Tremble in the Dark: A Gwen Farris Novel (9 page)

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.

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.

The
only good part of the whole thing was that now, if anyone tried to curse her at
all, she'd instantly start trying to break it. She couldn't help herself, which
was the point. She'd throw everything she had into the correct breaking pattern
and then do it as long as it took to stop the spell from working on her. Near
the end Beth and Manly had been working together to put things on her that
would have really killed her, in hours, if she'd failed to stop them. She
hadn't though, which they assured her meant that even the most powerful
ceremonial groups wouldn't easily take her out that way now.

So
there was that.

She
was sore though, if not in real pain. Her body had tried to fight against it
all, stiffening, and twisting to get away, even if that had been impossible.
Her arms and legs had locked out for hours practically, and her spine felt like
it had been warped permanently in a few places from the effort. It hadn't
though. She was in decent shape really, and a little bit of horrible pain
wouldn't break her. It would just make her slightly uncomfortable. That was
all.

A
life time of surgeries had taught her that too. Who said nothing good could
come of suffering? She stuck her head under the warm water, knowing that she
might not get a chance to really get clean for a while. The trains here sounded
a lot more practical than nice. Beth had suggested that they both be prepared
for that part of things.

Gwen
had lived a hard life in a lot of ways, growing up, but it had always been a
clean and tidy one too. A lot of time spent in hospitals had made her
comfortable with clean, as a rule. So, knowing that she might be a few days
without a real shower was less then welcome news. She'd live. Starting out
clean wasn't going to hurt, however.

That
meant that half an hour later she had her clothing bag and her pack on her
shoulder and was moving down the stairs toward the kitchen, hoping to get
something to eat. She'd been right the day before, she hadn't given a moment's
thought to hunger all night long, but now she could use something, if it was
available. It was pretty early still, but the house was already awake, and
there was the scent of coffee coming from the kitchen. She was on her way to
grab some, her nose leading her, when Charles found her, and looked at her with
more concern than a butler should ever really have to.

His
job
should
be worrying about the silver being pilfered perhaps, or maybe
that they would come up short on food, if unexpected guests arrived. Not
wondering if the daughter of the house was in danger due to a serial killer. He
was a good man that way though, and didn't try to blame her for going, which
she'd half been afraid of, without knowing it. No, his concerns were more
immediate, and blessedly, more helpful.

"People
are setting up in the small side dining room, Miss Farris. Coffee is already on
the table." There was no mention of her gear, but he looked at it and let
his head come up in a fashion that would have been weird, if you didn't know
he'd once been some kind of highly elite commando. It wasn't fear for her, but
understanding that duty called. Dangerous stuff, but you went where ordered.

"Special
Service business?" This was said as if he didn't already know. Not a lot
that happened in and around Park Street went unnoticed by the man.

"Yeah.
Those train murders? We've finally been asked in, since everyone else has
decided that they can't do anything, even though their stupid foot dragging
cost at least one girl her life. Possibly at least. Maybe
we
can't stop
whoever is doing this either, but we should have been throwing everything at it
to start with. Like I wouldn't work with the locals or Con-sev?" She
sounded angry about it, which was part nerves but mainly the residual from the
night before on top of no sleep for over a day now. "Not that my world was
any better that way. Do you think people on all worlds are that dumb?"

The
man, who wasn't as far as she knew, a sci-fi reader, still seemed to take her
meaning well enough. After a moment he nodded.

"Very
likely, if it's that way in two worlds. It might just be part of how we do
things?" Then surprisingly, he changed the subject, by both turning to
lead her to the small side dining room, which she was familiar enough with to
find on her own, and by saying something that she hadn't really thought of
before. Not exactly.

"Are
you taking Darren Westmorland with you? I heard that there are rumors of
strange failures in radiatives. He's from your world isn't he? It seems a
natural fit." Politely he didn't mention the part where her brother was a
social imbecile, which was nice of him.

Maybe
that ran in the family too? She was no grand prize that way either, was she?

"I
hadn't really thought about it. We should get a line in, in case we need
backup. I'll ask after him, and let him know that you recommended him for the
job. He'll get a kick out of it, if nothing else."

"Very
good Miss." Then he moved to the side and stopped, so she could go right
in to find Manly, Beth and to her surprise, Robert Vernor, all sipping at tiny
cups of coffee. Black. There was cream on the table, but even Beth, who was a
softy that way, took it straight today, trying to get as much caffeine into
herself as possible. It was a good idea.

Putting
her bags down next to the ones that were already there, she noticed that Beth
had managed to find a pack that was really very close to identical to her own.
Clearly made by the same people at least. She had a strange feeling that they
were military gear that had come from the household staff directly. Several of
them were ex-military after all. She nodded at it.

"Good,
I'd like to do a gear and weapons check before we leave. How long do we
have?"

Beth
smothered a yawn and then waved at her, with twinkling but tired eyes.

"A
bit under an hour. Good thinking though, since we should each know what the
other has and might be able to find any mistakes that way. You should have some
coffee first, so that you and Manly can talk." That was a strange thing to
say, but she seemed happy enough about it, and Manly, helpfully, poured her a
cup of very thick and slightly cinnamon scented coffee. It was Turkish in
style, which wasn't a thing that she'd thought people could do at home.

Her
mind took a while to catch up, the gears slowly clicking into place, with a bit
of grinding due to the fog her thoughts were hidden in. Finally she got it, and
nodded.

"I
was thinking that we could use both positive and negative re-enforcement to
establish the optimal use of kicks, punches and throws, as well as joint locks.
I can work out a system of say, fifty moves that should do the trick. Possibly
less. We'll teach them first, so there's a baseline to work from, like what you
did with me last night, and then use the conditioning. There are some other
factors that will help, like teaching a highly aggressive combat pattern, so
our people will attack first and so on." She waited for the man across
from her to tell her it was a stupid idea, but instead he took her now empty
cup and refilled it. It really was a very small thing, even though she'd barely
noticed downing the first one.

Then
the man frowned.

"Positive
reinforcement? You lost me there. Can you explain?"

She
could, but only after another full cup of coffee. It didn't take long.

"You
have the negative side down, punishing failure and using the threat of pain to
goad people into greater action than they'd normally be able to manage on their
own. If that's coupled with positive efforts, matching the other side,
rewarding success and victory, then the effects will be increased. I sort of
figured you already used that kind of thing in your advanced protocols?"

She
was too tired to really care about the funny looks she was getting from the
Westmorlands, but Robert nodded along, as if it made sense.

"Like
with dog training? A bit of ham if the pooch sits, but a harsh word if they
soil the rug?" He smiled, as if he were telling a bad and slightly off
color joke, but Gwen sipped at her coffee and then nodded.

"Except
that, if it can be done, we can ramp the pleasure up to a level that people
will do almost anything to get at it. Pair the two things up and it should have
very powerful effects. Strong enough that I'm hoping we can step the punishment
part back and still get the same responses over all, in the same time frames."
It seemed simple enough, but Manly stood up, and started to walk out of the
room. At the door he called back at least, so she knew he wasn't insulted, just
quietly excited by the idea.

"I
need to run some basic tests, and have some radiatives made. I'll be in
touch." Then he left, digging a lead colored sphere out of his bag she was
willing to bet.

Beth
looked at her with a soft and rather pleased smile.

"Even
if it doesn't work, that probably made his week. The idea of not hurting people
is very central to the inner being of all the trainers. Cruel people can't do
the job. It takes a person that really cares for others to not grow hard and
end up breaking them."

Gwen
started on her fourth cup of coffee and realized she was going to need some
food, or she'd end up feeling sick all day on top of the tired and sore that
was already going to come visit.

"It
works. In fact, it works better than pain alone. It's a well known and highly
studied fact where I come from. Anyway," She had nothing at all to say,
but didn't have to, since several servants walked in, the men all in black
suits and the women in deep black dresses, with white ruffles at the neck and
sleeve. They still managed to look more like they were going to a funeral than
some kind of French maid porn costume.

They
had food though, which was wonderful. She didn't need much, but some toast or
eggs would be good. Instead she was given a plate that Charles filled with a
single poached quail egg on it. She nearly laughed, but waited for everyone to
have their own first.

They
almost always ate multi-course meals here. Very tiny portions on delicate
little plates, but for some reason she'd thought that they'd just grab
something and run out the door. She should have known better.

Trying
to make herself sound appreciative as to the effort, she tried to explain.

"I'm
afraid that we don't have time for a full meal, today. The train won't wait for
us, after all."

The
butler nodded, and so did everyone else, as if that was simply true, but
Charles simply waited for her to eat her tiny egg, and had her next course in
front of her the instant she put her fork down. The whole thing still took
about twenty minutes, but it was far from the leisurely affair that they
normally had at the house. None of the servers left the room at all, even.