VECTOR (The Weaver Series Book 3)

by Vaun Murphrey

Memories are past that’s caught.

  Imaginings are future’s lure.”

  We closed our eyes and breathed in, feeling the whistle and hum as the oxygen passed through our lungs.

  Mez asked in an amused, indulgent tone, “You give me riddles?”

  Lids lifted to confront our new life, Silver smiled a sideways grin. “Always.”

  Epilogue: Aftermath

  Six months passed and we were deep into West Texas fall, galloping into winter at full speed. The cold and heartless wind refused to wend its way around the trees, instead pushing against thick trunks causing them to creak and upper branches to tremble, littering the ground with dried pine needles.

  Thankfully, we couldn’t feel any of it with our shield up. I could sense the tiny filament that led off, connecting us to Corinne where she sat warm and snug in her room, most likely reading a book. In fact, I could sense everyone under the umbrella of the petite blonde’s protective veneer—Maggie in the clinic, the twins playing outside for recess at school with Melody, Kara going through the motions of an online college course in her room, Malcolm in his squad car on the interstate waiting to snag a speed demon with his radar gun and James somewhere ahead as he drew ever closer.

  We had experimented with distance all over the brick walled conclave and beyond, but there didn’t yet appear to be anywhere we couldn’t reach with the protective veneer of energy. Bending seemed to be the only sure fire way to break out and even then if you were close to Corinne it still came back on its own if you gave it a moment.

  Moments ago James called us to the building he had staked out as our security offices here, and yes we could have ‘ported, but the cold weather was pleasant to walk in when you didn’t have to feel the bite.

  Mez had been off on a mission somewhere in Brazil for the Galactic Alliance about a month now and Silver got grumpier with every day that passed. “So do you have any idea what Romeo might want?”

  I shrugged our shoulders. “No clue. It could have something to do with the Council, based on how tense he was. We’ll see in a minute.”

  The Weaver Council had agreed to give us a settling in period before we reassigned the two vacant seats that Gerome and Cora’s deaths had caused. Cora Harris had held the Coyote Seat and our uncle had held the Fox Seat.

  The Council’s patience was suspicious.

  Local authorities had spent some time grilling all of us about our mini cafeteria battle at the old compound until Agent Chavarria stepped in, taking over jurisdiction of the case, quelling further investigation. There had been exactly one article in the local paper and it had quickly been retracted. The officer who had given a statement about aliens on Earth was brushed under the rug as needing mental help and the whole thing was cleverly and humorously written off. Now we were going to owe the agent or his organization and that debt didn’t sit well at all.

  I was so engrossed in our conversation and mental meanderings, our toe caught on a slab of sidewalk that a tree root had pushed diagonal. Up ahead, James rounded the corner of the brown brick security building with a group of four men at his back.

  Since our arms were extended mid-flail it was hard to look composed or dignified as we trip hopped back into a regular walk. Two of the men following James were older, with forbidding, disapproving demeanors and sunbaked reddish brown skin that reminded us of clay pots. I wondered where they were from, since to our knowledge, there didn’t seem to be a big Native American population locally.

  The other two men were younger with more youthful versions of the same attitude plastered across their frowning faces. They all looked related and their clothing wasn’t high end; they presented like farmers out for a necessary, but hated, trip to town. Carhartt jackets and worn faded denim tucked into the tops of scuffed boots gave their profession away.

  Silver rummaged in the collective memories of our Web relations for information, avoiding Gerome’s, which was silly, but I wasn’t going to argue with my twin as she hit pay dirt in our grandmother’s remembrances. “Businessmen, not farmers, Sister. The Desert Diamond Casino has been the bread and butter of the Tohono O’odham Nation since 1993, but I’m sure they could have some agricultural ventures. Maybe they dressed all country so we’d think they were bumpkins? They’ve been a part of the Council since before Europeans really got entrenched in the Americas. There are some hard feelings lingering even today because they blame the Weaver clans of Western Europe for the invasion of their continents—North and South. Power base wise, they own lots and lots of land. I’d say they’ve got influence. They hold the most seats of any clan and I think we’re looking at two Council members right now. From Noemi’s memories I’d guess Cow Seat and Bull Seat.”

  James made an exasperated eye flick to the sky at our clumsiness and then gave a quick glance backward at our visitors before offering us a look of warning.

  Apparently caution was required.

  Silver crowed, “When it gets to the pissing off stage let me handle it. Until then, you go play nice!”

  I whined back, “Why do I always have to be the nice one?”

  Smug, Silver replied, “Because you’re better at it.”

  Dourly I observed, “Somehow I always end up being better at things you don’t want to do…hmmm.”

  Silver chuckled. “Pure coincidence, Sister.”

  Welcome to the Club Kid

  (A Weaver Series Short)

  By Vaun Murphrey

  Kevin hadn't made it for dinner. That alone wouldn't normally cause alarm bells to go off in my head. He'd been looking unwell though, and any weakness in street kids made them fair game for predators. I tugged off my apron and waved goodbye to Heidi, the soup kitchen’s volunteer cook.

  Yellowed bags under her watery blue eyes made her look all of her sixty-five years. Long wrinkles burrowed deep into her upper lip and I tried to ignore the cheap tobacco stench on her breath. Her swollen arthritic fingers gripped my forearm as I turned to leave.

  "It's dangerous at night around here, girl. Don't waste your time with that boy, Melody. There’re too many to cry over. He's probably off high somewhere with some bangers."

  The old woman shook my arm for emphasis then released it. Heidi meant well but she was an Outsider and she didn't have a clue. I was worried about Kevin because I suspected he was a Weaver.

  As was I.

  ‘Weaver’ didn’t mean I had a loom with strands of wool to make blankets. Oh no, it meant my particular subset of humanity could travel to an alternate plane we called the Web with our minds.

  I was born with the Trinity – mind, body and soul - woven together in full. The body was the host for the mind and the soul bridged the gap to another world inhabited by others of my kind from all over the universe. Not only that, but I had access to all of my ancestors memories too.

  As for how dangerous it was on the dark downtown streets of Lubbock, Texas...well at almost seven feet tall with skin so dark I melted into the night-I could handle myself in a tussle. My twin Malcolm and I had trained in martial arts since we were five. I could hold my own and then some.

  I paused for thought while I put on my jacket - hands palm to palm and head bowed. Most Outsiders I encountered tended to think I was devout.

  Heidi harrumphed, “Put in a good word with the man upstairs for me.”

  Eyes askance I kidded, “You need it too.”

  She paused in her sweeping to lean on the broom handle and cackle, “True enough, true enough.”

  Heidi began to hum and the beauty of her throaty voice carried to every corner of the dining area. The swish of the broom on the dated linoleum tiles was her backup band.

  I settled then closed my eyes.

  Endless night greeted me. Malcolm’s shining blue moon essence hung close by. He tended to hover around me. I could pretend annoyance but we both drew comfort from our bond. With gentle mental fingers I plucked the cord of light binding us. It sang with a sweet tune.

  His response time was quick, “Trouble?”
<
br />   My essence expanded and streamers of gaseous metallic blue flame licked out. “No, trouble. Well … maybe some trouble. I think it’s time with Kevin.”

  Our bond widened, shortening as his lunar light bathed me with cool refreshing reassurance. I knew his silence wasn’t an objection. Sure enough my suspicions were confirmed when Gerome and Maggie manifested.

  An attachment trailed off to melt into my best friend’s side. Maggie looked like the flame from a candle, intense and warm. Her husband Gerome was a bundle of cold, multi-colored pinpoints. It was true what they said about opposites attracting, at least in their case.

  Maggie said, “Bring him straight to me at the infirmary. How far gone is he?”

  I spun in place, agitated. “I don’t know yet.”

  Malcolm’s essence went flat and then puffed three dimensional again. “You’re not gonna go running around downtown by yourself looking for this kid!”

  Gerome spoke. “Malcolm…”

  He protested, “I don’t see why she can’t just wait for backup.”

  Maggie’s tone was no nonsense, but orange sparks floated off into the Web, signaling her impatience. “So, as I said before we were so rudely interrupted…go get Kevin and bring him to me. If the Council starts any of their Outsider crap Gerome has your back.”

  Her husband glittered. “I do, huh?”

  Maggie’s core went yellow. “Yes, you do.”

  I asked my brother, “How far away are you? What’s your ETA?”

  He hedged, “Not far…”

  With a final pulse of thanks to Maggie I traveled to my body and sealed the Web from my thoughts. Malcolm tugged at me but I refused to answer. Soft cotton lining caught on my short hair as I pulled the hood of my windbreaker up to cover my ears.

  The heavy metal door shrieked on its metal hinges as Heidi stopped her peaceful humming to wave a last goodbye.

  Yeah I was tough. Yeah I was bigger than a lot of men. But guns or knives didn’t care about any of that. Hopefully, I wouldn't get shot or cut up trying to rescue one starving, hard-headed, abandoned kid. Maggie would bitch and moan if she had to sew me together.

  Downtown wasn’t really as bad as it used to be. The city was trying to clean it up and force the homeless to different parts. Revitalization was in progress with fancy loft apartments and chain restaurants popping up closer to the university. Still, the downtrodden lingered in certain spots, coming back after routine rousts by the local PD. Some people said you couldn’t make a purse out of a sow’s ear but the City Council was sure trying.

  When Kevin had first shown up at the shelter his beautiful haunted eyes had skated across mine as if I didn't exist. His mother had been a beaten down hollow woman escaping from something; drugs, abuse or both. She’d disappeared half a year ago. Over time a fragile trust had developed between Kevin and I. He'd shown me an inquisitive, quick wit and an awareness beyond his age.

  Plain and simple, he’d stolen my heart.

  On reflex one day I'd looked to see if Kevin had a presence in the Web. A hint of...something...had flickered like a pilot light about to ignite. My stolen heart had begun to beat faster with hope. His eleven year old visage’d had the wear of a much older person but I’d known he hadn't hit puberty quite yet. As much as it’d killed me to do it I'd forced myself to wait. If I didn't build a trust and bide my time for the opportune moment, he might assume I was crazy.

  Just another disappointment, in a world awash with them. Dead or vanished mother, absent father, and no relatives he would tell me of to care for him.

  This evening felt different. For some reason I knew tonight I would bring my Kevin home. There was an urgency to my steps as I walked, head high, across the cracked sidewalk.

  I knew all of Kevin’s nesting spots. The windbreak the dumpsters provided in the alley off behind the city’s utility company building was his chosen place of rest after garbage pickup days.

  Nearby yelling split the deceptive still of the night. I sought out the sound and found two old men, both toothless, fighting over a brown paper bag. The scuffle ended when the paper tore ejecting its glassy contents onto the cobblestones to shatter with an almost merry tinkle. Such misery. The wind whipped between the buildings in a powerful gust.

  Four eyes looked to me; sizing me up. True, I was female but definitely no easy mark. I stared them down until they lost interest and continued on my way.

  My rubber soled boots ground pebbles and broken bottle debris into the concrete. The crunch of my steps changed to a softer rolling rock sound as I approached the peeling tan paint of the metal dumpsters. Wedged between and behind was a bundle of rags.

  I knocked on the side of the empty bin closest to me then waited for a reaction. Nothing. Creeping closer I hunched down until my butt hit my heels, trying to ignore the protest of my knees. It was too dark.

  From nowhere, lightning fast, a dull pocket knife thrust at my face. Surprised and alarmed I dodged backward only to skid on my ass. Cautious, I crawled back to a crouch.

  A voice I recognized rasped out, "Don't come any closer!"

  "Kevin, it's me, Melody."

  Confusion dripped from his words, “You’re not real. Nothing has been real lately…”

  Voice level I reassured, “Honey, I promise you I’m here.”

  In a spontaneously occurring Weaver, born from two Outsider parents, trying to connect to the Web for the first time could be a nightmare. Usually they ended up thinking they were insane. Some of them turned to self-medicating with whatever they could get. I hoped to hell he hadn’t fogged his mind with alcohol or drugs.

  “Why don’t you come out into the light so you can see me better?” I suggested.

  He shook the rust spotted blade. “The light hurts.” One palm ground into his temple. The copper skin bunched into his dark brown, curling hairline.

  Time was wasting so I took a chance. It was too fast and I knew it before the sentence even completed, “What if I told you I could make the pain go away, Kevin?”

  He yelled, waving the pocket knife and even jabbed it at the air for emphasis, “You’re just trying to trick me!”

  A loose rock skittered and I turned. Two locals, both no stranger to the juvenile detention center, leaned against the corner of the building. Crap! Wells and Aguirre were a pain in my ass. Some of the kids I saw wanted help and others…let’s just say they didn’t.

  Wells looked over his shoulder at the street and planted himself as lookout. His dishwater blonde hair was buzzed close to his head and a dark blue tattoo wrapped around the side of his scalp. Aguirre strayed into the shadows. He kept one hand on his waistband to keep his pants from falling. A wallet chain dangled from his belt. It swung hypnotically as he approached.

  I stood.

  Aguirre’s face was a dim oval capped with slicked back black hair, “I told you not to come into my territory at night, bitch. Whatchu think I should do wit you, huh?”

  He grabbed at the sagging crotch of his jeans to give a hint of what he had in mind. So-o-o not gonna happen.

  One foot slid forward as I readied myself to fight, hands loose and ready at my sides. At least the clothes I had on would move with me. I rolled my shoulders in place to see how much the jacket would give. Good enough.

  Chin cocked I said, “Boy, you ain’t shit. Walk away or limp away if you’re lucky. It makes no never mind to me.”

  Kevin moaned behind me.

  Cruelty lit in Aguirre’s eyes as he moved closer. It made them sparkle as they caught the light. Demons weren’t real but this cretin was trying hard to become one. God save humanity from the suffering we inflicted upon ourselves.

  He smiled, revealing capped teeth. “He your sugar baby? You gonna sweet talk him to your house and show him some looove?”

  There was no appealing to Aguirre’s better nature, he didn’t have one. “You go on about your business and I’ll let you keep the use of your legs.”

  A high whistle I recognized made Wells’ silhouette jump by
the curb. Kevin whimpered in fear. Whatever danger Wells sensed, missed Aguirre’s radar.

  The other boy snapped his fingers and Aguirre turned his head to hiss, “You run if you want to, puto. I been waitin’ for this day.”

  No such thing as a fair fight. While Aguirre’s head was halfway turned I struck. Knuckles met jaw and he folded.

  Malcolm’s voice echoed from the fire escape above. “Took you long enough, Mel. What if he’d had a gun?”

  I flexed the fingers of my right hand, working out the pain in my knuckles from hitting Aguirre’s jawbone. Flakes of something landed around me like ash snowflakes.

  “Get down from there! You’re getting paint flakes all over me.”

  A grunt, a rattle of metal, and tortured screws in brick. We’d be lucky if the whole dang thing didn’t fall off the side before his big ass got down to the alley.

  Wells was gone. No loyalty among thieves as they say.

  Malcolm landed on his toes to walk with a bright smile in Aguirre’s direction, “This POS didn’t take much effort. No sense not making sure…”

  He bent at the waist and searched the hoods clothes. When he rose again a snub-nose revolver was in one palm and a prison style shank was in the other.

  I held his gaze for a couple beats.

  “Quit playing around, Malcolm.”

  His forehead furrowed as he ‘three-pointed’ the weapons into the open dumpster with a double clang. “…and he scores!”

  “You following me around?” I asked. My patience was beginning to thin from the events of the day.

  Malcolm dropped his arms. The clothes he had on were utilitarian. Anyone who served in the guards at the compound usually dressed for function. He was dressed in about five shades of brown, light to dark. It contrasted with his blue-black skin, making it seem even richer, like fresh stirred tar.

  “Can’t help it, I’m the older sibling. It’s my duty to take care of you.”

  Yeah, by half an hour. I rolled my eyes and made sure he saw it before I crouched to address the slim rectangle of rags between the dumpsters. Malcolm had stirred up something foul in the dumpster that was cloying and rotten. I couldn’t imagine sleeping in a place like this.