Discordia - Short Stories from The Golden Apple of Discord

by Lauren Hodge

futures, but only until a specific point. The more an event is preset, the further out I can see it. But futures change depending on the actions of the present. The future can change because of actions but not until then. Does that make sense?”

  Ruben shifts a little. “Not really.”

  Before he’s even done answering, Aggie says, “Cora, there’s a maintenance log in the glove box and a pen in the center console. Pass me both of them.”

  I pop open the glove box and, sure enough, there’s a spiral-bound pocket-sized notebook. The center console has a really nice pen I think I’ll borrow when Aggie is done with it.

  Alex says, “You don’t steal, Cora.”

  “Borrow, I thought I’d borrow it!”

  Aggie starts drawing on paper what Alex showed me.

  “Length is time. But if the person in this thread does a different action and pushes the direction of their future to interact with another thread, then that thread interacts with another thread. Actions change the direction of the future. I look for patterns with people I know, and for people we’re gonna eat, I look for a future where they’re abusing innocent humans.”

  Ruben says, “They can’t be guilty if they haven’t done the crime yet.”

  “When I see a woman cowering in the corner when her guy comes home in a ‘mood,’ I can promise it’s a repeat performance. If not, how would she know to cower? When I see children in front of cameras and forced to undress, there’s not a whole lot of doubt the pornographers have done this before. Show me a first-time pedophile and I’ll show you a person who has never been caught. There are lots of mechanisms in the human brain one has to overcome in order to harm their own species. The first time, they normally freak out. I look for visions where the rapist picks the lock efficiently, where the child cringes around the molester. I look for evidence that shows this isn’t their first rodeo abusing another human.”

  Wow, even I didn’t know she put that much effort into it. Killing creeps just got way better.

  Alex asks, “What about offenders who will change if given the opportunity?”

  ”Not our problem,” I reply. “Those are the benefits of a civilized society that they forfeited when they themselves were not civilized.”

  He replies, “What about due process?”

  I say, “They were due to be processed.”

  “Who are you to be judge, jury, and executioner?”

  “There will always be someone willing to judge and execute. If they wanted a jury in the equation, they should’ve turned themselves in. Fiat justitia, ruat caelum.”

  He says, “Do justice though the heavens fall.”

  This guy just got even sexier. “You know Latin?”

  He shakes his head like an old lady not liking how much of my cleavage she can see. “That’s hardly the point. The heavens may be falling and you wouldn’t know until it’s too late.”

  Aggie clears her throat. “Ahem.”

  Alex glances at her and lets half of a smile escape the corner of his mouth before he gets his glare back on. “You may have some warning time before the heavens fall.”

  Alex downshifts and takes a corner way faster than I can in the Yukon. I miss driving Tara’s Jetta. I wonder if he’d let me drive the rest of the way. I mean, it’s not like he knows where the cabin is.

  “No, Cora. You will never drive my car.”

  “Of course, Mr. I-never-tell-other-people’s-thoughts.”

  Aggie laughs but then covers her mouth. It doesn’t matter, though; her shoulders are still shaking from it. I should just slash another tire on his precious car. I know Tara is behind us and will catch up eventually. Although, judging by the look on her face when we drove away, she would run over the sexy Audi sooner than she would stop to help. Not only that, but it would also make it harder to get to the nice mansion. I wonder where Tara is.

  Alex’s voice pierces my mind again. “She has left my range, so she is at least five miles behind us.”

  Miles, how very American. I glance at the speedometer but cringe. We haven’t covered unit conversion yet in algebra.

  “Eight kilometers is roughly five miles. No one needs to know how bad at math you are.” He speaks into my mind again.

  I laugh out loud before I can help it. “You think Aggie doesn’t know how bad at math I am? When I pay the tab at a restaurant, I write the letters M A T H in the tip line, and then write whatever the total should be below.”

  Ruben rubs his temples. “What are you talking about? It’s exhausting trying to keep up with you. You know that?”

  Alex says, “If you knew how many things she thinks about doing but decides against, you’d give her some credit.”

  There have never been truer words spoken.

  Alex swerves around some roadkill; he really is the guy who rubs his car with a diaper.

  Aggie taps me on the shoulder. “Tara will get to the cabin about twenty-two minutes after we do. When we get there, we need to pack as fast as we can. I want to be ready to go when she gets there.”

  Ruben laughs under his breath. “About twenty-two? That’s kind of broad. Can you narrow it down some?”

  I flip down the visor and open the vanity mirror to look at her without craning my neck. “Why?”

  “Because Tara and Alex are going to quibble for a while and she won’t want to go with him. Also, it will be mostly her fault.”

  Ruben says, “Wait, just like that you take Alex’s side?”

  Aggie replies, “It’s not about who is on what side. It’s about what side is right.”

  Alex exhales but remains silent. Perhaps Tara knows something we don’t, but honestly, liking Alex is easy. Be that as it may, Tara looks out for us pretty well, and as such, I’ll hear what she has to say before I cast my vote.

  -X-

  It doesn’t take long to get to the cabin, not with how fast Alex drives. After sitting in that luxurious leather seat for so long, I don’t even want to go into the cabin, much less pack up all my crap. It’s dark and dank, and that one lightbulb just doesn’t cut it anymore.

  Packing isn’t a big chore. We keep everything pretty tidy. Well, Aggie keeps everything pretty tidy. I don’t care if I live out of laundry baskets, and after washing my clothes on a rock in a frozen lake for months, does folding them really make that big of a difference?

  Tara arrives and wastes no time trading barbs with Alex. That’s my cue to hurry up and close the last suitcase. If nothing else, it’s gonna be entertaining watching Alex deal with Tara when he can’t hear her thoughts. Squishy footsteps in the mud approach. Tara stomps through the trees with Ann trailing behind.

  “Aggie,” my oldest sister hisses.

  Aggie picks up the last of the suitcases and walks out of Daddy’s cabin. “Don’t be mad.”

  I turn the light and generator off, then shut the door.

  “Why would I be mad, Aggie? I find out from Captain Arrogant we’re going to a strange man’s house, and all I get from you are vague don’t-worry-about-it answers. So tell me, Aggie, why would I be mad?”

  Aggie just carries two suitcases right past her, ignoring her condescending tone. “You said we needed answers. This is a way to get them from someone who doesn’t want to kill us. If you have a better suggestion, I’m all ears. These guys can give us answers, more than the Noricum could or ever would. I’m giving you what you asked for.”

  Finally, Tara looks sheepish. “So...err...why are we going to their house? They can tell us here.”

  Luckily, Alex gave me a plausible answer that will appease Tara. “Yeah, Alex said the walls have eyes and he wouldn’t come near the house. He was even nervous being around the trees.”

  Tara now follows Aggie, trying to keep up. I look at Ann and point to Tara, rolling my eyes. She’s always been so overprotective. There’s no reason to freak out like she is; if they become a threat… Well, let’s just say the Noricum had better odds.

  Tara asks, “We couldn’t do this at a Starbucks or something? Where is thei
r house and why are we moving there?”

  Aggie answers before I can. “Three words, ladies. Hot. Running. Water.”

  I can almost feel the detachable showerhead.

  -X-

  This takes place during chapter eight in The Golden Apple of Discord - Prince Lucius of the Noricum Vampires

  Edson calls from the jet after wheels-up in Toronto with news I never expected to get.

  Alton is dead.

  An allectus is no more, and that, from what little information is available, is not the most pressing problem. Four criminals have escaped apprehension and the North American prefect barely escaped with his life. Edson has no idea how they were defeated to the point of taking casualties. I have instructed them to report to the Quorum as soon as they arrive in Boulogne.

  Priam, Sabine, and Verus and I wait in the east turret sunroom for the Detachment to arrive. How did a group merely four strong defeat my Premier Detachment? If Priam is correct about Dacian involvement, the implications are vast. Not since the Dacian armistices have the Socious killers dared raise a hand against us. Why now?

  The creak of old heavy door hinges pulls everyone’s attention. Edson; Francisco; Ismet; the North American prefect, Duncan; and his assistant, Castile, all enter single-file through the old wooden door, still wearing their field cloaks. Ismet’s face does not betray his sorrow.

  They form a line, then bow.

  Priam says, “Duncan, while it is good to see you, I wish it were under better circumstances.”

  The prefect steps forward. “As do I, High King.”

  Priam nods, then looks to Edson. “Captain, I understand you