Tremble in the Dark: A Gwen Farris Novel (29 page)

That
might be a Westmorland thing, since they always pounded on doors to wake each
other up at the start of the day. At least in her experience.

Gwen
didn't leave the room though, just sitting up against a wall and dozing, her
clothing bag and pack by her the entire time. They did that in shifts, only
leaving to go to the bathroom. Everyone else just went to their rooms for
sleep, and Clara delivered them food at regular intervals. Stuff she made
herself.

She
didn't trust anyone else on the train for some reason, even though the rest of
the people were probably fine.

When
she brought some soup, after a day and a half of travel, marked from when the
cake had been delivered, the prostitute explained. Or, Gwen decided, the
ex-prostitute, if that was what she wanted. Slow or not the woman had been too
helpful to just throw away.

"Sometimes
people can give you food that's been treated with herbs. You fall asleep and
wake up with some geezer sticking you with his rod.
If
you're lucky. If
I make it, I know what's in it." Clara said it like it was hard to
understand, but Gwen had already worked out what she was doing. It made sense
to her too.

"Thank
you. Keep that up. Using your head like that. If Beth and I get too tired, you
may have to take over, so be ready." It wasn't going to happen, but the
woman seemed proud suddenly, and glared a little at Sally.

"What
are we going to do with them?"

Gwen
looked at her new maid and then the woman that was on the floor, bound and
gagged. That hadn't been her idea, but Martin's, since it just seemed like the
thing to do. Mainly to prevent curses, Gwen realized. That didn't worry her,
personally, but it was a thing here and she bet that Carter at least could come
up with some strong ones, if he tried. At least as they got back into an area
where magic worked normally again.

"First
we get them to a safe place, and then we make them talk. Or more likely,
someone
else
does that part. For all I know this is done for us. We found
the killers, which was our job. They stopped themselves, so that parts done.
How the rest plays out is up to other people."

It
was the difference between a job and a story. Gwen wasn't going to insist that
she was the only person in the world that could solve this thing. She wasn't
the hero here anyway.

People
that were actually from the place would probably do a better job of it, in the
end. That made so much sense that, tired or not, Gwen smiled a bit. Then she
got ready for the rest of the trip. It would be a long one.

Gwen
didn't know what she really expected from the whole situation. It was different
than what they got, when they finally reached a point that was safe to
teletransport into though. For some reason she sort of expected that there
would be a lot of help on the ground, with different agencies scrambling to
assure their position in the whole case, and steal the credit. Or, at any rate,
at least hook their Lorrie up to the drive unit that was Gwen and Beth, who'd
actually gotten enough of a lead that the deaths would stop, at least for a
time.

After
all, the case had turned out to be a thousand times bigger than anyone had
thought it would be, hadn't it? Someone had tried to turn off the
magic
,
and what they got, as far as help on the ground when they returned, four days
later was...

Some
local detectives, who seemed half bored, and like they thought Beth and Gwen
were a couple of overreacting women that might well have made the whole thing
up, because, naturally, they had breasts and stuff. The Detectives that came
were four men, all dressed in what Gwen thought of as the normal wear for such
people. Suits that were subdued in color, but still actually had some. Muted
plum and copper being popular this season, or more likely three years before,
along with shiny brown hats that had bands around them to match, even though
the base unit was always either black or dark grey. The shoes shined too,
making them all look more like gangsters from a futuristic nineteen-thirties
movie than law enforcement.

They
did have a red clad man with them, who was there to handle the prisoners, since
at least one of them was a magician, and the other might be, for all they knew.
Now,
that
man was older, verging on actually being old, with white hair
and wrinkles that had tiny sub-wrinkles inside them. He had to be at least
eighty, and his hands shook when he took the green glowing null-radiatives out
of their rather fancy wooden case, and shackled both of the prisoners securely.

Then
one of the men, looking at Beth's chest the whole time, and not even bothering
to make eye contact as a token gesture, flicked the brim of his hat up once.

"We
have them." That was all the man said. He seemed annoyed too. Not with the
prisoners, but by having to do his job.

Gwen
had worked for a few weeks with another group of Detectives, so knew that not
all of them were this brain dead and rude, not as a rule. It might have simply
been that she was distracted, exhausted and smelled bad, having not had a
shower for almost a week. It could have also been that these misogynists needed
to have their asses kicked. Before she could move in to do exactly that,
Bethany reached out and touched her right arm gently. It was enough to get her
to stop, long enough for the five men to escape with their rightful prey.

They
left in a very large, horribly run down and ugly Lorrie. It was made all of
wood and stone, with rubber tires, and barely moved, compared to a normal one
of those things. Gwen had been around enough to get the idea. Anyone with the
skill could use anything made of metal to make a magical field. Someone like
Carter Palmer could pretty easily create whatever he needed to escape, if he
wanted to, so they had to limit the sort of things that would help him do that.
The wagon, which was pretty much what it really was, couldn't move fast,
because the structure wouldn't be able to handle the speed. Not that stone or
wood
couldn't
be turned into a radiative. Stone was used for very large
and powerful things, like airship motivators or the drive units in the Lorrie
that was pulling away from the train station. Wood did it poorly however,
compared to metal.

Smiling,
Gwen was suddenly thankful for her remedial education. Knowing those things
meant she could focus all her mental power on the jerks that had mistreated
her. Apparently she was broadcasting that thought pretty loud, since Beth
winked at her, and started to walk away. They were on foot, reeking and had
their own bags, with Clara aimlessly walking behind them, about ten feet back.

"Don't
worry, they're the right men. This is
huge
, Gwen. They were handpicked
to come and get those two to a safe location. They nearly sent the entire
force, armed to the teeth, but one of their people decided that it might work
better to move without making a vast scene. These were the ones their captain
thought could pull it off without seeming out of place. Except that poor
magical disposal man. This isn't a huge location, so he's the only one they
have for the job."

Gwen
let her face twist, but actually felt a lot better about the whole thing
suddenly. She could put up with some acting, as long as it was part of the plan
and not just her being dis-respected. Again.

"So,
the telepathy is back?" It probably had been for days, but they hadn't
talked about it.

"Indeed
it is. I need to call in to Central." Looking around, she checked to see
who was around, and finally nodded. "There's a lot to do, but first, we do
the communications we need, and then, I say we rent a room or two and scrub
ourselves until we peel the top three or four layers of skin off. What
say?"

"I
say
yes
. I'd settle for a bucket and stripping naked in the streets
right now, if it's all we can find. Where did Martin get to?" He'd
actually been a big help the whole time, making sure that they had someone to
watch the rest of the train staff, until Beth could check them out to make
certain they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and not in on the
whole thing.

Gwen
nearly shook herself, remembering that Cordell was planning to ride the train
for a bit longer, since he had actual work to get done, his Telesar schedule
suddenly increasing, a lot. Him going against what he'd said his entire adult
life suddenly, and putting forth that he'd been wrong about the Westmorlands
was making him both incredibly hated
and
popular at the same time. It
was amazing to watch, close up.

She
waved at Beth and rolled her eyes.

"Sorry,
tired. Yeah, let's get to someplace we can sleep for a few days. Clara? You're
sticking with us, right?" They hadn't really talked about it, but it was
pretty clear that the woman sort of expected to be left to her own devices, now
that things were finished, at least on the train.

Beth
turned around and nodded at the woman.

"Yes.
You know Clara, I was thinking that you might want to put in with Central as a
caretaker, for one of the female Westmorlands in the field. Now that you aren't
spewing hate speech anymore, I mean. It doesn't pay that much, but if you're
really giving up on all that, there are a lot of eligible men in my family that
won't care what your past was at all." She had a gleam in her eye, which
Gwen understood was her being teasing, but poor Clara didn't get that yet, and
blanched a little.

Because
just knowing that Westmorlands weren't all evil was a far cry from being
comfortable with them. It didn't mean she was ready to sleep with them all yet
either.

"Yes'm."
It was subdued, and sounded bleak, which would have been funny if Gwen hadn't
known just how slow the woman really was. She figured that Clara would have
been the smart kid in the special-ed class, but the woman
would
have
been in there, in most places back home.

Teasing
her like that was mean, and Gwen turned on Beth, who caught her thoughts on the
matter full in her little telepathic brain. It happened so fast that she
actually took a step back and went wide eyed.

She
recovered quickly though, Gwen saw and apologized, after a fashion. Without
ever saying she was sorry at all, of course.

"Or,
I'm sure that something else will present itself. It really isn't a bad job,
working with us. It's very safe, as long as you don't mind the fact that every
Westmorland male under fifty will probably try to sleep with you. You're
allowed to tell them to go soak their heads at least, and they won't get too
pushy about it. They can't. It's part of the training." She stopped then
and made a face, then yawned and kept walking.

They
all did. They were in a town and it wasn't a big place. That meant two things.
First, it seemed like they were in the old west, except for the fact that they
had good roads. Everything here was made of wood and had that old timey feel to
it. The only thing that really saved the place was the addition of outdoor
lamps along the streets, some paving stones, and the fact that it was all very
clean. Down the street they saw where they'd be staying, which had a large red
sign that said simply "Hotel".

"That
seems promising." Gwen smiled, really only caring about it having a shower
and a bed that wasn't as hard as the floor. Even at that, as sore and worn as
she felt, she might well have put up with that, a horrible place to sleep, if
she could just get
clean
.

The
other two nodded, and they all trudged along lifting tired feet and trying not
to shuffle. It took a lot longer than it should have, since they were all
stiff, having been cooped up for so long. It had been tense the whole time too,
which didn't help as far as that went.

When
they got to the door a little bell chimed, a tiny copper thing that wasn't all
that pleasant, being too loud. It did its job and had an old man out quickly
enough. He was in a black shiny vest, and looked at them all with a worried
expression. He sized them all up and finally pushed his wire rimmed glasses up,
and sneered a bit.

"We
don't have no rooms. Not for the likes of you." This was directed at her
and Beth, which was wonderful.

"Ah."
She didn't have the energy left to argue, but Clara, slow or not, moved
forward. For a second Gwen expected a tirade, or a bribe, to come, but the
woman just smiled a little and shook her head.

"Grandfather,
these are Special Service women. If you don't give them a room, they can have
the King's men in here for an audit before you can blink. I'd go with the room
and warm the bathwater, if I were you." It had a slow sound to it, but the
words were oddly on topic and the man looked miserable.

No
one wanted to be audited, it seemed. So in that way, things here where just
like back home. Gwen nodded.

"Right,
I keep forgetting we can do that. Besides, what do you have against Special
Service? Protectors of the realm and all that?" She wasn't using her
regular accent, having slipped into her fake Katherine voice.

The
man didn't spit, but his lips pursed, getting ready to, it seemed to Gwen.
After a second he swallowed it and got three room keys down.

"I
don't need no Westmorlands around. Bad for business and they might blow up and
kill us all."

Rather
than correct the man, Beth nodded and looked at the others.

"Well.
I promise
I
won't rift in here, as long as the room is clean? You do
know that I can't do that, and if I could, it would kill me to do, don't you?
It really isn't as fear inducing as all that, if you think about it." For
her it was an epic speech on the topic, since most of the time, before, she
would have just left, avoiding conflict if she could.

The
old man sneered again.

Gwen
sighed and took the keys, handing them to the others.

"Do
we get a discount on the rooms if we haven't destroyed things when we
leave?" She meant it as a joke, but the man didn't laugh for some strange
reason.

"Two
mets per night. We do have a nice bath, at the end of the hall on each floor.
Dinner is at seven. Tonight is beef strips in gravy, with seasoned potatoes.
Only four courses. Comes with the room."

Not
wanting to know what the sour seeming man's spit would taste like, Gwen just
nodded and failed to thank the man. After all, if he was going to be rude
enough that they had to force their way in, she could avoid being polite too.
He was lucky she didn't kick his behind for him. She was a lot more tempted
than she should be, having a strange sense that the whole thing was about to go
horribly wrong for some reason.

When
she dropped into a clear mental state, trying to feel that familiar pressure
that meant she was foretelling the future, there was nothing there at all. Her
worries, for once, were just that. Her being a pessimistic moron. That actually
made her feel better. After all, she'd been told that the real power of
prescience wasn't in knowing what
might
happen, but being able to tell
the difference between her imagination and when something was actually
important. If she was finally getting that down, then she might not have to be
tortured into doing it right, later.

Not
that she thought that was going to happen. Not with Peter being around. The
kid, if he was like she thought he was, would make her life as hard as
possible, as far as learning new things went. At least this time she didn't
need to learn to fly. In her hallucination he'd thrown rocks at her. It really
hurt.

Gwen
didn't speak until they were on the stairs going up. They were made of wood and
clean, but that was all the place really had going for it. Someone cared enough
for it that everything was tidy, though old.