House of Slide: Wilds, Part I Read online

  “Why don’t you get changed out of those soaking wet things and then talk to Satan. I don’t think it’s the best idea for him to see you in Matthew’s clothing. You know your brother. He’s seriously considering killing Matthew.”

  I stared at her. “Right. Thank you. I will put something on and then talk to him.” After Cami flashed her teeth at me and left, I rifled through the dresses and very few pants and tops in black and red that she’d given me. I ended up pulling on the red leather pants, simple black boots, and black top. I brushed my fingers through my damp hair. I’d have to get some basic hygienic supplies like hair brush and toothbrush.

  I took a deep breath before I left the room, walking up the stairs purposefully to find my brother. I entered the study, watching my brother’s face fall when he saw me instead of Cami.

  “We need to talk,” I said, leaning against the door until it closed with a soft click. I shut my eyes as I wove a rune. Green sparks I could see with my eyes closed created patterns that would block anyone from this conversation.

  He was standing when I opened my eyes, feeling dizzy. I hadn’t thrown a rune with my eyes shut since I’d been blocked, but it came naturally to me. With the Hollow tinge, I could see the energy better with my eyes closed. How quickly it came back to me, how natural. Strange to think what else I’d ‘forgotten’.

  “Why did you tell me not to trust Matthew?”

  I wanted to say more, to tell my brother about what Matthew knew, but some part of me instinctively wanted to protect Matthew if I could, to keep him safe if somehow he wasn’t a threat. The image of him limp in the chair, losing blood made my stomach ache.

  Saturn walked around the desk where he’d been sitting, moving to the windows to look out before he flicked the blinds and came around to me. He bent over and moved a piece on the chessboard left out on the low sofa, an opening move I copied, fingers sliding over the familiar smoothness of a pawn.

  “Why do you want to know about the Hybrid, and what are you doing here?” He sounded more reasonable this time, but his massive body and bald head were a physical denial of his Wild heritage that grated.

  I gave him a cool smile. “I stayed here last night, in the Hybrid’s bed.”

  He ground his teeth together for a second before his face became impassive again.

  “He wasn’t here last night.” He sounded like a Son, certain, confident, assured. He sounded nothing like he looked. He glowered down at the board and shoved another pawn with his meaty fingers.

  “I heard that he interrupted your wedding night,” I murmured as I paced, back and forth, pausing for a moment to slide another piece forward.

  “Startled me more than anything has in some time. I take that back. Seeing you dance with him at my wedding party blew my expectations spectacularly. What were you thinking?” he asked scowling at me. “Helen, why don’t you sit down? Your pacing is making me nervous.”

  I sat for a moment on the opposite side of the chessboard, made my move then stood. “Do you trust Matthew with your life?” I finally asked, shoving a hand through my damp hair. It was a mess.

  He blinked, studied me for a moment with a frown then shrugged. “I trust Matthew with my life. I don’t, however, trust him with my sister, particularly if he’s inviting you to take naps in his bed. Do you know what he can do with the imprint you left in his bed?” He ran a hand over his bald head then stopped, like he just remembered that he had no hair.

  “What can he do with an imprint?” I asked, trading his rook for my castle.

  He stared at me like the answer was obvious then moved another piece. “He’s half Wild, so very physical, Helen. Having the imprint of a woman in his bed could be entertaining to an amoral Hybrid, like him.”

  I felt a rush of embarrassment that I drowned in calculating the best way to defeat my brother before moving my piece. “You think he wants to seduce me? Doesn’t have much follow-through, does he?”

  “What game are you playing?” Saturn asked, glaring at the board before he looked up at me, his dark blue eyes glittering with sudden excitement.

  “I’m using…”

  He moved suddenly, hands around my neck before I could blink, boring into my eyes with wary fascination.

  “What’s happening to you?” he growled.

  I shoved him off of me, hearing the pieces clatter across the floor as I rubbed my throat, glaring at him. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t instigate a tussle in the middle of chess. It’s uncivilized.”

  “You haven’t played like this since before mother died.”

  I swallowed hard as I looked from him to the chessboard where the pieces were knocked over and scattered. “It’s a game.”

  “You played brilliantly.” He sounded proud, and I felt a tingle of pleasure from my big brother’s approval. “With soul.”

  I froze, staring at him while he stared back. “Have you told Cami?” I finally asked. “About the soul?”

  He shook his head. “With her it’s about living in the moment.”

  “Lovely,” I couldn’t help but mock. “As long as it isn’t the moment when they come to kill the unstable Hybrids the two of you produce.” I began putting the pieces back on the board, in their starting positions instead of where they’d been before.

  “So, you’re throwing runes with your eyes shut, playing chess creatively; any other old habits coming back to you?” He studied me, eyes dark blue like any of my brothers, but with so much confidence and awareness in them. Why had he chosen love over his House?

  “Yes. Do you know anything about who put blocks on my memories, and why?”

  He shrugged, but I knew when he was angry, really angry, without the bellow and bluster that was mostly for show. “I wasn’t there when it happened. I missed the funeral, the accident, the debate about whether it was in your best interest to change you.”

  I frowned at him. “But you knew about the blocks?”

  “I knew that you were different. Everyone said it was from grief, that you’d lost your poetry, your spark when mother died, but when I looked at you, I didn’t see grief. I didn’t see you at all. Now this,” he said with a gesture at me, red leather and messy hair. “Is you. Not public you, of course, but the parts of you that you’d let us see. Matthew hasn’t seen you wearing this has he?”

  I blinked at him. “No, but he has seen me soul fly.”

  A quick indrawn breath was his only sign of shock.

  “He probably enjoyed that.”

  I shook my head slightly trying not to feel sick. “I didn’t know what I was doing. It came out without any intention. What else can’t I remember? If I’m going to be Daughter of the House, thanks for that, by the way, I have to know what I am at the very least so that I don’t put the House in danger. Does he need to die?”

  He stared at me, considering. Finally he shook his head. “I’ve been Hunting with the Hybrid for a long time. After all the times that he’s saved my life, it would be rude to kill him.”

  “You are no longer part of the House. Your life has nothing to do with it.”

  “Helen, don’t try and be slow. He always knew about the Hollow tinge. He gets a twisted thrill out of knowing that we are what we are, safely protected and part of a prestigious House. You don’t have to try and kill him.”

  “I wouldn’t try.”

  His face became grim. “Matthew would not be an ideal first kill.” He stared at me while I stared back.

  “If you trust him so much with your life, why don’t you think that I should trust him with mine?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not your life I’m worried about with him. Matthew doesn’t express emotions. You should have heard him last night. Sounded like a Hallmark card. You need to stay away from him. He’s not a halfway kind of person. The way he danced with you got everyone’s attention. You need to get away from here before his enemies turn up wanting to hurt him through you.”

  I stared at him, his intent expression. “He doesn’t usually dan
ce like that?”

  “No. He doesn’t dance like that, or sing like that, or give a woman his bed. A woman touches him and it takes a long time for that touch to wear off. He’s very particular. Don’t smile. Being special to a killer like him isn’t safe for you.”

  I lifted my chin slightly. “I’m not made out of glass.”

  “You didn’t even know what you were,” he exploded, striking the table with his fist.

  I frowned at him. “I can’t be Daughter of the House, next in line to Slide without learning how to take care of myself. That means that I need his help to take down the blocks as well as his help to learn how to be an effective killer.” I nodded satisfied, particularly when I saw the horrified expression on his face.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  I shrugged. “I think I’ll ask him to take me Hunting. It could be very interesting.”

  He glared. “When someone I don’t know works so hard to keep me alive, I start to get curious. You don’t know him like I do. His behavior shows signs of obsession—with you.”

  “He really did save your life? He said you were suicidal.” I tried not to let his words worry me, or worse, make my skin tingle.

  My brother pulled out a lighter then held it to the end of his disgusting cigar. “Suicidal and apathetic aren’t the same things. Wanting to die and being willing to die…” He shook his head. “This isn’t about me. You have to be careful, Helen,” he said, putting his huge hand on my arm. “The two of you won’t end well.”

  I sighed and sank down on a chair to stare at the chessboard. “I don’t remember mother’s funeral. Why would I block that out?”

  “Go home. Ask Slide.”

  I laughed. “Right. Dear old daddy will greet me with open arms and an open straight jacket. Sounds like I’d better make the most of my time trapped here before I’m trapped there.”

  He sat down beside me, making his chair creak from his weight. “Hel…”

  “That’s funny,” I said, turning to him. “You’re Satan, and I’m Hel. Don’t you think that’s hilarious?” I laughed and shook my head, getting to my feet. “So, you think he’s safe with my secrets.”

  “In a word, yes, but don’t trust him with anything else,” he growled glaring up at me.

  I patted his head. “You’re so sweet. It’s almost like you’re my big brother. I’ll see you later. Apparently I’m having breakfast with you tomorrow,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Try not to kiss between bites, all right?” I closed my eyes for a moment, pulling down the runes so the green sparks went out like a bubble popping.

  “Do you need anything?” Saturn asked, still glaring at me from his chair, holding his cigar while his bald head with swirling runes did look demonic. “Money? Weapons?”

  “Don’t worry about me. Enjoy your honeymoon.”

  I left with him scowling at my back. I felt a wave of relief that I didn’t have to kill Matthew. I wasn’t certain I’d be able to do it. It gave me enough space to think about Jarvais. I shook my head as I descended the stairs. I couldn’t afford to think of him, not when the very idea of him, the memory of his hand holding mine made me ill and weak.

  I walked slowly, carefully down the stairs, keeping my boots soft against the wooden steps. At the bottom, I hesitated before I turned right and looked through the open door to the library where Matthew still slumped back in the chair. Otherwise, the room was empty. With a pounding heart, I crossed the floor, watching Matthew for signs of life.

  I saw a slight pulse in his neck that had me exhaling in relief. His face looked hard, like it had been coated in a layer of plastic. When I touched his cheek, I felt the barrier before it melted away under my touch to his soft, vulnerable skin. I’d heard about this. This is what happened when Cools went into hibernation, a healing state that could last an indeterminate amount of time.

  I didn’t like leaving him there, leaving him where anyone passing could come in and touch him like I was doing. I picked him up carefully, his too long body making balancing difficult. I had the strength from my rune-enhanced arms, but maneuvering him up the stairs without knocking into any of the hideous sculptures took all my concentration. He slept through it all, looking corpse-like, his sharp cheekbones and deep circles around his eyes making me want to feed him. I settled him into his bed, cocooning him in the duvet. He felt cold. I should make him some tea so he could have something warm when he woke up.

  I left him in his bed, carefully locking his door behind me then went down stairs and into the back yard. I crunched more glass on my way to the back fence, outside of which his parked motorcycle stood.

  I searched his bag, coming up with an old envelope that looked softened from wear. I stared at the envelope, at the cursive on the outside that I couldn’t pretend wasn’t my own handwriting. What was Matthew doing with one of my letters? I swallowed hard as I opened it, fingers trembling as I pulled out a sheet of paper, creased and crumpled like it had been folded and unfolded a thousand times.

  I can’t stop thinking of the beauty of roses in winter. November rose, December rose, January the ice storm captures the whorls and buds to spend an eternity encased in ice.

  I began my runes two weeks ago. Why haven’t you written? Your words would soften the sting of knives and metal, steel and quire, bier and pyre. I lie on the table and they cut me apart. Pieces that don’t fit are pruned as heartlessly as if I were an unruly conifer. A month without a word. Two months. It’s for the best they say, to put you away, in the shadows and darkness behind me. But the darkness creeps closer and closer.

  My mother is sick. She’s a rose with petals that fall with every brush of wind, the slightest gust. Blood red petals falling down until the world is blood and death and darkness with no words to cut through the pain and loneliness.

  The letter tumbled from my fingers to the gravel. My mother. I could remember curling up beside her on the hospital bed they’d brought to Slide, hooked up to monitors and IV while I read her my latest poem. I remembered the last time, the way she’d looked at me with her sunken cheeks and luminous eyes, a fragile creature that would blow away, but she smiled, eyes bright and alive even while her body died. Her soul held on while we shared secrets. She didn’t precisely approve of my writing to Carve, but she’d said he had soul, brushing her fingers over his letter, her smile permission if not approval. It hadn’t mattered by then. I’d fallen hopelessly in love with his words, his soul.

  I blinked back the tears as I bent down and grabbed the letter, stuffing it hastily into the envelope. Why did Matthew have my letter? I hesitated before I put it back in his bag, taking his thermos and going back into the yard. I walked mindlessly to the kitchen where I made tea and found garbage bags then went back outside. I cleaned the mess quickly and efficiently, glad to have something to occupy my hands while my mind raced, a tangle of memories and thoughts that I couldn’t organize.

  Matthew must have read my letters. That’s how he’d known me, why he’d acted out of character with me. Who else had read my letters? I couldn’t think. I carried the garbage bags back to the alley and walked through the pristine yard to the house, anxiety mounting with every step, while clouds swirled above my head.

  I passed through the mint green kitchen, up the stairs past the sculptures that seemed to mock me to his room where I held the key. Answers. My answers were in that room, with Matthew. I took a breath and opened the door, locking it behind me before I walked slowly to the bed where he lay, too thin to fill up the space.

  I twisted my hands as I watched him sleep, picking apart his features, the hard angles at odds with the soft mouth, silky long hair brushed down over the high forehead. I bent over him, studying his face, smelling his peculiar scent, herbs and lemon. I sat down then curled up beside him, my head on his shoulder. His hibernation glaze softened until I could feel the beating of his heart beneath my hand, feel the skin of his neck against my forehead.

  I wrapped my arms around him, closed my eyes tight, and felt the wracking p
ain of losing my mother. It hurt so much. I’d been left alone without anyone who understood me. My father, Slide had taken care of my problems by taking the memories and feelings away from me, but beneath the numbness, my heart was still broken. Once from losing Jarvais, twice from losing my mother. I felt burning hot tears trickle down my face and onto Matthew’s unresponsive form.

  Chapter 8

  Matthew

  Seeing Jarvais with Helen destroyed me. He sickened her with every touch, every word as she stared at him with enormous eyes while her face grew paler every moment. I could do nothing. If I tried to stop him, he would know that I cared and destroy her to hurt me. I would have to kill him, my own brother. Struggling with blood loss, I wasn’t in the best condition to take out my brother who had been growing steadily stronger.

  After she’d left, I faded into hibernation, pushing myself into that state so that he couldn’t question me about her. I woke to the taste of tears and the sound of even breathing beneath my chin. It smelled like sorrow and ink. I opened my eyes and saw a sea of black hair drowning me, waves crashing against my face and throat.

  “Helen,” I whispered, my voice rough and dry. I should have drunk something before passing out.

  She murmured and shifted, her body soft against mine. The down blanket came halfway up my chest separating us. Helen. Had I leaned her into bed with me? I couldn’t imagine any other reason she’d be sleeping with me. No one else could have penetrated my boundaries, the protective hibernation shell, none but her who flowed through my veins her imprint on my heart an everlasting mark.

  Morning light spilled across the room, bringing out blue in her black hair. I lay there unmoving watching the light play. I wanted to remember this, let the imprint of her lying against me soak deep into me until I would never lose it.

  I drifted, letting my mind run over the past few days since Helen brushed my life again; the dance, the song, the kiss, the taste of her skin, her smile, and voice. I never wanted to forget her voice, soft and low, sweet and husky.