True.
“It was a uniquely frustrating experience. It gave me grey hair. See?” He pointed to his temple.
I didn’t know what to say.
“My unsolicited advice would be to continue on your present course. You’ve terrified the Harcourts, stood up to Madero, and resisted Tremaine. You seem to be managing quite well.”
“What do I do about my grandmother?”
“What do your instincts tell you to do?”
I sighed. “She’s attacked me twice. It requires a response.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“I thought about complaining to the Office of House Records, but it may make us look weak.”
“Do you want to be the child who runs to the teacher because someone pushed her on the playground?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. You have a choice. You can be seen as a House who relies on others or a House who handles its own problems. Leave your grandmother a message. Make it short and to the point.”
I flicked through my phone and dialed the second number Bug sent me.
“Trust your instincts,” Linus said, and smiled.
“TRM Enterprises,” a cultured male voice answered.
“Take a message for my grandmother,” I said.
He didn’t even pause. “Yes, Ms. Baylor.”
“House Madero is out. Your move.”
I hung up.
“Good,” Linus said, and sipped his espresso. “Things would be much easier if the two of you could sit down and talk.”
“She doesn’t want to talk. She wants to kidnap me and force me to serve her.”
“Victoria is practical. Eventually, she’ll come to the realization that she must settle, just as you’ll come to the realization that you can’t completely escape her. Surely the two of you can find some middle ground. Your grandmother just needs a slight push. If you met somewhere public and talked things out, you would come to a compromise.”
“What if she won’t compromise?”
“Then you’re no worse off than when you started.”
True.
“Would you like me to nudge her in the right direction?” he asked.
“Yes, but how do I know she won’t try anything?”
“You know because I’m giving you my word and personally arranging for your safety with Victoria. If she doesn’t agree to my terms, then there’s no meeting.”
“Okay.”
“Then it will be taken care of. And here comes the avenging angel with her flaming sword.”
Sabrian marched toward us and stopped. “Frank Madero came to and confirmed that this matter was House business. You are free to go.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded to me and walked away.
“Thank you,” I said to Linus.
“Of course. This is what I’m here for. It’s my function as your witness.” He grinned again. “Besides, things around you have a way of turning interesting. I do hate to be bored.”
We made it home a few minutes after 4:00 p.m. Mom was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Arabella sat at the kitchen table with her nose in her phone.
Mom saw Leon—he still looked a little green—and pinned me down with her stare. “What did you do?”
“I took him with me as backup,” I said.
“What happened?”
I made big eyes in Arabella’s direction. Mom refused to take the hint. “What happened?”
“Victoria Tremaine attacked us. She sent Dave Madero’s brother. And some people. I took care of Frank. Leon took care of the other people.”
There, that was nice and neutral.
Arabella got up and walked across the kitchen.
Mom opened the cabinet, pulled out the decanter filled with whiskey, and poured three shots into small shot glasses. “Are you okay?”
The intercom came on. “Leon killed somebody!” Arabella’s cheerful voice announced.
“I’m going to murder her,” I growled.
“Too late,” Mom said. “Brace yourselves.”
Doors opened and slammed shut inside the house. The Baylors had mobilized.
Mom put one shot glass in front of Leon and pushed the other toward me. “Drink.”
We drank. Liquid fire slid down my throat. Leon coughed.
Bern made it first. He tore into the kitchen, grabbed his brother by the shoulders, and shook him. “Are you okay?”
“He won’t be if you keep squeezing him like that,” Mom warned.
Catalina marched into the kitchen, her face outraged. “What happened?”
Grandma Frida came next. “Details! I want details!”
Arabella slunk back into the kitchen behind her.
I pointed my finger at her. “You’re dead.”
She shrugged.
“Will someone tell me the details?” Grandma Frida demanded.
“Ask Leon,” I told her.
Everyone looked at him. He gave an awkward one-shouldered shrug. “I couldn’t let them take Nevada.”
“Well?” Grandma Frida spun to me. “Is he as good as you?”
“Oh no. He’s better. Much, much better.” I took a USB stick out of my pocket. I made sure to get a copy of the footage from the hospital’s camera before I left. The hospital didn’t object. House business and all that. “Leon, do you want to let them see it?”
He thought about it. “Kurt said it might help to deal with it.”
I held up the USB stick. “We need a TV.”
We all stampeded into the living room, where I plugged the USB stick into the TV. The images of Leon and me walking filled the screen. The Vault vehicle charged into the parking lot. I paused the video.
“We got the Vault bus. It’s parked out back.”
Grandma Frida’s eyes lit up. “Good girl.”
“Press play!” Arabella ground out.
I pushed the button. On screen we spun around and ran for the door, Leon sprinting past me. Frank Madero popped into existence right in front of me. The family gasped.
On screen the shockers’ lightning looked like feathers. Fine white feathers that flickered into existence and licked Frank’s skin.
It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
Frank dropped to his knees. I let him go. He collapsed facedown. I stumbled, groping for my gun. People were running toward us.
Leon dashed into the frame next to me, the Sig 210 in his hands. He raised it and fired. I thought it took only a second. It was more like two or maybe two and a half. He fired as fast as he could pull the trigger.
Eight people dropped as if cut. The rest turned around and fled for their lives.
Nobody said anything.
“One shot, one kill,” Mom said finally.
“You think he ranks around Notable, like your father?” Grandma Frida asked her.
Mom squinted at the recording. “That’s what, fifty meters between them?”
“He’s higher.” I got out my phone and showed Mom a picture of two of the bodies.
Her eyes widened. “Every single one?”
I nodded.
“What?” Catalina asked.
“He shot them all between the eyes,” Mom said. “Instant kill. He did it at a fifty-meter distance, rapid fire. He is at least Significant.”
Grandma Frida whistled.
Bern grabbed Leon and crushed him into what could’ve been an excited brotherly bear hug or a judo submission hold. It was hard to tell for sure.
“This is special, Leon,” Mom said. “You’re special.”
Leon turned red in the face.
“You’re choking him,” I told Bern.
Bernard let go.
“Are you going to register for trials?” Arabella asked.
“No,” Leon said.
“What the hell is wrong with this family?” Arabella waved her arms. “Why would you not register?”
“Because I don’t need to,” Leon said. “It’s better that I don’t.”
“Why?” my sister wailed.
“Kurt explained it to me.”
Mom looked at me.
“Ex–Navy SEAL,” I explained. “Rogan’s PTSD specialist.”