Tremble in the Dark: A Gwen Farris Novel

by P. S. Power

  "No, we need a turning point. It means going forward for a ways, I bet. I'll do that. Can you control the situation here?" She waited, looking at everyone that was left.

  Gwen understood that without having to even read minds at all. Not that she could. Just because the others hadn't killed themselves, that didn't mean they were on their side, did it? Anyone there could be working against them and just biding their time. Or, they might be waiting to kill themselves, or maybe just... She didn't know. It could be anything and there was no way to trust them.

  "Yeah. Everyone is staying here, with us now. Bethany, if you could take care of your part?"

  It was going to be a tense few days, she knew, but they were going to just have to get through it all. For the time being she didn't let anyone touch the bodies either, since as soon as possible she was having them read with one of Grainger's new forensic devices. Then she was having him and his entire class checked out. If Carter hadn't been lying, the original idea had been Regina Botstein's. Who else was in on it, knowingly or not?

  She was keeping the pliers too. She had a feeling that they were going to have to pull a lot of teeth, before this was all over. Worse, most of those teeth would be real. She just didn't think they'd have a choice. Wincing, she realized what that meant, as to the room they were in.

  She turned to Clara.

  "I need to rip out one of your teeth. It will hurt. Sorry about that."

  "How come?"

  "To prove you aren't in with this lot. Everyone will get a turn."

  "Even you?" That came out sounding a little sullen, but she shrugged.

  "If it makes you feel better, but we already know that I'm not in on it. Beth either. Sally might have lied about you."

  "Oh. Just a back one? Not in the front? That would make me look ugly." There was a simple bit of rationalization to the words. The kind of logic that a simple person might use, if they were used to harsh treatment by the world all the time.

  "Right. It should be the same one in everyone. I'll check the dead first though, just to see if it's a thing I can tell without pulling them first." She really should have done that before saying anything. She was halfway through by the time one of the remaining waiters went down, having realized that she could actually tell if the tooth was fake, just looking. Gwen didn't spend any time with the man, since he was gone as far as she knew, just checking Clara and then Martin first. Those were the people she cared for after all, out of the bunch.

  That idea nearly made her laugh, since if anyone had asked her what she thought of them the first day she wouldn't have been all that charitable.

  The rest were cleared, and while that didn't mean they were all innocent, it was probably a good sign. Beth came back, and looked at the number of bodies and shook her head.

  "Not good."

  Gwen explained how to find the fake teeth at least, and was able to show her what they looked like. They were like teeth, but all exactly the same. Beth nodded and left, going to the front again, she came back shortly, her face blank.

  "The engineer is clean. It will be about six hours before we reach a turning station. Then we'll have to work our way back. We'll need guards on Carter and Sally. I'll take the first watch?" It made sense, being that she was more of a night owl than Gwen was now anyway. Or rather, it took her longer to get around in the morning, most days.

  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.

  Chapter fifteen

  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.