Abominations Read online

  He picked up the wrench fast and rushed her, swinging with it in his left hand, his right arm still hurting from the arm lock she'd had him in no doubt. She blocked easily, kicking him in the left knee with her heavy work boot, reaching underneath the arm and grabbing the wrench with her left hand, then twisting out of his grasp. She let him have the butt of it in the chin, which took him down to his knees.

  Then she handed the wrench back to Gloria with her thanks.

  She rushed him, pretending she intended to punch him, kicking him hard in the stomach when he covered his head with his arms. He pulled forward in a sudden spasm of pain, gasping for breath. She wrapped her right arm around his neck as she slid in behind him, her right hand finding the inside of her left elbow, then locked it all in place behind the man's head. The move felt odd to her, and she realized that due to their similar sizes, for the first time in her life she was getting to put this hold on someone correctly, which let the move lock into place far more easily than she ever remembered doing, then she laid back, the man on top of her, wrapping her legs around him, digging her heels into his inner thighs so he couldn't just roll out of it.

  He scrabbled at her arms, her heavy sleeve protecting her from fingernails, eventually, after several minutes, he passed out, since no blood could get to his brain. Or at least too little to keep him awake. Then she shifted from this position, so she could grab his left arm, using leverage she applied force to the elbow until she heard it pop loudly. Then she did the same to the right. When she moved to the right leg, placing it in a figure four made of her own legs, he woke up and screamed as the tendons tore in his knee.

  “I'm so sorry,” she told him, really not wanting to hurt him anymore, but knowing that his kind wouldn't stop unless she made him. She moved to the left leg. The popping sound was nearly identical, but sounded louder, since everyone had gone quiet.

  “I'll...Fucking kill you...bitch...” Gasping in pain he tried to crawl toward her.

  A groan came up from the crowd, even his own people were growing tired of his threats, she realized. The older man that had “witnessed” her offer to let the man go started yelling at him as he tried to crawl toward her.

  “Leave off, you moron! Are you trying to force her to kill you? Is that it? Not a man here would leave you alive after all you've said. If you didn't have a wife and kids to support, I'd tell her to do it. Hell, I'd do it myself just to stop this nonsense! What are your kids going to eat when you're lying in the grave, huh? Did you think about them when you started attacking a woman you knew to be heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the country? Did you think her people were just going to look the other way? Did you think maybe that, I don't know, she apologized to you publicly, over and over again? What does it take to soothe your pride? Does she have to offer her life to some dumb-ass that keeps trying to have her beaten – for no reason as it turns out – and who personally attacked her twice? Please man, leave off now!”

  Gwen stood, relaxed and waiting. If he didn't give up soon, she didn't know what she'd do. She couldn't kill the man, not lying on the floor beaten and unable to fight. She couldn't back that in court. One thing to drop a body in the middle of an ocean with only co-conspirators watching, where it was technically not breaking any laws, and as it turned out had the backing of the king, but doing it in front of twenty plus witnesses... No.

  “Fine. Since he has a wife and children, I'll let him go. But talk some sense into him. If he comes after me again, I'll simply presume that it's a fight to the death and I won't play nearly as nice. Remind him of this. Also, let him know that I have friends that might take it amiss if I were killed, and they can and will hunt him down if something happens to me. It may also be a good idea to get someone in as your representative that can carry on a conversation without hitting. At least for a while. Kind of a poor business model that.”

  Uncle Thomas called for a sledge and driver to take the man back home or to a hospital if he'd rather, he carefully made no suggestion that they pay for his treatment. The chargers all looked sad and hang-dog by the time they wandered out and got in the company vehicle that had brought them all. On her way out Barbara apologized for the trouble they'd caused and let them know that it wouldn't happen again, at least if she held her position after the fiasco that took place in the middle of the night.

  Gwen nodded at the woman.

  “If they fire you for this get in touch with us. We may be able to hire you on as our union liaison, to help us prevent things like this from happening again. Always room for reasonable people willing to work. Actually, if they don't promote you to Mr. Britain's job, please contact us anyway.” Then Gwen held her hand out to the woman, who didn't look happy, but at least didn't seem enraged or like she wanted to kill anyone either.

  Thomas rode home with her so that she wouldn't be alone in case of attack and to discuss things with Robert before he took off to his offices, since he needed to know what had happened while he slept.

  Winslow let them in, and looked at them both questioningly.

  “Incident at the airfield. I kind of broke a man's arms and legs. I don't know what the fallout will be yet,” she told him on the way past. He directed them to where Mr. Vernor still sat eating breakfast, not in the dining room, but overlooking the backyard near a big picture window. A nicely appointed room she'd never been in before. Lots of dark wood and leather accented with a deep red for color.

  Thomas filled him in quickly, even describing the fight she'd gotten herself into with the angry little union boss.

  “Frank Britain? You broke his arms and legs? But only after he attacked you, not once, but twice? In front of witnesses? His own people, not just ours?” Mr. Vernor, powerful businessman, cultured gentleman, and sought after guest to all the best parties, chortled.

  Then laughed, a great big belly laugh, he laughed until tears came out of his eyes and he had to excuse himself from the room while he took care of his nose, which had started to run. Even in the other room he kept laughing for a while. He got it under control coming back into the room after several minutes, only to leave again when seeing them sitting there reminded him of the image. On his second try he managed to hold everything together more smoothly and didn't do more than smile maniacally at them. Looking from one to the other.

  “Brilliant! I've been looking for a way to get rid of that louse for five years. Not a month has gone by without him creating some problem or another. Literally. Now, if they try to defend his actions, we'll just move in and take their union from them in court. Either way we win! I just wish I could have seen his face when he realized he'd lost.” His eyes went misty.

  “That's... that's the problem, isn't it? He doesn't think he has. Not really. No Frank Britain will simply wait now, probably not even until he's fully healed and try to kill me again. I probably should have killed him, but he has a wife and kids... Plus, you know, all those witnesses.”

  They discussed strategy for a while, Gwen mainly listening, not really knowing the social or legal rules here. Neither of them seemed to think she'd be in any trouble at all. Not even taken in for questioning. Mr. Vernor smiled at her gently when he figured out what she was worried over.

  “Don't worry, dear, you did everything just right, calling in witnesses to listen to your apology was a masterwork too. Giving him a lethal weapon like that, risky, but it showed everyone that you weren't just setting him up, knowing that you could easily win. Plus, him attacking a woman with a weapon... cowardly.” Mr. Vernor looked proud of her at least, so hopefully that meant something.

  Uncle Thomas tilted his head toward her, but looked at Robert.

  “So... were you ever planning on telling me at all?” He asked, his voice serious, but not menacing. “Don't bother trying to deny it. Too many signs in all. I have to admit, she nearly had me fooled, with the whole near death experience change of heart thing, but... too many things don't add up. No fear of heights? Katherine was terrified of step ladders! All the hard work? Gloria wou
ld still take you on as a loader you know, even if you are supposed to be the owner's daughter.” He turned to Mr. Vernor who looked slightly vexed. “Robert, if you knew what Gloria thinks of anyone that doesn't have grease under their fingernails you'd blush, but she'd take this young woman in a second over the dullard we currently have for her. I would too for that matter.”

  He sighed, looked at her and continued without too great a pause.

  “Then tonight... Oh, Katherine couldn't have beaten the man like that, certainly, but that's not what did it for me. No, I knew when you apologized to him. Katherine wouldn't have apologized to the man if she were the one on the floor broken and bleeding.”

  Robert looked at his brother-in-law with sad eyes and told him the whole story, at least the parts about what Katherine had done, stealing the life of this woman from another world, which should have been impossible according to the experts, which was something Gwen hadn't been told at all. Then he explained the rest, how it was really a lot worse that just body theft, leaving her to die in her place, in a position that no one could hope to survive.

  How, rather than ruining them all, as would be her right, Gwen had agreed to help them protect their lives and fortune. How she'd stood for them, even in public, protecting them all. Even putting her own dignity an honor on the line. For them.

  The family of the woman that had stolen not just her life, but her entire world.

  Admiral Welk regarded her seriously for a while, then nodded.

  “I don't know where you're from, but I fear your people are better than ours, if you're representative of them. I was feeling a bit humbled by your recent behavior before I knew the whole story, but now... Thank you. Not just for keeping this dark matter a secret, but for everything you've done since you've been here. You've saved lives and fortunes... Fed the poor and needy, helped a Westmorland in dire need and did so almost seamlessly, helping to protect the name of my sister's family.” A tear came to his eye.

  After a bit, he asked Robert who all knew about this, just so he didn't speak out of turn about the whole thing.

  “Well, Ethyl, myself, you, Bethany Westmorland and I imagine any of her people that care to know, the local Constabulary, though marvelous chaps all, they've held their peace on it, Winslow and Gwen's driver, James. Some people from Western University, I gather.” He listed these names off on his fingers then asked if he missed any.

  “Wait, I kind of guessed that Winslow knew, I mean, he's been helping me train and get into condition, teaching me weapons from this world and all. He had to have guessed by now at least, if nothing else, but James? He never let on at all!” She tried to search her memory for any sign that he might have known and couldn't find anything.

  “Oh yes. He came to Winslow about three days after he started driving you around. He'd been Katherine's driver for years and she didn't even know his name, much less bother to be polite to him. He figured that the stories were true, but told Winslow to hold his tongue on the subject. I believe he rather threatened poor Winslow over the whole matter. Not a man to trifle with, James. Part of the reason he had the job of watching after my daughter, and now you. Rather likes you better, I take it.”

  Gwen sat, shocked by all this new information.

  Winslow knocked on the door frame.

  “Very good, sirs, ma'am, if it's all out in the open now, the miss needs to get to training. We're in for extra blade work today, should have done it yesterday, but with the needs of business it got set aside.”

  Gwen got up. “Right, no rest for the wicked and all that, let me get changed, I'll be ready in, say ten minutes?”

  Winslow gave her a slow smile and made a single nod.

  “If you can't do it faster... miss.”

  Chapter thirty-two

  (Promotion)

  Nearly four more months passed of daily training. Harder runs, heavier packs, knife, sword, and stick fighting lessons, as well as the strange crins and power conduits, became part of Gwen's everyday life. By the end of this time she'd begun to despair about ever doing anything else again. The training moved from three hours a day to eight, sometimes ten. Winslow would set her to a task and merely check on her hours later.

  Possibly to keep things interesting, Winslow had taken to ambushing her at irregular times. When she slept, even in the shower, to her amusement. Mrs. Vernor nearly fired him over that one on the spot. He didn't stop. Their daily runs had changed into long jogs while carrying heavier and heavier loads, a few of them lasting for most of a day. Those got traveled as a fast walk.

  She went everywhere armed, not just at Winslow's insistence, but due to what the others told her as well. The solicitor, Grimes, came to talk to her about a week after the Frank Britain incident, and recommended she stay armed as well. He'd heard some talk from a union rep that Britain, even after losing his position, had decided to take her on as a personal issue, trying to discredit her or something. It didn't feel likely to her that the man would be happy with her getting a little bad press. Even Mrs. Vernor agreed on that score and had suggested quietly that they make the man disappear.

  About once a month Heather or Kelvin would come by to check on her, never telling her what they wanted exactly for some reason. Heather would sneak off to talk to Winslow each time she came, and the training would become harder again, or at least more complicated. Really she was starting to adapt physically to the work load, but the mental part could be interesting.

  No one heard anything from Bethany, who may as well have fallen off the face of the planet. They kept saying she was in training, but no one would say anything about that, not even what kind of training this might be. It grew frustrating, no one bothering to tell her anything.

  Darren Westmorland contacted her by phone, telestator, a few times. He'd simply say a few words, a sentence at most, and hang up. Usually something helpful, but cryptic. Get the uniforms re-sized, or run more. Once he simply warned her not to go out in the lorrie. Later that day James lost a wheel in an accident. No one hurt, but he was stuck for nearly twenty hours while other transportation and repair was arranged.

  Finally, when she'd almost given up hope of anything new happening, Winslow called her to the front drawing room. Standing there, wearing the now familiar deep blue uniform, was Bethany. She smiled when she saw Gwen, ran to her and gave her a hug. Before, Beth had felt thin and weak, but now new muscle wrapped her form, not more than what Gwen had built herself, but at least the equal of it. So whatever they'd had her doing it wasn't eating bon-bons and lounging.

  “I'm so sorry I couldn't be here with you! The time window was incredibly narrow for training, at least according to the information that we had a few months ago. We're in though.” She hugged Gwen again.

  She got a hug back, but Gwen followed it with a question.

  “In where?”

  “Eh? Oh, right! Well, we followed up on your idea, you see, had to lobby the king and his advisors for months, but we, the special service really, got put in charge of the Duke of Aubry's guard detail. We're in! We have to report to duty in seventy-two hours.”

  She hugged Gwen again.

  “We can keep him from doing whatever it is he's trying to and possibly catch Debussey. Or protect him if that's what's needed. We used it as a line, but it worked because it just possibly could be true. So really, we need to look out for that too, Debussey controlling his mind somehow, or maybe even just lying to use him somehow. Kelvin says there's about a twenty-three percent chance of something like that having happened.”

  It took Bethany a few minutes, but she finally explained what had been going on, the political work that had been required, the bribes, threats, and subtle rumors they'd had to plant, the torturous training that Beth had been undergoing for months.

  “Though you'll be getting part of that soon. We don't have a lot of time to get you up to speed. Heather says you can manage the physical parts alright, more than alright, so all we have to do is teach you how to run the armor. That's mainly what
I've been doing, learning how to re-channel my energies. There's a difference between telepathic, intuitive, and kinetic energies obviously. So you need to learn that too.”

  Quickly she outlined the training that she'd have over the next few days and weeks. Gwen nodded along as her friend pretty much announced that she needed to master a new kind of magic as fast as possible.

  “We'll try to buy you time, but if anything comes up, you have to be able to armor up and take the field, you understand? Even if you can't fight in it, you have to be able to walk out and at least stand there. It's half of what makes the special service more effective than ordinary military personnel.”

  Gwen knew she had a funny look on her face, since Beth tilted her head and grinned at her.

  “You see, Gwen, it's like this... In order to get close to the duke, we all have to be special service. As a Westmorland, it meant more training for me, but I'm used to it. It's... not pleasant, but my mind won't break under the strain either. With you, we have to take a more direct training route, which won't be much fun either. Maybe as bad, depending on what Darrick has you doing. The only problem is that, outside of Westmorland training, it's nearly impossible to get kinetic armor unless you're already a member of the special service. So we have to train you on the fly, you see? There's no time for four years at the academy.”