Strangers and Lies

by P. S. Power

  The Vernors actually looked more relaxed then, as if they were wondering if she'd turn on them for some reason. That wasn't happening though. They were excellent parents, even if they weren't hers really. If nothing else they were her friends and that was something she was willing to fight for. She didn't have enough of those to neglect them.

  That thought reminded her of something and after dinner she got Heather, who was going to be spending the night, to help her make the needed call to Bethany.

  "Gwen? Is everything alright?"

  "It is, well, as well as we can expect. Just checking in with you. Do you need anything? Special food? A nice dress? Someone killed? You know all those things that friends are supposed to ask. Don't say Debussey though, I already have dibs on her."

  Heather nodded and spoke, her voice solid.

  "Yes. I think that I'm the dib, whatever that is. It turns out that she's likely my biological mother. We can use that link, I think..."

  That set off a chain reaction of excited speech, people running around and, about ten minutes later, Adam Westmorland confirming that it was very likely the case, based on what Darren had told him. He meant Billy, but that wasn't a huge point. Gwen traded places with Heather smoothly and sighed, her attempt to visit with Beth having been totally co-opted.

  It was a big enough deal that no one noticed and even Adam didn't growl at her too much.

  Eventually it was decided that they'd do the actual work in a few days and that, of course, she wouldn't be involved in it at all. It made sense on a hundred different levels, but wasn't exactly fun to hear. No one wanted to be the last kid picked, and it was even worse to be the one that no one chose at all. That was something she was pretty aware of in life, having always been that person. After a while she'd stopped trying to play at all. It wasn't what everyone intended here, she didn't think, but it felt that way. No one even said goodbye to her. Then, that was normal here. Just a thing that was different than back home.

  She asked Heather about it as they went up the stairs to her bedroom, even though they weren't sharing that night, having plenty of spare guest rooms on the second floor.

  The woman had to stop and think about it for a few seconds, since it clearly wasn't a real thing there.

  "Wait, you... Cut the line of relationships each time you go away?" Her eyes nearly glazed then. "Because... you don't have real magic where you come from. I think I understand. It isn't just a superstition. Here, if you did that enough, it might cause a person to go away forever. You don't say goodbye, or anything in particular, so that you won't accidently curse someone else. It isn't a thing I'd ever have thought about really, since everyone knows it. Even in Europa they basically say things like, come again, or until we meet next. It can get pretty complicated."

  That got Gwen to stop on the top step of the cream colored carpeted hallway. It was a very fine rug and one of the few she'd noticed that was wall to wall, instead of a throw over stone or hardwood. It also seemed to be something new.

  "So, when everyone says 'Witnessed' when someone makes a promise..."

  That got a nod.

  "Right, a very similar idea. They're invoking protection and locking the words into being. For most people that doesn't really do much, but for the top ten percent of magic workers, it's a real enough thing. People cast light spells with their words and thoughts all the time. You almost certainly have been. It's part of why you need to be trained so badly. Every day too. We should work on that in the morning, before you go off to work."

  Gwen didn't stick out her tongue or even let the whole thing show on her face. It made sense, she hadn't considered all of what living in a world filled with magic meant yet. Not really. She'd need to pay a lot more attention to what she was doing and saying after that, wouldn't she? Now she had to review everything she'd said or done in this place to see if she'd been going around cursing everyone? That better not be the case, because otherwise she sucked.

  "Alright then, I'll see you in the morning for a great work out and practice before leaving for a fabulous and productive day at the air field." It was overdone and a bit forced, but it got Heather to smile.

  "Agreed."

  Then she walked away, her body going just a little tense after the turn. Of course the Westmorland had found out that she not only had a mother that day, but that the woman was a creep that wanted to kill almost everyone. Everywhere. It would be enough to throw a person off no doubt.

  She laid out the same jumpsuit she'd had earlier, in case she had to leap up, due to an emergency, which thankfully didn't come. The morning was still early, with Peter pounding on her door before it was really light out, but handing her some coffee the second the door opened. It did kind of take the edge off of the rude awakening.

  "Be down in a few minutes. Back yard again?"

  He smiled and muttered yes, so that he wouldn't accidently wake up anyone else, as if the loud banging wouldn't be enough to get that part done. It was cute and a little funny, but she didn't really think the boy understood that as a real point. He was trained to wake people up one way, and did it, no matter what. The rest was all an afterthought. Still, one cup of coffee later and some exercise clothing got her ready to hit the yard. She started running without anyone else, since they were all absent, and got through an hour of it before Heather and Peter waved to her, after she made her way back into the giant space of the grassy back yard in the fog that had covered the world. It was thick and could be seen moving on the soft breeze in waves.

  They looked at her for about ten seconds and then started throwing rocks at her. There was no warning to it and the first one hit her on the right breast. It stung pretty badly.

  "Fly away!" This came from Peter, who tossed another stone at her, getting her to jump out of the way and start running. It took a few seconds for her to lift off then, focusing as hard as she could. The fog should have covered her well enough once she was about fifty feet up, but the others were hitting her pretty unerringly. Worse, Heather, realizing that she could get higher than they could throw things easily, apparently went into the house and came back ten minutes later with a crin.

  It was a child's toy version, thankfully, but the range it would hit at was well over a hundred feet. Worse it was one that someone had put a laser sight on. The red line showed in the fog at least, so she could avoid it, but it kept coming for her, somehow.

  Finally she got it. Peter was using telepathy to find her. That or Heather was.

  She lifted up, pushing higher, not able to see anything but soft white. It was actually hard, making her gasp for breath by the time she stopped. It wasn't that high, maybe a few hundred feet, but she'd been up there for nearly twenty minutes by that time. It wasn't that big of a deal, for a while, but at about half an hour she felt like she had to take a break. Like she was just going to lose her focus and fall if she didn't. Coming down got her shot however.

  When she braved that, someone started throwing rocks, which actually hurt as they hit, forcing her to go back up. It was miserable and her head was in enough pain she felt like throwing up. The jerks didn't let her down, bullying her instead, throwing rocks. It made her mad. It wasn't the first time people had thrown stones at her after all, driving her away.

  She smiled and then focused as hard as she could, dropping in the fog, nearly falling, hoping she didn't find the ground before she could stop herself.

  All she had to do, mentally, was keep the power level high and then push the button she used to lift off on her imaginary controller. She also pointed her right hand, pretending it had a force lance in it. A real one, set for concussive force. The stones came, but missed, and she managed to stop just in time not to become one with the earth, slapping the button in her mind.

  Then she fired, or tried to. It didn't do a lot, she didn't think, but it was enough to get Heather and Peter to stop. They'd been laughing, but that ceased too. A tiny shower of dirt hit them, where the blast had impacted with the ground.

  Gwen held a
slightly smug look on her face, having done something new, but Heather just pointed at the nearest of the remaining practice targets.

  "Fine, a hundred blows then. We'll count that as one. Go ahead, we don't have all day."

  Chapter eight

  The problem, Gwen decided as she rode off toward the airfield alone, sitting in the back of the little white lorrie, was that you couldn't impress Westmorlands with magic. She saw a man do something like that the day before, not even knowing it was really a thing before that and did it the very next morning, not even a full day later and they were both yawning and acted like it was just another thing to add to the workload. Worse, Heather hadn't stopped at a hundred hits, she insisted that Gwen do everything a force lance could. She couldn't get the killing mental force at all, which got a nod, but there was no real praise for doing well, even though Gwen was nearly positive she had been.

  It just seemed normal to these people.

  Freaking super-soldiers.

  Still, as hard as it was there was a feeling of ease about the whole thing, a rewarding sense that left her feeling like she was finally doing something and learning to fit in to this new place. It was really almost too easy. Now all she had to do for the day was get off to the airship field and help out a little with some deliveries. It didn't take long for her to change and get over there, since James came and drove her. It was kind of funny, since the man didn't bother speaking to her, just grunting a little when she climbed on board. It wasn't his normal behavior at all.

  When they stopped she waved to him, to ask about it.

  "Is everything alright?" The sound of her words apparently got lost as he drove off, not even bothering to ask if she needed to be picked up later. It was strange enough that it got her attention. Was something that wrong with him? Were Ella and the kids OK? Had she done something to offend him?

  The truth was that she didn't really know. It could be anything and since he hadn't given her any clues, she'd have to wait to figure it all out. It seemed that being the owner's daughter, even if she was a freak from another world, and a tiny bit famous herself, didn't mean much to anyone that day, since a lot of people were kind of glaring at her as she worked. It was a slightly dark and hostile thing, and she couldn't think of what might have changed to cause it to happen. Had she done something? Or maybe some rumor had gotten out?

  Maybe about a Count being killed? She'd have to get with Ethyl and check, she decided, just as soon as the day was over. It was hard work and her muscles felt it at the end of the day, when James showed back up. He didn't speak again, and wouldn't respond when she tried to talk to him at Park Street.

  A lot of people hadn't been talking to her that day.

  Too many, even if they were all mad at her.

  Sighing she went inside, having to work the door herself, even though Charles almost always did that for her. In real life. It was dawning on her that things were just a little off all over the place. As if she were living in a fantasy world that was starting to fall apart. That thought made her wince. She hadn't really been all that certain of her sanity in all of this, since, after all, it didn't seem very likely that she'd get to leave a crippled body in a different world and end up in a place with magic, as an attractive heiress with super-powers, did it.

  And now, suddenly, she was able to fly too.

  That...

  Didn't make a lot of sense. Not at all.

  Crud. It was kind of a shame too, since she really liked living here a lot better than she did her actual life. Still, it looked like this, whatever it was, might just be about to come to an end.

  "Alright then, I might as well pull the band-aid off quickly." She knew that she'd miss her friends here, since she'd never really had any before, but that was just what would be happening. At least she this meant she hadn't abandoned some poor girl in her body in a strange world that she probably couldn't survive in.

  How was she supposed to do this though?

  Click her heels together three times and chant that there was no place like the rubber room?

  Just to see if it would work she gave it a try.

  "There's no place like home... There's no place like home... Oh, Aunty Em...There's no place like home!"

  Nothing happened of course. No, she still stood right there in the front room of the mansion, the carpet under her feet seeming pretty real, if a little too important for some reason. It was a brilliant red, even though the day before it had been a rich gold and copper color. It was the same rug, a very large throw, but it was also different. Now they could have used magic on it, she supposed, but so far she hadn't heard of anything like that working here at all.

  Then she got it.

  Magic.

  Magically induced Mesmerism to be exact. Had she been captured or co-opted somehow? If that was the case, when? By whom?

  "Well, the when is simple enough. Before you started to be able to fly. So days now... At least in this dream time, or whatever the fuck it is." That, cursing, was a sign she was feeling stressed. She'd been working on that, since people here all seemed so offended by a little harsh language, and she didn't want to shock anyone. At least normally. "But right now, screw it. I know you have me Debussey. That or one of your minions. I'm coming out now. I can see you."

  She had to seem insane, if she wasn't truly that way. If that was the case though, she decided to run with it. No one would care if she was talking to herself in the loony bin, not overly at least. If it wasn't that kind of thing, then she really needed to do something. Threats came to mind, though that probably wouldn't really work, would it?

  "I'm coming out of this Erin and when I do, I'm going to kick your ass."

  She closed her eyes and wondered for a while what might work. Everything here ran on magical energy, which was triggered by intent. She could generate the needed power, but what did she want to do with it? How did you get out of a trap like this, if it even was one.

  "Build a wall. Brick by brick, keeping her out. Use focus to do it." She muttered this to herself, or so she thought. It sounded, for all the world, like Bethany. "Do it Gwen. You own your own mind. You have the power to stop her, to stop them. Make the blocks you need now, and give them form and density. Imagine them being so strong that nothing can get through to you. Build it all around yourself."

  The words got a bit faint after that, but it sounded like it was decent advice, even if it might not work. She focused, imagining a single brick, just as hard as she could, then gave it life, powering it like she might have if it were a crystal pack. It didn't magically pop into being or anything, it was, no matter what else was going on, all in her head.

  Slowly, over the course of what felt like hours, she started to make a little tower of stacked bricks, just standing in the middle of the front room. On the good side, no one came in to bother her at all. On the bad, she didn't know if anything was happening. As far as mental exercises went it was a good enough one, and she tried to make it seem as real to herself as possible, the red clay bricks being added in a circle around her, until she was entirely enclosed, in a little tower, about six feet tall.

  Then she very carefully had to imagine making a roof for it.

  As the last section was put in place Gwen closed her eyes, putting all the power she could into the whole structure around her. Then, she opened them to find...

  That things had actually changed. It hit her like a jolt and for a brief moment she wondered if she really was in an asylum, except that her body was clearly still well proportioned and wearing a nice dress. It was hazy, but she thought that there was someone standing in front of her. At first she couldn't make them out, not really, but after a few seconds of intense focus she got it.

  It really was Erin Debussey.

  And she was holding a knife.

  "Heh. I'll be fucked." Gwen was propped up, in a hard wood chair, but not tied to it in any way. The mesmerism had probably been enough to keep her in place then. "Hey girlfriend, you ready to end this now?"

&
nbsp; "Sorry, what?" The voice was clipped and sounded just a bit frightened.

  "I asked if you wanted to end this now. Your plan to take over the world, or destroy it, whatever the deal is. I don't care if you're a delusional narcissist, that's just plain stupid. I mean, calling in anything that you have to bill as a 'god' that's been locked away in the void forever seems like a really bad plan. You can see that can't you?" It sounded reasonable to her, but Erin, her dress, a ladylike bit of business wear moved, the knife glistening. The blade swept in to slice at her face, getting her to block rather forcefully, even though it was hard to move and it came too late, the first cut sweeping across her cheek, leaving a flash of pain.

  Except that it was the wrong kind of pain. It felt like a light slap. Sure, she knew that she might just be out of it still and that the cut could have happened, but it really didn't feel like that. She was about to surge in and disarm the woman in front of her when she spoke.

  "Gwen? Focus! I need you to concentrate. It's me, Bethany..." The words came from Debussy's mouth, sounding like her voice, which could be a trick. Touching her right cheek though, Gwen didn't find any blood. That meant something else was going on here, did it?

  "Beth? You... don't seem like you." It probably sounded hesitant and shocky, it did to her at least, but Gwen didn't know what was going on. It was pretty hard to think suddenly. She focused, just in case it would help, but nothing seemed to happen for a long time.

  "Eh? Well, that would probably be the second layer of influence then. Keep working at it and don't give up. Her agent didn't have a lot of time with you, so this can't be that strong."

  She worked and focused, only to find that the room around her didn't change, but Erin did. After a while the hair went from a silvered brown to a nice golden blonde and the knife vanished, leaving an empty hand. It could still be part of a trick, but Gwen decided to go with it for the time being, as soon as Beth's face came into view.