PHOENIX (The Weaver Series Book 4)

by Vaun Murphrey

  He ordered, “Get dressed.”

  The bedspread on his king size bed was black with alternating stripes of matte versus shiny running vertically from headboard to footboard. A thin line of exposed sheet on the side closest to me was a bright fire engine red. The walls were painted gunmetal gray and all of the furniture was black lacquer with pale slender brush strokes depicting cranes and water scenes with jumping fish. He had a desk shoved up to the window with a closed laptop set on top of it and an alarm clock. The chair was unusual—it was the type with no back where you knelt on a pad canted forward. Maybe it was good for your posture or something?

  I tossed my things on his bed and began to unbutton my shirt. I wiggled my unshielded toes on the soft carpet and realized in our rush to get out of Mez and Silver’s way I’d forgotten to grab socks or shoes. I groaned inside and launched into the Web.

  It was strange approaching Silver instead of just having her with me. Her thoughts were closed behind her milky lavender surface, and I tugged the line connecting us. She came sluggishly to my call and I could tell she was otherwise occupied so I quickly blurted, “I forgot my boots and socks. Bring them to breakfast when you’re less busy. Bye!”

  My only response was a half-hearted grunt and I escaped back to James’ room in a hurry. I opened my eyes just in time to see a naked perfect white butt in my peripheral vision. I turned to appreciate the view. His long muscular legs stepped into navy blue boxer briefs with a martial artist’s peerless balance. The hair on his legs was spare and black. Little hobbit hairs grew on his big toes. He pulled a crisp folded baby blue square out of his top drawer and shook it to reveal a plain knit V-neck shirt. The muscles along his spine rippled and flexed as he wiggled it over his head. He looked over his shoulder and I realized he didn’t have a mirror over his dresser like I did.

  “Do you like the view? I do close-ups for an extra fee…”

  I stripped off my own shirt and dropped my panties to my ankles. My pulse sped as his eyes darkened with desire. Things low in my abdomen warmed and purred in anticipation. When he took a step forward to do something about our mutual condition I held out a palm to keep him at bay. “We have things to do besides each other, James. Let’s get everyone together like Malcolm suggested and figure out our next step.”

  His eyes drooped and his full bottom lip pooched out. “Just once? I can be quick!”

  I stepped primly into my clean undies and snapped the elastic waist band against my hips with gusto. “Wow, way to convince me! On the top ten list of seductive lines guaranteed to bust a girl right out of her britches. I’m pretty sure, ‘I can be quick’, is nowhere on it.”

  He looked me full in the face and turned up the over-exaggerated smolder. “It’s too bad, that would have been the best sixty seconds of your life.”

  We got dressed fast and I rolled up the cuffs of my jeans so they wouldn’t curl under my feet as I walked. The hall was empty as I coated us both in our shields. The pipes were singing in the walls with the pressure of traveling water, and I could hear the shower going. Completely different sounds emanated from behind my closed bedroom door and I blushed. Good gravy, had James and I made that much racket yesterday? No wonder Kara had fled to Corinne’s room! With the thought of Kara my feelings went from embarrassed, self-depreciating humor to remorse and sadness. Intentionally, I stared straight ahead, afraid of the reaction I’d see in James’ eyes to the use my twin had put his deceased sibling’s body.

  I stuffed the unwelcome intruder called grief down deep and started down the stairs two at a time with the solid thunk of James’ steps behind me. Maggie was up and bustling around the large kitchen, flitting from cabinet to stove to refrigerator and back again. A copper-bottomed pot on the gas stove was bubbling with gentle watery gurgles. The bar that opened into the more formal dining room was set with paper bowls with flower borders and gleaming metal spoons on triangular white napkins.

  Maggie usually fed us all before she went off to the clinic for the day. Reb and Ray, my four year old cousins, perched on two of the barstools swiveling their seats in unison. They spied us as we came in and Reb crowed a raucous, “Good morning!” Her red curls were wild and free, sort of like her spirit. Ray stopped turning on his stool to watch me with assessing light brown irises exactly the same shade as mine.

  Maggie raised shadowed doe eyes from her steamy stirring and said, “It’s oatmeal today so if you want something different, fend for yourself. This woman ain’t taking requests.”

  Melody emerged from the entrance to the living room looking polished in sleek pocketed black slacks, a loose burgundy cashmere sweater with a long silver chain and metallic flats. She flipped a hand in greeting, leaned her hip against the counter edge and poured herself a cup of rich black coffee from the thermal carafe next to the industrial size coffee maker.

  Maggie was the only one who knew how to make it spout the dark caffeine-loaded beverage. The thing had so many bells and whistles I figured you had to go to a special barista school just to be qualified to use it.

  Beyond the cavernous living area that no one seemed inclined to use, was another wing of bedrooms housing the Moores plus Kevin, Maggie and the twins’ rooms. This house was more of a mansion than a home. Maybe that was why we all tended to gather in specific areas, because the beast-sized abode was so large and intimidating after the cozy cramped and broken-in compound.

  Some of the other Weavers felt the same sense of reticence. Tim, our resident mechanic was one, but that might have been due to the recent loss of his mother. We were all still trying to put down roots and establish a sense of normalcy and community. If things heated up with the Warp Faction, morale was going to sink to an all-time low just when things were starting to look up.

  Malcolm came in from the same direction as his sister, and the spacious kitchen with its marble countertops, fancy beveled cabinets and twenty foot ceiling lost ground in the wake of his sheer mass and personality.

  He strode up to Maggie at the stove, nudged her shield out of the way and lifted her hair from the back of her neck to kiss a heat-flushed cheek. “You work too hard taking care of everyone but yourself, Momma.”

  She shooed him away with an elbow. “Go sit down and hush.”

  Malcolm shuffled over to the bar and sidled up next to Ray. I’d been so sucked in to watching his interaction with Maggie, it was only then that I noticed he had his tan Trooper’s uniform on. When my aunt turned around and caught a good look at him she wouldn’t be pleased.

  Ray asked him, “Why are you dressed for work, Uncle Mal? Doctor Mommy said you have to stay home today and tomorrow. Did I hear her wrong?”

  The kids had both gotten in the habit of calling their mother ‘Doctor Mommy’ when they overheard her speaking to patients. It was sort of endearing. Malcolm looked resigned to a fight. Melody and Maggie stared at him with joint disapproval; Mags with a dripping spoon and Melody over the rim of her oversized purple ceramic mug.

  Malcolm palmed his chin and toyed with a spoon with his free hand as he spoke. “Hernandez wants me to come in for a more formal statement in preparation for an inquiry. The scene of the crash doesn’t add up to my first version of events. If they think I’m withholding evidence I could be placed on leave without pay pending an investigation. I don’t know that last night’s sojourn to the LPD helped any. I’m trying to keep my job, y’all.” The last sentence came out as a plea for understanding.

  I motioned Maggie to give me the forgotten spoon, held limply in her hand, and took over stirring the thickening oats. Breakfast still needed a couple more minutes; right now it was the consistency of porridge and no one liked runny oatmeal or eggs in this house.

  James hopped up on the thin slice of counter next to the stovetop and jumped right in the conversation as if anyone wanted his opinion. “Do you think they’re trying to get rid of you, Malcolm? Hernandez usually has it out for you. I think you intimidate the guy. He’s probably afraid you’re after his job.”

  M
alcolm shrugged and tried to balance the spoon on his napkin with one finger. “I might be, after his job that is, if I can steer my way through this mess.”

  Melody spewed coffee into her mug. “Malcolm Moore, since when are you ambitious?”

  Maggie stayed quiet with a contemplative dent between her eyebrows. Malcolm was holding his breath and avoiding direct eye contact with my aunt. He finally got up the nerve to connect with her gaze and ask, “What do you think about it, Momma?”

  She jerked alive and a shudder went throughout her frame. Her words came slow and low. “You be you, Malcolm, and I’ll be me. There’s not much more either of us can do.” Maggie mumbled, “Excuse me,” before a hand went to cover her mouth and she fled the kitchen in the direction of her room.

  Malcolm got up from the bar so fast he knocked his stool over and ran after my aunt. Melody reassured the twins everything was okay and picked up after her brother. I kept stirring. Some parts of this morning were sucking rotten eggs. It didn’t make me feel optimistic for the rest of the day.

  Chapter Thirteen: Guerrilla Warfare

  By the time Silver and Mez made it down the stairs Maggie and Melody where gone with the kids and Malcolm, James and I were the only ones left.

  Mags had looked better, more together, after her talk with Malcolm but I hadn’t asked Malcolm what she’d been upset about. I could guess anyway. She was worried about his job making him vulnerable. That was an irrational fear since with the Warp Faction in play he wasn’t any safer at the enclave. They would sort it out.

  I did a double take from my seat at the bar when Silver walked from behind Mez and leaned her elbows on the island counter top. James finished washing the oatmeal pan and turned to grab a towel to dry it. He froze when he saw my sister’s new look. Kara’s body wasn’t the same. There had been a major overhaul while we’d all been eating.

  Black hair was now bright white, like translucent optical fiber, and she’d increased the length to a short, shaggy bob. While Silver had leached all the pigment from her borrowed locks she’d done the reverse to Kara’s skin. It was now a deep warm tan color that reminded me of our friend Lil on Axsa. She’d turned herself into Storm from the X-Men. I suppressed a giggle at the ill-timed humor. When I glanced sideways at Malcolm he winked at me. He must have had the same thought.

  Silver picked at Kara’s blunt fingernails and asked James, “Does this help?”

  He sucked in air and released it with effort. “A little bit. Can you change it back, if and when you get free?”

  My twin laid her hands flat and pushed into a straighter stance. “I can.” She searched my face for my opinion.

  I blurted, “You look like a certain Marvel character that can control the weather. Maybe we can dye your hair blue or something?”

  Mez laughed and hugged Silver from behind. Their height was still not a match but Kara’s slender six foot tall frame could hold its own against his eight muscular feet better than our normal five foot one. I ignored James’ flinch at Mez’s physical familiarity.

  Mez kissed the new white strands and said, “No blue, Sustor Cor.” He broke away to rub his stomach through his black shirt. He smiled, exposing two rows of razor-tipped teeth. “What is there to eat? I smell food but see none.”

  James reached high and hung the cleaned pot on the rack over the island and tossed the drying towel behind him without looking. “You snooze you lose, dude.” His voice carried an angry undercurrent with the word snooze, implying something else entirely.

  Silver put a hand on Mez’s arm to distract him and they started toward the pantry as my sister praised the nutritional benefits of Cocoa Puffs.

  James gripped the lip of the bar directly across from me and mouthed, “I’m trying.”

  Malcolm grunted and shifted around on his stool as it protested with metallic creaks. “I’ve got limited time here, guys. My hearing is at 10am and if I wanna make it on time I’ve gotta leave by 9:45am at the latest. It’s already after eight.”

  Corinne walked in with Kevin on her heels. Both of them made a beeline for the coffee carafe and the mugs dangling from brass tea hooks underneath the cabinets. Kevin was dressed for gate duty in pressed khakis, a green polo shirt made from some slick perspiration wicking material and brown Doc Martins. His curly chestnut hair was getting long on top but Melody was keeping the hair around his neck and ears trim. Corinne was in black leggings again with a blue button up dress shirt that, judging by its size, probably belonged to her boyfriend. Her feet were bare and I remembered my feet were too.

  I barked at Silver, “Hey thanks for remembering my dang socks and boots!”

  She paused with a dripping spoon of milk and chocolate cereal balls halfway to her mouth and shrugged. “I was busy. Besides, cowboy boots don’t go with that shirt anyway, Cass.”

  I looked down at the black on white block letters for one of my favorite newfound older bands and huffed. “This shirt is awesome. Awesome matches everything.”

  Corinne set down her coffee and hopped up on the counter. Kevin handed her the full mug, then wedged his hip against one of her knees. I liked the way he watched everyone while seeming to be oblivious. Every few seconds Kevin looked through his long lashes and made an assessment of his environment; his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on Mez and Silver.

  Corinne cupped the ceramic under her chin and inhaled then spoke through the faint rising steam, “This enclave isn’t equipped for an all-out war. We’ve got too many noncombatants that would end up dead. Out of nearly three hundred Weavers only a fourth of them would be suitable for action and even then that’s including some that are really too young for this kind of shit. The best we can do if we insist on not asking anyone else for backup is to beef up the enclave like a fortress and make targeted offensive strikes, then withdraw behind our defenses.”

  James came around the bar and sat next to Malcolm. He cracked his knuckles then grabbed his own head to pop his neck while he added his take. “I’d rather not be sitting ducks. We can plead our case to the Council but I don’t have high hopes for that. What about the oh-so-helpful Chavarria, Cass?”

  He looked around Malcolm’s uniformed chest in my direction. The big man scooted his chair back a couple of inches and the high pitched sound of the legs on the tile floor made all of us flinch.

  Silver’s words slurred through her partially masticated cereal. “Nope,” she paused to swallow, “we’re not tapping that ‘resource’ unless we have to. The guy threatened to wipe us out just a few months back like it was nothing—or did you conveniently forget that priceless little nugget.”

  I steepled my fingers. “Once, a long time ago, I told Melody and Maggie that if we could kill the Soul Eater it would be like removing the head from a snake. We have an advantage with our bending, among other things.” My eyes settled on Corinne and her mouth twitched at the corner. “Why not just plan an assassination?”

  Mez finished drinking his milk from his bowl and blinked huge obsidian seal-eyes. He wove his head sinuously side to side on his long neck. “You speak so casually of killing, Sustor Cor…can you think of an alternative that does not stain your soul so much? What you propose is premeditated murder.”

  Kevin’s empty mug hit the marble counter with a loud clatter and his chest puffed up in Mez’s direction. His body spoke his anger even though his voice was quiet and firm. “I would rather we kill one man with forethought to save three hundred than have a clean soul. Corinne shared the memory of the interrogation room last night. Our enemy is led by a homicidal loon with no respect for life. The Soul Eater isn’t just after knocking us off, he’s after world domination and the extermination of Outsiders as a whole. Why aren’t you and Kal investigating him for using stolen Axsian tech? Isn’t that what you’re here for?” His chin jutted forward with forced prognathism.

  We turned our heads in unison as the front door opened, then closed. Footsteps echoed from the entryway. Kal wandered in to stand stock still on the threshold of th
e kitchen. His black, scuffed cowboy boots stood half in and half out, right on the line where the living room carpet turned to grouted tile.

  His open calf length duster framed a flashy snap front western shirt and his faded jeans had a hole in the left knee. Kal had a light field disguising his foreign features, and he appeared to be a middle-aged, seven foot tall black man with a shaved head so smooth the overhead lights made his cranium gleam as if polished. The bald part and his skin color were real but his black on black eyes with their flicking nictitating lens and his generous mouthful of sharp teeth were safely hidden. With his human guise in place he looked like a less muscular distant cousin to Malcolm.

  Kal leaned one shoulder on the white painted crown molding and hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. “Did I miss anything good?” He stared at Silver in Kara’s altered body and frowned with concern then aimed formal words at James. “I regret your loss and sadness, James Lee.”

  Malcolm pounded James on his back. “Me too, James. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I really loved Kara and I still do. If you need company while you wade her memories, I volunteer to be your Second.”

  As part of the grieving process Weavers usually took a stroll through their recently departed loved one’s life memories in the Web. Maggie and I hadn’t touched Gerome yet, and I knew it was unfinished business that needed to be done, but I couldn’t bring myself to broach the subject with my aunt. It never felt like the right time.

  James looked mannequin stiff as he bent an elbow to rest his jaw on his knuckles. When he spoke it had nothing to do with the subject of grief or Kara’s fade. “If the Soul Eater can kill his own host and jump to another, how would anyone be able to take him out? Something about him doesn’t seem human. Are we absolutely sure about the whole Weaver evolutionary leap gone wrong thing? What if the Soul Eater is something else from somewhere else?” He stared at Kal, with passive unemotional eyes.

  Kal crossed his ankles and readjusted his shoulder for the right angle but remained silent. He wasn’t supposed to reveal Sil’s genetic tinkering on himself and Shiva to anyone. James was drawing on the similarities between the Soul Eater’s body snatching and Shiva’s hostile take-over of Kara, David and Cora. His suspicions weren’t unfounded, but I couldn’t betray the trust Kal and Sil had put in me by explaining.