Abominations (19 page)

      Debussey was watching Gwen carefully, and looked like she wanted to take notes on her for some reason, a bit like Bethany had in her analytical state. Only without the high level conditioning that made it outside her control. So Debussey was just being weird, if in an affable way. Grainger pulled out a pad, much like the ones the detectives carried and started writing things down as he thought of them. Every now and then he'd stop suddenly, then mutter something and write again.

      Gwen wondered if it would be polite for her to ask Debussey about her clothing choices and decided to just do it anyway. This lady seemed like she'd cut her some slack if she messed up, actually knowing who she really was and the whole situation surrounding it.

      “I don't want to seem rude, but I couldn't help but notice that you dress in a more practical and efficient fashion than most women here. Is that a current style or something I could do too? What you're wearing is far closer to what I'm used to than this is. Right now I can't even get out of my own dresses without help, which all things considered, isn't much fun,” she told the older woman, smiling so it seemed less whiny than she felt about it. Dresses kind of sucked.

      Doctor Debussey told her that the style seemed to be catching on, mainly among female mages and college coeds. Certainly the caretaker of a Westmorland could get away with it too, except in high society circumstances, which given everything, Gwen needed to be aware of.

      “Then all bets are off of course, but even at the station the men probably won't mind. You should ask and see what they say. If you care that is. If not, just wear what you're comfortable with, as long as it covers most of your body, and let other people adapt to you. This world could use a little shaking up.” The woman looked half manic when she said it, but in a pleasant and slightly conspiratorial way.

      A crash came from the stacks where Bethany and James were helping Doctor Wiseman move stones around. It was loud enough that they all ran toward the sound, but found everyone unharmed when they got there.

      “These,” Wiseman waved at the table tops, “definitely all come from the same quarry. More than that, the quarry is local, about seventy miles away from here. The Sterner family owns it. I've been there a few times, looking at a stratified band of quartz they uncovered. They wanted to see if it was possibly power crystal grade. No luck, but it has a lovely rose color to it. Fascinating stuff.” He drew his hand along the underside of one of the tables almost lovingly, staring at it as if practically drinking it in.

      Bethany took them all to Peals' office directly, marching them all a little gruffly to tell the truth, in her excitement. Once there she told him the conclusion of the geologist's report with a proud nod and a covert glance at Gwen. On his desk the chief had a stack of papers, that Gwen recognized as the drawings she'd made. Having nothing better to do, she asked Doctor Debussey and Doctor Professor Grainger to look at the pictures, in case they recognized any of the robes or symbols. They were experts in that kind of thing and not making use of them would be worse than foolish, since they were sitting right there.

      After a bit, the older woman gasped slightly, catching their attention.

      Instead of saying anything, she passed the paper to Grainger, who passed it in turn to the younger man. Finally they all turned to Peals, looking concerned and maybe a bit shaken.

      Grainger spoke for them. “It can't be certain, of course, but we all think, I believe, that this drawing appears to be of Baron Mathews, Western University's head of Religious Studies.”

      No one said anything for a time, but the other two doctors nodded.

      Bethany looked at them, then Gwen, a serious expression on her face. Picking up the paper, she looked at it for a long time.

      “Tomorrow, if we can find this man, we need to interview him, Gwen. We may need help, just in case he's dangerous and doesn't wish to be questioned.”

      To Gwen that felt like a bit of an understatement for some reason.

Chapter ten

      Baron Mathews strode into the Constabulary detectives office surrounded by four of the men she'd grown used to seeing over the past two days, but didn't recognize by name, except Wilbur, who seemed to be the youngest man in the office as far as she could tell, looking maybe twenty-six. She didn't even know if he had a last name, or if Wilbur was his last name and she'd just never heard his first. She'd have to find out sometime, since he seemed a likable person and her new face might allow her to have real friends for once.

      The old man that had stabbed her – she recognized him instantly – seemed confident and walked proudly into the room, unshackled and unharmed as far as she could tell. She triggered Bethany into her telepathic observational mode as they'd agreed earlier, doing this covertly before he knew what hit him, just in case he had some kind of magical defense. Beth had said that he couldn't block her telepathy, but he might be able to escape somehow, if he knew what was going on.

      Chief Peals came out to greet the man, shaking his hand as if they were old friends. Gwen knew that this wasn't the case and that the chief merely wanted to set the man at ease, making it seem like his assistance had merely been requested in the case at hand, recommended by some of his colleagues from the university.

      Basically true, Gwen thought, if not exactly the kind of recommendation he'd have wanted. She'd sat at Bethany's desk with her, not bothering to hide, but the man didn't seem to notice her at all, not even looking in her direction. Probably a little bit preoccupied trying to not seem guilty, Gwen decided. She took Bethany by the hand and walked behind Mathews into Peals' office, leaving the door open.

       For some reason the only people in the room to watch Mathews were the Chief, Bethany, and herself. It felt wrong to her, as if something had fallen out of place, or been pushed aside in their normal protocol. Maybe this was normal here, a respected community member being given the benefit of the doubt to the extreme like this? Really, it kind of made sense, no one had said anything more than that he looked like a drawing she'd done. That had to be remedied Gwen decided.

      She pointed at the back of Mathews head as he sat, nodding her head, hoping that Peals would get that this had indeed been the man that tried to kill her. Just seeing him made her feel weak and helpless. She knew that physically she'd probably be able to take him in a fight, especially since the men here didn't seem to be able to understand that women could be a physical threat at all, which put them at a disadvantage when it wasn't the case. That didn't really make her feel any better. After all, the guy had fucking stabbed her and nearly killed her once already. That could mess with a person's mind a bit, she thought, trying to steady herself emotionally.

      Peals had gone silent, looking blankly at the man in front of him. After a minute, possibly more, of silence, Gwen cleared her throat.

      Mathews jumped a bit and spun around in place.

      “Ah! I didn't see you there, dear...” His voice trailed off.

      “You! Oh my! I'm so glad to see you! I'd heard you'd survived, a wonderful thing really. A wonderful thing... Sacrifices like that can be so messy sometimes, and you seemed to be so filled with life, struggling like that! You should be quite proud of yourself, you know. After all, of all the people I've killed that way, you're the only one, man or woman, that didn't whimper at the end. Your language was a bit coarse though, dear, you may wish to work on that...” He smiled at her. It seemed a sweet thing, as if he couldn't be prouder of her, even though he'd tried to kill her a week before.

      All-righty then. Gwen already knew the man wasn't precisely firing on all two cylinders, much less four.

      Seeing that Peals just stood there, not responding Gwen began to get the picture. He'd used a spell on the man or maybe some form of hypnosis. Probably the same was used on the others that came with him as well, Wilbur and his friends. She didn't know how to deal with this situation, though all of his focus remained on her for the moment. Time for her to scramble and make something up then. She paused for half a breath and then just jumped in. Not much to lose really.

      “Well, you have to understand that I was taken a bit by surprise, you do understand that don't you?” If she could get him to start talking, maybe he'd think answers that Bethany could pick up on. “You... you did figure out that the girl you tried to kill – sacrifice – Katherine, she'd either traded bodies with me or someone else did it for her... I actually come from a different world altogether. So, as you might imagine, the whole thing seemed a little odd to me at the time...”

      She had to fight the fear down inside her in order to speak to the man calmly. Just like in a fight, she knew that fear warned her of danger. She heeded the warning, staying out of arms reach and staying prepared to fight, but tried not to let it make her freeze. That got you killed as often as not. She knew what this man was capable of, after all. He was willing to tie a person up and stab them without blinking. That gave her an advantage, because, honestly, he didn't have a fucking clue what she could do.

      He looked at her and blinked.

      “Really? How amazing. I remember you giving me a different name, sorry, I can't recall it... I was a bit preoccupied at the time. I'd wondered, but that kind of thing is rather frowned upon... Well, I can't cast stones about it, if she used a forbidden act to try and survive, since I was planning to sacrifice her to an ancient god, but you must be quite something then, to awaken in a new world like that, speaking cold invective without a trace of fear, even after being stabbed in the heart. Simply incredible.” He shook his head bemused.

      Gwen looked out the door, seeing the four detectives that had brought the man in standing, guarding the office with their backs turned. Mathews ducked his head, as if conveying an apology.

      “Do forgive my mesmerism. I have work to do you know and can't afford to be detained for too long.” Smiling he made as if to stand then.

      She waived him back down, trying to plaster a smile on her own face, hoping it didn't look like a rictus instead of a polite invitation to stay.

      “Oh, don't go yet. I have a lot of questions to ask and, I mean, seeing as how we've already bonded, what with the stabbing and all... I really think you should oblige me. After all, it's only polite, right?” Gwen hoped that someone out the door would pick up on this conversation before the man simply walked away. For her part, she needed to get the crazy man in front of her to think about answers to things. That way Beth could scour his addled brain for information.

      “For instance, you mentioned having work to do? That sounds like an interesting topic. What kind of work is that exactly? I know that you're the head of religious studies at the University, but I'd guess that doesn't call for a lot of human sacrifice. Or if it does maybe you should let me know, since I was considering taking some classes there. I'm all ears, if you want to tell me. I have so much to learn about this place, this whole world, that any little bit you could tell me would help. Plus, knowing why the sacrifices are going on might help me avoid the next one, don't you think?” She moved around to his left side, so that he could still see her, but would have to twist in order to strike at her, if he was right-handed at least, slowing him down. The detectives probably didn't check him for a weapon before he took over their minds or whatever he'd done, she realized, she'd need to watch for that, a hand near a pocket or inside his clothes could mean extra danger. She already knew that he wasn't afraid of using a knife. If they had guns here... well, she hadn't seen any, not even on the cops. She'd just have to assume that anything in his hand, no matter what it looked like could be a weapon.

      “Also, as an aside, since you've tried to kill me once already, do you plan to do it again? It will influence my plans for the week if I have to be on my guard constantly.”

      The grandfatherly man smiled up at her warmly.

      “Oh no, dear. Perish the thought. You've survived the worst we could do already, there'd be no point in keeping this going now. Besides, we already replaced you in the line of sacrifices with that last one. Adding you in now would throw everything out of balance. There's an order to these things...”

      Gwen thought for a moment and decided to ask some strange questions, to see if anything would get the man going mentally, even if nothing useful came out loud.

      “Hey, that's nice of you... It still leaves the other sacrifices, of course, which, given what little I know, has to be taken as a bad thing, from my perspective right now. Maybe if you explained a little, it would make more sense to me?” She made herself touch his upper arm lightly, knowing that here it would be considered wanton flirtation, if she had her signals down right. She wanted to either flatter the man or throw him off his guard, if she could, either would work for this.

      “I don't think you'd understand, even if I hadn't tried to sacrifice you to the old ones... No, I think not.” He straightened his jacket, a dark charcoal color with a very fine black pattern woven in, they looked like little birds in silhouette to Gwen.

      Not knowing how to stop the man from leaving, figuring that Peals and the four men at the door would come to his aid if she attacked him, she asked a final question in panic, trying to draw his attention to her again, stalling for time.

      “Old ones? Like Cthulhu and the Elder Gods, trapped in the void for all eternity?” Her voice squeaked a bit, out of fear of him simply leaving. For all she knew that was just nonsense here, not even an old horror story.

      Staring at her suddenly, he sat down with a sudden thump in the hard wooden chair.

      “The Elder Gods... Yes, maybe you would understand at that. Though of course those legends, Cthulhu and all that, are pure imagination. A grain of truth in a sea of lies, watered down pabulum for the masses. The real gods, of course, defy all description. Through them all knowledge and power can be had. It's the knowledge I'm after to tell you the truth. Think about it, to have all knowledge at our beck and call, there simply for the asking! Yes, we have to sacrifice a few lives now to form the link beyond the voidic planes, but the benefit to all when we succeed, well, I assure you that for each life lost now, hundreds, perhaps millions will be saved over the years. Why, we may even be able to bring back those that have departed in such a fashion, the sacrifices, fueling our work. Then no one will have lost anything at all.” He smiled at her and stood up all the way.

      “I really must go now, this mesmerism won't hold long, many of these men have very strong minds you know, and I need to remove myself from the area, others will have to pick up the work in my stead I fear. It was very nice seeing you again. I do hope that we meet again sometime, under friendlier circumstances.” He bowed to her, smiling.

      She nodded at him, trying to return his smile.

      “I do too. You know, for a person that may be having severe mental problems, I have to say you're one of the friendlier people I've met here so far. Really one of the nicer people I've ever met. I hope, when all this is over and done, that there won't be any hard feelings?”