Tremble in the Dark: A Gwen Farris Novel (25 page)

Creepy
waiter guy, well, other than that he'd been around at the wrong times, she just
didn't know. She had to look at her pad to even remember his name.
Darling
.
Jonathon Darling. Worse, if the magic went away while they were working, they
might be left in pretty dire straits, without warning. If the killer could be
anyone, then grabbing her or Beth for the sacrifice would be a fantastic boost
for the ceremony, wouldn't it? After all, the more power a person had, the
better they were for things like that.

Thinking
those things didn't help her sleep at all, but she did get up nice and early,
to find that Beth was already up as well. That wasn't normal for her, and
either showed that something was wrong, or that the woman had also spent a
restless night.

Worse,
they didn't know if someone had simply
lied
to them. It was a time
honored tradition for murderers, after all.

Beth
led the way to the train station, and they got there just in time to realize
that no one new was getting on at all.

It
was ominous, to say the least.

Horribly
so.

They
didn't stop long at the next two stations, and no one got on, or off at all. It
didn't speed things up, since they still had to sit there, waiting the whole
time. They weren't refueling depots however, just little covered patio areas
that had ticket booths. Places in little towns that didn't have a lot in them,
except a train that came by once or twice a week.

They
did have fruit sellers though, set up for them to purchase things. At the
second place Gwen got off the train and bought a lot more than the people with
them, the other passengers, would ever eat. Even giving things away to the crew
it was going to be close. She just felt bad for the old guy that was selling
things though. He'd looked so happy when she got off the train, at first, but
then realized that it was just her, Beth and Clara, and his face fell.

So
she'd gotten more than she needed. To share with everyone else.

True,
one of them might be the killer, and worse, might be trying to take out all
functional magic in a world that ran on the stuff, but how likely was that
really? This wasn't a movie after all. In real life...

Well,
thinking about it didn't make her feel any better, but it was, for the time
being, her job. When it came down to it, from what she knew about things like
this, magical workings on a large scale, they seemed to take a lot of people,
didn't they? Ones that were present for the events too. They almost never
phoned in their work from a great distance. Debussey had managed to harvest
fear from around the world to try and open up the gates, but even that hadn't
done very much for her, and she still had to sacrifice other people to really
make it work.

Including
her own daughter, who was, after a fashion, this world's version of Gwen's
little sister. One that she'd never had in her own world at all. That was
because the insane psychopath that had been her real mom was, thankfully,
killed by her brother. Billy.

That
part of things was something that she'd never asked about. At first Gwen had
figured that Billy had done it for pretty normal reasons. He'd been tortured
for years, after all. Drugged and forced into complex scenarios to train him
for combat. So he'd killed the woman responsible. It made a lot of sense to
Gwen.

But,
there had been something said once that kept coming back to her. Or at least it
did now. The whole thing with the fear and horror of the gate into the voidic
plane had distracted her, but Billy had said something right before she'd taken
out Erin Debussey.

You
shouldn't have killed her, mom.

At
the time she'd been too busy to even think about it. There was a fight on, and
the world itself hung in the balance. Gwen had to take the woman out, and then
help close up the rift that she'd pried open. It took everything she had, and
even at that, a lot of help was needed. They nearly all died doing it, with
Gwen bleeding nearly to death.

For
some reason she'd figured that Billy, her long lost brother, was telling
Debussey that the woman shouldn't have killed
her
. Gwen. Or maybe their
little sister. Now, thinking about it, she had to wonder. There was something
off about it all. Billy had been nearly livid, but only about what he spoke of,
not about her being hurt, or that little girl dying. He didn't even blink about
the rest of what was going on, which had probably been brainwashed into him.

You
shouldn't have killed her, mom.

That
had sounded personal. Old too. Gwen was willing to bet that whatever their
bio-mom had done to deserve death, Billy Cavendish had also blamed Erin
Debussey for. There was a story there, but she wasn't going to ask at the
moment. She couldn't for one thing. Maybe she shouldn't? Her brother wasn't the
best balanced of people after all, and if he'd found some way to cope with his
loss, then maybe it was enough and she should leave it alone?

It
was hard to know. Gwen could also feel what was going on inside herself, and
knew that she wanted to avoid the possibly rough situation that asking might
cause. Now, the trick there was if she was trying to get out of it to protect
Billy, which was a good reason, or just to protect
herself
, which was
the wimpy and cowardly thing to do? Was it just picking at scabs to ask, or
would it be lancing a boil? There was probably no way to know, unless she
asked.

Which
she pretty much had to do, didn't she?

After
all, her brother, as strange and hard as he was in some ways, had saved her
life. Not in a normal fashion, but in a way that was more real than most would
get. When they were kids, and she was in the fourth grade, Dr. Cavendish had
let her son, Billy, go to school for a very brief period of time. Probably to
see if her super-soldier process could be integrated with the rest of society.
In a cold and slightly evil way, it made sense. You tossed the baby into the
deep water, and told it to swim or die, right? That was her way.

About
a month or two into the school year, Gwen had found herself cornered and being
beaten by a group of fifth graders. All boys and all probably sub-par in
intelligence. Most bullies and bigots are, after all, so it wasn't a big
stretch to assume those kids had been too. Big though. They all towered over
her, and were giving her a nice solid beating for daring to look too different.
For the crime of being crippled. They called her beast, and monster.

Until
Billy got there.

He
was little too, about her own size, but he didn't let that stop him, punching,
kicking and using high level martial arts moves that no schoolboy should have
been able to pull off. She didn't understand that at the time, but
that
wasn't how Billy had saved her. It was what he said in a lull, after two of the
bullies were on the ground, and needing to go to the hospital.

Fight.

He
told her to fight. Then, together, the other three boys were beaten hard enough
that Billy was never allowed back into school and she'd been nearly expelled
herself. But that single word had changed her life. She couldn't
win
most fights. Her left side was weak and atrophied, no matter how hard she
worked, and everything on that side was collapsed in. The other side made up
for it by being rough and protruding, which was a kind of balance, she figured.
She was slow, and awkward. Things inside her hurt, from the hundreds of
surgeries that she'd had and just the way she'd been born.

She
could
fight
though. When they came for her, she could try to not be a
victim. She could stand up for herself. More, even if she was weak, and small
and crippled, on occasion, when things lined up, Gwen could win.

That
was the lesson that her hero, Billy Cavendish, had taught her that one day at
recess. How not to be a victim. How to stand up for herself, even if it hurt,
and even if she was going to lose.

So,
if he needed her to ask about his pain, then she had to do it. There was no
other way. Everything she'd ever managed at all, all her martial arts training,
and even walking down the street, knowing that she was going to have things
thrown at her, and be called names, or even be attacked, all of that, was his
doing. Without him, she might well have killed herself. It had been close, for
a long time.

If
that had taken place, then this entire world would be a hell dimension at that
very moment. Most likely. It was what she'd been told at least.

The
problem with being on the train, she realized, as she walked toward the back,
carrying a large wooden crate of fruit, was that she had far too much time to
think. This whole world had that problem. On her way toward the back of the
sitting car, where most of them spent their days, she stopped at each person
and held the box out.

"Treats,
for later. Remember not to throw the peels on the floor. Littering is
bad." Beth had already found their seats, the same section they'd claimed
the first day, and Clara was off with her friend, Sally, who was more of an
acquaintance, from the look of things. In fact, they didn't seem to know each
other all that well at all.

That
part had seemed a little strange to her, since they'd been at the same whore
house, hadn't they? Didn't the girls at those places know everyone else pretty
well? That's how it always seemed on television, which, she knew might not
apply to the world here at all. For that matter it might not have really
applied to her world. It wasn't like
she'd
ever been to a place like
that. It just seemed strange, however.

Clara
was clearly being taken care of by the other woman, and guided into proper
social behavior, given her new position as a maid. They were even doing a
decent job of that, too, finding ways to get Beth and her cleaned and even
pressed clothing each day. She was almost certain that had been done by bribing
some of the men to help them with it. What they were using for that she didn't
know, but they hadn't asked her for any funds for it, so she kind of thought it
was something else.

Maybe
they'd just asked? Lending an iron wasn't that big of a deal, was it?

Of
course she was having visions of Clara on all fours, taking it up the behind so
that
she
could have wrinkle free uniforms each day. Gwen hoped that
wasn't the case though. Not that there was anything wrong with sex, but it just
seemed wrong to be trading for something like that. Doing it for fun, or even
out of boredom, that might be all right, but not just for the sake of clean
clothing.

Then,
Gwen was a prude, in her own way. More than Bethany even, and
way
more
than any prostitute would ever be.

After
making the rounds, passing out bananas, which were the hands down favorite of
the people on the train with them, she settled the box on the floor near Beth
and moved it to the wall.

"There,
that's my contribution to the economy of that place today. Other than that, I
have nothing new at all. You?" Beth had been snooping, or trying to, when
everyone else left to stretch their legs. They might be able to hear, but her
friend shook her head softly.

"Not
a single thing. Worse, everything is buzzing, which makes using either of my
main powers difficult. I haven't gone into state, but I imagine that would be
headache inducing. Even the lights and the train keep surging, when we're
moving. It's that null field, flickering on and off."

Gwen
hadn't really noticed, since over the last few days she'd just tried to pay
attention to things, and stretch a lot. That wasn't done in public here, so she
had to go to her room for it every few hours. It helped, but her back was still
sore from all the sitting. She badly needed to go for a run, but there was no
place to do that at all. They didn't stop for long enough most of the time, and
the next day would be trading trains, instead of going for recharging.
            The whole trip was wearing on her, but no one was really doing
anything wrong or different. Carter avoided her, but not Sally, who she was
willing to bet was making some mets on the side, taking trade from the fellow.
Most of the time he just read however.

Hadley
did too, but that was mainly newspapers which he bought at the train stations
they stopped at. Clara kept vanishing, only to show up again an hour or two
later, seeming the same way as when she'd left. The only person that was
interesting at all was Martin. He talked on the Telestator every time they got
off the train, which reminded her that she needed to chat with Ethyl and some
other people, the next time she got a chance.

Martin
Cordell had news however, and moved in beside Bethany, his leg brushing hers
momentarily. That was close and chummy, considering everything. Then, Beth was
kind of hot. The rest of it, being a Westmorland and all that, might just fade
after a while, if the man was around her enough, bigot or not. Like that
senator that had fought tooth and nail against desegregation, but had turned
out to have had a black lover and a daughter by her? Well, change had to start
someplace, and it wasn't like Marty was a dog either. Beth didn't shy away from
his touch even.

"I've
picked up some information from my sources. I have to say that I'm a little
flabbergasted by it all-" He stopped and looked at Gwen, and then tried to
explain. "You may not know the word, flabbergasted, it means..." Martin
looked around at Beth, as if seeking help with it, but Gwen waved her hand.

"Flummoxed?
Amazed? In awe of?" She grinned, but the man nodded.

"Exactly.
So you have that word too? I wouldn't have thought, since it's sort of a made up
thing, isn't it?"

She
had to think about that one for a moment, but finally let her head tilt.

"All
words are. That we have as many in common as we do probably means that this
world isn't that far off of my own really. If the theory holds, there are an
infinite number of worlds, but the further you get from your starting point,
the less they'll have in common. Having magic seems like a big thing, but a
common language is probably a bigger one. There are even some people in common.
I've seen at least one or two that are famous where I come from for instance,
just on the street. Not a lot, but it's happened." Or at least they looked
pretty close. If the DNA matched she didn't know.