House of Slide: Wilds, Part I

by Juliann Whicker

  I put my head on my knees as I tried to breathe, to think, to function normally as the sickness swallowed me again from the night before.

  “You’re part of Carve?” My voice came out small, vulnerable, uncertain. I forced myself to look up at him, to glare at him in spite of the cloud of black spots filling my vision.

  “A very small part. Just a knife, really.”

  A knife? Like Grim. “You’re the knife of Carve, the official assassin for one of the deadliest Houses in the world? I’m astonished that you’d bother mentioning it. You can’t imagine how bored I am hearing about utterly nonessentials like that. I slept in the bed of Carve’s musician assassin. I’ve officially lost my mind.”

  His eyes reflected nothing as he gazed at me until I threw myself at him, the soulless assassin who I’d let get inside of me, my head and my defenses. I hit him filled with budding fury that barely realized when he twisted, pinning me down against earth that rose around me, swallowing me with nowhere to go unless I went through him. The prison of earth, cool and heavy around my body like a grave, made me fight harder against his hard lines, lines against me as unmovable as the earth.

  “Helen,” he said in a soft voice that I could not ignore however much I thrashed against his touch, against the ground that he controlled. “I’m worried that if you don’t stop fighting me, I’m going to kiss you. Satan would hate that. You can’t fight me here, not buried beneath your element. I think Cami must have taken your clothes. I’ve been otherwise engaged from the poison. Otherwise…” He smiled at me, a smile so completely sweet that my heart started pounding and the anger had no chance. What was wrong with me?

  “Why?” I glared up at him, hating the feel of his hands against my shoulders, his body against mine as I struggled. I shouldn’t have been so weak and pathetic, so unlike myself. “Why would Cami take my clothes?”

  He frowned at me, his body relaxing against mine as I stopped fighting. “She had mine cleaned last night. Maybe she did the same for you.”

  “For someone else’s wife, she shows a lot of concern for you.”

  He smiled slightly. “Cami’s tough, there’s no mistaking that, but she’s also kind. I think she regrets how things went between the two of you.”

  “You really associate with Carve, you know Camilla and the Son?”

  “Jarvais. I am related to them both on my father’s side.”

  His name triggered a wave of pain and nausea. “How distantly?”

  “Some things are too close for comfort. Some things will never be close enough,” he said, looking down at me with heavy lidded eyes, his glance falling to my mouth.

  I became blindingly aware of his body, of the earth around me, against me, holding me while his gaze made my mouth itch, bringing back the memory of our stunning kiss.

  “Get off me.”

  He raised an eyebrow, a flick that conveyed his amusement. “So that you can attack me again? I admit I am tempted.”

  “This is unseemly behavior for the Daughter of a House. I’m sure that your experience with Daughters is flawed if you’ve seen Camilla in action. Not all women live to seduce men.”

  “Camilla doesn’t live to seduce them, but to manipulate them. I believe there might be a difference.”

  “You’re still on me. I’m going to have to hurt you if you don’t let me go.”

  He frowned at me, searching my face until he said, “How do you feel this morning? Are you still unwell?”

  I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position beneath his weight, but only became more aware of him. “I felt fine before I saw you. Are you doing this to me?”

  He shook his head, his hair tickling my face as it swept over my skin. “Jarvais. Carve.”

  I felt a wave a nausea after each word.

  “It’s not me, it’s my House, who I’m connected to, connections that were blocked in here,” he said, sliding the tips of his fingers against my face. I felt his touch with every nerve, unable to miss a single sensation.

  “I have blocks… you mean parts of my mind aren’t accessible to me? Who did that?” My breathing became jerky again as I struggled against him, trying to hurt him, but I couldn’t move. My frustrated roar as I bucked beneath him was the only thing I could do.

  “Helen,” he said patiently. “For all I know, you did it to yourself. Not many Cools would put blocks on someone. It’s not considered ethical to alter someone else’s memories, but removing entire pieces without their consent…” He shook his head. “Either it was an extremely desperate Cool, and Cools are rarely desperate, or you requested it.”

  I stared at him, suddenly seeing more of Carve in him. He had the same hairline, a widow’s peak like Camilla. His eyes, while the wrong color, were the same as hers when he glared. If he was right, if I’d asked to forget something, would it be in my best interest to go home without ever remembering, or would it be better to face up to whatever it was that had me so sick, confused and weak?

  “Are you sure? How can I trust you?”

  His mouth twisted in a smile. “You can’t. You shouldn’t, but if you wish to leave the blocks alone, you should leave Carve alone. What I know about you…”

  “What? What do you know?” It was impossible that this Hybrid would know something about me that I didn’t know myself, inconceivable that he could be allowed to think that he knew me when bits of myself were tied off from me.

  He eased off of me, but the earth still held me back. I felt the wind with a shock. How long had it been howling above us? It whipped his hair into his eyes, flapping his loose clothes against his body as he stood, watching me with a calculating stare. Finally, he nodded as though he’d come to some conclusion.

  “I know that you corresponded with Jarvais when you were in school with Camilla. I know that the inappropriate contact between a Daughter and Son of White and Red Houses went on for too long. There were entanglements. It ended… badly. Whether you wanted to be blocked from the humiliation of such an end or whether Slide instigated the blocks…” He shrugged, a slight lift of his shoulders to express how little any of it mattered to him.

  Of course it didn’t matter if parts of my own mind were held hostage while I charged through my life entirely oblivious while those who knew laughed at me. This Hybrid, a stranger, should not be more aware of my life than I was. It wasn’t only humiliating, but dangerous.

  “Tell the ground to let go of me.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Tell the wind to stop whipping me.”

  I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes and forced my body to relax, to allow my struggling muscles to rest in the earth’s embrace. The wind faded to a gentle breeze, caressing my closed eyelids while the smell of dirt reminded me of death, of burial, a memory that had me struggling up, but this time the earth didn’t hold me and I was able to escape from the shallow grave, but the image, my mother’s coffin as my brothers lowered it into the ground, the smell of death and decay stuck with me.

  How had I forgotten my mother’s funeral? It was still only bits, pieces of pain that fit together roughly leaving jagged chunks, but it was the tip, the edge of the memories I’d lost.

  I stumbled into Matthew, gripping his arms to hang on, not only to him but to the memories.

  “I want you to take the blocks off of me. You are, without even trying.”

  His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, examining me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  I pushed him against the trunk of the oak tree. “I need to remember. It’s not safe for me to run around with these huge gaps…”

  “Go home. Away from here, you won’t need to remember,” he said mildly, allowing me to push him around without resisting.

  “It would be lovely to know whether or not that was true, but unfortunately, I don’t know what I don’t know. It could be something life threatening. I’m Daughter of the House. I can’t have unknown vulnerabilities. I shouldn’t have any. I can’t believe Satan left me to this.” I shook my head. “I woul
d never have wanted to forget my mother, however much it hurt. I have so few pieces of her. I can’t believe that would be my choice. Please, Matthew.” I lifted my hand to push his hair away from his eyes, behind his ear, hesitating over the silky skin.

  He swallowed and I realized how close I was, pushing the boundaries of space between us, but I needed him to see, to feel, to understand.

  “Go home, Helen. I’ll come later. If the blocks are still there, I’ll remove them then.”

  “I can’t go home. Not with Carve and Bliss fighting over Harding’s remains, and I’m not leaving until I understand what’s missing. Even if I have to go to Carve himself, I’m not leaving without answers.”

  He smiled slightly. “And shoes, because there’s a lot of glass between here and Carve.” He shook his head, as if irritated that he’d gotten amused. “No, you can’t leave right away, but taking down your blocks could make you more sick and vulnerable than you are right now. You don’t want that, not when you’re at the mercy of an unstable Hybrid who can’t be trusted.”

  I stepped away from him, crossing my arms over my chest, over his shirt. I should go inside, take a shower, wash the dirt off of me then figure out a way to get home. I shouldn’t want to be at his mercy, not when he could mess with my mind already, not when he could lean me, make me aware of him in a way I hadn’t thought possible for me.

  I shrugged helplessly. “Matthew, do you want to hurt me? You could have. I don’t know. Maybe you’re setting me up for a big painful finale, but you’re not like them. You’re not one of the Wild Sons who have an agenda for everything they do.”

  “I have an agenda, it’s simply inconsistent and irrational.”

  “You refuse to help me? Fine. Lovely. I’ll call up Camilla and ask her if she’d like to go shopping. Maybe she could set me up with Jarvais and I can break the blocks on my own.” Saying the name made my breath catch.

  “Helen, it would be the wisest course of action for you to remain here as quietly and unobtrusively as possible until you can go home.” He looked so serious, concerned, sincere.

  I hadn’t asked for him to take care of me. My brother, Saturn should care, not an assassin Hybrid. I lifted my chin. “Like a tame little mouse? That doesn’t sound very interesting. Matthew, you’re supposed to be a dangerous and wicked influence on me. Where’s the bad advice, the seduction and the instability? I’m disappointed in you. I’m going to have to find another Hunter with fewer scruples than you have. Maybe you can point me in the direction of someone who would be interested in giving me a good time while I’m stuck in your fair city.”

  His eyes glimmered silvery as he gave me a wolfish smile. “The first thing that you should know about Hybrids is that they have a deplorable lack of wisdom. I would be delighted to show you everything from the tower to the dungeon. What would you like to do first? Circus, or jazz?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “First?” I stared at him, at the musician hands that had held a knife not too long before. I sat on the ground, extending my foot towards him, the one with the glass embedded inside of it. “Cut it out of me.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he dropped on his heels, a hand on my ankle, the feeling of his skin a cold shock that faded into numbness. “You trust me with a knife?”

  I stared at him, at his eyes that however mocking seemed safe. “I asked you to invade my mind. Apparently I trust you more than anyone else on this continent.”

  He smiled a little wider as he raised an eyebrow. “Even after I leaned you to sleep?”

  I blushed. “I’m not feeling like myself. I don’t seem to mind the invasion of my privacy and your deplorable lack of delicacy. I usually hate men touching me. I can’t remember the last time I met someone who didn’t feel completely wrong. Maybe it’s over. Maybe now I can go home and find a nice Wild that my father will approve and take my place as Daughter. Doesn’t that sound appetizing?”

  “Terribly. Think of all those nice Sons laid out on a platter for your consumption. All you have to do is pick a flavor.”

  I shrugged. “I am hungry. I haven’t eaten for ages.”

  He frowned. “The first thing, after I cut the glass out of you, will be dinner. There are peas in the garden and some carrots and beets from last year. We have a wide range of gourmet salad greens to choose from.”

  “Sounds like a regular buffet,” I said with a smile.

  He shrugged modestly. “Not very regular. I have collected specimens from all over the world. It will be a unique gastronomical experience, even for someone who drowns their salads in dressings,” he said with a grin.

  I touched his face while I shook my head. “You’re not going to live up to your reputation, are you?”

  His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head. “I’m ravenous, but for a taste of your slender throat, the skin of which has been beckoning me all morning.”

  I laughed while he kept touching me, rubbing my ankle so lightly and delicately that I should barely have noticed it.

  “Are you a cannibal then? How uncivilized for someone with Cool blood. That’s much better.”

  He swallowed, shaking his dark head slightly. “Are you sure you’d like me to remove the glass? I’ve had more experience than I’d like to admit fishing shrapnel out of people, but most Wilds are reluctant to let anyone smell their fresh blood.”

  I fought the urge to blush, uncertain why that would embarrass me. “The taste tangles my thoughts until vanity slackens.” I frowned at what I’d just said. I shook my head trying to clear it. “Try not to cut off the whole thing, please. I’m rather attached to my foot.”

  He pulled his knife smoothly out of the harness beneath his shirt with the blade touching the skin on my foot, staring at me with something inscrutable in his eyes. “You trust me with your blood and your poetry?”

  I smiled sweetly. “I also want you to take remove whatever blocks are keeping my memories away from me. My blood isn’t seething with Nether, like yours that makes me a target for the few insane Nether addicts. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  My heart pounded as his eyes glimmered.

  “Such expectations,” he whispered. “I will do my best not to disappoint.”

  I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. “I don’t mind being disappointed. It keeps things interesting.”

  “You shouldn’t trust me.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t, not really, but at the same time you haven’t taken advantage of me when you could have, at least,” I added, remembering the dancing, the way he’d held me a little too firmly against his body, “Not much.”

  “I’m glad you find that reassuring,” he said before he moved the knife, drawing it over my flesh, releasing a trickle of blood while he spread the skin with his fingers, probing inside the gash he’d made. His fingers moved with assurance, the pain I’d expected nothing more than a distant hum until the chunk of glass emerged. He didn’t stop after the large piece was out, instead doing a thorough examination of my foot, pulling out a few other slivers.

  Finally he pulled back, cleaning his knife in the earth that seemed to lick the blood from his blade while I waited for the pain.

  Being a Wild with runes, you become accustomed to pain, accustomed to the compounding of sensation as runes speed the healing. It hurt with a shrieking ache that I’d been trained to endure. Healing hurts more than the accident, but this time, I watched my skin knit itself together, muscles and tendons wrapping over each other until the flap of skin closed, leaving nothing but a pool of blood on the grass beneath me. During the entire process, there wasn’t so much as a breath of pain, nothing but a slight tingling in my foot as the wind whispered its soothing melody to me.

  I stared at my foot. “How did you do that? How did you take away the pain?”

  “Paralysis, numbness; it’s part of my skill set. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather shave Satan’s head for a month than cause you pain.”

  “Satan?” I looked up at him, at the way he didn’t quite meet my gaze, li
ke looking at me was as uncomfortable for him as it was for me. “You have gifts with nerves and a bond with the earth?” I shook my head and felt a flutter in my stomach. “How did you get more than one skill?”

  “I killed someone to fulfill my duty to Carve. Taking the skill was an unexpected, unasked for ‘bonus’.” He glowered at me as if daring me to judge him. “My father enjoys experiments in human nature.” He stood up, slipping his blade back into its sheath, on his back beneath his shirt. “As fun as this has been, I’m here to rejuvenate, not to chat.” He glared at me, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Rejuvenate?” I noticed the way he leaned against the tree, as if he were tired, but the exhaustion didn’t show through the scowl on his face. I crossed my arms over my chest, giving him a condescending look my grandmother would have been proud of. “By all means, go ahead.”

  He gave a slight shake of his head. “Your blood is pooled on the ground.”

  “So?”

  “It smells of violets and wind.” He examined his fingertips where they were stained red from my blood. He sniffed, cautiously at first then with a long inhalation that I thought would never end while my heart pounded.

  “Exquisite bouquet,” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear. “Sweet with Nether, but with something else, an undercurrent of something…”

  I felt dizzy, weak, like he was inside my veins, stirring things around, things that pulsed with pain but were too rich to turn away from. The smell of blood, the taste of my own blood in my mouth…

  I grabbed his arm. “It’s another memory, isn’t it? Something about my blood? What stupid thing did I try to do? Was I reckless enough to try and blood bind myself to Jarvais? Is that what you’re saying?” I felt a wave of pain as I struggled to breathe, to hang onto him when his face came from further and further away.

  The wind wrapped around me, carrying me away from the pain, from the potent scent of my blood, strands of silk and ice that spun around me as I rose with them, leaving my body as I lost myself to the wind and sky that stretched out, an escape from the beating pain, instead, free, exhilaratingly free from the bonds of earth and flesh, of body and passion until with a jerk, I found myself back in my body while Matthew pressed me against the tree, the roughness solid behind me while his flesh molded to mine. He was closer, harder against me than he’d been during the dance. I could feel his heart pounding against me, his rapid breath whisper against my neck and shoulder.