by P. S. Power
"I don't take your meaning." It was the polite thing to say, though it did imply that one of them was either a bit dense or being improper. She'd gotten that one down.
After a bit, and taking a deep breath first, Robert tried to explain it to her. Again.
"Duke Aubry isn't insisting that this is nothing but a prank on his secretary's part? He isn't trying to shield her from correction?"
Gwen got it then and shook her head.
"We made it a matter of personal honor, so we didn't tell him all of it. I'm not telling you either, since it would embarrass the woman, Lisa Wendell, more than we should allow to happen. Unfortunately she got a bit angry when Chris asked me to marry him again, and I said yes, so she sort of put a death curse on me. Some Westmorlands are coming in soon to help me learn to break that. So, you get the idea, another long night, probably with screaming. We should probably set up in one of the far wings for it, so everyone can sleep."
She had, she realized looking at their faces, broken the poor couple with too much conflicting information at once. They were normally very proper and knew just what to say, but even Ethyl just sat there, her mouth alternating between a smile and terror. Then a happy expression with raised eyebrows, and another horrified expression.
Robert just shut down totally, clearly being more focused on the news about death curses and more Westmorland style training.
"That's not a good thing, a death curse. The woman is in custody, of course? That sort of thing can't be allowed. How confident are you and Miss Westmorland that you can break this? Tricky things, curses. I accidently cursed a boy at school when I was ten. He was a bully and deserved what he got, since it was only that he learn better manners or not be able to move, but I was caned daily for a whole month. I nearly died just from that." He didn't seem happy in his youthful remembrance, but went on. "To do that as an adult is attempted murder however. We can't allow that to stand."
Both the others looked at her, worried again, but she wrinkled her nose and forced a smile.
"Beth seems to think that I can do it and be at work first thing in the morning. I'll probably end up sleeping on the train though. The part that you should be focusing on is the marriage thing, I think. If I can hold on to it this time." She wondered about that, but Ethyl smiled now, clearly looking happy for her.
"We should have him over soon then. To dinner perhaps?"
"I invited him to that party? As my date, given everything. I'll need to send a proper invitation, or at least get you to do it for me, if I'm out of reach. He already said that he'd be coming however, even if I can't be there. No one wants to miss one of your parties after all. Not among the people that count." She was flat out lying there, but Ethyl gave her a rather vicious look that seemed thrilled to hear about it.
"I was rather cruel in my low thoughts about the boy before, I see. He's clearly a genius. I'll make certain to send the invitation promptly." Then she stood up, as if going to set that all up immediately. That wasn't the case however, and she simply stood there, waiting next to Gwen.
For her part she nodded, as if she had some clue what was going on.
"Well, no dinner for me. I bet I won't want it. I don't know how many are coming, but we might want to have some refreshments ready, if people are going to be up all night?"
Then she left the room, since saying that was probably more than enough for it to really happen. It meant that she had some time, it seemed, which she spent charging crystal packs. The ones in the teletransport spheres weren't big really, so only took about ten minutes for each one. Since no one came to find her yet, she just sat and did them all, then went to change clothing. She didn't want to risk ruining Katherine's dress or anything.
"Like you're really worried about my dress? They're going to torture us again, aren't they?" The words came out of her own mouth, and Gwen frowned, seizing control immediately. There wasn't a huge fight or anything, but that was the first time that Katherine had managed something like that without outside help or goading.
Then, maybe the threat of that much pain counted that way?
"Don't do that."
She said it just in time for Beth to come walking into the room, with Manly Westmorland behind her, and for some reason, Peter, though he was hanging back. He looked at the spheres, and she understood his part at least. He was there to get everything returned to its place. The things were hard to make and a single trip using one would have cost about several hundred mets, if she hadn't charged them herself. It was why they had trains and airships too. Most people went their whole lives without ever even seeing one of the devices. They weren't things you just left laying around, in other words. She pointed to them, where they were on the low table near the chair she was on.
"Already charged." Then she sighed and looked at first Beth, and then Peter. Not Manly in particular, which was a little mean of her, but that was because the last time they'd met the man had caused her horrible pain. Chances were he was there to do it again too.
"Katherine just took over my mouth, to complain about you coming to torture her. That's the first time she's ever done anything like that." She stared at the boy and then shrugged. He was a little super-soldier, still in training, but he wasn't a regular kid. He could handle it, if he had to take action, she bet, based only on her own hallucinations.
Because that was a firm place to stand, wasn't it?
"The woman that stole me from my own reality is still inside my head. She'd killed me, over there, in the process, so I'm stuck here. That's the best guess anyway. If she tries to take over, we'll probably have to do something like this to keep her down. If that doesn't work..." She flipped a single palm, still making direct eye contact with Peter. "If that happens, then I'll try to kill myself. If I fail, it might fall to you to do it, so pass that word to Adam, so he can make certain you're armed all the time, if you're working with me."
Instead of gasping in shock, or even looking away, the boy just nodded.
"On it. I already got word that I should report to you for that training. Manly is going to help you set it up. I have to keep up with the rest of my studies too, but it sounds more interesting than what they had me doing, which was, for the next few months, nothing much at all. I'm on a healing rotation, after my last training session. Telepathy. I don't have a full state for it yet however." He didn't seem shy or embarrassed about it at all, and scooped up the spheres from the rather nice table. He cradled them all in the crook of his left arm for a moment, using his right hand to pull out a cloth sack from a pocket on the leg of his blue Westmorland day uniform. It was black, and made of a dull cloth, but held the baseball sized objects easily, with room to spare. They were metal after all, and just pushing the button wasn't enough to make them work. A person had to do it.
He waited for a bit, so Gwen smiled at him. "Good to hear. This shouldn't impact magical functions too much, so you can finish healing at the same time. I'll run that all by Manly. Do you want to bet money that he thinks my plans are far too soft and lazy for you?"
The boy crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out a little, making himself look stupid.
"No. I don't have any of that, I don't think. You mean lucre, right? Mets? Anyway, trainees at my level don't have things like that, and if I did, I'd keep it and not just toss it away on a stupid gamble like that. Manly is a trainer. He has to think he's being too soft on the rest of us. He doesn't have a choice."
The man himself started to unpack a medium sized case that he had with him, but she waved her left hand at him.
"Not here. I think we should try for a room in the East wing, away from everyone else, so the screams won't bother anyone this time."
Without even looking up, he fastened the case closed and started toward the door, as if letting her know that time was more of a factor than Beth had mentioned. It might not be that, of course. It could also just be that giving her more time to think about what might be coming wasn't going to help anything at all.
She stood u
p, and resisted the urge to pat Peter on the back. That would be improper enough here that most people, even Westmorlands, might look at her funny. Possibly not, but just in case, she didn't let herself do it. Instead she looked at the kid and managed another really good wink. It was twice in one day and everything. She'd thought she had it down before though, so didn't count it as perfect yet. For half a year she'd been going around scrunching up half her face in a way that was highly lascivious to most of these people. Beth had finally let her in on that one. She hadn't told her, because she thought it was funny, watching people try to not react to it.
Which Gwen had to give her.
It was hilarious. Now that she knew at least.
"Okay, Pete. Set that all up. Oh, I told Duke Aubry that you'd arrange for teletransport travel for him to a party that Ethyl is having in three weeks. You'll need to get a dress uniform for that." She meant for the party, since having a miniature Westmorland would just be cute, at least to her way of thinking.
The boy stood a little taller though, suddenly seeming very proud for some reason.
"I'm going to be working with a Duke?"
The others hid grins, being a little too obvious about it, but Gwen didn't see why. He was, after all.
"Probably more than one. Several other people too, if it comes up. Doctor Grainger at the University, who's one of the top people in Radiatives in the world, the Vernors, and possibly the King. You'll be at parties and events, so learn the social rules for that. Someone will have to teach me. It might as well be you."
Beth looked at the short version of a super-soldier and nodded, very primly for some reason.
"Gwen was asked to marry Duke Aubry earlier this evening. She said yes."
That got the kid to go wide eyed.
"That's a good match. Is it a secret, or am I allowed to tell the others? They'll want to know that Farris is doing that well." He cleared his throat, and then looked away. "I mean, if it's allowed, ma'am?"
Gwen tilted her head, but finally nodded. A lot of those people were her friends after all.
"Why not? It could end or be undone, but this time it's even a real thing, I think. You should definitely tell Heather and Darren." She should have already done it, she realized. Just calling them up on the Telestator.
Darren was actually her brother, as in from her own world, physically related to the her there, sibling. Her real brother. Heather was kind of her sister, after a fashion, too. Being that she was this world's version of Gwen. The real Gwen, not Katherine Vernor. The strawberry blonde was fit and healthy, not at all warped and uneven like she had been though. What Gwen should have been.
That could happen when you're crazy mother also happened to be an evil genius and decided that genetically turning her daughter into a super-soldier was a wonderful idea. After her failure, the woman had given up on the idea, and used something remarkably similar to the Westmorland protocols to torture Billy into being a very dangerous fighter. It was where she'd come up with the idea for the combat training that she had in mind.
Only a little less intense. Unarmed combat was useful on occasion, but there were limits to what was needed. She didn't want to turn them all into assassins or anything, just give them a non-magical option, in case it ever was needed.
"If you could tell them about this? I have a death curse on me, so I have to take care of that right now. No big." She tried to downplay it all, and the boy smiled.
"I'll pass the word on that too. Who did it, and why?"
That information came from Beth, as if it was a thing that anyone really wanted to know. Then, without waiting for orders to leave or anything as silly as that, Peter scampered out of the room, walking at just under a jog. That was one of the nice things about the Westmorlands. They all actually hurried everywhere. Most of the time things moved at a glacial pace here, without a few of them around.
Manly followed the boy, which had her and Bethany walking out into the hallway even faster, to show him where to go. It took a bit to get there, even stomping along like they were at a quick march. The Westmorland Trainer didn't waste the transit time however, starting to speak before they even got to the central staircase on the first floor.
"Most curses tend to be fairly weak things. That doesn't mean they can't make you ill, or kill you, if left unchecked, simply that with a bit of practice, you can break them quickly and without too much effort or stress. The best way to think of a curse, or any kind of traditional spell meant to influence a person, is like a very gentle bit of grit or something slightly sticky, that hangs on your energy system. It's like a very poorly constructed radiative, most of the time." He wasn't out of breath at all, and Beth was in the lead, with Manly behind her, as if she might just try to run away. That was probably protocol as well, because the idea really did occur to her.
After a moment, he continued.
"What will be needed is for you to align all the energy of your body, and to hold that state until the information and energy that makes up the curse is wiped clean. We'll start with the one that's on you. I'll hold the proper state and you'll feel my energy, until you understand it. Then you'll try."
They finally got to the last bedroom suite on the fourth floor, and moved into the hindmost room. Then Bethany got a chair for her to sit in while Manly unpacked the little bag. He laid things out, on a clean, but clearly rather old and well worn blond wood table, and then moved in, taking her hand. He didn't hesitate first like everyone else would have.
It actually took her by surprise. She was used to people not wanting to touch her, but Manly wasn't forcing himself, he was just doing it. Except that those feelings were old, weren't they? From her life before. People didn't really hesitate to touch her here. Not because of her being warped, at least.
"Now, focus and follow along."
It did take a lot of concentration for Gwen to feel what was happening, but after about a minute she had it. Then she tried it herself, still holding the man's hand. It was warm. Strong too.
He barked at her.
"No. That's too rough and haphazard. Do it again. Match what I'm doing."
It took about ten tries and he finally let go, seeming happy enough with her.
"Hold that state then. Four minutes should do."
Beth stood back, her hands clasped in front of her skirt, the heavy material making her look a bit like someone from an old cold war movie for a moment. The sexy spy, about to be sent away from mother Russia...
She focused harder and held the correct energy for the needed amount of time, finally feeling the faintest hint of relief. It was a slight drop in pressure, which was hanging around her head and shoulders mainly. Suddenly, it faded into nothingness.
"And done." Manly smiled. "Good. Now, we'll work on a variety of things here, to help condition you to the correct mode, in case this happens again, and you're going up against someone actually good and not just an angry woman with emotional problems. We'll work on the clarity of your energy first. I'll lay a small curse on you, one about four times more powerful than the one you just broke, and you'll have four minutes to break it. If you fail, then you'll be punished." He set that part up with a few deft moves, a box with a brass case that was about the size of a pack of playing cards with a single cotton wrapped wire coming out of it.
On the far end was a single dime sized lead colored piece, which was fixed to her left forearm with a tiny bit of adhesive.
A sense of dread came over her then, and the man nodded.
"Go, you have four minutes."
She didn't make it, of course. Not even close. That meant she screamed as horrible and wracking pain tore through her for nearly five seconds. Punishment for failing. It hurt a lot, but when it was over, it vanished totally.
The man gave her a blank stare and shook his head.
"Gwen, focus on the clarity of the field. Do it again."
That was the refrain for the rest of the night. When she managed it, she was given a new task, and when she failed at those,
she screamed. It was less fun that it sounded like it would be to begin with.
A lot less.
Chapter five
The next morning, after ten grueling hours of hard magical work, not to mention pain that was intense enough that she was kind of afraid of Manly Westmorland now, as if she hadn't really been before, they let her go. Or, that was what they said. What it really meant was that she got to take a shower before running, possibly literally, to meet up with James, her personal Lorrie driver.
That part wasn't just a conceit of the Vernors either. Driving a Lorrie was at least as hard as driving a car, and she was pretty certain it was actually several times more complicated. Only professionals did it in the main. Well, pro's and her Cousin Reggie. She nodded, and got in the shower, trying to remember him.
Not in a naughty fashion, though the cute redheaded boy was a cross between a puppy dog and better looking than she'd ever thought of for herself, back in her old life. Really he was about in the same range that way as Christophe, come to think of it. In looks. Chris was a little goofy looking, with a slightly too big nose, and oversized ears. Not comically so however. He was fit, and lean, which made him look pretty good in her book. He wrestled for exercise, if she had that right.
Most people were good-looking really, so it wasn't a hard sell, that way, as far as marriage went.
Reggie however, would be a great person to invite to the party. So would his father, Admiral Welk. Neither of them were fearful of the Westmorlands as far as she could tell, so that would make a good, six or seven people on the list that would be willing to talk to them like people. Maybe more than that, by the time they were done. A lot of the University professors had seemed all right that way as well. It would be a good idea to have some of them in too, not just the Graingers.
The water pressure here had been really good, everywhere she'd gone, but this, the shower in her room at Park Street, was the only one in the entire world that had a shower head on it. Most of them were just faucets, and the general idea seemed to be that what soap and elbow grease might not remove from you, brute force would. She didn't let herself take too long though, but did give herself a minute to just stand there, trying to decide if sobbing was in order or not yet. The whole night had been brutal in the truest sense of the word. She'd been beaten before, many times. It was less painful than the training she'd gotten.