PHOENIX (The Weaver Series Book 4)

by Vaun Murphrey

  Silver nudged Mez. “Let’s take ‘em some place special, lover.”

  Marco tilted his jaw upward and sniffed. “Special and safe.”

  Mez knelt near Man In Black One’s limp arm. Silver crouched to place the knuckles of her left hand on MIB Two’s carotid. What she sensed must have satisfied her because she settled on her heels in the grit.

  Her smirk was brief. “I know just the spot, Marco Polo.” She winked. “Be right back. Don’t start without us.”

  And then they were gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Gopher Squad

  The seconds passed into minutes before my twin and Mez returned. We’d all maintained position to stay out of the way of their ‘port.

  Malcolm didn’t waste time on hellos. “I’m point. Chavarria you’re rearguard with Mez. After me it’s Cass, Silver, Corinne, Kevin and James.”

  Silver arched her eyebrows and whistled a happy tune.

  “What did you do, Sister?”

  “Nothing permanent, have a little faith.”

  She took her place behind me. Her shaggy white hair was a beacon in the dimness.

  “I stuffed a note in one of their pockets that said, ‘Next time say please.’ See, not so bad!”

  “If that’s really all you did, Silver.”

  I wasn’t reassured. Her sense of mischief was sure to bite us in the ass later but what could I do? I already knew where she’d left the suits—the roof of the FBI building in downtown Lubbock. It would have been a death sentence to leave them in the Northern Mexico desert if we didn’t make it out alive. I put the brakes on that train of thought. Silver put a hand to my waist and it settled me. What must she be feeling now that she had two other lives inside her to protect? I combined our shields so that the warmth from her palm could leech through the thin cotton of my shirt. My twin’s sigh was an echo of the release I felt in my mind at her touch.

  If the path to light and the outside world had felt long, then the dark, irregular tube before us was an endless shaft of night. Our shield would protect us if the ceiling collapsed. Somehow that wasn’t as much of a comfort as I thought it would be. After all, we still needed oxygen. A weight began to press on my heart and my breathing slowed. It was dumb. All we’d have to do is ‘port to the surface. Of course then we’d be back to square one for this mission. I gripped Silver’s hand a little tighter.

  Top side sounds and vibrations began to leak through. Maybe we were past the outer walls of their compound now? It was difficult not being one hundred percent certain of the layout. Declan’s memories were available, as were Noemi’s, but they could be next to useless, dated as they were. Silver and I had mulled over ‘porting into Laser Eye’s office but again we were back to the years having passed. We were going to have to sneak around the old fashioned way. Sure we had the advantage of a light field but that could be neutralized if heat sensitive gear was present. The Warps had already had dealings with Shiva and his little toady. This was no sure thing.

  Light began to turn the walls from inky black to chalky stone gray. It was a given that Mez and Silver had already seen it. I gave Malcolm’s right arm a fist bump.

  His back tensed. “Yeah?”

  “It’s getting brighter ahead. Not much, but more than we’ve had.”

  He was confused. “I thought you said we were going to have to cut through concrete and packed dirt to get out? How is there light?”

  James whispered from down the line, “We’ll see won’t we?”

  About a hundred more shuffling steps into the lightening gray, that probably still looked black to those in our party without enhanced sight, the ceiling rose. The illumination began to emit a blue-green tint. I shook my head. It was too reminiscent of Axsa. Just what the heck was making that light?

  Malcolm stepped to the right abruptly. “What the hell?”

  Compared to the dimness before, it felt like the air was on fire with brightness. A squared off room revealed itself. The walls were inundated with twinkling bioluminescent spore—a miniature slice of Axsa on Earth. Mez made his way further into the roughly ten by twelve dead end pocket with a slack jaw. His spread hand hovered hesitantly over the wall. He pursed his lips as the rock bent outward and inward at the slow flex of his fingers.

  His already large eyes appeared to grow even further. “What is there in your ancestor’s memories of this, Leoght Cor? This should not be.”

  Silver wrapped her arm around my waist for a moment as she went past. Her head tilted all around to see the glowing evidence of Axsian interference. “I’ve got nothing on my side, lover. Maybe you should ask Kal when we get back. It is what it is, Mez. Let’s use this to our advantage. Can you get us through?”

  Chavarria followed Corinne and Kevin in. He frowned and extinguished his flashlight with a one-handed click. His chocolate eyes settled on Silver. “Qué es esto? I mean—what is this?”

  I didn’t miss that his other arm was bent so his palm could rest on the butt of his sidearm. My fingers wove together and I cracked my knuckles with several audible pops. “It’s convenient is what it is. This means we don’t have to blast our way through, announcing our presence to all and sundry. We could conceivably get in and out before anybody is the wiser.”

  Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “Do we even know what’s out there?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. In Noemi’s time it was a cold cellar under the kitchens.”

  James folded himself into my bubble of protection without touching me. I could feel the heat of his body. His thumbs were tucked into the strap across his chest.

  Mez turned to Silver. “Which wall?”

  She pointed forward. “That one.”

  Corinne blurted, “Wait! Everyone needs to be covered with the shield and a light field before he opens a hole in anything.”

  Chavarria jerked and flung his head like he was trying to avoid a fly as the invisible energy oozed in a cap over his scalp. “Alto! Qué haces? Get it off!”

  James grabbed his arm. “Calm down, Marco. It’s for your protection. This means if somebody lands a round you’re not dead.” Eyes still wide, the other man stilled, panting. James released his hold with exaggerated care. “Okay?”

  Kevin ducked his head at Chavarria. “Sorry, man. Next time I’ll make sure my girl warns you.”

  Corinne rolled her eyes and flicked her fingers at me. “Your turn.”

  I traced the outline of the shield around each person and bent the light to reflect our surroundings. We could still see one another but a bystander’s gaze would slide off us as if greased. If you knew what you were looking for it was possible to detect the tiny disturbances in the around the edges.

  Mez pressed his fist to the wall. “Ready?”

  Malcolm motioned the rest of us into formation. After one more serious look over his shoulder at the line, he nodded to Mez.

  An oblong depression formed with a whirlpool in the center. A bulky rim rolled along the frame of the rippling moving mass until a pinpoint appeared. The miniature circle grew rapidly. We took a collective breath in. No one jumped out at us or cried the alarm.

  Shadows stretched from lazily swaying fluorescent light tubes in crude dangling fixtures. The cellar was occupied by multi-level metal shelves stuffed full of boxes of produce. A large walk-in freezer took up the left side. Narrow earth-carved steps led upward on the right. Someone was listening to a radio above and singing along way off-key.

  We paused as Mez concealed evidence of our invasion. Pristine undisturbed rock remained. Luck is fickle but it was on our side. We’d entered in a two foot gap between shelves.

  Silver made a face. “Yuck, country music. Can I accidently smash the radio?”

  I followed the leader and rolled my shoulders instead of my eyes like I wanted to. “The object is to get in and out without anyone the wiser, Sister. Besides, it’s Patsy Cline so that’s excusable.”

  Malcolm led us to the foot of the primitive staircase to whisper, “Hand signals from this point forward. Ca
ss, you’re navigator. Stay together and be quiet.”

  The door wasn’t properly sealed. Scents permeated the air—garlic, cilantro and the tang of lime. Meat sizzled and popped with the familiar sound of heated grease. How the hell were we going to get around the kitchen staff? There was only the sound of one person singing, but for an organization this size you’d need multiple hands to prepare enough food.

  Malcolm pushed on the door and the hinges barely protested. When the gap was wide enough for his head he conducted a slow sweep. His shoulders relaxed. Whatever he saw was good news. With his index finger at the top he eased the opening wider and wider still. Malcolm pointed with his free hand to an area of cabinets just inside two swinging metal doors. He motioned to the left and put his finger to his lips.

  I dodged under his arm and the line followed me. Once in place I couldn’t help but stare at the cook. She was the Hispanic version of Maggie, all round hips and ponderous breasts. We needn’t have worried about her discovering us. A long black braid slithered snake-like against her white uniform as she sang into her busy hands. The proportions in the pans looked about right for a serving of one. Maybe she was Laser Eye’s personal chef?

  Malcolm cut off my sideways thoughts by taking his place in front of me. The metal doors had two convenient windows to peer through. On the other side, short as I was, all I could see were white painted walls. I didn’t hear much but then again we had our amateur songstress to tune out.

  We entered the hall after another inserted head check by Malcolm. Now my heart was beating just a little bit faster. A few empty carts that resembled something room service would use were shoved against the wall across from us. No one else was around.

  Silver thought, “This isn’t that different from Noemi’s memories so far. Tell Malcolm to go right. There should be another set of stairs to ground level.”

  Malcolm nodded at my thumb jerk.

  “Should we wait and follow the chef? I’m not sure wandering around hoping we find things as they were is such a fantastic idea. Who else would have his meals prepared separately than the Soul Eater?” I risked a glance over my shoulder at my twin. Her lips were pursed and I could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek. It was strange to see mannerisms I was used to feeling. They were totally different than what I’d pictured in my head from the sensations when Silver piloted.

  She answered, “Those carts don’t go up the stairs. Unless his meals are carried on a tray by foot there’s an elevator around here somewhere. She’d notice if we hopped in with her. We can figure out where the elevator feeds to, but if it’s multiple floors then we’re screwed. Any other ideas, Sister?”

  I protested, “We didn’t go up or down to his office. It was on the ground floor.”

  “If you’d like to chance it you better tell Malcolm. He’s about to lead us out another door, Cassandra.”

  My body had been busily engaged trailing Malcolm up the wider stairway. Dark brown rubber with non-slip squares muffled our steps—to a degree. Every whisper or squeak of our combined treads made the muscles in my jaw clench. There was no escaping the minute swish of cotton trapped between moving thighs either.

  When Malcolm turned to make sure we were all keeping up I made eyes at him and cleared my throat. We couldn’t risk having the first two people on point off in the Web so I dared a hoarse whisper. “That cook, should we follow her?”

  His mouth drew down and his eyes clouded. He crooked a finger at James to join us.

  “Cass wants to follow the singing senorita. Risk it or not?”

  James shook his head. The double doors ahead swished back and forth as someone wheeled a squeaking cart past outside. We all froze.

  Slivers of jade examined my face.

  “You got a hunch?”

  I shook my head. “Deductive reasoning. No hunch.”

  He smiled. Beads of sweat sparkled in his hairline. “I almost wish it were a hunch.”

  Malcolm chopped a flattened hand vertically through the air and we flipped a bitch to spy on the cook. She was preparing a tray of sizzling fajitas with flourish except now she was humming to Waylon Jennings. The radio cut off as did her voice. Once the cover was over the meat to keep it warm she lifted it carefully with the underside of her forearms. We scrambled to flatten ourselves against the wall as she exited, rear-end first, and headed in the direction of the stairs we’d just vacated.

  She paused at the top with the door held wide to straighten a linen napkin into a properly folded point. A muffled male voice turned her face flat. Her free hand lowered to steady the shaking tray. If we dodged through the narrow opening we might run into whoever had made the cook nervous. Dammit!

  A side profile came into view. Dark hair cut military short with gray around his ears. Light blue eyes. A straight nose led to a humorless mouth.

  Silver pressed into me from behind. Our shield combined again. Her warm breath stirred the roots of my hair. Goosebumps tickled and tightened my skin as my pulse gonged between my ears.

  Chapter Thirty: Knock, Knock?

  “He’s the right age. I know Declan’s dead, but this shit never gets any easier.”

  I leaned toward my twin so hard she had to steady us. I knew she meant his age matched our father. The held memories in the Web were a testimony to the fact that he’d been murdered so the rational part of my mind knew this stranger wasn’t him. It stung though.

  “Nothing changes but the person we follow if he takes the tray, Silver.”

  Malcolm was tensed and ready to move. I dared a glance behind. Corinne was looking pale and clammy. Kevin’s attention was equally divided by the scene ahead and his unsteady girlfriend. Mez was keeping his keen eyes on a passive, relaxed Chavarria, who looked like he was out for an evening stroll not on a possible assassination run. James raised his eyebrows at me. I stuck my tongue out at him and his smirk lifted my spirit.

  The creak of a door hinge and my neck whipped my head forward so fast the muscles protested with streaks of pain. It centered me.

  Wild-eyed and trembling, the cook stumbled down the stairs without her tray, just barely missing a run-in with Mez who angled sideways to avoid her. She was a wise woman to be afraid. Working for murderers was always a chancy arrangement. They often didn’t care much about collateral damage.

  The Declan clone was already halfway across the wide, brown carpeted hallway with his master’s food. I stilled. This was definitely where we needed to be. A sensory flashback and I could feel the fluffy fibers between my toes as Thing One and Two marched me to my first meeting with Laser Eyes at the tender age of thirteen. The arrogant bastard hadn’t moved his offices at all. He must feel invincible, hopping from host to host.

  Silver picked up the thought. “I hope he hates surprises!”

  Chavarria hurried to Malcolm’s side. He made some hand motions that the big man understood. His vest was stuffed to the gills. Not all of it had a purpose that was easily guessed. With fast moving fingers he extracted a slim device that unfolded in a ninety degree angle. He placed it by the floorboard, angled at the closed door. A tiny button, no bigger than the tip of my pinky, got planted high on the wall. It looked like a pinhead camera. Red laser light scanned the exit and the doors took on a three dimensional haze.

  Marco motioned us all away. When he opened the swinging door a phantom copy remained. He secured the real door to the wall with sticky-ended string.

  I’d told him to bring toys. He’d delivered.

  A group of youth, comprised of teenage boys and girls, giggled and jostled in a jagged path. When they finally moved out of the way it was just in time for us to see the Declan clone enter a broad recess diagonal from our position.

  When Malcolm moved I moved. We hugged the wall until the coast was clear. The faces that went past didn’t look evil. They were ordinary human beings; well, ordinary Weavers. I wondered just how much they knew. Were they guilty by association, blind sheep or eager participants?

  A large gap in traffic afford
ed us enough time to cross. Malcolm ducked his head around the corner into the dim pocket. He mouthed, “Camera.”

  If they had infrared cameras or heat or motion sensors the alarms were about to go off. How serious were the Warps about their leader’s security? I couldn’t detect any wires or hardware but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  Corinne shouldered her way in front of me. I sensed a buildup of energy in her shield as she extended a string outward. In moments the smell of burned plastic and seared metal hit my nose. Malcolm gave her a pat on the back. We crept forward and our group split to either side of the dark wood doors. Malcolm, Silver, Corinne and I went to the right and the others crept to the left. We’d discussed this. Whoever could manipulate shields the best would be first inside. We were trying to avoid firing any rounds. I looked up. Scorch marks flared away from the base of the camera mount as if the fire had originated in the wiring. It looked like a short.

  Stealing Corinne’s idea I wove a tendril of my malleable force field into the door’s locking mechanism and felt the give as it released. Malcolm’s curled fist grasped one of the ornate knobs. Everyone rocked forward on the balls of their feet, knees bent, spines curved. James spun his assault rifle over his shoulder and into his hands crosswise. Chavarria held his handgun against his sternum, pointed up. Kevin had his own weapon aimed at the floor. James was going to have to retrain him on that. He’d waste valuable time raising it unless he employed Prana to give him an edge.

  My armpits felt hot and sweaty all of a sudden. We were really doing this.

  The well-oiled hinges didn’t give us away. Soft carpet muffled our steps. Chavarria closed the door with exaggerated care. My chin lifted as I sniffed the air delicately. The entryway was narrower than the office it led into. There was space to either side that was out of our line of sight. We stayed split and close to the walls.

  The same intricately carved mahogany desk from memory reflected light from its empty surface in the center of the room. No one sat in the high-backed leather chair behind it. I followed the direction my nose told me to go and pointed Malcolm right. He ducked his head around the wall in both directions and held up two fingers. His thumb jabbed the same way my nose had warned the food was. Our group combined and I took point. I couldn’t hear much over the frantic buzz in my head. Silver’s emotions were in high gear, accentuating my own—the stronger the feeling, the heavier the bleed-over through our sisterly bond.