Tremble in the Dark: A Gwen Farris Novel (10 page)

She
wiped her mouth carefully, and looked at Charles, then the woman that had
helped Beth. Robert was still eating slowly, and was only on his third course,
which was a small glass of fruit juice. Cherry. It was fresh squeezed, or
mashed, however that worked, which meant very tart, this time of year.

"Thank
you all. I know it's very rude of me to just jump up like this, but we need to
run that gear check and then meet James out front. I'd rather be early and
wait, then to be late and end up days behind on things." Especially since
that could mean another death. Though it could have already been taking place,
and they wouldn't know it yet. Beth hadn't picked anything up that way, but
Westmorlands weren't good with death. It was a block that they all had for some
reason. One of the major flaws in their system. They could kill, if commanded,
or under attack, but even if their abilities were aligned for it, they just
couldn't make themselves do things like find dead people. Not even under torture.

If
anyone knew why that was, they hadn't told her about the reason yet.

Robert,
partway through his meal or not, stood instantly, and waited for them to go to
their bags, then gestured for Charles and the other man that was there,
Carlisle, to take them, at least to the front room.

Charles
actually shook his head slightly.

"Sir,
if I might suggest that Special Service operatives might be carrying gear that
they'd rather not be handled by others? Weapons and such?"

"Ah,
too right, Winslow. Forgive me ladies. Even in uniform, I'm afraid my closed
minded ways refuse to see my daughter as anything except the little girl I once
knew. I-" He stopped dead, his mouth hanging open, shocked at his own
slip.

Gwen
wasn't his daughter. He wasn't wrong though, since she
should
remind him
of that little girl, having her grown up body. Before he could speak again she
picked up her clothing bag and then slipped her pack onto her right shoulder.

"It's
a real point however, about the weapons. Not that I don't trust you two, but
Beth and I need to be careful from now on, about things like that. I have
enough things in here for four people, in a fight, if it comes up, and I don't
want to lose them." She had some things on her too. Like her little red
power conduit, which just knocked people back, and a knife in her left hand
cargo pocket, with the sheath held in place by pins.

Straight
ones, which was tricky to work out, since no one had invented the safety pin
here yet. That was something she really needed to get on soon, she decided.
That and decent running shoes. All exercise was done with heavy boots on here.
At least the military kinds of things she'd seen.

Beth
led them out, but stopped in the front room, unbuttoning her clothing bag in
the front, and calling out what she had with her.

"Three
shirts, uniform. One dress shirt. One dress, Westmorland Service travel. One
night shirt, cotton. Under-things, three sets." Then she looked at Gwen,
as if wondering what marvels she was bringing along with her.

It
was
slightly different.

"Three
shirts, workman's blue. Two dress shirts, civilian. Two trousers, workman's.
One nightgown, cotton. Under-things, five sets. Crins, military specification,
two. Knives, eight inch fighting, point and leading edge style, two. Wire
garrote, with handles, two. Extra toothbrush, hairbrush and emergency makeup,
one kit." It was a thing that she'd put together herself, and it had taken
time to find things that would fit in the little travel bag that hung at the
very top of her slightly lumpy sack.

Her
backpack was a bit less comfortable than Beth's however, and she hadn't brought
any books or needlepoint projects to work on during their down time. She'd just
have to be bored, since she wasn't adding anything else or leaving any of the
weapons behind. Or the spare food. If they needed it, they were going to have
it. If she was dumping anything, it would be...

Clothes.
She just didn't have anything else to spare, not even if Beth laughed at her
for being paranoid. She didn't, which was nice.

"That's
probably more weapons than we'll need, but it's nice to have them along anyway,
just in case..."

"Just
in case the air rips open and unfathomable things start to come out?" Gwen
knew that was part of it. Just being that close to the gate that Debussey had
tried to open had changed her, she knew.

Her
friend took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, over the course of half a
minute, before speaking.

"That
had
occurred to me, yes. I still feel them, in my dreams, moving and
shifting, trying to break out of their prison. It terrifies me more than I can
say."

Making
sure she had everything, going over it all one last time, just in case, Gwen
didn't say anything until her pack was firmly on her back, and gone over
closely. She checked it for comfort, and then unpacked it to make sure things
were set correctly, in case they had to run at any point, and didn't have time
for things like that.

Finally,
when Beth had probably thought she just wasn't going to speak on the issue of
the Elder Gods at all, she did, if obliquely.

"It's
everyone that was there and lived, I think. In the end, those that died that
day may be the lucky ones. I
am
a little surprised that Erin hasn't
tried to haunt you yet. Biding her time, or just realizing that arch-nemesis or
not, you were correct when it came down to it?"

It
was actually a joke between them, after a fashion. Doctor Debussey seemed like
the type not to take death just lying down. The words got her friend to smile a
bit, and shoulder her own pack, but she didn't test it for comfort like Gwen
had.

"Probably
a bit of both. She'll show up eventually, with some plan or scheme to try and
get her life back, or to steal a body. I've heard legends of ghosts managing
that, but it would be easiest with her own children, and I doubt that Heather
or Darren will be easy prey that way. You and Katherine would be too much as
well, since it's already a bit crowded in there. My guess is that she's working
on some method of doing that even now. She always intended to have eternal life
after all, and ran a program of body thieves herself, so I wouldn't put it past
her."

It
was, Gwen decided, really surreal, talking about a dead person as if being gone
was just a mild hiccup in their plans. As if one day soon Erin would come
waltzing through the front door, wearing a new body, and trying to shoot them.
If so, that poor person whose life she stole would simply die however, which
even a narcissist might have gotten by that point.

She
waved to the door, meaning to go outside and wait. It was early, but not a bad
day out already. The sky was blue and free of clouds, and there was just a hint
of a breeze in the air. The world smelled fresh, like someone had been
gardening already, during the cool part of the day. There was also no little
white Lorrie pulling through the manned and guarded iron gate yet. They were
early, but it was possible that James could be late too. People simply weren't
that picky about time here. Except, possibly, the trains. Everyone had agreed
that they'd be leaving on time at least.

There
was flex time built into the travel schedule however, in case things happened
and they got stuck along the way. James had two hours to get them to a place an
hour away, and they probably wouldn't be on the first train until nearly
eleven-thirty. They didn't even have to go through TSA checkpoints, or pat
downs, not that anyone would have let that happen here. The whole land would
revolt first, rather than let a lady be handled roughly like that. At least the
proper portions of the populous would. The lower classes included in that.
She'd met working people, and while a few had been coarse, or crude and some
even criminal, most of them were pretty stand-up people, when someone needed
help, within their own rules.

Gwen
was just about to suggest that they go over precognitive processes, since they
mainly had been for a while, when Beth turned to her and pointed directly up.

"Take
the luggage with you and go up a few hundred feet, will you? I want to see if
you can spot the Lorrie yet."

Gwen
didn't have to set up much for a task that light, and just envisioned the right
controls to allow her to fly, and dumped every bit of power she could into the
process. She was carrying about forty pounds of gear with her, which would make
it a lot harder, she thought. Except, really it shouldn't. In her combat armor
she could go up about four feet or so, and that was a hundred pounds, but it
was
all
just a mental block. Most people
only
went about that
high though, so it seemed normal, but the truth was, if you could float at all,
then a thousand feet took more time to reach than one, but no more energy, for
any given moment.

Weight
was really the same, as far as she could tell. That meant she should be able to
go a thousand feet up in her armor too. Oh, it would be more work, but it
should be a doable thing. Right now she just imagined a game control joystick
in her right hand, without moving externally, she let herself bob upward, as if
she were suddenly floating in water. Fresh, clean, breathable water. It wasn't
easy, since she had to keep pouring power in the whole time, which meant she
was gasping for air after a minute or so, like she did when she moved as fast
as she could while flying. It worked though, and there in the distance, was the
small sports model Lorrie that no one else in Western Kingdom would ever call
that. It moved as a normal clip, so about twenty-five miles per hour or so.

She
had to time her words between gasps, but managed a good enough volume to be
heard on the ground.

"About
a quarter mile away."

Beth
nodded, and then looked at her a little viciously, as if it had been Gwen
cursing innocent people all night, instead of the other way around.

"Good,
fly out to meet him, drop you gear and follow him back. I'd join you, but I was
thinking that another scone might be nice. You can have one, if you beat him
back. Tell him to come in as his best safe speed though, or it won't
count." There was a chuckle to her voice, and Gwen really didn't want to
be bothered with this right now. She was exhausted already and her mind was too
fuzzy for this kind of thing. But, that scone sounded nice, didn't it?

Besides,
flying
. Even if it was really a mostly useless skill, it was still so
cool
.

"Get
some strawberry jam too, we'll be back in a bit."

She
didn't race out to meet him instantly, flying at a good clip, but a lot slower
than she could have, trying to shorten the trip back. As she approached him,
huffing and puffing, from the extra load, James stopped the funny looking
vehicle, which still seemed a bit strange to her.

It
was all in white, and looked shiny and like it was enameled. The wheels were
rubber, and on what seemed like metal wagon wheels, without air in them at all,
and the whole thing was pulled by a little square block on the front of the contraption,
which the rudder went to for steering.

Now,
after a year, she knew how it worked, at least a bit. The stone block on the
front being the motivator, with a large crystal pack on the top of that, to
power the whole thing. The back wasn't much different than an old fashioned
carriage though, having room for four people, if they were cozy about it. She
really needed to learn to drive one of them soon, she decided. After all, she
had one at her disposal, and while she didn't want to take James' livelihood
from him by any means, being able to work the thing in a pinch just made sense,
didn't it?

James
stared at her for a bit and then smiled, his leathery face looking lean still,
even if he was in his forties somewhere.

"Miss
Farris! Sorry about being late. I... Couldn't help but notice that you're
flying? I didn't know you could do that, properly speaking. I'd seen you sort
of float once, but that's very impressive."

Or,
she knew, weird. No one else was around though to gawk or think her a show off,
so she dropped in next to him and used the straps to start tying her bags in
place. The driver shook his head, took over from her about halfway through and
did it right, since she, clearly, was making a hash of the thing.

"Right.
So, I'm racing you back. Best safe speed. No fair throwing things at me
however. Ready?" It was a bit of cheating, but she was still fighting
heavy breathing, and the man seemed game enough.

The
thing there was that lorries always took a while to get going, and the trip
would be about an eighth of a mile, which she could manage full speed in about
forty seconds. Again though, speed wasn't
really
the issue. It was her
mind that stopped her from going a lot faster.

Blinking,
she rolled her eyes and decided that what was really stopping her had been
stupidity. People here didn't fly on their own very often, except for certain
performers. It was hard work and most just didn't have the power for it. There
were other things that gave you a lot more back for your effort too. Healing
for instance. All the magical healers she'd met looked young and were all in
peak health, even if they were over a hundred years old.