House of Slide: Hunter

by Juliann Whicker

  The woman stood up and dragged her son down the car away from me, utterly mortified.

  “Hi,” I said, smiling at a girl who had dared meet my eyes. She looked away hurriedly. I sighed and leaned everyone, calming them down, making them forget about the weird scarred girl and her bright-eyed friend.

  “You could have leaned them as soon as you got on board,” Aiden said.

  “That’s what you did?”

  “It’s like breathing. I’m always leaning others away from me. It helps with driving blindly down a street at ninety miles an hour.”

  “We were going ninety miles an hour?”

  He shrugged and went back to not looking at me.

  “I don’t know enough about leaning. I don’t know enough about normal people, how to live a real life.”

  “Come Hunting with me.”

  I blinked up at him. “Really?”

  He didn’t look at me. “After we rescue your friend, why not? You did the big bad thing no one else could do. You stabilized the Hollow One. That is not a small task. That is the saving of the world type thing. Good job. Of course, you wouldn’t have been able to do it without me. If you Hunted, I could show you how to really not make an impression when you get on the subway.”

  I nodded and inhaled deeply, trying to still the deep trembling I’d had ever since I’d seen the Hollow One. When he’d called me dove…

  “I will if you promise to help me sleep without dreams or soul-flying.” I never wanted to see an innocent child burn to death again.

  “Done,” he said, grabbing my hand with his burning flesh. I didn’t flinch away even though I could smell my skin burn. His heat kept me where I was, on the rolling train deep beneath the surface streets. Safe.

  We got out of the subway two blocks from Slider’s shop. I leaned the subtle way I could see Aiden leaning as we walked down the sidewalk, completely unnoticed by passersby.

  Slider’s shop was the same as I remembered, metal gratings on the windows, racks of antique suits, and the black bird swinging when we opened the door and walked in. Aiden stalked forward like he owned the place.

  “The store’s closed,” Slider sneered, looking down his nose at us when he appeared like a gaunt ghost when we were halfway through the room.

  “Doesn’t seem very closed to me,” Aiden said, giving him a smile as he moved even faster towards him.

  “What?”

  Slider didn’t have a chance. I could sense his Hollow blood now, after having just smelled so much of it, the metallic tinge that filled my own blood. Aiden moved so fast, striking him in the face with a bar still holding a dozen hangers and long dresses. Slider went down beneath the pale pink and blue frilly things, only his arm and foot sticking out from the pile.

  I moved ahead of Aiden towards the back stairs, down to the room I’d never seen before but knew from my dreams. When I opened the barred door Erin was not happy to see me.

  “What are you doing here? I don’t need you to rescue me,” she spat.

  “Of course you don’t. That’s why you’re still here,” Aiden said scowling at her. “Should I just knock her out?” he asked me.

  She flinched away from his heat, heat I’d almost gotten used to. “You’re the thief from the camp,” she accused, pressing her back against the wall of her cell.

  I’d completely forgotten about that time in the woods, in the camp, when I’d been struggling not to consume Lewis, when I’d been so afraid of hurting him. I gasped at the pain that twisted in my chest.

  “And you’re that whiny little Hollow touched who can’t seem to appreciate the fact that she’s alive. Did we come all this way just to save her?” he complained to me.

  “Come on,” I urged, forcing myself to move instead of feel. I grabbed Erin and dragged her into the hallway with us. “Who knows how much time we have. Slider won’t stay unconscious forever.”

  “I told you I don’t need your help,” she snarled, ripping her arm out of my grip. Her bright eyes burned into me while her Cool voice made me tremble and my knees weak. My heart beat rapidly in my chest and dark spots flickered around the edges of my vision. “You think that because you got to him first, that means you control him and me? You may have messed him up for a little while, but I can bring out the real Hollow, the one we’ve been waiting for.”

  I couldn’t breathe and I felt myself unraveling. “You have to come with us if you want to be safe.”

  “You trust him?” she demanded, gesturing at Aiden.

  I turned to look at the unstable Hybrid, his glowing blue eyes, the heat and the way his mouth flickered in a mocking smile at her before he looked at me, frowning in concern before he reached forward and brushed my cheek with his hand.

  The darkness disappeared and I stood up straight, gripping her arm again tightly. It didn’t matter if Aiden was unstable, he understood me and had done the bloodwork that hurt him as much as stabbing myself in the heart hurt me. We’d done what we could, together. Erin leaned me, pushing on the delicate strands of soul so close to unraveling. I closed my eyes and shuddered.

  “I trust him,” I said as I leaned her back, shoving her abilities back at her while Aiden obliged and helped me. We dragged her up the narrow stairs and out to the front, the light-bulbs moments away from shattering.

  “Stay right where you are,” Slider’s nasally voice ordered.

  I stared at him, at the small gun in his fist, at his too large eyes and the way his hand shook.

  “Calm down, Slider. You don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “You can’t hurt me, or Dariana,” Aiden said scowling at him. “I should have killed you, but it would have been messy. It’s not too late now.”

  Slider pulled the trigger. I shoved my energy at the gun, watching it blur, melting the internal pistons and misfiring, blowing up in Slider’s face, sending him back gasping, his hands grasping at dresses that slid through his fingers, unable to stop his fall.

  I blinked and grabbed Erin while the lightbulbs exploded and Aiden grabbed my arm, dragging us out of the place.

  “Get in,” he said, shoving me inside a car whose occupants had simply stopped and got out, letting Aiden take his car. He’d leaned them, of course.

  “I’m not…” Erin began before Aiden put his hand on her head until her eyes rolled back and she fell over. Aiden stuffed her into the back seat.

  “Should have left her here,” he growled at me. “There’s nothing worse than a Hybrid who has no sense of timing.”

  I stared at him and shook my head, feeling a bizarre bubble of laughter well up inside of me. “Right. All those homicidal Hybrids have nothing on those ones who don’t know how to dance.”

  He smirked. “After we dump her body in the woods for the crows to pick at, we need to go Hunting. I have a trade for you. What do you think?”

  I stared at him while he stared back. “Genius. Great idea. What is it?”

  “We lean each other. Keep the madness away, even take turns sleeping. I don’t know about you, but sleep is something I could do for a very long time.”

  I swallowed as I thought then I nodded and put my hand for a moment over his.

  “Since I’m driving, you first,” he said smoothing my head with his enormous hand, steadying my heart rate and soothing me.

  I opened my mouth to laugh, to scream, something, but the only thing that came out was a yawn. I slumped over, losing control over everything as he leaned me, and I didn’t fight. I’d finished the impossible. I’d won. Now all I had to do was find a good death fighting the darkness.

  Epilogue

  The souls around me keened, angry, lost, hungry. I remained unmoved, undisturbed by their need. I was whole, brought back to power by a consul, in control but missing something, something essential, something I would search the world to find, sifting all the souls on earth if I had to.

  I opened my eyes.

  The End

  First of all, thanks goes out to you, my readers. Thank you for reading, sharin
g and reviewing my books. I'd be flat-lined without you.

  I would like to thank all those who helped me create Hunter. My beta readers, Michelle, Lea, Angie, Sharman, all the fine folks who encouraged me to continue in the face of sleep deprivation and a book that didn’t want to cooperate. Thanks to my husband who read countless editions and whose formatting and editing prowess are beyond my wildest dreams.

  I’d like to give a shout out to my kids who made sandwiches and brought me cups of water. I need one right now.

  To my God who makes all things possible.

  Juliann was born and raised in South Central Utah-the desert-and currently lives in the beautiful city of St. Louis. She studied, among more than a few other things, Creative Writing and Fine Art at the University of Utah. She also enjoys gardening, sewing, painting, fabric sculpture, and whatever else shiny crafty you can think of.

  Hang out with her online:

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  If you liked Hunter and would like to sign up for updates of New Releases go Here.

  The final book in the House of Slide series will be released July 1st 2016. Read on for a look at House of Slide: Wilds, Book one in Juliann Whicker's House of Slide prequel, coming December 2015.

  The dinner club in the heart of London felt rich. The jazz music in the background, melancholy oboes and sincere trumpets, lulled me into relaxation against the supple leather bench while I studied the black and silver reflective wallpaper seeing shapes and dreams that weren’t there. I leaned over the metal table, running my fingers around the lip of my glass, staring into the golden depths as though I could read my future in it.

  The front door opened, spilling the sound of honking and laughter from the street while a slight draft crawled through the club, curling around my bare ankles. I didn’t need to look directly at the door to see who had entered from my position at a corner table, not when I could glance up at the reflection behind the bar and the man who polished glasses.

  The large man with piercing blue eyes who had entered moved slowly, searching the room before settling on a tufted leather stool at the bar. I heard a clatter of silverware and a woman’s laugh from the dining room behind me that made the man look up with eyebrows lowered towards the sound while I forced my gaze on my hands until his attention returned to the bar and his own drink.

  I forced my heart to steady and my breathing to remain even. I could show nothing until it was too late for him to recognize me. I took my time, sipping my drink delicately while I flexed my toes inside my heels. I kept my gaze on the vase holding orange poppies in front of me, the fractured glass reflecting the man’s back where he still sat, murmuring to the bartender every few minutes.

  The door opened, the draft once again competing for my attention. I sat still, swirling my glass around while I watched the man turn to give a suspicious glare at the newcomer, then freeze and stare openly with a slack mouth at whoever had entered.

  It was enough of a reaction that I had to glance up, to turn my head and see her at the same time she stepped past a tall, pale man and our eyes met.

  I tried to sink into the floor, to deflect her gaze with indifference but it was too late. Camilla trilled her unnerving laugh that had always made me shudder when we were in school together, the laugh that rang as false as it did malicious. How quickly could I brush her off before I followed the man when he left, as he was certain to do if he recognized her—and how could he not? Camilla of the House of Carve looked even more stunning than I remembered with her thick golden hair accentuated by the gold of her slinky gown. The gleam of her smile matched her gown, the mirrors reflecting her perfection into infinity while she stalked towards me, holding out gloved hands with an expectant look on her face.

  “Helen, is that really you?” She turned to put a hand on the chest of her companion—a pale man in a tuxedo who I hadn’t noticed but even now looked like nothing more than an accessory. “George, go get us drinks. I haven’t seen my dearest friend for ages.”

  I rose as she turned to me with an expression of bliss on her face. I didn’t expect the embrace, not when Camilla hated sentiment of any kind, not when the last time I’d seen her had been years and years before when she’d left the appropriate ladies boarding school for our kind.

  “Camilla,” I murmured through teeth that remained unclenched. I felt her bony chin dig into my shoulder and made myself smile at George while the man, the Hotblood I’d come across an ocean to find had already disappeared. He’d managed to vanish in the brief moment when he and his reflection had been hidden by George, the oversize accessory.

  “You smell lovely,” Camilla said pulling away. “Not a bit of demon taint. It seems like everyone I see these days is involved in hunting demons.” She wrinkled her delicate nose before she put her smile back on. “What are you doing in London?” she asked still gripping my hands in hers. I glanced at the mirror beside me and forced my smile to shift from a grimace to delight. That image, the flash of golden Camilla beside my black hair, white-skinned self, wearing a simple black suit showed me at distinct disadvantage. I felt a surge of competitiveness that I’d nearly forgotten I’d had back in school. We had both been exceptional, perfect, but different as night and day, as I was daughter of a white House and she the daughter of a Red. I hadn’t seen anyone from a Red House since I’d started my medical training.

  I laughed lightly while I squeezed her hands, but it sounded forced even to me. “I’m here to meet you, apparently.”

  She laughed as though I’d said something genuinely hilarious, throwing her head back to expose the long column of throat that I had a sudden and irrational desire to tear out. I was running out of time. I shoved down my nausea brought on by frustration and forced myself to consider how I could use this twist of fate to my advantage.

  “Hi, there,” George said, setting drinks on the table while he gave me a glance that became a stare. “I was beginning to wonder if all of Camilla’s friends were men.” He blended in the way I tried to blend, but men had it easier in public, looking like they belonged when women didn’t. I should have brought someone, my own accessory to use the way Camilla always had. It had seemed like such a straightforward mission: Find my oldest brother and bring him home. I hadn’t imagined that Hotbloods and Hunters would be so antagonistic towards me.

  Camilla put her hand on his chest, once more capturing his attention. “Darling, George. I’m going to have dinner with my friend, to catch up. Be a dear and meet me later at the party.”

  She threw herself elegantly in the chair across from me, ignoring the look of humiliated adoration that I’d always seen on the faces of boys who found her irresistible after she was finished with them. There hadn’t been many boys available at school, but she’d burned every single one of them. She took a swallow of her drink then swirled the contents of her glass around while she dissected every iota of my appearance and darling George wandered away.

  “George seems very nice,” I murmured, setting my drink on the table, ready to wrap up the encounter.

  “A girl of my station requires an escort.” She took a sip of her drink while she cocked her head at me, brown eyes sparkling with amusement. “You didn’t misplace yours, did you?” she asked with a faintly mocking smile. “That would be clumsy. Maybe I can find you a spare. There are certain to be countless Hotblood Hunters at the party, like the one at the bar when I came in, who could provide you with the desired muscle.”

  I swallowed when I realized that she suspected that the Hotblood was linked to my visit.

  “I’m not used to frequenting parties where Hotbloods socialize, as enlightening as such a thing would be. As for desiring Hotblood muscle, you’ve always been much more interested in exploring muscle than I was.” I forced myself to relax and not take her bait. I hadn’t come there to compete with Camilla in some power struggle boarding school reunion. “As charming as it’s been to see you again, I’m afraid I ha
ve an appointment that I have to keep.” My voice came out as indifferent as hers had been condescending. I moved to rise, letting a slight smile that may have been tinged with mockery play on my mouth.

  She shrugged negligently as she rose with me. “I’d hoped you weren’t on a dull assignment, but if you must go, I’ll come with you. First I have to drop Jarvais’s letter off for him.” She pulled a slim envelope from her bag with an innocent smile that made my skin crawl, or maybe it was the envelope in her hands that made my heart pound and the room become unfocused.

  I lost sight of everything besides the white rectangle she held so casually.

  “What’s wrong Helen? You look a little ill.”

  Her look of concern was much more convincing than it used to be, but she knew my stomach had twisted, had shown me the letter in order to get a reaction out of me. She was the same Camilla.

  “I believe I am, a bit,” I said sinking back down at the table fighting off nausea. I hadn’t felt so sick for a very long time. It was the worst timing considering how on guard I’d have to be to deal with someone like her, and in the wrong country. I had to say something, something clever to put her in her place but she kept waving the letter in in front of me.

  “I’ll be back in a moment, then,” she said putting a claw-like hand on my shoulder. “While you rest and recover your strength after your exhausting trip. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”

  “Can’t you?” I murmured, but she had already left. I took four deep breaths then stood feeling lightheaded as I walked to the bar. I ran my fingers casually over the leather stool where the Hotblood Hunter had sat, feeling the heat still imbedded in the leather from the Hotblood’s body. The remains of his drink had already been taken away. I inhaled deeply while the bartender stared at me, like he was wondering if I was going to throw up. I smiled at him.

  “My friend left before I got a chance to talk to him. Did he happen to tell you where he was going?” I let my eyes widen, looking as harmless as possible. The bartender shifted, wadding his towel tighter in his hands. He didn’t like talking about any of his customers. I might be a jealous wife, jealous girlfriend, or who knew what else.