House of Slide: Hunter

by Juliann Whicker

  “Thank you for that,” my mother said shaking her head slightly. “He’s right,” she said, looking at me levelly. “As responsible as I am for raising a demon horde, which is not a topic for any kind of civilized conversation, I would only make it worse. I’m not stable enough.” She hated saying it. Her eyes burned with sudden anger that had me flinching away from her.

  “So, who’s going to destroy the demon mistress?” I asked fingering the scar on my cheek.

  Matthew shrugged. “She’ll self-destruct at some point, or some Old One will notice and put an end to it.”

  “She wants to kill me. She has a plan she wants to enact with my knife.”

  My mother tried to speak soothingly, but I could feel her worry and the frustration that she couldn’t do anything directly about it. “She shouldn’t be able to use the knife after she has demon blood. I burned when I tried to use the knife after I’d become a bit unsavory.”

  “I remember,” Matthew said, not looking at her.

  I bit into a berry and sour, tart, bitter, none of those words did them justice.

  “After you’re really trained, you’ll be able to defend yourself,” my mother said, leaning forward to touch my shoulder. “You have so much Nether blood, you should be able to survive all but the worst experiences.”

  “Survive,” I said, swallowing hard, and not just from the berries. “I’d rather do a little better than that.”

  “Oh, you will,” Matthew said with assurance that I felt. “I saw you dance. Untrained, you’re dangerous, but after we’re done with you, you’ll be a catastrophe.”

  My mother shook her head but I saw her slight smile.

  My mother seemed a completely different person there in the ramshackle house as she watched over me. She stayed by me but didn’t seem to hover. I had no idea how she managed that.

  She didn’t stay away from Matthew, but she didn’t seek him out either for confrontation or anything else. They simply lived in the same house, moving around each other as though careful not to interact too much.

  I heard a guitar as I woke up again, drowning in the loneliness of my broken bond. I followed the sound into the music room, surprised to see my mother instead of Matthew bent over the guitar, her curved pale neck and fall of black hair hiding her face.

  Her fingers moved slowly over the chords, her voice humming a song that I remembered from my childhood.

  I sat down on the floor beside her feet, leaning against her chair with closed eyes.

  When I opened them, Matthew stood in the doorway, watching us with a strangely blank expression. My mother looked up and the music trailed away, leaving us with a heavy silence.

  “Don’t let me stop you,” he said, turning away from us with his hands clenched.

  “I apologize,” my mother said, standing smoothly to return the guitar to its place on the wall. “I should have asked permission to touch your instruments.”

  “You are my guest. You may do what you like,” he said, his back towards us.

  She sighed. “I am your chaperone. My presence should be demure and subtle.”

  He turned, frowning at her. “You are my chaperone? You’re going to protect me from your daughter?” He smiled, a wide smile that showed his stained teeth but somehow seemed charming. He swept a bow to Helen of utter grace and elegance. “I thank my lady for her protection and civility.”

  My mother raised her eyebrows before she smiled stiffly. “It would not be the first time I saved you from unwanted attention. For years you’ve used being jilted by me as an excuse to avoid entanglements.”

  Matthew cocked his head. “You dislike having a devastating reputation?”

  “I dislike being a piece of a lie. I never jilted you.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You tried to kill me once.”

  “Twice,” she corrected with an even smile. “I’ve wanted to kill you every time I’ve heard whispers about how I ruined you after I dropped you for an Old One. That would be many times.”

  “You want me to advertise the truth? What woman would rather not have it thought that she did the leaving?”

  “It all happened a long time ago. What matters is now. You haven’t even tried to continue the line of Carve or DelaCroix. You use a lie to prevent you from your duty.”

  They stared at each other until Matthew cocked his head at her. “You want me to marry a Wild girl and proceed to have as many children as possible before it kills her?” He frowned at her. “You really wish me to be a respectable Wild?”

  She sighed. “Be what you like, Matthew. But whatever happened in our past should not stand in the way of your future. Let it go, the lie, the truth, it’s all in the past.” She turned and grabbed the guitar before she walked towards him, holding it out like a challenge.

  “I played that song as a lullaby for my children. It’s the best I had to give them. Play it for her. It’s time that you stop hiding who you are and what you have to give the world.”

  He took the guitar, wrapping his long, slender fingers around the neck while he stayed staring at my mother.

  “I haven’t played it since…”

  “It’s time.”

  She turned and walked to me then sat neatly on the floor beside me, waiting patiently for Matthew with the calm assurance that he would not fail her.

  He struggled visibly until he walked slowly towards us. He sat, bare feet shifting against the wood floor before he began.

  I’d heard him play the land into violence, but hearing him sing a simple song did something strange to me. I began to feel okay from the inside.

  His voice and guitar soothed my soul. My shoulders shook while my chest tightened, but in spite of my sobbing, something shifted inside of me. He sang on, weaving words and music while my mother stroked my back over my runes, every touch soothing me, matching the words, the sound of Matthew’s voice, piercing my heart with his words.

  The feather’s fletched, prepared for flight, The pen’s against the page.

  Your lovely words will pierce the night, Beyond the fearful rage

  Quills and Quires, steel and pyres Words heavier than steel.

  Scars of ink like blackened fire, Leaving wounds and weals.

  A smear of ink, the taste of blood, Black upon the skin.

  The pen is thrust, the ink is dried, The message sealed within.

  Drawing lines of love and hate Lines upon a palm

  Night descends the letter ends Leaving me alone and calm.

  Quills and Quires, steel and pyres. Words far heavier than lead,

  Swirls of ink like blackened fire Leaving words that bled.

  I know my words have found their home I know the heart’s met its mate.

  I know in loving soul and soul There’s hope and dawn and day.

  Quills and Quires, steel and pyres. Words heavier than steal.

  Scars of ink like blackened fire Leaving wounds and weals.

  I didn’t feel alone. I felt my mother touch my hand, felt Matthew’s elbow brush my shoulder even as I wept. I knew they were doing something to me, my mother’s touch, Matthew’s voice, working together to soften the edges of my rendered soul.

  Matthew sang, his voice curling around me, filling the air with pain, anguish, joy and boundless energy. He should sing like this always, not the violence, the death, the anger that I’d danced to in the woods.

  After the song ended, we sat there, me with a tear stained face leaning against my mother while he stood and slipped the guitar back into its place on the wall.

  “Thank-you,” my mother told him, wrapping her arms around me.

  He nodded and left us alone, but his voice still filled the space, the life and light of it so brilliant that I understood how my mother had loved him, the musician, the gardener, the grumpy misanthrope. She’d told him in so many words that he should settle down and marry a Wild girl.

  I sat up, pulling away from her.

  “I am not going to marry Matthew,” I told her in my scratchy voice.
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  She threw back her head and laughed. The sound filled the room the same way Matthew’s singing had. She stood, shaking back her hair as she smiled at me, pulling me up beside her.

  “No. You are not going to marry Matthew.”

  “But you said that he should marry someone, and then you had him play that song that made me feel almost normal.”

  “You should find someone who makes you feel almost normal,” she replied drily, “But first, you should not be desperately in love with Lewis. Matthew doesn’t exactly deserve happiness, but I wish it for him anyway. In any case, I would never approve the match. He’s far too disagreeable for me to ever accept as a son-in-law. Also, neither one of you can cook. The thought never crossed my mind; it certainly should not cross yours.”

  “But you thought there was something when you first got here, that he was seducing me, didn’t you?”

  She shifted slightly. “I do not pretend to understand Matthew. Carve remains a Red House, so whether he keeps the Code or not is beyond my concern.”

  “But he did sing my soul back when you wanted him to. That’s nice. You set him up, didn’t you, playing the song like that to get his attention. That’s sneaky.”

  “It’s called ‘subtle,’” my mother corrected, but allowed a slight smile on her mouth. “Do not think that Matthew was deceived. He knows me well enough.”

  “But you say that you don’t know him, that you don’t understand him, but you expect him to understand you.”

  She frowned at me. “You are allowing me very few rationalizations. If you wish to see us, to understand us, we should all go hunting together. It could be part of your training.”

  “Not that you’d ever interfere,” I said wryly.

  “Of course,” she said with a smile that showed a flash of white teeth. “I’m only here as chaperone, demure and subtle.”

  “Like a knife in the back,” I muttered, but she only laughed.

  Chapter 6

  Hunting with my mother showed me a side of her that I’d never dreamt of. I’d seen flashes of dangerous and deadly, but in the woods with Matthew, a knife in her hand and a smile on her face, I’d never seen her so relaxed.

  She wore her usual black suit, hair pinned neatly back, but she looked nothing like the pharmaceuticals chemist who worked in a lab. I wore my leather outfit lined with black silk she’d gotten from a black parachute. Of course Matthew had a black parachute in a moldy closet somewhere, didn’t everybody? She’d done more than tailor my leather pants and shirt. She’d created a cape coat thing out of feathers and the black silk that she said were similar to the design she’d helped create with her brother, Stephen, my uncle who had flown with the birds. I liked having the feathers with me to show that though small, their lives mattered to me.

  “This is a water oak,” Matthew said, pressing his hand flat against a beautiful old tree that glowed in the day’s final rays.

  “The bark is used for creating an elixir said to promote one’s abilities with water,” my mother said brushing her fingers lightly over the textured surface.

  “No. That’s too obvious,” Matthew said, frowning at her.

  She shrugged. “It’s traditional, not scientific.” She proceeded to give a technical breakdown of the elements found in the tree’s bark as though we were in advanced chemistry.

  Matthew’s eyes didn’t glaze over like mine, instead he leaned forward as though analyzing her words for any mistake she might make.

  Apparently satisfied when she was done, he nodded slightly. I shook my head and left the two of them there, debating the merits of the bark on a tree. The woods were so dark, heavy, with moss growing above me and vines twining around everything. I felt nervous about the vines, as though they’d come to life and try to strangle me again. Of course, they’d only do that if I tried to bring Lewis back to life.

  I felt a wave of fresh grief that had me wrapping my arms around my chest, trying to stop the aching. The broken bond wasn’t what hurt, it was having him gone. I’d spent too much time waiting when I should have finished the bond and run away with him the first time I’d seen him again.

  I missed his smile, his laugh, his warmth and strength. I missed the way he looked at me, like he really saw me. Now, with my scars, my battered mind, I was a source of power that others might fear, but could hardly find lovable.

  Then again, my mother wasn’t particularly lovable, but Matthew loved her anyway. As for him, he was compelling enough to have anyone in the world if he wanted them. I could be like that. I could use my Cool abilities to lean people to me, to soften my image and look more normal as well as soften hearts so they would love me. My soul, or what was left of it rebelled at the thought of tricking someone into wanting me. A lifetime of loneliness would be preferable to false love.

  I had to cope. I had to find a focus and channel my anguish into something productive. What did I want to do? My mother had become determined to cure the disease that killed her mother. Her motivation had helped other people at the same time as it had kept her safe from herself.

  Could I do that? What did I want? I wanted to stop the demon mistress, destroy the people who used mine and my brother’s blood to become monsters, and protect my friends and family. It didn’t seem very noble, but I felt determination inside my chest. If I could stop the demon mistress, I would.

  My mother’s scream shattered the silence. I ran towards her, checking with my soul-sight to make certain it wasn’t a demon lie. I saw my mother’s soul, Matthew’s and the flickers of soul surrounded by darkness, by taint.

  When I got back to them, a demon man had my mother by the throat, leering down at her while she stared at him with enormous eyes, struggling to loosen his grip and shift away from him. He brought his head down, biting her shoulder as she kicked and thrashed in his grip.

  Matthew, struggling with two other demon men, couldn’t get to her, to save her. The anger he felt filled the woods.

  I took my knife out of the sheath around my waist as I ran towards her. She jerked away from him, giving me a clear opening to slash through his neck.

  I only hesitated for a second before I brought up the knife the way Stephen would have done, at an angle that kept the taint from splashing me. I felt a lurch inside of my heart as the knife slid through flesh and bone.

  I swallowed down nausea as I pried his hands off of my mother while taint oozed from his now headless neck.

  “Dariana,” my mother gasped, shuddering as she pulled a packet out of her pocket and with shaky fingers ripped it and poured the contents on the body, the taint, and the head. “Thank you,” she whispered, not meeting my eyes.

  I didn’t wait but turned and ran towards Matthew, stabbing my knife into one of the demon men’s back, piercing the rib beneath his heart and drawing a circle with my knife which sliced through like hot butter then pulled out his heart like I’d seen Lewis do. Matthew turned and decapitated the other demon man, leaving me with the demon man’s heart skewered on my knife while blood and taint dripped down.

  I felt a rush as he died, as the taint sizzled around me, my mother’s powder doing its work, some kind of acid that dissolved everything down to the ground.

  “She’s not ready,” Matthew yelled at my mother.

  I flinched as the power and anger in his words cut through me.

  “She killed them. She’s ready,” my mother answered calmly although her hands still shook however hard she clasped them together.

  “She’s still broken,” Matthew said, glaring at her.

  “We don’t have the luxury of time, Matthew,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest to hide her trembling. Her shoulder still bled where the demon man had ravaged her.

  “You planned this?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” Matthew said, glaring at my mother. “Of course. This is your mother we’re talking about. She should be your trainer, not me. She has more ice in her veins than I’ll ever have. She thinks that after one song, you’re ready to go kill people
. Your soul is not whole enough to withstand the darkness.”

  “She’s bleeding,” I said, frowning at Matthew. Maybe it was a hard choice, but my mother was right. My hesitation would cost people their lives. I had to fight, to kill, and I couldn’t hesitate. I would only learn to act quickly with practice. She was the one who bled, she hadn’t risked me. I couldn’t think of the bodies, the souls I’d ended. I should. I had to face it.

  “Let her,” he growled, before he reached down and ripped a plant out of the ground, rubbing it in his fingers as he stalked towards my mother. She looked tired, weaving on her feet, her eyes on the ground.

  He put the plant on her shoulder, pressing it hard into the wound. She winced but stood firm.

  “Be gentle,” I said.

  He glanced at me then shook his head, studying my mother’s shoulder instead. He’d pulled her suit off her skin, leaving the shoulder bare.

  “I’m fine,” my mother said, trying to push him away. “I’m fine,” she said again before she fainted, crumpling over.

  For a moment I thought Matthew would let her fall into the dirt, but he caught her and swung her limp body up in his arms instead.

  “She can sense them better than I can,” he muttered as he walked ahead of me. “I thought we were going on a nice outing to find you a nonthreatening death, and her plan was to accustom you to killing people. I don’t argue with the fact that you need to learn to destroy demons without hesitation, but your soul is in a precarious state. We don’t want you leaping from the tops of buildings.”

  “I’m not going to kill myself,” I said, frowning at him. “That’s never been my immediate impulse. I’d rather run away.”

  He grunted. “Your mother hasn’t gotten any lighter,” he said as I followed him on the overgrown path back to the house.

  “What are you doing?” my mother asked, apparently regaining consciousness. “Put me down, Matthew. I’m not a child.”

  “A child wouldn’t be as heavy,” he agreed but kept walking.

  She struggled against him before she collapsed, her head drooping against his shoulder. “I’m so weak,” she said, sounding puzzled. “Why did the creature bite me? He should fear my blood.”