House of Slide: Wilds, Part I

by Juliann Whicker

  My heart pounded as the silence stretched between us for a decade.

  He sighed. The sound made my heart ache and my knees weak until I sank down onto the floor, cord trailing above my head.

  “I’m trapped in London,” I said after the silence beat at me for too long. “Harding fell and now I’m caught between Bliss and Carve.”

  “You’re with Saturn?”

  I nodded. “Yes. He’s safe.”

  So much I wanted to say. The words caught in my throat, like they were caught at the top of a corked bottle. I wanted to ask why he’d put blocks on me. He must have. I wanted to demand that he take Matthew in the House. I wanted to tell him I loved him and the House and would never betray him. I wanted to tell him a million things, but all I could do was listen to my heart beat, and his silence.

  “Please return,” he said in a soft voice with an edge of longing that made my heart ache.

  “Of course,” I said, shuddering. “I’ll always come home.”

  But when I did, I would not be alone.

  The End

  First of all, thanks goes out to you, my readers. Thank you for reading, sharing and reviewing my books. I'd be writing in my closet without you.

  I would like to thank all those who helped me create Wilds. It’s been a long journey, and I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the Athens Writer’s Association, Jamie! Who read and gave me the feedback I needed to get this prequel out. My beta reader, Michelle, who let me know how very confusing the letters could be if you thought at the outset that Satan and Helen were writing to each other. Eek! And all other helpful feedback.

  Thanks always to my husband who read so many scenes so many times in spite of his grumbled, “I hate prequels”. Thanks honey! Also, for letting me boss you around about the font.

  Thanks to my kids who are so easily occupied by computer programming. They’re going to take over the world someday.

  Thanks and glory be 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 or crafty you can think of.

  Hang out with her online:

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  If you liked Wilds, Part I and would like to sign up for updates of New Releases go Here.

  Wilds Part II comes out in March. Read ahead for a sample:

  I stepped off the plane, leather bag slung over my shoulder, inhaling deeply the air touched on all sides by the ocean. Too long cramped on the plane, I stretched my legs as I walked across the pavement towards the woman who waited calmly, serenely, hands folded in front of her as though she were at a funeral.

  I bowed when I reached her, taking my time to stand and meet her eyes with my own. Understanding passed between us, thoughts, flickers of emotion and intent until I more fully understood the situation. I saw a dark room, a door open and a killer enter, smelling of death, bringing terror to the child crouched in the cupboard across from me. The assassin walked directly to the hidden Head of a House, staring at the boy before he spoke.

  “Hello,” he said with a Cool voice heavy with Nether.

  “You’re Carve. The assassin,” the child’s fear filled his words, his being.

  “And you’re Harding.” The man mocked with every drawn out word.

  “How many of my people have you killed?”

  “Tonight I forgot to keep count. Dozens of bodies litter the ground in my wake.” The words did not communicate the right emotion. The man did not want to kill. Reluctance gave the child an opening he used, slicing the man’s shoulder as he leapt on him. I felt the hair of the killer beneath my fingers as I brushed his mind, searching his thoughts for intent. He’d already paralyzed the child, but would hide him until he could protect. The Cool Hybrid would save Harding for no particular reason. Of course Hybrids didn’t operate on reason. That was one trouble with them.

  “Harding is alive,” I murmured, my voice intentionally monotonous and low bringing back the cry of seagulls above us and the gray skies threatening rain.

  “The Son of Slide took him away. For a White House, they have a unique reputation,” she said in a melodious voice knowing full well of my link to Slide. “The Hybrid has always been a concern, using his Cool gifts to destroy life, and yet he hasn’t killed for pleasure or ease, only for duty to serve Carve, his father’s House. This mercy goes against his duty.”

  “The Hybrid has served more than Carve,” I said, looking past the car towards the sea where I could hear breakers distantly crashing. The small airport miles from the city was as close as I could get to London. I would not enjoy my time with dizzying lights and cacophonous citizenry, but no one else could save her.

  This mission would be a delicate undertaking. Slide had warned me that the bindings were failing. I had to find her and ascertain whether or not the bindings could be reestablished without sacrificing her soul or loosen the remaining ties without losing her mind completely. I did not communicate my mission to the woman, the consul who wanted me to intervene on behalf of Harding. Negotiating with Houses was not on my agenda. However, ensuring the safety of a White Head of a lost house would be my pleasure.

  Chapter 1

  Helen

  I walked through the door of a small bar and grill, put my dripping umbrella into the stand by the door while I waited to be seated by a chirpy waitress who was as oblivious to Wilds as she was to Hotbloods, not that I looked very Wild wearing Cami’s red leather jacket. Hotbloods leered at me in an impersonal way. It bothered me less than I expected. Their nature had nothing to do with me.

  My table was in the middle of the room where I felt on display, but once my food arrived, hot and deep fried, I barely noticed the Hotbloods around me who laughed and talked. There was so much talking, about the weather, the airport, demons, someone who’d burned out, and a new band that was going to play. I sat and ate, ignoring the glances thrown my way. I focused on taste, relatively alone while words and laughter swirled around me.

  He would be here, watching, waiting, and eventually, he would come.

  A House has contacts in every notable city, and many not so notable. I’d woken up in love with a Hybrid, Matthew, the man who had stamped me his with every letter, every word, every stroke of ink on parchment. After Harding’s fall, while Bliss and Carve ironed out the new territories, it wouldn’t be safe to leave. And I didn’t want to. I wanted the blocks gone. I wanted to remember who I was and most of all, I wanted to keep Matthew in my arms until we found a world where the two of us could be together. The idea that I could forget him terrified me. I’d spent my time thinking, plotting, planning, pacing, two chess pieces in my hand.

  I couldn’t abandon the House. I couldn’t abandon Matthew. I felt torn between the two worlds, but I would never let go of either of them. I would behave like a Daughter on tour, as any person next in line would do, meeting established contacts while forging my own alliances, establishing myself as a legitimate and worthy heir to the House of Slide while my heart betrayed my House.

  The idea of my father, or anyone for that matter, taking my memories, my mind into their hands made me lift my chin and return any gaze that dared linger for too long. I was not hiding; I was not slinking. Whatever my life became, it would be my choice, my life, even if that choice involved a disreputable Hybrid.

  I felt a shimmer of unease. Was this the beginning? Had my brother felt like this; needing his independence until he abandoned the House completely? I shook my head and dug into the slab of red meat.

  It was a far cry from the romantic dinner Cami was having at the Hunter’s house, a meal Saturn had made in the kitchen while I paced in the study. It was a strange honeymoon, staying with a sister and a killer, but Cami didn�
��t seem to mind. My mind turned to Matthew and how he didn’t seem like a killer, a destroyer, but an artist, giving the world beauty. Thinking of Matthew brought back the image of a different silhouette, golden head bent over Matthew as he drained the Hybrid, his brother. The room tilted slightly. I inhaled and focused on the band that had started playing in the end of the wood paneled room with frenetic energy on the tiny stage.

  “Helen,” Jayden, the green-eyed bloodworker said, taking the chair across from me without asking if I minded, my new sister-in-law’s brother acting as though we knew one another. Other than a few sentences at the wedding party, we hadn’t shared anything other than animosity.

  I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

  “I hardly recognized you. Did Cami dress you up?” His tone was as mocking as his smile. He smelled like heat, alcohol, and danger. Jayden raised his hand, gesturing at the waitress. He was overwhelmingly large and powerful in a room full of large and powerful. Every movement screamed that he owned this place and everyone in it. “You don’t mind if I call you Helen, do you?” He turned to the waitress who approached beaming at Jayden. “We need drinks.”

  “No thank you,” I answered, but Jayden wasn’t looking at me while he flirted with the waitress with his glorious eyes.

  “Drinks. Cider will do for a start.” Did he wink at her? He certainly slipped bills into her skirt, like that wasn’t an invasion of personal space. “So,” he said turning back to me, propping his elbows on the table while he stared at me with those unflinching green eyes. They weren’t quite glowing, but they looked close to erupting into flames at any moment.

  I blinked then smiled back at him, leaning over the table to get a better view of the scars, neatly criss-crossing his forearms.

  “Tell me, Jayden, as a bloodworker, what could you do with blood besides steal someone else’s abilities?”

  He started, blinking at me. Maybe the subject was taboo, or maybe he simply hadn’t expected it.

  “You want a lesson in bloodworking? This place is a little crowded for that kind of thing,” he said pulling out a knife. I saw the move, the way he would grab me and hold it against my throat. His eyes weren’t serious, but the anger, the heat of him didn’t know rational limits.

  I twisted as he moved, throwing runes at the same time I punched him in the throat, wrenched the knife out of his hand then planted it firmly in the fleshy part of his shoulder.

  He blinked as green sparks floated around us, finally disappearing while I smiled sweetly and settled back in my seat. “I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly accept the blade of a Hotblood, however charming. Do you know why someone would take another person’s, a relative’s, blood?”

  He blinked as he pulled out the knife, holding his hand over the injury while his eyes glowed and he burned, hot enough that I wanted to flinch away from the heat of him.

  “Are you talking about bloodworkers?”

  I frowned then shrugged. “I saw a Wild take someone’s blood. It made me… curious.”

  He raised his eyebrows as he kneaded his shoulder, the one I’d left his knife in. “I suppose a nice girl like you, from a reputable White House wouldn’t know anything about Wilds who perform experiments with their blood. It’s taboo for Red Houses as well, but you know Reds. Anything marked taboo must be more interesting.” His mocking smile didn’t seem to be aimed at me. “As a Hotblood, I use my own blood for everything except the drainings. Wilds who don’t like the idea of draining themselves dry for the sake of an experiment might use a relative with similar blood while they tweaked their technique. I consider it cowardly, though. Why should you pluck the fruit if you never paid the price?” He pulled his hand away showing nothing but a red welt beneath the newly made slash in his black shirt. “You’re different tonight.” He smiled, and I felt a surge of adrenaline. “Any other questions I can help you with?”

  He didn’t seem to notice the waitress as she set down our glasses then left. I glanced around me, noticing a particularly stunning Hotblood who laughed at something her companion said, throwing her head back to show off her effusive if scarred décolletage. Muscles, flesh, laughter, physical contact, it was all beyond me.

  I turned back to him. “Are you the only Bloodworker here?”

  “Why, are you looking for someone else?” he asked, brushing my hand with his thumb.

  I stared at his hand, feeling the heat, aware of the not unpleasant burning. “A few minutes ago you tried to hold me at knifepoint, now you want to hold my hand? Are all Bloodworkers so changeable?”

  He pulled his hand away, leaning on the table while he frowned at me. He seemed to be thinking, not angry. “I used to be allied with Harding. You’ve come here where those who cared remember, forget, or at least distract themselves from the pain. Losing my sister yesterday, losing my old allies last night, I can’t say that I’m as stable as I’d be on a good day after I’d had my fill of demons.”

  I licked my lips, remembering my brother kissing his wife, Jayden’s sister.

  “Love,” I whispered. “They love each other, don’t they?”

  He pulled back, like I’d said the strangest thing. Of course I had. I’d sounded hopeful, as though love would make the uncompromising reality bend.

  I shook my head. “Not that it matters. I didn’t think that Hotbloods would mind their union, not like Wilds.”

  He sneered. “You met Matthew, the Hybrid last night. If his brother bled anyone else, someone would say something.”

  I stared at him. What was he talking about?

  “You’re saying that since Matthew’s nothing more than a Hybrid, he’s good for nothing other than a blood bank?” My heart pounded while I tried to keep from expressing the fury inside of me. No one was touching his blood ever again.

  “I’m saying,” he growled. “That my nieces and nephews will be hunted and tormented just like Matthew. Hotbloods care about family. It’s more than duty, it’s love, the kind of love and commitment that Wilds can’t begin to fathom. My sister is throwing her life away.”

  I bit back the automatic reply, the need I had to defend my brother, but I only closed my eyes and took a sip of the cider. I wasn’t ready for its potency. My eyes watered while I tried not to choke.

  “English cider is the most full-bodied,” Jayden said, smiling at his glass like it was an old friend. Full-bodied was one thing to call it. It was closer to vinegar than juice.

  Just like that, the subject of Hybrids and bloodworking was done, forgotten. If only I could forget things so easily.

  “The band’s incredibly bad,” he said with a winning smile.

  I smiled slightly. “You don’t seem to mind. I guess they make up for it in interesting hairstyles.”

  He shrugged, frowning at someone behind me before he took a sip of his cider.

  “No, I am not the only Bloodworker here.” He wasn’t happy about it.

  “Why did you do it? I mean, it’s not a very safe vocation. Why did you become a Bloodworker?”

  “I can feel where the lines must be drawn. There are patterns, an order to it that’s more chaotic than runes, but the chaos you see all has reason behind it. A really good rune artist, like the one who embedded your metal, is much like a Bloodworker. It’s as much instinct as it is trial and error. I’ve never not known which lines would work and which wouldn’t. One can study and memorize patterns, but each body is so different with an individual array of muscle, tissue, bone structure, it’s best to have an instinctive feel for it. I drew my first lines when I was six,” he said pushing up his sleeve to show me the inside of his elbow. “Can’t hardly see them anymore.”

  His gaze had dropped down to my low necked tank beneath my jacket as he’d talked about muscle, tissue, and bone structure. I fought the urge to zip up.

  “Have you ever heard of a Hybrid getting runes?” I asked trying to sound natural.

  He raised an eyebrow, leering at me. “You think that Satan’s children are going to be Wild? You’re mista
ken. Hybrids can’t survive runing without an incredible amount of Nether blood as well as the right variations of metal. Do you know how many variations there are of metal?” He shook his head. “You have to forget about him. He’s turned his back on his house the same way she’s abandoned her tribe. I know that you’re a White Daughter, but if you’re looking for a distraction, something to take your mind off your brother’s betrayal, look no further.”

  “But some Hybrids have survived…” I began but was cut off as a Hotblood came up to the table with coal black hair and golden burning eyes.

  He gave Jayden a slightly mocking smile with his glittering golden eyes, but his words were addressed to me.

  “I can’t bear seeing a woman like you, wasted on talking instead of dancing.” He smiled when he looked at me, his eyes burning hotter every second.

  I shook my head. “I’m not here for pleasure.”

  “Otherwise,” Jayden said, standing to loom threateningly at the newcomer, “I’d be the one to offer it to her.”

  Jayden’s movement made everyone glance over, to stare at me and pick me apart. Who was I that had attracted the interest of the local pack leader?

  I put a hand on his arm, pulling him forcibly back down, glad for the runes twining my arms that gave me the strength of ten.

  “I’m here on business,” I said, loudly as I shook my head at Jayden.

  “What sort of business?” the other Hotblood asked with a suggestive smile.

  Jayden jerked to his feet and had his hand around the other guy’s throat before I could blink.

  “If you wanted to die, you shouldn’t have attacked Harding when their guard was down, when they had no chance of retaliation. The only reason you and your pack of curs didn’t leave blood on their grounds was because you struck when the Head was on her deathbed, before the power could transfer.”