Strangers and Lies (11 page)

It left her with half the barrels, but things would come up, no doubt. It never hurt to have something on hand to give away.

Or at least it seemed like a good plan. She didn't really have a lot of experience with things like that. Just as she was getting ready to go and see if Ethyl had any thoughts on the matter the woman found her, looking more than a little worried for some reason.

"Dear, might I have a word?" There was a slight tremor to her voice then, as if she felt nearly frightened.

"Um, sure, let's..." Gwen just started walking and let her arm swing out to sweep the woman along. It was a totally contrived move, but she held it long enough to look graceful, rather than pushy. It was clear that Mrs. Vernor didn't want to talk in front of the workers, Peter, or even Winslow, which was strange. That could mean anything though.

When they were in a small sitting room near Robert's study, the nice oak door firmly shut, Ethyl stopped, not sitting, just wringing her hands in front of her nice daywear gown. It had some lace, but mainly a nice cotton body to it for comfort. An around the house kind of thing. Frustratingly the woman didn't speak at all. It went on long enough the Gwen wondered if she were about to be told off or something. For what she didn't know. Or rather, for
which
thing. She'd no doubt broken a half dozen social rules in the last day, so it could be anything at all.

Finally there was a soft sigh, "Robert... he asked me if you'd be willing to serve on that airship again? We haven't wanted to ask, but, well, to be frank... he...
we
, feel that it might help smooth things over if you were to be seen supporting the family business. It doesn't have to be anything difficult, a few hours a week in the main office perhaps? I understand if you don't wish to, and it really is too much for us to ask." She ended there as if satisfied with her part in the whole thing. Like asking really was some big deal or something. It made sense from a PR standpoint, since they'd taken some real hits lately, mainly due to her. Or at least that situation.

Gwen nodded and smiled.

"On it. Already planning to go and do some work in the morning tomorrow. The Peregrine won't be in for a few days, but I've been assured there's plenty to do. Oh. I hired a Ladies Assistant. From the University? She can act as an initial tutor as well I think. Working on a doctorate in Radiatives. I don't know if she'll be any use in kitchen skills, but it's a start. A bit outspoken I hear, but I probably need someone that's willing to take me to task when I start messing up. I didn't check on everything, but she was wearing a dress when I saw her, and Doctor Professor Grainger seemed to think it was a fine idea. I'm paying her twelve mets per week. I know it's a lot, but she
does
have to put up with me."

The woman smiled and fluttered her right hand at about chest high.

"No dear, Robert and
I
are paying her twelve mets per week. That's the part of the parent. As for the work... I should have known that you'd already have thought of it. I always feel bad asking things of you, and you always do them without issue... Thank you. It makes all of this more bearable. Will your new friend be living here?" She actually sounded hopeful about the idea.

"Part of the time, she's not set to start for a few days. Oh, I also offered her use of the lorrie, in town, on her off days. She only asked for Tuesdays, but I'm sure that I'm not so busy she can't have more. So far the louts and mashers haven't had a lot of chance to meet with me as it is. I'm mainly just trying to adapt to your rules here. Even if I don't see the need all the time." She was rambling a little but Ethyl nodded as if it all made perfect sense.

"Very good dear. I've been slightly worried of late, since you spent so much time with Darren Westmorland. I know that he's an interesting man, but... perhaps having the room across from yours isn't the best idea ever? The temptation for him must have been tremendous. If you two haven't been..." She didn't make any crude hand gestures indicating sex, but she might as well have, from the expression on her face.

Gwen winced.

"God no. Ethyl, he's my
brother
. As in, from my world, not some son you didn't know you'd had. Physically my brother too... There's more... I, well it gets complicated, but there are some people here that are the same as over there... can you get that idea?" They didn't have a lot of science fiction here, but the people weren't stupid, so it might make sense.

"So over there, where you're from, there might be another me?"

"Right, another you, Robert, Winslow and so on. If there is I never met you. Well, Darren Westmorland switched out for my brother, who I didn't know was related to me, about sixteen years ago. Billy ended up here, physically." She nearly stopped there, but then shrugged and flipped her hands at the same time.

"You know Heather?" Gwen waited, never certain what Ethyl would know or not. She was bright, but didn't have the same idea of what, or whom, was important that Gwen did at all. That one she seemed to get however, smiling.

"Lovely woman. I understand she plans to visit us for dinner tonight?"

"Yes. Hopefully. Well, anyway, it turns out that she's the duplicate of
me
born in this world. Though I assure you, I didn't look like that at all. Really she and Darren are twins, I think. Like Billy and I are. Also..." Now she froze for a second, then took a deep breath and went on. "It seems that Erin Debussey is the analog of our mother and Heather's biological mom. She doesn't know any of this. I guess I should let her know. Probably why she's coming by tonight, if Billy didn't tell her already."

There was a pause that lasted nearly a minute, the woman just looking horrified. She took several deep breaths and nodded then.

"I understand. Well, we'll need to get with the King on this at once and make certain that none of you are put in a position to have to be confronted with her again. I'm so sorry... I keep having to say that to you, don't I? None of this should be happening. I..." She let the words drop and just stood again, looking worried.

"It's not your problem." Gwen patted her arm gently, the smooth cotton warm to her touch. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that Billy has redoubled his efforts to find her,
because
she is our mother. Not in a good or friendly way either. Those scars all over his body? Our mother tortured him for years, trying to make the perfect soldier. It worked too well, and he eventually killed her, I think. He's been slightly vague on how it all happened, but I'm pretty sure that Erin Debussey is not on any of our best friends lists. No need to worry about us failing when the end comes. Not because of that."

For some reason those words didn't seem to leave Ethyl feeling any happier. Gwen walked with her in silence for a while, having a few hours before dinner. Peter fixed that for her, by having her change clothing and meeting him in the back yard. There he had a pile of stones, about the size of a silver dollar each, and showed her how high he could throw them. It was pretty decent. Nearly fifty feet, with at least some accuracy.

"Now, it takes no more energy to go fifty feet up than five. Or a hundred and fifty. You can go even higher than that if you want. Some people have flown over mountains for instance, so no reason you can't. Right now I want you to go up fifty feet and stay there until I call you down. If you drop before then, I'm going to hit you with a rock. This one in fact." Then as if to show he meant business, he really threw one at her. It stung where it hit the front of her jumpsuit.

It was harder to get high enough up, since while he was claiming fifty feet, he clearly had been holding back and could go a lot higher than that. By the time he wasn't coming close to her anymore she was looking down on the roof of the estate, which was well over five stories high at the little tower room on the right hand side. It had a lightning rod on it and that was at least seventy feet up. She was clearly above
that
. It wasn't hard however. Peter had just been right about that. Feeling a little daring, she tried to go even higher, pushing the limits of what she could get herself to do. She waited to be called back, but the boy just watched her, and after a minute clearly gestured for her to go up more. That or to get away from him. It amounted to the same thing at the moment.

She was hanging out at about a hundred and fifty feet, just bobbing a little in the air, a slight breeze across her skin, waiting for the word to come back down. Then she waited longer, her breath starting to come in pants. Then gasps. It was like trying to hold a sprint and she desperately needed to come back down, but when she tried, dropping quickly, she got pegged with one of his weaponized garden stones. Right between the legs, which hurt a lot more than it should have on a girl, since it struck the nerve over the pubic bone. She had to force herself back up, even though it felt like everything was starting to burn in her head.

She tried to come down, two more times, before he waved for her to do it, ten minutes later. In all it had felt like half an eternity, but she figured it was really closer to fifteen minutes.

"OK, ouch. I can't say I'm a big fan of the rock throwing thing. Um, I don't like it." She explained instantly knowing that the idea of being a "fan" of something just didn't mean the same thing here. Not at all. She was breathing hard, but all the running had trained her to time her words pretty well, so it didn't sound all that bad.

It turned out to work against her, since the lack of strained conversation seemed to spur the boy on. This time the event still had thrown rocks, but she had to try and avoid his aim while flying through the trees as fast as she could. Right at the top of them, trying to use the branches for protection. She had a route to follow, but the insane rock throwing Westmorland didn't, so he cut across the path to better get her with the stones, meaning she had to try and fly even faster. That didn't work too well, since her top speed was about the same as her best sprint. She could do it for a little longer, but it didn't go a lot faster at any point.

This time he let her down faster at least, after only about five minutes, and then allowed her get a shower, which she badly needed. Of course, that was
his
plan. When she got to her room, she was pulled into a little space across the hall by a gray armored form and told to strip. It was Heather, from the voice and size of the suit, but she had her helmet on. There was a bundle of white clothing for her to put on sitting next to two Special Service lances on the low bench. They were plain gray, matching Heather's armor, or almost any normal radiative device, which was what they were. They were also huge and heavy, looking like pointed cones, or maybe closed umbrellas.

Instead of changing, Gwen jogged to her room and got one of the magical sights she'd had made up, just for this occasion. It was on a leather belt, so that she could buckle it in place, but it had little knobs on the right hand side so she could adjust it. It took a few minutes to do, but Heather didn't ask about it. She either got what it was, or was amused by her attempts to decorate things. Then she dressed, which took about seven minutes, even as she tried to race through it. The stuff was heavy and awkward, plus she needed to get into the base garment first, which was a soft, but absorbent, cotton thing in all white. Failure to wear it with your armor virtually guaranteed chaffing.

As soon as she was ready Heather led her down the stairs, not going to the back yard for practice however, but taking her to the front, where Peter was waiting, holding two teletransport spheres.

Heather spoke, her blank mask stopping her face from showing anything at all.

"We have another attack, this time in the Chinoise. They have it under control, but we've been asked to come and view some of the things they found... It isn't good. Nearly fifty people dead. I was told to warn you. Darren said it looked like Israel, if that means anything to you?"

Funnily enough, it did.

"Suicide bomber. Crap. I was hoping they wouldn't figure that one out."

Gwen liked the way her armor looked and the sense of power being in it gave her, but the heat of it she could do without, normally at least. The temperature in the market place they ended up in, which was somewhere in China, at least it would have been if the maps read the same, was cool at least. It made the whole thing a little more bearable.

What wasn't good about the whole thing was that the stench of burnt human flesh was still in the air. All the wounded that had lived were gone, so there was no screaming this time. She'd had dreams about the places she'd been, and that was the worst part of the whole thing. The wailing that came from women and children, or the bellowing that injured men sometimes managed to pull off. There was none of that here, just people speaking what she thought of as Chinese, even if it wasn't called that here. It was more correctly a mix of that language, with Korean and Japanese mixed in, she thought. Not that she spoke much of any of those things.

T.V. hadn't prepared her for that. That smooth blending of things that came from a world far more unified than the one she came from.

"Start a search, if anyone looks too fat, or like their stomach is too big around, stop them. Do it from as far away as possible." She didn't tell them how to do it, since it all had to go through a translator and it would take too long. The people on the scene were actually decent, having gotten the area clear fast, breaking down part of a wall so that no one would have thought to put a bomb near the evacuation point. It was a plan that she was going to steal from them for the Western Kingdom when she got home. She might not really be in charge of anything now, but she could do that, she bet.

The man they took down after that order did seem to have some extra padding in the middle, and for a second Gwen thought they'd really just gotten an old guy with middle age spread starting. Until he detonated. That happened
after
his head was caved in by a young man that had simply pointed at him from nearly a hundred feet away. It was kind of awesome, in a terrifying way. She needed to learn to do that herself, she decided, if she could. It would be at least as handy as floating around was, no doubt. A distance weapon no one could take away from her. Like having a crin or Force Lance on her all the time.

"Good. Keep a sharp eye. He had a switch in his hand, which triggered the bomb when he let go. If you see anyone else order them to walk away first, to a place no one else is. If they don't... get that man to do whatever it was he just did." She had to swallow, knowing that odds were really good that these were people that had been forced to put bombs on like that. It wasn't fair at all to kill them like that, but they couldn't let others die either. It was a moral dilemma.

Except of course that it just couldn't be one, not for them. Not in this situation.

The plans for what they were going to have to do came into her head all at once and the whole thing made her want to shudder. They'd stolen the energy and power from the attacks away from the people that wanted to use it to open up the void and retrieve the Old Ones, or whatever the real plan was, and now Debussey was using the psychology of fear to get it back. By working things around so that people would constantly be in a state of anxiety, she was going to try and make it impossible for anyone to keep repurposing things.

Worse, by making a new threat, a thing no one was ready for here, she could make everyone terrified for a long time. Months at least, longer if she was pressing the attacks in a lot of places at once.

"Or if she spreads it out, so that anyplace in the world might be hit, at any time."

Fuck. That
had
to be it, but there was no way to guard the whole world, not at all. No, the only thing they could do now was find the woman and whoever she was working with and kill them before they had a chance to do too much more of this kind of thing. Of course she was in hiding, which meant that Gwen had no way to know where to find her. As for who she was really working with... It was an unknown. Even killing Erin might not do the trick now. Not if her friends were really dedicated.

Crap.

"Alright, let's clear this area and get ready for the next attack. Heather, we need to get back, I'll send a report to Daniel here as soon as I can complete what's going to be needed." She didn't sound pleased with it, and the sweat pouring down her face now wasn't from the temperature, which didn't leave her feeling happy about the whole thing at all. She hated being afraid and it was worse when that fear was for other people that she knew she couldn't really protect.

This was just about the worst case scenario, and Debussey had to know that. It was her way of getting back at her for having claimed that the woman had forced Katherine Vernor to steal her body. Or... well, it really could have been about more sensible things, like getting her plan back in order. The woman wasn't well balanced, but she
was
both driven and smart. Also a narcissist. She was just so intelligent that she'd managed to hide it from most people for decades. Now it was coming out, big time.

It took half an hour to explain her intentions, and the people there didn't want her to leave, even though she wasn't really doing anything useful at all. It was like she was considered a good luck charm, which was silly. They finally told the woman that was translating for them that Gwen was welcome back anytime. It was said with a lot of bowing. It would have been nice, if the circumstances didn't suck so much.

She clumsily bowed back a little, since the armor wasn't exactly designed for that kind of thing and got back to Park Street within the hour. She didn't even get to climb out of the armor before the telestator chimed for her. Ferdinand.

She very nearly asked him to call back, so that she could think for a few damn minutes before having to give a report, then actually said the words. If a little more politely.

"Give me ten minutes and call back, I need to think and get out of this armor." It was rude, since the man was the King and that actually meant something here, but the voice answered calmly, not even sounding ticked off. He was a good guy that way.

"In ten, then." The line broke instantly, which meant she had to move quickly to get into new clothes, one of Katherine's old tan work outfits. Even at that she left him waiting, talking to Heather who was more than a little stiff with the man. Impressed it sounded like, even though they'd met half a dozen times that Gwen knew about.

When she traded places with the still armored woman, her gray form shifting to the left as Gwen's hand replaced hers, she made a soft sound, clearing her throat.

"Sorry about that Ferdinand. It was suicide bombers. The raw terror of a person being willing to kill themselves... We need to point out that they don't have a choice. This isn't about ideology, but mind rape. Do you think the press will go with calling it that? We need to shock people and point out how evil Debussey and her cronies are being. This isn't
clever
, which is what the bad guys have to be thinking. It's an invitation to war. A real one. We need to make it so hard for her to do anything, anywhere in the world that she has to scramble just to get a safe night's sleep." There was an answering noise from the device and a soft cough in the background.

"I don't know, Miss Farris. Mind rape might be a little much for the public. Should we push them in this time of crisis?"

The breath Gwen took was shuddering, real fear and a pervasive sense of illness running through her then.

"Yes. We have to take these people down and we need everyone in on it. The next time they try to take someone, that person needs to be willing to fight to the death knowing that they might be used for this kind of thing. They'll probably die too, but the second these freaks decided to do this, every man woman and child that might be taken is already dead. I... This is so screwed. We have to work as one team now. Can you get with Goebbels and get the word out? There will be fear now, but we can help people mask it a little, with anger and honor." Or hate, but she wasn't certain that couldn't be taken and used as actively as fear. She didn't know much about how traditional magic worked, but that would have made sense if it were all a movie.

She kept going, her voice softer.

"Honor is my choice. Something that will let people face their fears. You should talk to them and explain it all."

The man didn't say anything, just breaking the line suddenly. It was abrupt, but she didn't think that her words should have angered him at all. Looking at Heather she took her hand off of the central sphere of the device and made a face.

"Did I say something wrong?"

The Westmorland had her helmet off and her strawberry blonde hair tied back with a dark blue ribbon. Her face was a bit flush, slightly glistening.

"Not that I heard. It was probably something else. We should stand by, in case we're needed, and work out that plan you talked about. What can we do though? If people are going to show up and explode like that... It could be anyone."

It took a few seconds to remember what all those television programs on the topic had in common, but she tried to hurry, seeming like she actually had a real clue and wasn't just making things up.

"They have to cover the bombs, so tend to wear heavy coats and clothing, even if it doesn't fit the weather. If you see a person that looks warm and overdressed, with a large stomach, you need to get them away from any crowds. It will make life a pain for poor pregnant women that just don't have a lot of clothing options, but we have to suspect them too. Other than that, people just need to be on the lookout and remember to get away from problem areas if anything happens." There was more, things like check points and all that, but they really couldn't stop random targets from being hit. "We need to train and arm school teachers, hospital workers, that kind of thing. If anyone acts funny and won't go away from innocent people we have to stop them as fast as possible. Like that man did earlier. He was a bit fast, but correct this time."

Then there was precognition and things like that. Telepathy could be beaten using the new mesmerism, if you didn't have a person in a controlled environment with a Westmorland or someone nearly that high powered at least. Precognition was their best defense, but no one had managed to really use it very well so far. They needed a program for that. Maybe a call in center where people could report things. It wasn't going to be easy to put together, but a tip line sort of made sense, didn't it? So far she hadn't heard of anything like that here and even in fictional programs it nearly never worked, but if people were getting strange dreams or something...

It was going to be a disaster.

Every grandmother that had a "feeling" would be calling and they'd be having them, not able to tell fear from actual information. Still, it would make people feel included, so it might be worth doing anyway. Get volunteers to do the work and all that. Run the best things past a single Westmorland with proper training? It would be a hard sell, she figured. Maybe a stupid one. She decided to call up Adam and see what he said. The man pretty much seemed to want to slap her back to her own world most of the time, so if he didn't like it, that would let her off the hook.

Without warning she turned her head and stared at Heather.

"Um, did Darren talk to you about Debussey?" It was the kind of thing he'd forget to do, she figured. At least that seemed to be the way he did things with her.

"Not really. He said that he had a line on her location, but nothing solid right now. She keeps changing locations at irregular times and mainly staying in Europa, to make it harder for us to hit her. They still won't let us in there."

Of course that's what he'd have found important.

"OK. Well, it turns out that... In the reality that he and I come from she was our mother. She had kids here too, and gave them up for adoption. Both Westmorlands. Obviously one was Darren, the original one from here. Probably why he traded out with Billy when that little thing happened."

The woman went very still for a bit, her eyes going wide.

"Oh. My." She didn't speak for a long time, then shook her head as if trying to deny it all. "Poor Billy. Poor
you
! I'm so sorry Gwen. Is that why she managed to have Katherine grab you from your world? The link to her own children? That can be a powerful thing. I wonder if it was on purpose."

That got a shrug from Gwen.

"We don't know, it might have been. It... actually makes a lot of sense. I kind of hope not. If Katherine Vernor was forced to take my place by Debussey, then... I have to feel really bad for her being stuck in my body. I don't even know if she's still alive. It was way easier to put up with when it was all her fault, or maybe done by mistake in a panic. I suppose that's a bit much to ask for now, isn't it? A bit
too
coincidental?" She took a breath, not wanting to drag the whole thing out any longer, since that probably wouldn't actually help.

There was a pause anyway as the woman nodded her head, commiserating with her.

"I can see how that might be. Do you need me to do anything?" It was one of those things that people said when situations got strange, but what could she have done?

"Not really. Um, so... " She nearly didn't say the next words, but Heather didn't need it all dumped on her suddenly later either. There just was no good time to tell a person that their mother was a world killing psycho. "Anyway... it turns out that you and I are the same person from different worlds. Billy broke into the records, because, you know, he's Billy. That kind of means that Erin Debussey is your biological mother."