Strangers and Lies (2 page)

"Perhaps, before dunning Miss Farris with demands for her services, we might repair to the drawing room and allow her some small time to prepare for the day?" It was nearly calling the men with him out, compared to the normally polite way he did things, his voice still relaxed and calm, but firm enough that no one would be left in doubt of what he meant. Even she got it.

To his mind, by the rules of this place, these men were being completely improper. Being out at night, in the dark alone like this was about the same as saying they were meeting up for a gang-bang. Gwen nearly smiled at the idea, since it was kind of intriguing, after a fashion. Old her hadn't ever even gotten so much as a romantic kiss, thanks to her looks. Here she could do things like that, if she wanted. Kissing at least. She was a little shy about the idea of sex, so a gang-bang seemed a
little
bit much to her just yet. Plus, she'd been informed that she actually had a reputation to maintain now, since tiny school kids knew who she was and all that. There was a cat character based on her used to teach bomb safety. True the program was named after the body she was in, but that was kind of splitting hairs, so she didn't bother.

For their part all the men, except Adam, acted like it was a real thing and suddenly went into hyper polite mode, even suggesting that they all leave, or wait for daylight. Because now, suddenly, they remembered that they had rules that way here. She was fine with whatever they wanted, really, but Winslow was firm as he marched the men away, so that she could at least go and change.

When she got to her room it was empty, just as she'd left it. For weeks Beth and Heather Westmorland, her best friends, had been staying with her, which had been a bit crowded and close for her, being that she wasn't used to that kind of thing. Having friends was new to her in and of itself, so the idea that she had two of them that would be in the same room all the time was exciting, but also strange.

Heather had been called away on a job however, to lead a Special Service detail in what seemed to be called the Southern Section, which was basically Brazil, as far as Gwen understood it. Beth had an investigation to look into, trying to find Doctor Erin Debussey. The bad guy. Woman? She was evil at any rate.

The one that had kind of destroyed her life, as it turned out, so Gwen definitely wasn't a fan.

True she had been mainly been telling the truth, that being the fact Gwen really wasn't Katherine Vernor, and that
her
world didn't have magic, meaning that Gwen couldn't have stolen anyone's body at all, but Erin had done it on the telesar in front of the whole Kingdom, so that she couldn't hide it any longer. Kind of a bitchy thing to do, since it was pretty much aimed at hurting the Vernors, and in order to destroy their massive shipping business.

Which would
also
hurt the world's economy. Probably part of Erin's plan to make people scared and miserable, so that she and her buddies could open the void and bring forth the "Old Ones". A thing that even someone from Gwen's world could tell was a horrible idea. It was in all the movies of a certain genre after all. Call for the ancient gods and find yourself living in horrible torment. They didn't have that kind of thing here. Well, plays, but Gwen hadn't been to any lately. Or ever, come to think about it.

"Bitch." The word was muttered softly, under her breath as she started to find some clothing to wear. She opted for a pair of dark blue trousers and matching shirt, along with black boots, since that was basically what the Westmorlands wore when on duty. She was, after a fashion, in the Special Service and while she could wear pretty much whatever she wanted, being the only female non-Westmorland member of that very elite crew, she tried to blend in. It made her feel a bit more like she belonged and wasn't just playing a game. Besides, it was that or a dress, since she had company. Wearing this would basically tell the world that she was on the job, or at least she hoped that was the message. Otherwise it was probably being rude.

Women wore dresses here, unless they were making a statement. Gwen just wanted to be comfortable.

After putting on some make-up, a thing that all women did here, if they didn't want to be a social pariah, she walked down to the drawing room, hoping she had the right place. The mansion they were in was huge, but at least now she didn't have to pretend it had been her childhood home anymore, so if she lost her way, she could just ask someone. It saved on wandering around and looking in every single room she found. If she could find anyone to ask, which wasn't guaranteed. It was still dark outside, and even here no one would be awake for another half hour or so. For all that the men had gotten her from bed, they'd also rousted Winslow, who'd managed to show up dressed and pressed in his work clothing, looking like he'd had hours to get ready. She'd have to ask him how he managed that trick. It was something she might need to copy soon, if people were going to be about at all hours.

She heard the gently bantering men, all of them chatting in a fashion that sounded happy enough. Conversational and not like two of them were freaking out about Westmorlands being there at all. That was a good sign, since a lot of regular people here were terribly prejudiced against them. Just because
some
of them could explode and do roughly the damage of a nuclear bomb. Not that those people were allowed to just run around free. No, they were kept as virtual prisoners somewhere. Gwen had never even met any of them and she'd been around nearly a thousand Westmorlands over the last eight months or so.

When she came into the room the men kept talking, except the Con-sev man, who stood and gave her a small bow. He was about fifty, she realized, though he looked and sounded younger than that. His hair was still dark and she realized that it was natural, since the men here didn't go in for vanity in that fashion. They wore perfectly pressed clothing, and took excellent care of their mustaches, if they had them, but this man was clean shaved. The man in burgundy, who seemed to be from the army, wearing an actual uniform, if a dressier than normal one, stood as well, after a few moments, smiling grimly. He had a gray mustache, which was large enough it looked like a mouse was glued to his upper lip. His hair was short, but not a buzz cut. Actually, out of everyone, the most military looking person in the room, to Gwen's eye at least, was Darrick.

She was probably a close second.

"Miss Farris, your man, Winslow, rebuked us rather sharply for our poor manners after you left. I feared he'd have to thrash us for a moment, but he left off, to get us some coffee, thankfully. I'd like to apologize for our poor manners. It was early when we left from Worthington, but I assure you, the sun was fully up." This came from the Con-sev man, whose name she still didn't know at all.

Gwen nodded a little, knowing better than to excuse them for it. If the butler had spoken harshly to them, it was a
huge
breach of protocol, wasn't it? The man never did anything in an improper fashion himself. The military man gave a sharp look which was directed at Adam, who glanced back with an almost dull gaze, not intimidated at all it seemed.

The man in burgundy sighed and then started to apologize for the Westmorland, which got Darrick to hold up his right hand, still seated.

"Miss Farris is on
duty
. Notice the uniform? That means she came to work, not be coddled and cosseted. Trust me, if she felt we were being too rude to her, we'd know about it. Probably because we'd still be crawling around the back yard, clutching ourselves and wondering what had happened." He grinned a bit, and gestured the other men down with a wave. "I'm not at all certain that wouldn't simply have been the literal case either. I saw her fight, and
kill
, a full cohort of Saracen Mercenaries once, starting from an unarmed position. She didn't even know how to use a crin at the time. I think we can take our survival at the moment as a sign that we're forgiven, right Gwen?" He laughed about it slightly, but let his eyes go steely, looking directly at the other men, as if challenging them to question his word on what he'd just said.

Neither of the other men did, and while one of the Westmorlands she didn't know looked slightly amused by the idea, the other elbowed him and gave a single head shake. It was a true story after all, even though it wasn't a thing she liked to dwell on. Before coming to this place she'd had to fight several times a year, trying to survive in a world that hated freaks like her. But she'd never
killed
anyone. Here it had taken about a month and a half before the need arose. It had given her a slightly skewed image of the world she found herself, which was for almost everyone a good bit safer than where she was from.

Winslow came with the coffee on a nice silver cart, and started to serve everyone with very precise movements, as if he hadn't dressed these same men down not ten minutes before. She took hers black, since that was the polite way of doing things here, if you cared about that kind of thing. All the men took a cup too and drank it stoically, as if the slight bitterness was something that took manly resolve to conquer. She did too, but it really just didn't bother her at all. There was the slightest hint of cinnamon to it, which was nice. It was also served very hot, so she sipped carefully for a while, sitting without being told to, since no one here would, except Adam, and it would come out sounding pissy if he had to do it.

The conversation that started then was a lot different than she'd figured it would be. Instead of pestering her about laser sights the men started talking about the new Students Service, which was a program that she and little Erica Westmorland had put together on the fly one day. It was pretty much the Hitler Youth, if they could have gotten that to be run by Jewish people to foster diversity instead of hate. The idea had tickled Gwen, but these men were being far more practical about the whole thing than she'd been. It was easy, it seemed, to proclaim there were going to be summer camps for city kids and military jobs for the older ones, but half the people under eighteen in the Kingdom had signed up and regularly went to meetings, which made the thing a giant headache to get together.

The military man, who the others called General Hevesy, smiled about that part of things anyway, not all that taken aback by the challenge.

"We're setting the Forward Scouts to it. The hard part is dealing with the girls of course, we don't have a lot of female personnel. Ten thousand girls coming next week, and not a clue what to do with them. Any suggestions Miss Farris?" He even said it like it wasn't all her fault, actually just asking if she could do something about it.

It took a few seconds, since it was a lot harder to come up with things to actually do that way than not. They had a whole bunch of social rules here and putting young military men in to be in charge of a group of school girls was
not
going to go over at all well. For that matter it was probably an actual point, since at least some of those guys wouldn't be that much older than the young ladies at all.

"Um..." She was trying to buy time and nearly started to suggest that she just didn't know what to do, when her mouth spit out words that clearly shocked everyone else in the place. "Yes... We'll grab the female Westmorlands for that duty, if they can be spared for it at all. We just won't tell the kids that they're Westmorlands. Dress them in Army uniforms. As to what they teach, well, bomb spotting skills, woods craft and hiking. Add in some extra first aid as well." That last one got a strange look, since while they had that here, the idea of slapping on a bandage or tourniquet to stop bleeding, it wasn't called that at all. She floundered for a few seconds trying to remember what it was called, then just shrugged. "Basic nursing."

That went over better and even if it was a lot harder to free up that many female Westmorlands, no one questioned her suggestion that they simply be called "Counselor whoever". It wasn't the military after all, and they didn't need to drive the girls like they would the boys. In fact the biggest argument she got was over the curriculum, since the men around here thought that having the girls hike and do more than light exercise was a bit improper. Too much for the delicate flowers coming to them.

That got her to smile at least, which was a fake thing that she'd had to practice in front of the mirror. Her old face couldn't manage a real smile, and her best attempts had kind of hurt, so she hadn't learned the habit. Now she could do it, but it still took work to remember how. Like wiggling her ears, which was also a new thing.

"Oh? Perhaps you're right, but we promised them actual learning, as well as a bit of fun. I think that we should deliver, don't you?"

The men demurred, but obviously thought she was being too difficult or something. They politely didn't call her on it, so maybe it really wasn't that? Adam at least would have, right then, if he felt the need. Darrick would do it later, when he had the chance not to embarrass her. Oh, he'd dress her down if it was required, but not where anyone else could hear it overly. Since that meant having her alone and it was hard to manage at Park Street, the man would have to be a good bit more polite about it than he might have been otherwise. In fact they probably couldn't have gotten alone time if they tried. Winslow and the staff would be all over them.

They stayed on through breakfast, making plans. It was a big deal, she realized, since the men were actually listening to her ideas for once. That was one of the big drawbacks of the place. If you were a woman, you didn't get a fair hearing for most of the things you said, especially if the men listening didn't know you. Unless you claimed that some other man was trying to take "liberties" with you, in which case most men would defend your honor with their lives it seemed, or at least thrash the offending man.