysis is temporary. Speech will return first.” Quinten’s gaze flicked up, as if reading a clock or some other machine across the room. “Now,” he said. “I’ve done what you wanted. You have your new body. Call off your gunmen.”
A bone saw. Quinten was a clever man. If Slater didn’t speak the word and call his men away from Matilda Case, Quinten would saw off Slater’s head.
And the horror of it? Slater would not die. He would be trapped, bodiless, his thoughts suspended in a brain that never degraded.
In his desire to be discreet about this operation, this crime he was committing, Slater had disabled all recording devices. There were no men standing by to kill the clever Quinten Case.
“She . . .” Slater wheezed. He inhaled, exhaled again. It was strange not to feel anything. But that was the coin paid for immortality.
He had known galvanized couldn’t feel, but the reality of occupying a body that had no sensation was far more overwhelming than he had expected.
“She is alive,” he said. The dissonance of hearing his words come out in another’s voice sent fear crawling over him. Madness scratched at the edge of his mind.
“Call off your snipers,” Quinten said again. “And let me speak to her. That will be the only proof I will believe.”
Slater ran his tongue across his teeth. Clumsy. Each body part was too thick, disjointed, and miles away from his control.
But he would learn to control this awkward vessel. He would make it his own. And then he would claim the head of House Orange again—the first immortal to seat such power. After that, he would take the world.
“Gòu,” Slater commanded through a direct link triggered for just that one word.
Quinten Case glanced at the screen. The tightness at the edge of his eyes relaxed as the gunmen responded to the command by standing down.
“Now,” Quinten said, pressing the bone saw against Slater’s throat. “You will open a direct line to House Gray so I can speak to my sister.”
“That was not our agreement.” Speaking was easier now, and even though he couldn’t feel his extremities, he had a sense of where they were and how they would respond to him.
“We didn’t have an agreement,” Quinten snapped. “Not since the day my employment became imprisonment. Your communication system is locked. Unlock it.”
Slater pulled both hands flat to his sides and pushed himself up to sitting. There was power in this body. Strength he had not felt in decades.
Vertigo spun the room, but quickly passed.
Quinten had not pulled the saw through his neck.
Slater smiled. “You cannot kill me. It is not just my communications that are locked. It is my entire estate. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
He had endured the pain of his own ruined flesh for decades. Having no sensation was so much better than being in constant pain.
“A brilliant man would have tried to break the codes, would have attempted escape. And you are a brilliant man, Quinten Case.”
“What I am,” Quinten said, “is a man who refuses to wear anyone’s leash. And what you are is a man who put his life in my hands. That was a very foolish decision.”
“A calculated risk,” Slater said. “I don’t fear you, Mr. Case.” He stood off the table, one hand still gripping the edge of it for balance. This body was shorter, but much, much stronger than Slater had ever been in his life.
“I am not done with you yet,” Slater said. “I know you have been scouring the Houses, looking for information on the Wings of Mercury, that lost experiment from more than two centuries ago. And I know you have found most of it. Most. There is more, a book of drawings and notes that once belonged to your grandmother, Lara Unger Case. The key to time.”
Quinten Case tried not to let his surprise show.
“Yes,” Slater said. “I know about the experiment. I know that in 1910, a scientist by the name of Case tried to stop time. I know the experiment failed and that it killed everyone within a fifty-mile radius. Except for twelve”—he tipped his head—“thirteen people, who fell into comas. Those thirteen survived the break in time and went on to become the galvanized. Immortal.”
“And I know you, Mr. Case, are unnaturally curious about what happened that day. What I do not know is why.”
“You will never know why if you don’t release me.”
“That is not possible,” Slater said. “We could both gain by helping each other.”
Quin
ten tightened his grip on the saw. “Only one of us will live long enough to gain anything from that experiment.”
“The galvanized do not die.”
“Not yet,” Quinten said. “But time will collect its due sooner than you think.” He tipped the syringe, thumb on the plunger. “Release me. Now.”
Slater Orange spoke one word: “Shandian.”
Electricity cut through the room in lightning strikes. It knocked out Quinten, who crumpled to the floor, twitching, and then lay still.
Fast, brutal, effective, and gone without a trace. It left Slater undamaged. Electricity could not harm galvanized. It was in their lifeblood. It, or some dark form of it, had given the galvanized life and reawakened them from their state of nonliving.
Slater made his way carefully over to the table where his old body lay. He considered it for a moment or two. He was surprised to feel anger at no longer owning it, anger at having been diminished in power even as he had gained physical prowess.
Galvanized were not human. But he refused to be thought of as property.
First, the body of Slater Orange must be transferred to a private, secure room, and left there to die. He had already taken care of the paperwork and contracts that would leave him, now Robert Twelfth, in charge of House Orange.
Slater walked to the door, gaining balance and confidence with each step. He would wash and dress and prepare himself to become the first immortal to rule.
20
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.
That 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?”