VECTOR (The Weaver Series Book 3)

by Vaun Murphrey

  Abruptly she turned around and we all started forward in single file.

  Kara leaned close to murmur, “We may be buying boots.”

  A smile stretched across our teeth and stayed in place until Cora screeched from the cafeteria.

  In a shrill sing-song, Cora belted, “Cor-innnnne, you little turncoat! My day has come and there’s nothing you or Gerome can do about it!”

  Being third in line we could only see bits and pieces around the bodies in front of us but we caught sight of a wildly gesticulating arm. The weapon the councilwoman waved was a simple stainless steel utility knife from the kitchen. Blood was flowing from cuts on her fingers. Her grip had likely slipped when she stabbed Gerome.

  That thought was sobering.

  Corinne’s near megaphone response carried to every corner. “You’re no mother of mine. You’re the mother of greed and power. Calvin could have been a fine man. If you die today it’ll be in his name.”

  Melody and Corinne put on a burst of speed at the open door, zipping off toward the insanely ranting, knife wielding Cora. She stood on the same table from Mez’s shared memory.

  We shouldn’t have worried about Corinne. Her trajectory took her straight at a guard. He only had time to scream as she tossed him into her own mother, ending the cacophony of Cora’s speech to sway the surrounding Weavers and damn her own daughter as a traitor.

  People screamed and scattered as Melody pointed them toward the kitchens then followed Corinne toward the tangled limbs of the guard she’d tossed, trapping Cora underneath.

  There were some crashes off to the left and more screams as one table careened into a wall, leaving its bench seats to topple backward with some bystanders still on them. Kal darted in to kick seemingly thin air but his boot hit something solid before he backed up to draw his opponent further from the noncombatants. A wild scramble ensued, as first that table’s inhabitants and then several others decided it was time to leave.

  Mez flashed in and out of sight as he traded punches with the renegade agent Silver and I had dowsed with flour just yesterday. His arms were working just fine as he swung a weapon that brought to mind a mini sickle at Mez’s chest, forcing him to dodge. Mez and Kal tried to keep the fighting on the left side of the cafeteria to give the crowd time to disperse.

  I spotted Malcolm where he was crouched over the prone body of our uncle. A few people we recognized stood as silent sentinels, facing outward to keep an eye out for the action if it moved any closer. There was an awful lot of blood. Too much for us to carry any hope, but we’d go to him first and then join Mez or Kal in their fight. Silver took control, urging our body into motion at a much faster speed than a normal human could ever hope to achieve. I held our breath, tensing for a twinge from our neck but none came.

  Silver’s thoughts gathered to make a smart remark at my doubt but the idea died as we gazed down at the slack, lifeless shell of Gerome. His long-fingered hands rested over his abdomen as if he were simply taking a nap. There was no blood on the front of his shirt so his wound had to be at his back. Kara and James settled behind us and we could feel everyone who was connected through the shield in their positions around the room.

  A feminine gasp of grief came from our right. Silver reached a hand to grasp Kara’s fingers in a brief squeeze before turning to Malcolm to say in a dead tone, “He’s gone. Cora did this?”

  Malcolm nodded. “With help, but yeah.”

  Light brown eyes that matched my own and my dead mother’s stared up at the ceiling. I leaned down to close them. Maggie wailed a loud and heart rending sound.

  Silver turned to Malcolm. “Keep her safe, keep the kids safe.”

  Dark brown almost black intense eyes shone. “I will.”

  I reached out to place a hand on one thickly muscled shoulder, letting some of Corinne’s shield spread to encase his body.

  He jumped in alarm and Silver said, “It’ll protect you from a direct hit but it isn’t foolproof.”

  The big man nodded and rose to run back to Maggie’s fiery red halo of hair at the back wall. Our gaze roamed the ragtag group circled around my uncle, noting Martinez, Swinford and one of the guards from the van we’d pulled down in the storm earlier named Worley.

  Martinez said, “So what’s the plan?”

  James answered because our mind was a roaring expanse of white noise. His words were meaningless gibberish that had no connection to the single-minded determination building between Silver and I. Never had I felt so connected to my twin. The combined power of our will was focused on one thing and one thing only—swift and brutal vengeance.

  Chapter Eighteen: Bloody Hell

  Our voice felt like it should shake the ground as we howled in our double timbre, “Incoming, Mez!”

  We ‘ported directly behind him and bent our shield around Mez’s sides in a flowing bubble to create two tendrils. The invisible whips grasped the disgraced Axsian agent’s arms. With a double tug in opposite directions those appendages came off with terrifying ease. The malleable pieces of shield we’d used became visible as they were speckled in twin fountains of arterial blood. Mez reached out two hands to snap the screaming traitor’s neck.

  Growling at the body on the floor, I didn’t want it to be over. Silver released the dismembered arms to thump with a meaty sound on either side of our deceased combatant.

  I took over our mouth to bark at Mez, “He was supposed to suffer.”

  Mez flashed feral fangs. “And so he did. Time is relative.”

  We sucked the extended tendrils of shield in and I cocked our head to ask, “Relative to what?”

  His black eyes glittered in the light as he said, “How much pain you’re in.”

  Silver turned us away from her lover to seek out Kal and Shiva. Their moves were hard to keep track of as they blinked in and out of sight. Sometimes they ‘ported and sometimes they just used light fields. It was a dizzyingly deceptive flight of the bumble bees.

  James and Kara had positioned themselves on the outer edges of the conflict, occasionally using bursts of speed to dodge in and score hits. Shiva was going to lose. They weren’t giving him any time to think. If they didn’t strike a killing blow soon he might realize it and ‘port out of the conflict altogether. Shiva was keeping his head turned, trying to fight almost one eyed.

  From off to our right came a screech. I rotated our body to watch as a grievously wounded Cora screamed inarticulately at her daughter. The knife she’d used to kill our uncle protruded from her abdomen like a metal light switch. Somehow, in the tumble from the table she must have stuck herself.

  A misty cloud of crimson hung in the air between the Harris women and Melody stood to the side, waiting to see what would happen. A hovering sanguine cloud rushed at Corinne, engulfing her upper body. As we watched transfixed, more blood oozed out from Cora’s wound to join the rest.

  At first Corinne didn’t react, probably expecting her veneer of energy to withstand the onslaught. We actually felt the shield thin and the manipulated blood invade like miniscule missiles of red hot glass. Now the screams emanated from Corinne not Cora as the older Harris stood smiling beatifically at her handiwork.

  Melody sprang in a dark blur of motion. When she stilled, Cora Harris’s blonde head rested between her palms as the rest of the councilwoman’s body fell to the floor. The red cloud stopped its stinging invasion of Corinne’s shield, losing its artificial life to join its source in the immobility of death.

  When Corinne’s vision cleared Melody held out Cora’s head as if to hand it off like an awkward gift between strangers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  The petite blonde accepted her ‘gift’ and walked over to lay it on top of her mother’s bloody cardigan. Corinne stooped for just a moment to pick up the string of pearls that had rolled off the stub of Cora’s neck. They were no longer white, but a strangely enchanting pinkish color that brought to mind cheerful things. She stuffed them in a pocket.

  Corinne’s gaze l
ocked in on ours and a ripple passed through the shield to reflect the emotion she couldn’t show. I jerked our head toward where Kal and the Lees were still engaged with Shiva. Corinne blinked and motioned to Melody at the last knot of conflict.

  Someone had broken or dislocated one of Shiva’s arms and it hung limp and motionless by his side. There would be no more ‘porting for him. They fought in earnest with no clever banter interspersed with the action. Complete concentration ruled.

  Kara darted in to strike at a knee but Shiva anticipated the move and caught her by a wrist to swing her into Kal, knocking them both into a rolling tumble of limbs. James shot forward to block the massive alien as my mentor and gangly friend struggled to separate and regain their feet.

  Desperation made Shiva more cunning, and I was truly amazed that he hadn’t already been taken down. He was, after all, fighting multiple foes with only one arm. I almost admired him.

  Almost.

  The next moment happened in slow motion. As James looked back to check on Kara, Shiva kicked upwards in a long reaching roundhouse. Thankfully the shield held but it looked bad from Kara’s point of view as the crack of Shiva’s foot and ankle bones shattering sounded like James might have suffered a broken neck.

  One moment Kara was crouched on the floor almost to her feet and the next she was gone in a puff of ozone. Kal jerked in surprise at her disappearance.

  A choking, gasping sound emanated from Shiva and his chest rippled as if something was crawling around inside it. We all ducked as he exploded from the inside out in a shower of organic matter.

  Standing in his place was Kara.

  Her chest heaved as she fought for breath and her hands came up to swat at her mouth and nose as she frantically tried to clear her airways. She looked like the Countess of Bathory, fresh from a soak in a tub of virgin blood.

  Chunks of organs clung wetly in her hair as other dark unidentifiable pieces adhered here and there from her shoulders to her feet. As we watched gravity inexorably removed some larger bits with wet sucking sounds and then they plummeted with thick plops to the hardwood floor.

  Silver teleported us to her side and tore off the bottom half of our borrowed t-shirt to quickly swab her face from the forehead down. It took more than one swipe before she could open her eyes and when she did they widened as the carnage sank in.

  Kara’s voice was awestruck. “What just happened?”

  Kal spoke from his spot next to James. “You are officially a Bender. Welcome, Sustor. You have done something Axsians have not done since our earliest days as a people—you bent your foe out of existence.”

  Mez reached out a long arm over our shoulder to smooth back Kara’s blood-soaked hair and then held his glistening hand in front of her. “You win. Kal must now pay you triple your due.”

  Kal blew out a raspberry before responding, “I said double not triple.”

  Silver snorted. “You’re not getting out of this one, Kal.”

  James seemed frozen. Seeing his gore-covered sister had given him shellshock. I touched his arm. “You okay?”

  He came back to the moment with a jolt and murmured absently, “I’m fine.” Then he came alive, nearly yelling, “Kara-mel, are you okay? What was that like?”

  Kara shuddered before snagging the torn bit of black t-shirt from our fist and running it across her forehead again where the blood was starting to ooze from her hairline as if she were in the middle of a macabre dye job.

  Once the impromptu rag was away from her eyes she looked to her brother. With tight lips she said, “Disgusting and totally scary. I didn’t even mean to do it, so no one ever ask me to do it again…ever.”

  Melody and Corinne hadn’t joined the fray. They weren’t close by so we turned and saw them huddled around Gerome’s body, along with Malcolm, Kevin, Maggie and the twins. I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea for three-year-olds to be in the presence of their father’s body where it rested in a pool of cooled, darkening blood. Maybe they needed to say goodbye, too. They’d already been exposed to so much violence today, more than we’d ever wish on them in a lifetime.

  With two ton steps I walked our body toward the quiet tableau of grief, half repulsed by the prospect of dealing with our loss and half drawn to offer comfort to the ones left behind. There was guilt as well. There was always guilt.

  When we arrived behind Corinne she had her hand in the pocket she’d stashed her mother’s bloody pearls in. She startled when we put a hand to her shoulder. Body turned to the side, the distracted blonde gave us a stony vacant look before backing away to let us move in closer to our aunt where she knelt at our uncle’s side.

  Maggie’s hand was repeatedly smoothing down the thick dark hair at the top of Gerome’s head in a gentle motion she couldn’t seem to stop. Silver crouched down in the blood to grab her wrist, stilling the motion.

  Words soft, I said, “He’s gone.”

  Frizzy red hair clung in perspiration soaked clumps at the base of Maggie’s skull. Her skin was pink from the heat or emotional turmoil. She turned, exposing raw wounded eyes to say, “His last thoughts didn’t make any sense. He wanted me to tell you that he saw the ways and this was the best one. He said don’t worry, everything will be okay and that he loved us. What did he mean ‘he saw the ways’?”

  For a split second I wanted Gerome to be alive so I could slap him for his secrets. He had never shared about his gifts with Maggie. How did you do that? How could you hide a whole part of yourself from someone you were supposed to be sharing your life with?

  Malcolm’s deep voice broke the tension as he said, “I’ll take care of the police if the rest of you can get everybody moving.”

  Something in his tone suggested he knew what Gerome had meant, and he was trying to change the subject.

  Silver clenched the skin under our eyes. “And just where are we moving everyone to?”

  He refocused before he answered, “Use the conversion van we were in earlier. I programmed in the address on the GPS console. Keep everyone together. It’s in town.”

  David had a crying Reb on his hip as he bent down to caress the top of Maggie’s hair. “C’mon, Maggs. We need to go. Let Malcolm take care of Gerome for you.”

  Her shoulders shuddered as she shakily exhaled and then she looked up at us again. “You’ll tell me what it all meant?”

  We couldn’t see our own expression but I imagined our features had firmed as we tried not to cry and the burn of emotions that tried to escape from our eyes was intense, but we held it together to say with sureness, “We’ll go through his memories together. Whenever you tell us you’re ready.”

  Silver and I weren’t so sure she’d like what we found, but maybe Gerome would surprise us all over again.

  I turned us toward the kitchen entrance at the sound of many shuffling feet. Every Weaver that had fled the violence looked like paper thin versions of human beings as some held their children in too tight embraces. They walked single file past Gerome’s body. Each person put their fingers to their lips and placed them lightly against our uncle’s forehead before moving out into the sunshine of the afternoon.

  Melody leaned down and gripped Maggie’s upper arms, pulling her to her feet. My aunt stood stoically, nodding at each person as they passed to pay respects.

  Tim, the head mechanic, came through carrying his elderly mother who looked to be peacefully sleeping until we noticed her chest wasn’t moving at all. The middle aged man’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he said gruffly, “It was my mother’s time, too. I’m sorry for your loss, Maggie. No one will probably ever know just how much Gerome did for us.”

  Thinking of the Council and its twisted political games, Silver answered in a grief hardened tone, “Then we’ll tell them.”

  Chapter Nineteen: Exodus

  After the procession of silent goodbyes had ended we were able to get Maggie separated from the vacant shell of her dead husband. The twins were scarily silent and their faces were wedged into their mother’s ne
ck so hard I wondered how they could take a breath. My aunt was drawing just as much comfort from the tiny arms wrapped around her shoulders, as they were receiving from her.

  I had to believe we could all get through this.

  Tim stayed behind with Malcolm to make arrangements with the authorities about recording his mother’s death. Before we left, he gave us instructions about who was qualified to drive the two old reworked school buses that had survived the storm damage. It was hard not to be distracted by the frail peaceful body of his mother as he cradled her gently in his arms as if she could still feel his embrace.

  No one was inclined to take charge so Silver and I stepped in to fill the void. Oddly enough, not a single Weaver objected as they sought safe harbor and an end to this horrible day.

  Kara had to be taken outside and hosed off before she could go anywhere and James took care of that. As gruesome as the reason for her impromptu hose down was, her squeals as the cold water hit made a few people smile, taking a tiny bit of the grim grayness out of the atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

  Our tattered, bedraggled group made its way to the motor pool lot, looking like the cast of extras from an end-of-days zombie movie. At our signal James jumped up to give instructions from the roof of the white conversion van that would take the lead in our little trek to who knew where.

  In a booming voice, James said, “Listen up! We aren’t out of the woods yet. When we leave and head to our new destination there can be no stragglers. If someone gets stopped at a light we all pull over and wait. Each car should have a contact in the Web and if anyone gets culled from the convoy sound the alarm. We stay together!”

  There were about twenty five drivable vehicles left. The big repainted school buses which had twelve rows of seats that could legally hold about four per row, five more conversion vans that could hold about fifteen Weavers apiece, not counting the one James was perched on, and an assortment of SUVs and trucks which could hold anywhere from four to nine passengers. We were going to have to stretch the capacities of every one of them to get over three hundred people out of here in one go.