House of Slide Hybrid

by Juliann Whicker

  “Lewis isn’t here,” I said, turning towards the door.

  “Go,” she said, her voice a command that stopped short of leaning me. “Yasho told me to bring you here. We don’t need you, not with your Wild blood corrupting any conscience you might have had.”

  “Erin, don’t talk like that,” a sleepy voice asked from the top bunk, a voice that reminded me of Ash or my dad, a voice that was so rich with meaning and depth I would probably drown in it if I listened very long.

  “Orrin,” Erin responded, her voice steeped in hope as she smiled brilliantly at the bed. “Are you hungry? I brought you fresh mangos.”

  “And a child? She didn’t sound so young,” he said, his voice getting louder as he spoke. His head appeared at the edge of his bed, but his face was pale with transparent skin, and his eyes were like holes in his face, gaping holes where I couldn’t see anything at all.

  I swallowed as I edged away from him. “Excuse me?”

  Orrin, the pale faced, pale haired boy with empty eyes hunched on the edge of the bed, his head touching the low ceiling, staring into me with those horrible orbs full of nothing. He blinked twice, and I saw something shift inside that gaze.

  He blinked slowly, then his eyes changed until I could see the pale blue color and he finally looked at me, seeing my face, my eyes. He stared, his pale eyebrows drawing together.

  “Your soul is as pure as a child’s,” he said in a melodious, soothing way that creeped me out.

  “Thanks,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. I glanced at Erin, at the way she stared at Orrin like he was the cheese and the moon.

  “Your soul is all wrong,” Orrin said, blinking rapidly. He looked terrible. Sick, starved, and something else I couldn’t put my finger on.

  I looked around and saw the bowl of mangoes on the table. With a shrug I handed it to Orrin.

  “I don’t know very much about souls. I’ve heard that I’m soul bait.”

  Orrin’s pale eyebrows rose. “Soul-bait, as in, a Hollow lure?” he asked, then absently bit into a juicy mango until streams of juice trailed down his skin.

  “I don’t know what that would be. Aren’t all the Hollows dead? What is a Hollow lure?”

  “How did you keep your soul like that, untouched?”

  I glanced at Erin, like she would help, but she only glared at me with her arms over her chest, like she resented me. I focused back on Orrin. “Ten years without a soul will do that for you.”

  “You say that as if having no soul wasn’t a problem,” he said with a frown. “How did you survive without a soul?” His voice came out compelling enough that the stone came down, protecting me from his demand.

  “I’m just here to find Lewis. If you don’t know where he is, I’ll go and find him on my own.”

  Erin met my gaze with a glare. “The Lost Souls will consume you and whatever is left of your rotting Wild soul.”

  “Erin,” Orrin said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder that dripped mango, a smear of orange on her yellow cape that she didn’t exactly flinch away from. “It isn’t her fault if they’ve made her into a Hollow lure. It won’t make any difference, not with this Hollow One.” He gasped and collapsed back on the bed. He moaned, rubbing his hand over his forehead, swallowing as he wiped away a slight sheen of sweat and mango.

  “What do you mean, about the Hollow One, about the Lost Souls? Do you mean that I’m supposed to lure a Hollow person with my soul? What would be the point of that?”

  Erin laughed shortly even as she gripped Orrin’s hand in hers. “You know nothing. He’s right. You can’t help but be the tool they created for you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow…”

  “Erin, stop,” Orrin gasped, as he tried to rise, but his eyes had closed leaving him looking like he was changing into stone, not flesh and blood.

  Erin dug beneath the sink to bring up a bottle of what looked like springtime. “I’m sorry, Orrin. You’re right,” her voice soothed while she filled a pretty ceramic cup the color of a blue jay with shaking hands.

  “You can’t let the anger consume you,” Orrin whispered as he sank down ignoring the outstretched cup.

  A light knock on the door that made me jump. My hand was still attached to the handle so the door swung open. Lewis came in, ducking his head auburn head as he came through the doorway. Lewis filled up the teeny little trailer with his heat, his life, smiling at me when he met my gaze, like I was the only person in the universe. He brushed my face with his hand, fingers trailing down my cheek like warm raindrops, chasing away every fear I’d ever had.

  “Hi,” he said turning to Erin and Orrin with his arms crossed over his chest, suddenly a stranger, Axel, a terrifying Bloodworker.

  “I’m Lewis,” he said as he reached past me for Orrin’s hand, ripping it off the edge of the bed where Orrin clung, squeezing Orrin’s fingers. “I heard you talking from outside. If you have a problem with Dariana, you should keep it to yourself,” he said, addressing Erin even as he leaned forward and grabbed Orrin’s face, gazing at the colorless eyes like a doctor looking for symptoms.

  “You’re the Bloodworker who drained Zhaphael,” she hissed, her dark eyes cold and ominous.

  “I am. And you have been meddling with your friend’s soul. Not very subtle, little Hollow. If you don’t want me to tell my Bloodworker friends that there’s a Hybrid with rich Hollow blood just waiting to be acquired, you might want to apply caution to your endless well of hatred against Wilds. She doesn’t need to feel guilty when she accidentally kills you.”

  What? I stared at Lewis, confused by his tone of voice, amused, patronizing, unkind, and his actions, manhandling Orrin that way.

  Orrin looked like he was going to throw up or faint, his pale face even paler than before, his face held upright by Lewis.

  “Your threats don’t scare me,” Erin said, picking up a paring knife off the counter.

  I sighed. Clearly, the girl was completely insane if she thought she could take out Lewis with a paring knife.

  Orrin made a choking sound, his whole body jerked then he started breathing again.

  Lewis dropped him against the bed, wiping his hands on a towel before he took my hands in his.

  “I tracked you from the market,” Lewis said, leaning his forehead against mine, like talking about tracking someone wasn’t weird at all, like whatever he’d done to Orrin with the skills he’d taken from a Hollow was totally normal.

  I swallowed and tried not to stare into his golden eyes like I wanted to. “Is Orrin all right? Were you able to help him?”

  “The springtime sounds good,” Orrin’s shaky voice answered. He smiled at me, his eyes back where they belonged.

  I shivered as Erin rushed the blue cup to his hand, staring at him in a way that made me feel like an intruder.

  “Right. Well, Lewis, I guess we should go then?” I said, more question than statement.

  He smiled at me, the curve of his lips more delicious than honey. I had to drown in him before I blew something up.

  “You will both forget all of this,” Lewis said, giving Erin a glare that made her flinch. “You owe me for his life,” he added, more gently.

  She scowled down at the scratched linoleum floor until she nodded reluctantly.

  Orrin sighed as he rolled off the bunk, holding onto the edge to keep himself upright. “I owe you a great debt,” he said formally, holding out his hand to Lewis.

  Lewis looked down at the hand, then up at Orrin. “I don’t like people owing me things. I already made my bargain. Keep each other safe. The world is not kind to Hybrids.” Lewis pushed open the door, gesturing me out ahead of him.

  I stumbled down the steps, breathing in the cold air with relief. I rubbed my arms, grateful for his black wool coat.

  “You shouldn’t have seen that,” Lewis said in a low voice as he slid a hand around my waist, spreading a delicious heat through me.

  I shook my head as I leaned against him, grabbing his hand so that I could wrap h
is arm tighter around me.

  “So,” I began, as we ducked under the clothes line. “Who was Zhaphrael, and how did Erin know him? You said she’s a Hollow Hybrid?”

  “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Hybrids have a difficult enough time surviving their own inconsistencies. I am getting into the sloppy habit of sharing all of my and others’ secrets with you.” He gazed down at me, warmth and amusement in his eyes. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  I pulled away. “Don’t talk like that. I don’t know how I’d…” I licked my lips and fought down the panic that rose in my chest. “Who was Zhaphrael? Why did you kill him?”

  He shrugged and pulled me back against his side.

  “You want a story. All right, Daughter of Slide. But first, let’s find a place where fewer ears can hear your screams of terror.”

  I frowned at him. “You’re making fun of me for the time in the woods.”

  He grinned at me. “Honestly, you weren’t the only one that fed the monster their fear. Being naked with you…”

  I covered his mouth with my hands, looking around at the last trailer before the woods.

  “Right. So, where are we going?”

  “Do you want to sit by the river? I had them send lunch there,” he said.

  I tried to force down the heat I could feel in my cheeks when he smiled gently down at me, brushing my hair with his large, scarred hand.

  “Kissing you makes me weak. I need to recuperate.” He suddenly bent, brushing his lips softly over mine.

  I melted against him, lingering against his mouth before he pulled away, shaking his head which made the strands of auburn hair fall into his eyes. I brushed it back, sliding my fingers over his soft ears, over his satiny skin to his beautiful mouth.

  “You are perfect,” he whispered, his breath hot against my fingers.

  I shivered and pulled my hand back, staring down at my ridiculous tulle skirt. Perfect? I didn’t want to be perfect, not that I could be, not when I tried so hard but seemed to fumble everything.

  “We should get back,” I said, pulling him away from the woods, towards the market and his car.

  “You’re right,” he agreed, hanging back so that I felt the weight of him.

  I turned to look at him. His face, caught in the glow of the late afternoon sun, burning with radiance, power and perfection. How could I touch him and think of coming away unsinged? I didn’t care. I wanted to feel my fingers burn. I wanted to drown in his heat and his life, to wrap his soul around me and never leave.

  “You’re perfect,” I whispered, feeling my heart thump in my chest.

  He glanced away, frowning at the woods. “I want so badly to take you into the darkness. I do not think perfect will ever be anything remotely close to myself, other than you. Yes. Let’s get back. I’ve exhausted my short supply of will power.”

  He started walking, this time dragging me behind him, but of course he could have dragged me all day and not noticed.

  We made it back to his car and I climbed in while he held the door open for me, vaguely noticing that there seemed to be fewer Cools on the way out than on the way in.

  I waited for him to start the ignition when he climbed in beside me, but he took his time, fiddling with the steering wheel while I watched him. He filled the space so beautifully.

  “Once upon a time,” he began, giving me a furtive glance that only showed a flicker of gold. “I made a bet. I’ve never made an intelligent bet in my life. That’s probably something you should know about me.”

  “What was it?”

  He sighed. “I bet that I could track down the last surviving Hollow One.”

  “Just track him down? What’s wrong with that?”

  He shook his head. “He didn’t want to be found. Had a warren underground filled with banned books. All about demonology. It turned out that he had his own ideas for how the world should end, and it didn’t involve waiting for the new Hollow One to bring an army of Lost Souls against the Wilds.”

  “You should have left him alone. You don’t want to mess with demons.”

  He grinned at me. “I’m a Hunter, Dari. Messing with demons is what I do best. That’s what Hunting is.”

  I had sudden difficulty breathing when he looked like that, dangerous, dark and intensely beautiful.

  “He kept me in captivity for some time. It wasn’t really that bad. When I got free, I drained him. Not many people knew that he was still alive. I wonder what relation he is of hers, the Hybrid.”

  “And…”

  He shrugged. “That’s all.”

  “You can’t tell that kind of story. There’s no build up or climax. What about details? It wasn’t that bad compared to what? How did you drain him? If he’s this powerful Hollow One who no one else was able to kill, how did you do it? Draining is harder than killing, isn’t it? You have to keep someone alive instead of just blowing them up or something.”

  He looked at me in silence for some time until he finally made up his mind about something and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  I stared as he slowly unbuttoned one button at a time.

  “What are you doing?” I finally asked, stupidly.

  “You wanted details. I’ll have to see if I remember. It was a long time ago.” His skin glimmered with silvery scars all over his chest and abdomen, each button he undid revealing more of the history of his Bloodworking. After he’d undone the final button, he took my hand where it gripped the seat and put it against his stomach, his skin silky under my fingers sliding me along a scar that ran from his belly button to his bottom left rib.

  “I started with this cut, three quarter centimeter thick to hold him fast, binding him to me without being bound to him. Some don’t bother with that, not when they’re going to drain the victim dead, but I find it always an important place to start. You see, everyone you drain becomes part of you. You take more than their abilities. Some of their personality traits, habits, accents, tastes can remain, even after their abilities have passed. The Nether mists help diminish those.”

  He moved my hand over his stomach, under his pectoral to a scar underneath his left armpit. “I finished draining him with this one. Deeper, into the muscles and tissues. Are you all right?” he asked, squeezing my fingers, taking them off the grid of scars.

  I swallowed. “That’s terrible,” but pulled my hand out of his and trailed my fingers over his torso on my own volition. “So many scars. Why would anyone choose this life of pain?”

  He frowned, leaning forward as he cupped my face in his hands. “I didn’t know that there was an alternative.”

  My hands rested on his chest as I leaned forward, my gaze darting from his eyes to his mouth.

  “Yo,” Devlin’s voice broke through the silence making me jump, pulling my fingers back to my chest like they’d been caught stealing something. I spun around until I saw a dark haired figure with my brother’s eyes out my window, knocking his knuckles against the glass.

  I stared at him, feeling my heart race and my breathing stop until I remembered that my brother was dead.

  He opened the door.

  “Dari, you’ve got to congratulate me,” he said shoving his hair off his forehead. I’ve got my first real duty with the House.”

  “Congratulations,” Lewis said flatly. “Let me see if I can guess what it is.”

  It wasn’t my brother. He was dead. This was Jackson. Devlin would never say, ‘yo’. Jackson darted a glance at Lewis. “You two need a chaperone. If I don’t work out,” he said with a nervous grin, “They’ll send Stewart. He really doesn’t like you.”

  “You’re a chaperone? For us?” I looked at Lewis, realizing how close I’d been beside him, how I must have looked to Jackson, practically laying on his bare chest a breath away from kissing. I straightened up and smoothed down my tulle skirt.

  “That’s right. You have no idea how much I look forward to telling your Intended to be appropriate. By the way, you should have at least five inches betwee
n the two of you at all times.” He shrugged. “Personally, I doubt five inches will do it. Five miles would be a more effective deterrent to untoward advances.” His eyebrows twitched while he used the big words, looking half amused and half terrified, like the idea of keeping Lewis in line, while amusing was also life threatening.

  “Extreme chaperoning,” I said, under my breath.

  Lewis grabbed my hand, capturing my attention completely. His shirt wasn’t completely open anymore, only a sliver of skin still showed. He had a slight frown between his eyebrows that I wanted to smooth away, to taste the texture of his skin with my fingers, fingers that should be satisfied. I swallowed as his eyes burned into me full of a dark promise that I couldn’t put a name to.

  “What does your schedule look like for the next week?” Lewis asked me, his voice low and rough.

  “I don’t know. School, I guess.”

  “When do you start tattoos?” he asked as he smoothed my hair away from my face.

  I tried not to sink against him, tried not to notice how close his hands were.

  “I’m not really sure.”

  “Do you plan on going out with Satan and your friends again this week?”

  I stared at him blankly, wondering when I went out with anyone.

  “To kill monsters,” he clarified with a slight smile before his fingers slid against my cheek, his touch not as hot, but warm and shocking with something that had nothing to do with temperature. So warm, so careful, so terrifying.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath through my mouth, unsure if I should move away from him or closer. Closer would be warmer. If Lewis was the Nether, I could go outside my back door and into his arms and the gaping jaws of his monster. “I don’t think so. I didn’t really do anything last time except be scared. I’m not sure I’m ready to face the monsters again.”

  “So how long are we going to hang out here?” Jackson asked.

  I blinked, hating looking away from Lewis and the delicious darkness he offered me. I glared at my cousin.