House of Slide: Hunter

by Juliann Whicker

  “There’s a line of trucks outside,” she answered, drawing her narrow frame up to her full height. “What business do Wilds have here?”

  I opened up my mouth to answer her, but Ash’s feather light touch on the back of my wrist stopped me.

  “Business? Dariana Sanders has a place here, however many trucks she wishes to bring. Your services will not be required this evening.”

  She stood there, frowning before she spun on her heel and left without another word.

  I closed my eyes tight, but it didn’t work. Burning water leaked out of my eyes, stinging when it crossed my scar. I scrubbed the tears away with my palms, checking for black on my hands, but they were only stupid, ordinary tears. So, why did they hurt so much? I inhaled, more of a gasp than anything else. I couldn’t breathe until Ash put his arm around my shoulder and filled me with his calm. I didn’t fight it. I put my head against his shoulder and let the tension ease out of me, days, weeks, eternities of stress and agony puddling out of me and into Ash.

  I tried to sit up, to keep my issues to myself because he didn’t need it, not when he’d have to experience on some level whatever he leaned out of me, but his arm was as firm as an oak, wrapped around my shoulders, sharing my grief until it seemed nearly bearable.

  The shrill whistle of the teapot finally loosened his grip as he left me to pour hot water into an earthen ware mug, mixing it with spices and herbs that may have smelled a little bit like chocolate, but would help me more than that.

  I took the cup he offered, feeling lightheaded and tired, but more stable.

  “Thanks,” I said before I buried my face in the mug.

  “My mother made it for me when I felt sad about the injustices in the world. Sometimes I’d hide in my blankets and feel horrible, before I learned how to block it all out.” He shook his head.

  “Did you go to the wedding?” I asked suddenly, needing to change the subject. “Smoke and Snowy,” I added when he didn’t immediately pick it out of my mind.

  He gave me a half smile. “Yes. Snowy complained the whole time about you not being there. I think she misses you.”

  I snorted and almost choked on my drink. “She’s going to kill me for bringing Chloe back to life. I’m not sure why she cares, but she really, really got upset about it.”

  “That’s why you went to the Hollow One,” he said.

  I shrugged. “I did save her,” I said straightening up. “So, it was worth it.”

  He leaned forward, frowning. “You aren’t going to survive that again,” he said softly.

  I smiled shakily, holding the cup close to my chest so the warmth heated up my scar. “I know. I should go on vacation. Satan and I were talking about that, where we’d go afterwards, if we manage to save the world, to stop the end. Ash, that’s the thing. I’m not going to survive, no one is going to survive unless we finish this.”

  “You need the paintings to save the world, really?”

  I ran a hand through my hair, over the swirls of runes embedded in my skull. “The Hollow One is coming for them. We’re going to give them to him instead. We think he’ll take exception to our Hollow Blood and not wipe out Slide. He’s a Lost Soul, so not exactly stable, but he kept me for months, treated me well enough.”

  I smiled up at Ash and squeezed his hand. I didn’t need to send him my knowledge of the person standing outside the kitchen door, listening in on our conversation, words that if Lorenzo was right, would find their way to the Hollow One.

  “Where will you take them?” he asked, his voice heavy with regret, that I’d be going through with a plan we both knew would not be good for me.

  “Hallow Hall. I’ve been there before. It’ll be perfect,” I finished feeling my throat swallow up around the words. Ash was right. This would hurt me, particularly if Satan was right, that it would be my knife in his heart. How much could I be hurt before I became lost in the pain, became just another lost soul?

  “Be careful,” Ash said, leaning his forehead against mine. “I don’t have a lot of friends. Who will go break out cows with me if I lose you?”

  I closed my eyes and felt a wave of something peculiar. “I’ve got this.”

  Did he like me? Suddenly I felt like we were too close, that this might be as dangerous as proximity to Osmond.

  “Yeah,” he said giving me a half smile before he stared off at something only he could see. I brushed my hair back behind my ears.

  “I guess I’ll go get the paintings,” I said, finishing off the dregs in the cup.

  “It’s already done,” he said, nodding towards the kitchen door moments before it opened and Satan peered in, looking as uneasy as I’d ever seen him.

  “Trucks are loaded and headed out,” he growled, nodding at Ash like that was as much greeting as he could manage.

  “Doesn’t seem like you needed me after all,” I said standing up and rubbing my hands on my pants.

  “You were here to distract me while they took off with the loot,” Ash said with a half smile. “You could stay,” he said, an offer that wasn’t anywhere near possible.

  “We need her. She’s the only one we know that the Hollow One won’t slaughter. That makes her the most useful person in the world. Can’t imagine anyone who doesn’t want to use you,” Satan said with a grin.

  “Thanks,” I said, brushing past him, out of the house and onto the porch. “Good to know I’ve got intrinsic value.”

  I gave Ash as much a smile as I could muster before I followed Satan down the porch steps. He stayed behind, leaning against the pillar like he’d been when I’d first seen him.

  Seeing Ash was good. It almost took the edge off seeing my father’s house without him. It wasn’t his anymore, I reminded myself. I could feel the trees bowing towards me, aware of me the same way I was aware of them, rooted deeply in the ground, drawing life, offering it to me, strengthening me. I also felt those on the outskirts, the remnant of Hollows my dad had hunted down and brought here to protect, to assuage his own guilt.

  I wanted to go to the rock overlooking the rippling water, try to center myself. I still felt like my dad should be there. The wind wrapped around me, whispering to me that my dad was there, that his imprint would be forever there, in the earth, the air, the trees. The whisper swelled as I closed my eyes, losing myself in soulsight. My dad was everywhere. His silver entwined with the roots of trees, shrubs, the stone and mortar of the house, the road as it curved through the land, the garden the woods, the hounds… He was here, even if he was gone. I took a deep breath, soaking in his presence, his peace.

  Chapter 24

  On the way home, I felt so tired. Seeing Ash had done something to me; he’d done something to me.

  “Can’t trust them,” Satan grumbled.

  I focused on him. “Was that supposed to make sense?”

  “Cools. Why did he let you take the paintings? He didn’t even ask for anything in return for them.”

  “He’s not a Wild. That doesn’t mean he’s devious, it’s just not what he’s concerned about.”

  “So what is he worried about?”

  I shrugged. “That, I don’t know.” I leaned against my door, bruising my elbow where I’d propped it up every time Satan drove over a bump. I stared out at the woods we passed. It seemed like I saw hooded figures and blood red eyes.

  I closed my eyes, resting them for just a moment, but the growl of Satan’s car lulled me to sleep.

  “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” I heard Erin’s shaky voice, saw a glimpse of her tear-stained face where she sat, curled up on an unadorned wooden bench.

  “It’s terrible when your ideals turn against you.” Peregrine’s voice came from my throat smooth as silk.

  “I’ve always wanted to help the Hollows and destroy the Wilds, but you don’t want my help, you want to enslave me. You’re supposed to free the Hybrids.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

  “Some may call freedom what others would call being terribly lost. How long have you
struggled, dear child. You are the future of the Hollow race. Your life is precious to us. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

  I tried to ignore the Voice, ignore Erin, instead to get some sense of my whereabouts, but the cramped room with the small window with a steel grating could have come from anyone’s basement, anywhere in the world.

  “You think that I should be grateful?” Erin spat, sitting up, glaring at me, the Hollow One with eyes bright with anger. She finally had a worthy outlet for all that pent up fury. “You walk into a place and slaughter everyone. That’s what they did. You’re just like them.”

  “You sound so surprised,” My voice came out vaguely amused. “You’ve romanticized Hollows to the point where you think we are frolicking lutists, no doubt, very attractive to someone with your Cool heritage, but not very realistic.”

  “Better a musician than a rapist.”

  He tsked. “Such a harsh word. If you decline the honor of continuing our breed, there are many Lost Souls who would relish the chance.”

  Erin’s eyes became enormous while her face went ashy. “You can’t take my soul. You wouldn’t do that. I have no Wild blood.”

  “Your Hollow blood is valuable. Surely you can see that we are very adverse to the idea of letting any other Hybrids slip through our fingers.”

  “Other Hybrids?” she demanded, fighting down the fear. “Is that why you’re still in the city? Are you going against Slide next? Did that girl, the Daughter of Slide who pretends to care about anything besides herself convince you to capture me? You can’t trust her. She’s with them.”

  I pulled back, apparently uncomfortable with this line of thought.

  “Where are you going?” she screeched as I left the room, slamming a large, wooden door behind me.

  “Master,” a man whispered as he slid a long bar over the door, locking Erin in.

  “See that she is not disturbed,” I said as I passed through dark halls then up, stepping through a back door and into a room I would have recognized anywhere. He was in the city, all right.

  I watched the big bird swing around as the door opened, bringing with it a pair of Wilds who looked off. Maybe it was the way the big one slouched, or the way the small one’s jacket buttons were done all the way up.

  They nodded at me as I passed them, ducking under the bird with an air of annoyance as I stepped outside, looked down the street then stepped back inside.

  “They’re moving the paintings,” one of the Wilds who were not Wilds said.

  “I know.”

  “Why haven’t we attacked Slide?” the big one asked, impatiently.

  “Patience, my old friend.”

  “You seem to be forgetting the first mandate where the House of Slide is concerned. I know that they have strong Hollow blood, but as Wilds, that blood is a danger. They need to be possessed before they do something,” the small one said, breathing hard at the end.

  I sighed. “The two of you were with me through all the years of fighting Wilds, of striking blows that were always too little, too late. You both know that if I attacked Slide now, the entire world of Wilds would be alerted. They would all do their best to disappear. It would make my job that more difficult.”

  “Then why don’t we go to a different, smaller House?” the small one asked.

  “Like Pewter,” the big one said, grinning with teeth that looked eager to rip and tear into something.

  “After the paintings are safely in our hands…”

  “Always with the paintings. What difference does it make?” the big one asked, pulling a knife out of his coat and cutting his nails with it.

  “Would you like to question me?” I asked softly. “It seems that you’re having difficulty capturing my vision.”

  The big man stammered and put away his knife, standing still, at attention. “Master. I do not question. I only follow.”

  I sighed. “But who, Bernard, who do you follow?”

  I sat upright with a gasp as Satan jerked to a stop in front of a stop light downtown in the city.

  “Sweet dreams?” Satan asked.

  “Yeah,” I muttered, clenching my fists, wishing I had more than knives, that I had my feathers and stones. He had Erin. She hated me. She would gladly see me dead and possessed, but still. How could I leave her at the hands of Peregrine? He’d almost broken me. I was already so close to broken, but I couldn’t leave my worst enemy with the Hollow One. Erin wasn’t quite that.

  My mind spun as I tried to figure everything out. Part of me wanted to rush to Slider’s and rescue Erin right away, but facing the Hollow One anywhere besides the Hollow Hall was out of the question. He would swallow me whole.

  We didn’t even stop at the House of Slide. We drove directly to the neighborhood with tall houses and narrow streets where the gaunt Victorian mansion that was the Hollow House, rose up from the surrounding buildings, monstrously beautiful.

  “Kind of ugly, isn’t it?” Satan said cheerfully.

  “Like it was made for us.”

  He glanced over at me, frowning a little. “You are kind of ugly these days, now that you mention it. Your hair grows too fast. You look much better bald so your runes really stand out.”

  I shook my head but couldn’t help smiling. “You are so nice to hang out with. Compared to you, I look practically normal, even with this,” I said tracing the scar that ran down my cheek and neck.

  “That scar is hardly noticeable, which is a pity since on a woman, scars are the most distinctive things she can have. They make a woman mysterious, dangerous and enticing.”

  I laughed out loud. “Thanks, but I’ll avoid more scars all the same. Let’s go.”

  I shoved open the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. The Hollow House seemed to lean over me, high towers threatening.

  “I think it’s happy to see us,” I said.

  Satan looked doubtful. We walked to the gate, and I opened it, going through with Satan right behind me.

  “Did I mention that Slider is hosting the Hollow One?” I said as we approached the front steps.

  “It’s not a betrayal,” he said, not sounding surprised. “Any Hollow without other blood is at the mercy of the great Hollow One.” His ‘great’ came off more than a little sarcastic.

  “Like Ethel?”

  He shrugged. The front door opened and Grim stepped out, followed by a wide-eyed Jackson, his black hair falling over his forehead more messy than Devlin would have let it be.

  “I hate this place,” Jackson said as soon as he saw me, even his voice so much like my brother’s.

  “Brings back memories,” I said looking up, higher and higher to the tower where I had slept.

  “We’re all set up,” Grim said, touching my shoulder delicately with his slender fingers, his gray coat blending in to his surroundings.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Satan growled, grabbing Jackson by the back of his jacket as he turned away from us.

  His scowl held a trace of malevolence I didn’t expect from him. He’d changed since the last time I’d seen him, or maybe that was me, seeing darkness where there wasn’t any.

  Inside, the floor sparkled with internal light as my mother assembled the circle of seven. It was seven brothers, but not really a circle. A brother stood in each room, eyes closed, doing nothing I could see. Shelley looked like he was praying as he stood with his eyes closed where the light from the stained glass could flow over his soulful features. The Hollow magic was strange, different than Wild magic. Wild magic, runework, affected the physical, was manifest in ways that you could see like a shower of green sparks that physically protected you. Hollow magic was imbedded in stone, invisible, even when activated because it didn’t address the physical. It could make you insane, ruin your perceptions, reality, even taint your soul, but it couldn’t blow you up. The most physical it got, was in the healing.

  “I should have been learning stonework instead of runework,” I muttered as I followed Grim where he walked, stepping carefu
lly from stone to stone, like if he stepped on the wrong one he would set off an explosion.

  “I’m still not convinced that I have Hollow blood,” Jackson said from his place in the back of the house, his voice echoing strangely, particularly the words, ‘Hollow blood’.

  “We’re all set up,” Satan announced from the front hall, his loud announcement echoing over and over in my ears.

  “Satan, please,” Grim said, frowning in concentration. Everyone’s voices came on top of each other in spite of the distance between them.

  “I’d rather the stones crushed us than the place nibbled away the rest of my sanity,” Satan growled, so loudly that it seemed to shake the walls made me wonder if we were in danger of it.

  I shrugged. I’d probably live through it. So would he.

  I went into the central hall and sat on the bottom step of the enormous circling staircase, ignoring the mosaic on the floor that seemed to shift showing different scenes and patterns with every changing shadow.

  I took deep even breaths, forcing myself to remain calm in spite of the energy, raw and dangerous that swirled around me. The paintings were like adding gasoline to the flames. The house reflected the paintings, expanding and swelling their power, particularly after the shields had been removed.

  “This place,” Jackson said, slouching beside me. “Like old times. The paintings, they feel like him. He’s here.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “How can you stand it?”

  I shrugged while panic clawed at me. He was going to find me, take me back with him and I would never escape. “We’re here for a purpose. Don’t think too much.” I ignored my pounding heart.

  “Don’t think too much? How can you say that? We really are just pawns. Why don’t you care?”

  His anger swelled around him. I closed my eyes and blocked him out, blocked everything out, instead concentrating on the outside. I’d barely shut my eyes when I could sense someone, lurking around the edges of the yard. I leaned Satan, warning him then waited for more motion. The front door opened.