Abominations (11 page)

      The trip didn't take long, even considering the vehicle didn't move very fast at all. The two men watched her, as if expecting her to freak out at any moment. Looking at Grimes, who seemed to understand her need for solid information, she asked why. Hopefully she hadn't gone all wide eyed and freaked looking. The scenery was interesting, but not scary. It just looked... nice. Cleaner than home did.

      He touched his face, as if thinking.

      “We're... both worried that the high speed of transport might seem off-putting to you, since we don't know what kind of things you have available in your other world.” His tone conveyed a desire to not insult her, even as he told her what she needed to know. Gwen smiled at him a little and nodded. The guy was really going out of his way to make her feel comfortable. They all were. It was incredibly kind of them, considering they didn't really have to be doing anything.

      She nodded, understanding now that it had been explained. Gwen felt a little slow on the uptake, because it should have been obvious. As little as she knew about this strange place, her knowledge was practically encyclopedic compared to what they knew about hers.

      “Well, I think we're alright speed wise. This is going what, twenty miles per hour? What's the top speed?” Her question was directed to the solicitor.

      “Oh, I don't know, upward of thirty I believe,” he stated tentatively, Mr. Vernor agreeing with him.

      Gwen tilted her head to the right a little and kept nodding just slightly, “Where I come from, the cars, different than this but I'd guess it's the comparable technology, are allowed to drive sixty-five miles per hour on the freeway, giant roads built with many lanes of traffic. Most of them can go about twice that fast, but it's not good for the engine. That's... kind of like the little wagon thing in the front of this, I think, except totally different. Even my little Geo Metro could do seventy-five or so, in a pinch. Driving was one of the few times I was treated just like anyone else. Most people have cars, the roads here look... smaller and the traffic a lot sparser here than where I come from. We've only passed what, six or seven vehicles? In a city this size we'd be fighting to move through hundreds of cars by now.” She kept her gaze on the passing buildings outside, seeing a lot more made of brick and stone than she'd have seen at home.

      When she looked back, both Mr. Vernon and Grimes stared at her.

      “So...” Mr. Vernon started. “You had your own lorrie? You had a driver?” He said this as if he knew the real answer but couldn't believe it.

      “Oh, no, only really rich people have drivers, I have a license, so I can drive myself.” She smiled at him, trying to convey the idea of different worlds being... different.

      The man shook his head, but didn't say anything.

      Maybe he just couldn't imagine his own daughter ever driving a vehicle? She didn't sound all that capable from what little Gwen had heard so far. Not really able to do much of anything. Except apparently using magic to switch bodies, which Gwen had to admit did seem pretty impressive, even if she'd messed it up and accidentally gotten Gwen's body instead of whoever she'd meant to. If she'd intended to get anyone in particular at all.

      They pulled up in front of a brick building that would have looked at home on a college campus, white columns out front, apparently made out of something like concrete, rather than solid stone, they had that worn gray look, the rounding that happened after a few decades of exposure to the elements for soft stone. The sign out front said only “District House Main” on it. Apparently everyone just knew that you went there to find the police? Or, she wondered, did only the detectives work there? She'd have to find out. If she ever needed help finding a lost cat or something, she didn't want to bother the wrong people.

      Grinning a bit, she wondered if people kept pets here at all? She hadn't noticed any, but coming straight from a human sacrifice to a hospital to a police station, she wouldn't have, would she? Even in her own world that would have been highly unlikely. It seemed odd to her, but the human sacrifice seemed like the most likely place in all that she'd encountered for there to have been a cat or dog. Or maybe a goat. But these people apparently didn't want to waste time with animal sacrifices, not even as a warm up.

      Pulling into a parking place, the men got out one side, so she figured out the handle, a simple push lever, like on a screen door, and hopped out the other, the non-street side, causing Grimes to chuckle as Mr. Vernor ran over to her door to give her a hand down.

      “Normally, a lady waits for a gentleman to come open the door for her here. Since all the skirts can cause falls if you're not careful. It wouldn't do to have you spilling all over the walk, now would it?” The solicitor smiled when he said it.

      Gwen blushed and mumbled an apology, which Mr. Vernor waved off, then put his hand out to her, which she took, trying to climb down from the raised carriage carefully so as to not put any force on his hand.

      “Sorry. New ways and all that. I'll try to remember in the future.” Gwen focused, trying to keep this all in mind. Still, so far the rules for women didn't seem all that hard. Just act fragile and helpless if she wasn't sure what to do. When it doubt simper? That... would be hard. Actually she wasn't really sure how to do that at all, so hopefully it wouldn't be a requirement or anything.

      They entered the building, which smelled a little of tobacco and desperation, then had to climb three flights of stairs to get to the detectives' offices. From the signs on the different floors, she guessed that this really was where the regular police hung out too and that holding was on the second floor. The wood work here seemed less polished, a lot less so, and there was no visible metal work at all. It looked surprisingly like a regular, if old, building inside, at least in the stairway. The wooden railings, banisters, had wear marks where people had run their hands along them for decades or longer taking the stain off, revealing bare wood underneath. As they entered the hallway she saw more wood and a hard tile floor that looked gray, like slate.

      It was kind of a joyless place really, compared even to the hospital, which had looked sharp and refined. Then, police stations always had that kind of feel to them. No one really wanted to be there, so no one bothered trying to fix them up in particular.

      A crash came from inside the room in front of them, a few raised voices yelled things that she couldn't make out and the sounds of pounding feet. Suddenly a man ran through the door, pushing past Mr. Vernor hard, sending him slamming back into a wall just under an empty row of metal hooks that reminded her of the coat closet of an elementary school. They were matte black and high off the ground, about six foot, which worked out well, because that meant that Mr. Vernor didn't hit any of them when he impacted with the paneling beneath with a thud.

      From inside the room running toward them Daniel Chuan yelled.

      “Stop him!”

Chapter six

      Gwen hooked the running man's arm with her own and spun him into the opposite wall of the narrow hallway as he tried to push past her. As he rebounded, she disengaged, punching him in the side of the head with her right hand, a sharp pain running through her chest, making her pull back slightly, lessening the force of the blow.

      Grabbing his hair with both hands, she walked backwards quickly, pulling first until he lost his balance, then pushing his head into the floor, the force going straight down suddenly, making him fall flat on his face. When he was on the ground, lying mainly on his stomach, she let go of his head, a swear word of some kind coming out of him that she couldn't quite make out, his mouth being smooshed against the floor a bit. He tried to get up, propping himself up on his left hand, which she stopped by simply kicking it out from under him, making him fall again. A low kick with her right foot, luckily, since much higher would have gotten her leg wrapped in the skirt. That would have been annoying.

      She grabbed his hand and put him in a simple wrist lock, pushing his hand forward hard, pulling his arm straight, so that it stuck up behind him, and dropped to kneel on his back with her right knee, the other leg sticking out for balance.

      “Stop struggling or I'll break your arm,” she threatened, knowing that the best she could do from this position would be to pop the tendons in his wrist, not break a bone at all. He didn't know that, most likely, but kept struggling anyway, calling her names the whole time. Really he was being kind of rude about the whole thing, but Gwen decided to give him a pass on it, since she was already kicking his ass.

      Propping the back of his hand against her upper chest and leaning against it, on the side away from the stab wound, which made the move a little awkward, but less painful for her, so he didn't have enough slack to move easily away. She let go with her right hand, keeping the hold with her left and hit him in the back of the neck, hard, stunning the man.

      “Listen fuckwad, I told you to stop struggling or I'll break your fucking arm, do you understand?” Each of the last words were punctuated with a blow to the back of the head, which didn't quite knock him out, but did make him decide struggling wasn't worth it anymore. It really wasn't, she knew. If he didn't comply, another few punches would take him out, even weak as she was. The back of the neck, just under the skull was about the worst place to be hit if you wanted to not be knocked out.

      Detective Chuan had run out almost immediately, but stood back while she handled the man, observing her. The other detectives looked frozen in place, except Bethany, who sat in the other room at a desk that was the first thing visible inside the room through the door, not even bothering to look over at the commotion.

      Gwen looked up at Detective Chuan, carefully moving so that he could take over the wrist lock from her, while another man, this one wearing a dark blue suit, no mustache, pale blond hair, brought what looked like manacles, rather than handcuffs. The chain was longer than in her world and the cuff part thicker, about two inches wide.

      The blond man looked at her when the large man on the floor had been secured.

      “Nice catch there!” He told her, smiling.

      Mr. Vernor fussed over her for a minute, asking if she were alright, and if she perhaps needed to sit down after such an exertion, or if she needed to go back to the hospital. Then he offered to get her water and when she declined it all, he watched her carefully, as if expecting her to burst into tears. Why she'd be doing that she didn't know, the man hadn't had a chance to touch her. Mr. Vernor was the one that had been slammed into that wall and even that wasn't a big deal, he'd ducked his head correctly and took the force across the shoulders nice and flat. If he had bruising it would be incredible. Daniel simply waved them through into the office after the would-be fugitive had been returned to a chair on the other side of the room.

      When she walked into the room, the manacled man started yelling.

      “You fucking whore! I'll slit your throat! Just let me get up and I'll show you what a real man is! I'll fuck you so hard you won't leave the house for a month!” He kept on in this vein for a moment and one of the other detectives, an older looking man, picked up a truncheon and made ready to help the man realize his situation, and just possibly, remember his manners. When Gwen waved at the prisoner, smiling, the older man smiled too, looking bemused, and stepped back.