“It is not. Shall I prove it to you in blood?”
Matilda crossed the warehouse and hesitated outside of the green door.
Both sniper scopes followed her movements without pause, holding a narrow bead on the side and back of her head.
“Make your decision now,” Slater Orange said. “Agree to follow my orders, or I will kill your sister. Five, four, three, two . . .”
“Don’t,” Quinten growled. “Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot her.” He took a deep, shaking breath and clenched his hands into fists. “What do you want?”
“Your hands, your knowledge, your stitches. I will provide the body, and you will imprint my memories, my thoughts, my mind into the brain. Into a galvanized: a house immortal.”
Not a twitch from the man, though Slater saw that he was sweating now. Good. He was listening. He was hurting.
“If you do so, I will release you.”
“You think I believe that?” Quinten asked.
“I think you have no other option.”
Quinten nodded, a rusty sort of motion.
“I need to hear that one word,” Slater said softly. “Your agreement. That you will make me galvanized. Tell me yes, Mr. Case.”
Quinten’s gaze did not move from his sister on the screen. “Yes,” he whispered.
And he had won.
“I am pleased you have finally agreed to our working relationship,” Slater said. “Please understand that there will be a gun trained on your sister every moment until your release. If I do not contact the gunmen frequently with the correct code words, they will shoot.”
He tapped the back of the screen and it faded to gray.
“Now then,” Slater said. “I will provide the galvanized body. Will you need more than one?”
“No,” he said quietly.
“I will send someone in a few hours to take you to the operating room. In that time, please compile a list of any other equipment you may need. After you have acquainted yourself with my resources, we shall make history together, you and I.”
14
Classified as property, the undead dozen were owned and used in secret. That was the world’s first mistake.—1963
—from the journal of L.U.C.
Ishouldered my way through the green door with my duffel and rifle. It wasn’t a room on the other side but, rather, a large well-lit elevator.
“Garage isn’t safe from what? Spying?” Left Ned said. He stepped through the door, and I moved out of the way to make room for him to enter. “Why do Houses have to spy on every inch of soil?”
Abraham paused before stepping in. He frowned and scanned the empty warehouse, his gaze flicking to the shadows and corners as if he knew we were being watched.
“Problem?” I asked.
“Not if we move.” He shut the door and pressed the wristband into a scanner on the wall. I felt that vacuum-release drop of an elevator kicking in. The elevator came to a rest with a slight hop and the door opened.
It all happened so quickly, I hadn’t even had a chance to ask who he thought would be spying on us.
On the other side of the open door stood a man. I’d seen him once before, on the screens in my basement. Oscar Gray was about my height, blocky built beneath layers of shirts, a knee-length jacket, and scarves. His curly black hair was streaked with gray, his eyebrows thick on his affable, round face that carried a few lines at his forehead and the edges of his eyes. He appeared friendly, kind.
He tipped his head up to peer at us through the slim gray-lensed glasses perched on his nose.
