VECTOR (The Weaver Series Book 3)

by Vaun Murphrey

  Gerome intervened before it could get ugly. “You may let her enter, Lee. Thank you.”

  At those steel-laden words James put on a blurred burst of speed, moving into position to hold the door as if he were the most genteel of men. He even added a slight bow of obeisance in my uncle’s direction like a manservant or butler. I tried not to smile openly at James’ overblown antics as Cora Harris walked through the doorway, attempting not to betray her ruffled feathers and failing miserably. She wasn’t tall by any means and her frame was slight, but she had an air about her that radiated smooth charisma. I admired the trait even as I disliked her. We were no stranger to being the least physically imposing person in the room on any given day.

  Several rings adorned her thin fingers accompanied by multiple bracelets on her wrists. The exposed lobes of her ears held pearl studs and a matching double rope of pearls rested peacefully against her light blue buttoned cardigan. The blonde hair on her head was thick and discreetly turning to a silvery gray that shone in the light from the ceiling fixture. A few hairs had escaped her stylish up-do because of the wind, and she paused to primly smooth the strays back into place before giving a nod to James as if he held the door open at her order. She then zeroed in on Maggie and Gerome.

  Gerome’s tone was dry. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, councilor? Were you concerned for my wellbeing after I gave my report in the Web? I’m touched you would take the time.”

  Maggie snorted from her kneeling position by the loveseat, then rose to tower over Cora as she approached, using her girth as a blockade to partially shield her husband from the petite woman’s view. From our spot in the kitchen we could only see everyone from the waist up and Gerome was lost to sight almost completely except his head. When I turned us toward the abandoned casserole dish of lasagna on the counter I made sure to keep the confrontation partially in our line of sight.

  Silver’s laugh was dark. “It’d be kind of funny if she pissed off Maggie and we got to see a smack down. I bet that bun would fly loose with one good hit.”

  My response was a mental, “Uh huh,” as I concentrated on getting everything back in the crowded fridge just the way I’d found it earlier. My aunt got cranky when anyone moved things around in her kitchen. It was always best to put any item you used back where you got it to avoid grief. Our back had to be turned for just a moment and the light that came on as we held the door open threw weak yellow reflections on the waxed floorboards by our feet, exposing yet more spots of Gerome’s blood on the smooth black leather boots.

  When I turned us back around one more person had quietly entered the fray. Cora’s daughter Corinne stepped into the kitchen instead of joining her mother in the living room. She looked like a carbon copy of Cora only a less prim version. Her hair was cut in a short angular bob and her face was clean of makeup. The security officers at the compound didn’t wear an official uniform but they all favored more functional clothes in neutral colors. Corinne was dressed like a member of Gerome’s security team. How would that work if she had to report to her mother’s Council opposition? James shifted behind the petite blonde to close the front door against the wind, giving her a sideways assessing glance and taking in our little face off.

  Silver chuckled in anticipation. “I do believe last time you two met you informed Harris she should ‘bring it’—maybe she’s come to pay up.”

  Internally I responded, “This could work out. It’s better they’re both here for what we have to say in a minute anyway.”

  Silver was surprised. “We’re doing that now? Well, alrighty then.”

  I reached into our pockets, carefully separating the concealed weapon from the soft leather with a few rolls of our fingers and pulling out the gloves to casually pull them snuggly on our hands. Corinne stood watching our every move with silent intensity.

  Cora had moved forward in the room to insist on the detainment of the still unconscious Axsian, even as Malcolm stood, a silent unmoving statue, barring any forward progress on the councilor’s part. Frustration filled her tone as she raised her voice. “The Council has the right of further investigation into this matter. You will hand over the prisoner for questioning to a more neutral party. As the victim you can hardly be expected to have an impartial perspective.”

  Gerome let amusement leak into his voice. “You can’t contain or question him. As soon as he regains consciousness he’ll be calling out to an accomplice in the Web and teleporting out of here to God knows where. I’m not withholding information from the Council or using this time to interrogate a prisoner without witnesses. As you can see, my assailant is in no condition to speak with anyone, including you, Cora. I’m not even violating the rules of the Geneva Convention since the compound medical staff is in residence, available to render first aid. Beyond striking back in self-defense, my nieces didn’t cause any other harm to the prisoner. In what way is my perspective skewed?”

  A mask of civility slid into place over Cora’s face as she turned in our direction as if she had been keeping mental tabs on us since entering the house. I flinched at Gerome’s use of the plural to describe us.

  Her voice shook with a barely contained emotion. “That brings us to another point. Your niece was sanctioned for a probationary period so long as she proved not to be a danger or you would forfeit the Fox Seat. Disappearing the same day my son was discovered murdered in my home certainly qualifies as a breach of probation. I appealed to the Council for her arrest on suspicion of her involvement in the death of Calvin Harris, my son. If she is found guilty I will have you removed from the Council.”

  Maggie’s voice cut in before Gerome could respond. “You listen here, Cora, you lay a hand on anyone in my family I’m gonna hold you down and shove every single one of those pretty pearls in an orifice of my choice. Gerome almost died tonight, and he warned the Council in case the rest of you were in danger. Now you come into my house, throwing around threats against my family you can’t back up, instead of trying to figure out why any of this happened tonight? You, and everyone else on the Council that sides with you, can kiss my fat ass!”

  Before it could get really out of hand I ‘ported us directly in between the two irate females, taking them completely off guard. Maggie stumbled to land bottom first in Gerome’s lap, making him grunt in surprise and Cora Harris would have fallen backward over the coffee table if her daughter hadn’t used a burst of enhanced speed to arrive in time for a save.

  It would have been nice if Malcolm had mentioned Corinne was a Prana student of his. Once Cora was upright again I crossed our arms over our chest and said, “There really isn’t any need for an interrogation since I was present when Calvin Harris was killed, in this very room as a matter of fact.”

  Quiet ruled for a whole ten seconds and then everyone burst into noisy life at the exact same time. Both Harris’s screamed for my arrest, although I don’t know who would have carried it out, with the rest of the room in full opposition.

  The front door opened to reveal a small detachment of about ten guards as they crowded into the tiny living room, obviously waiting for the petite councilwoman’s orders. When I glanced at my uncle to gauge his reaction there wasn’t a trace of surprise on his face, so he either already knew about it or he was pretending he did.

  Silver signaled she was ready and we combined our wills to speak in one voice, booming with a strange double timbre above all of the commotion. “I call Right of Tribunal under Collective Law. Any accused has the right to gather witnesses for their defense in a reasonable period of time, no less than forty-eight hours, unless said right is waived by the accused.”

  Every head turned our direction and when Maggie made as if to protest again I reached back and touched her arm.

  Just at the wrong moment, Reb’s voice chimed from the hall, “Mommy?”

  She sounded terrified and close to tears. Silver took control and ‘ported us the short distance to the hall right outside the partially opened bedroom door to bend down at our c
ousin’s eye level. It wouldn’t do for either of the kids to stumble over our still unmoving alien guest on the floor.

  Silver’s huskier voice murmured, “Hey, kid, no worries.” Reb’s dark brown eyes were wide, absorbing all of the standing bodies taking up every bit of available space in the small living room and entryway. It probably felt like an invasion of her home, which it was. Ray stood directly behind his sister, holding her right hand in his own and rubbing a thumb absently in circles on the top to comfort her.

  By the sound of the footsteps behind us, I guessed Maggie was headed our way. The twins’ eyes focused on us briefly before Maggie pushed us aside to scoop them both up in her arms in a practiced motion. Right before they buried their faces in my aunt’s neck, Silver threw them a wink, as if to assure them this was all just one big game.

  I retook control of our body and sauntered back down the hall to stand by Gerome’s chair, leaning casually on the back with one hand and raising our eyebrows at Cora Harris. “As you can see, it would be useless to throw me in a cell since I could leave any time that I chose. If you’d like to know what happened the day your son died, you only have to wait forty-eight more hours until the Tribunal. Your little show of force, while somewhat impressive, wasn’t needed.”

  I made an infinity sign in the general direction of her waiting squad. They all looked young and if I strained our memory a few of the faces were familiar—probably some of them had been present during the one and only class of Malcolm’s we’d attended five years ago. Believe it or not, my sister and I did feel some sympathy for the Harris women. It would be hard not knowing how someone you loved died. They’d been denied the slim comfort of access to his memories after his death and that was a huge part of the grieving process in Weaver families.

  Although they may not know it, it was probably a blessing not having to relive his pleasure as he tortured and killed his victims. We had our own bad memories to process with our father, Declan.

  Cora smoothed nonexistent stray hairs back from her forehead making an obvious effort to regain her calm and collected exterior, “That still leaves the issue of your uncle’s assailant to be decided. I hardly think this personal residence is the appropriate place for his detainment.” She made discreet eyes toward my cousin’s room, as if she cared about the safety of the twins. Corinne stood like a silent sentinel at Cora’s back, staring at us with an intense focus.

  Before Silver could take over and make some acid remark our uncle spoke.

  Gerome reminded his nemesis, “While I appreciate your concern, Cora, I am not incapacitated as you can see and still remain in charge of the compound’s security force. Any decision made, regarding the handling of a hostile, will be at my discretion, not yours.”

  My uncle made sure his eyes didn’t register the ten uninvited guests in his home during his little speech, but I imagine he’d memorized all of their faces.

  There was a pregnant pause as Cora scrambled to manufacture another reason to force her authority on my uncle and take charge of the situation. The door to the twin’s room was open still and their voices carried as only a child’s can.

  Ray asked Maggie in his precocious curious way, “Mommy, what’s an orifice and why would you put pearls there?”

  James and Malcolm snorted at the same time, trying to suppress a laugh. We all heard Maggie’s heavy footfalls as she walked over to the bedroom door and slammed it closed without answering the question.

  The tone of the room changed from one of open hostility where violence seemed imminent, to an uneasy truce. I could feel the tension ratchet down several notches and feet began to shuffle as the guards under Cora’s command shifted restlessly in the crowded space.

  Covert looks were exchanged as I plastered a bright smile on our face to see if anyone would return the overture—two of the semi-milling mass slipped us a small grin before glancing toward Corinne and straightening their expression back to impassivity. If you rush in expecting opposition and encounter none, after a bit you might begin to feel you aren’t needed.

  From the floor behind Gerome’s chair came a groan and Malcolm snapped to attention, throwing his arms out to keep anyone from approaching as our prisoner stirred at his feet. I moved our body to block the opposite side of my uncle’s chair and face the agent that had abandoned all of his oaths for unknown reasons.

  The downed Axsian made eye contact, flexing his nictitating lenses and making them shine in the light, then stretched his lips over his sharp teeth in a hideous parody of a smile. In a voice was almost as deep as Malcolm’s he said, “Onfon ewalu ful helsceada.”

  His light field engaged and the rest of the room gasped, thinking he was simply gone but Silver and I knew better—there’d been no smell of ozone to indicate a teleportation. We moved forward to intercept him if he tried to make a move at Gerome’s chair and encountered what felt like an arm with the sole of our leather shod foot. The area he reached toward was the former location of the weapon that now rested discreetly in our pocket.

  Silver spouted in our barely fluent Axsian, “Aelmihtig Annis es mi herepad, Ellorgaest.”

  With an added push of strength we crushed what we assumed to be his forearm under our boot. Bones shattered with an audible sound and as the agent lost his concentration his light field disengaged to reveal his desperate grab for the lost weapon that was no longer where he had last seen it fall.

  The writhing alien switched to English. “Annis does not protect you, devil. You are an insult to our kind and an abomination that will be erased from existence.”

  With that he closed his eyes and disappeared in truth. The faint smell of ozone lingered in the area but the scent was slightly off, indicating to Silver and I that another Bender had pulled him through the Web.

  Malcolm barked, “Is he really gone, Dynamite?”

  Silver shrugged our shoulders. “For now he is. I imagine he’ll be back after somebody patches up his arms. Must suck to be him…who’s gonna wipe his ass?”

  The grin she aimed at the veteran fighter was almost joyful and certainly not worried in the least.

  Malcolm smiled back before he could stop himself. “What did he say to you? I caught the ‘devil’ bit at the last but what was all that gibberish before?”

  Silver waved our arm negligently. “Axsian politics at their finest. Annis is the word Axsians use for the representation of the universe, which they believe to be sentient. Roughly translated he said, ‘accept death foul devil,’ and I told him that Annis was my armor, then I called him an alien…but he started it.”

  When we glanced at the room behind us, every single set of eyes was boring into us. Our large companion shifted to face the spellbound, speechless audience.

  Malcolm clapped his hands together hard enough to bring to mind a sonic boom. “Alright people, the show’s over.”

  Every person who had rushed in at the behest of Cora Harris turned without her approval to walk out the still open front door with that simple gesture from their old teacher. Gerome got himself resettled into a sitting position from his kneeling position on the loveseat. We wouldn’t have felt comfortable with someone who tried to cut our throat at our back either.

  Malcolm continued forward using his body as a goad to herd the human cattle out the door just a little bit quicker, except the Harris’s who were determined to stay.

  Once the entry was clear, David stepped onto the porch with a bag at his side and an extremely confused look on his face that turned into surprised pleasure when our presence was noted in his scan of the living room, then back to confusion again upon noting the presence of Cora and Corinne Harris.

  Five years ago, the night nurse had come to this house to render medical aid, or so he’d thought, until Maggie had shooed him out the door. David’s light brown hair wasn’t as neatly cut anymore, curling just slightly around his ears to softly frame his face and make his army green eyes stand out under his thick darker brown eyebrows. Waiting as he was with James and Malcolm not far away,
his average height of five foot ten looked slight but I guess anyone would look small next to the other two men.

  David cleared his throat nervously, looking all around at the white film still settled about the room, even as Gerome waved him forward in welcome. “Where’s Maggie?”

  James smiled. “She’s with the twins in their room because of all the commotion. Come on in, man, so I can shut the door, or were you born in a barn?”

  It made sense that James would have a friendship with David since he had helped care for Kara in the infirmary when she was lost in the Web all those years ago. As soon as David stepped fully into the house, far enough to be clear of the front door, James closed it and threw the bolt which made both Harris women jump.

  Cora pulled the front of her cardigan down, disrupting the perfect loops of pearls resting against her breasts. Corinne straightened her shoulders to settle into a stance of casual readiness, like a bodyguard. Before she began to speak, Cora pulled her air of command back over herself. “Am I just supposed to be satisfied that a self-admitted murderer will have the run of this compound for two whole days before the Tribunal? I hardly think that would be the actions of a responsible leader, Gerome.”

  I took over again to speak so that we could avoid an outright lie. “I never admitted to killing your son, Cora, I only said I was present. At the most, that implicates me as a witness or an accomplice, not a murderer.”