Monsters, p.25
Monsters, page 25
part #2 of Gwen Farris Series
“So don’t let her abandoning you get you down. It worked out a lot better for you than you might have figured. She really wasn’t a good person.”
Gwen didn’t move for a while, but finally got Beth out of her telepathic state. The woman teared up briefly, though her voice sounded about right.
“It was all honest enough Gwen. He left a lot out, but he’s who he says. I always thought he was just a bit off, damaged from something, but he seems sane.” Beth grinned a little, as if fighting to make her face do something other than frown. “You are too. I know you’ve been worrying about that a lot, as strange as all this is to you, but it’s real. I’m real. Darren here, Billy I mean, he’s real.”
Gwen raised her eyebrows and forced a smile to her face.
“You know… That’s exactly what I’d expect my hallucinations to say, you get that, right?”
Beth just nodded.
Chapter fifteen
“So, there’s that…” The words were soft and slightly breathy, but Gwen rallied quickly enough. It was hard to hear that her parents hadn’t really been that at all, but were just some people paid a lot of money to do a job, but the overall story was just weird, not really any worse than what she’d lived through at all. Almost exactly the same, except a few points of interest.
Like the fact that she had a brother.
More, she actually liked him alright and everything. That was strange, a feeling of being out of breath and confused tried to take over her mind for a few moments, but she let that go. It was just a thing, and if life had taught her one lesson of value, it was that she’d eventually adapt to anything, no matter how much it hurt at the moment. Or baffled her.
“Well, um, good then. I guess we can get together and have our own little family reunions every ten years or something?” The smile on her face was still forced, but Billy responded with something that was no doubt just as fake, the right side of his mouth quirking into something that probably wasn’t a grin, the old burn scar on his cheek wrinkling stiffly. The perfectly round marks made it seem like he had pale silver make-up on. Like a really subdued clown.
Gwen hated clowns.
Bethany reached out and took her hand gently, a companionable thing that sent a thrill through Gwen each time it happened. It wasn’t sexual, it was just contact, after a lifetime of almost none. She’d feared it before, when she was a kid, because it always seemed something that people had to force themselves to do, a hardship on them that always left her feeling sad. Now it was just a thing that happened. People even wanted to touch her. It was nice. Different, but something she could get used to, eventually.
The nice looking blond woman nodded suddenly and stood, which got Billy to do the same. It was a sudden thing, almost as if planned, but Gwen followed along, eyes going wide.
“What?”
Beth gave her a look that was pleasant enough and spoke gently, as if she suspected that Gwen wasn’t exactly right in the head any more. It was what people did on television when they thought their best friend had gone over the deep end, or how they spoke to people standing on the ledge of a building. It was, in other words, a little over the top.
“Nothing… It’s just time for you to make a statement to the press. Heather told us. One of her work modes allows her to address any Westmorland anywhere. It can be useful in combat situations. In this case it means that we can send one way messages to anyone, as long as a family member is nearby whoever you want to talk to. The Telestator works too of course, so it doesn’t come up nearly as often as you might think. Only a few of us have that kind of training.” She started walking towards the door, her right hand still in Gwen’s left, pulling her along gently, sort of the way a big sister might drag the little one into the dentist’s office.
She scrambled mentally, trying to forget what she’d just heard from Billy and move on, making up words and phrases that might make a difference to the average person at home. In the end she decided to focus on two things. The first was the response to the latest attacks, the second would be about the class later in the day that everyone could listen too. She still had nothing on that one, except a hastily drawn up outline, but it would come together. It kind of had too, didn’t it?
The press didn’t let her go with a single statement, keeping her busy with interview after explanation, followed by commentary, for hours, a constant flow of speaking that made her throat feel raw. At nearly five in the afternoon, she was led away from the Telestator, her right arm numb from holding it out for all that time, feeling like she’d just driven for hours without stopping.
It was Erica, the little Westmorland that led her away, taking her to a table set up with food, drink and a handy King, all right there, waiting for her. There was a Count too, Goebbels, and some woman she didn’t recognize at all. An older one, about Goebbels age, her hair died a bright orange. It was an awful color, but the style was good. The lines on her face showed her age, but the clothing looked young and flowing. Not eye stabingly bright, but cheerful, considering almost everyone else around looked ready to go to a funeral.
Count Goebbels stood as she approached, which got Ferdinand to do the same, bowing towards her as if it were a dinner party, rather than a simple chance to stuff food at her face between trials.
“Miss Vernor? This is my wife, Dominique. Would it be alright if she sat with us for the meal?” He sounded almost as if Gwen would say no for some reason. It was an odd thing to say, but probably just meant to be polite.
“If no one minds that I drink coffee as if it’s going out of style, then I’d love the company.” Gwen blinked, a though occurring to her as to why the woman might be there. It probably wasn’t that Goebbels wanted the woman’s opinion on the staff or the quality of the food, was it?
No, the woman was most likely there to be her replacement, at least in part. If she could handle the press… that would work well. If not she could take over something else, couldn’t she? The food was already on the table, and was served to then by a young man Gwen had never seen before, which made her suspicious. It could be someone sent to poison the food, couldn’t it? He looked at her and smiled though, but it wasn’t a happy thing, it had more of a sad look to it. No… it was sympathetic. Not pity really even. She knew what that looked like, didn’t she? Gwen waited for the King to take the first bite, but ate after that anyway. No one would let the King be killed too easily, would they? She was probably just tired and seeing dangers everywhere. It was something to caution people against in the class thing later.
No one spoke for a while, but finally, almost too smoothly, as if it were planned, Dominique mentioned why she was there. It wasn’t to be Gwen’s replacement at all.
“I… was wondering if there would be a place for myself, perhaps teaching these classes? I mean, if I can learn the subject matter and present it well enough. I understand if that isn’t allowed, of course, but I do want to serve, if I can. I think a lot of people feel like I do as well. We all want to help, but don’t know what to do yet.” The words were humble sounding and gave Gwen an idea. She was having a lot of those lately, wasn’t she?
“Would you be willing to forego that?” She said, phrasing the whole thing incorrectly, getting a sad look from the woman and a slightly angry one from her husband. Ferdinand just raised his eyebrows and held up a single finger getting everyone to be silent.
“I’ve not seen her turn down aid yet Richter… What do you have in mind?”
Gwen gave him a look that had to seem tired, because her eyes were about to close on their own.
“Dominique can be in charge of part of the public outreach. Help set up the programs for women and children, charity events and emergency relief programs. Public things to keep morale up and all that. We’ll call it the Service Union. Anyone can join. Work up a speech on it, so that you can present it to the public at the tail end of the class tonight. Then we need to arrange for it all to be handled in every neighborhood around the Kingdom. I… We need my mother in on this. She’s well connected in this area and has a lot of friends that can do this kind of thing. Please though… Don’t discount anyone that wants to help. The poor and elderly will have as much to offer as the wealthy and young, if given a chance. Of course you can teach classes too, if you want. You just might not have time. You should get the safety courses, regardless.” Gwen ate a few small bites of food, not hungry, but knowing she hadn’t really been eating enough for the last few days.
Stress did that to her, it seemed.
The words left Goebbels happier at least, and Dominique looking both flustered and a bit freaked, but that would work well enough. They excused themselves to go and work on the proposed speech. The King just ate, not saying anything for a long while. Finally, after the servants all left the room, the man leaned towards her, still about six feet away and spoke softly.
“How are you holding up? Beth mentioned that you might be feeling the stress of all this more than you seem to be?” He sounded polite, but looked genuinely worried. It was a thing here, men being protective of women like that.
“I’m… Look, I want to tell you I’m fine, but I don’t think I really am. I won’t fail everyone, if I can help it, but for over a week I’ve been running around making things up and telling everyone to do things, without the power to actually make it happen. It’s wearing at me. I don’t know how to stop. I keep getting called in on one thing, and then another, and it’s going to get me killed if I don’t learn to manage it soon. How do you do it?”
There was no ready answer, the man took a few bites of food and then a slow drink of something slightly amber colored from a long stemmed glass. Finally, after several minutes he looked at her and smiled.
“Like that, Gwen.” He gestured at the plate and took another bite, eating it slowly. “You have all the time in the world, more often than you think. You can scramble from one thing to the next, or you can take time to plan, to respond with control. It isn’t perfect and sometimes you have to just do what seems right, certainly, but you have the ability to let go and relax as well. The world doesn’t end if you don’t manage it all, you know. If it starts to be too much, dump the job onto others. I think you’re already doing well in that realm. Why, keep up what you’ve been doing and you’ll barely have to work at all in a few weeks time.” He didn’t sound upset by the idea at all, rather pleased by it in fact.
“Though not tomorrow. It’s Duke Scott Phillips funeral and the new Duke has requested your presence, since you’re to be affianced. I received a note to that end earlier. Quite surprising and a little odd at the same time. He suggested I ask you to attend personally, but didn’t request my presence at all. I think he likes me well enough, but it can be hard to tell, since people are always fairly polite to the King or ruler, at least to their face. The point was that he wants to make sure you aren’t backing out on that part of things. I really think you should give him a chance. Not every girl get’s to marry a Duke after all, and as second cousins go he’s rather nicer than most of mine.”
Gwen blinked and finally covered by taking a slow bite of the meat dish in front of her. It was an odd thing, almost sweet, with bits of dried fruit and a lot of sugar in it, but there wasn’t much. A meat flavored dessert? She’d never had it before. Finally, after nearly two minutes she nodded, speaking softly, because the whole thing had been unexpected. Very much so in fact.
“OK. I can do that. I… was under the impression that Christophe had called it all off. I can’t say that I blamed him at the time, his father dying in front of him like that and me being… Well, I didn’t cause the death directly, but if I hadn’t been there I dare say he’d still be alive, wouldn’t he?” It made sense to her at least.
Ferdinand took a slow bite and shook his head, swallowing before he spoke.
“I doubt it. He was marked for death, and you just happened to have been there. Magic like that, it’s powerful, and can strip the will from a man completely, but not for long. To keep that level of control up, Professor Debussey would have had to have constant access to the man. By now the whole thing would have weakened, had he lived. Enough he might not have killed himself, if triggered. To get around that she probably built in fail safes, in this case something that would have had the man kill himself, if he wasn’t otherwise given reason too. That or have him running off to her for more work, so that it wouldn’t fade too quickly. That would be harder to do with the Special Service watching him though, so he was probably doomed from the second I sent those forces into the situation.”
Gwen nodded, trying to make sense of it all, trying to feel like it wasn’t all her fault. It was handy to blame Debussey, so she decided to try and do that. It wasn’t enough, but it helped a bit. Poor Christophe. The idea that he might still want to marry her…
The thought that ran through her mind then wasn’t a very nice one, but it felt true enough. How desperate did he have to be in order to want to have her, after all that happened? She knew the answer without even asking anyone, didn’t she? She’d lived in a similar kind of vacuum, one that was probably worse, and for a lot longer. The guy was isolated, contact with others, meaningful connections, seemed a distant dream. He stuttered and wasn’t magical enough to be attractive to a lot of people in the world he lived, the noble one. That last bit was kind of a deal breaker too. Being low magic was fine for the poor, those treated as little more than workmen and slaves, but for someone important? No, that was a big deal, wasn’t it?
So, when he heard her offer some hope of forming a real bond, he was willing to do just about anything to make it happen. The sad part there was that Gwen didn’t know how to do it. Not really. She was fundamentally crippled when it came to real relationships. She mimicked what she’d seen others doing, playing at being friends with people and trying to feel close to them, but it was a game. A farce. She was scrambling just as hard there as she was in all the rest of her new life.
Still, if she was faking it anyway, why not? A fake engagement was as real as they pretended it was, right? If she did all the right things and tried hard enough, that made it real, didn’t it? That would count. It had to. She just didn’t have anything else to give.
Nodding she finished the food in her mouth and set the tiny three pronged fork on the edge of the plate.
“I’ll be there. You should show up too. We need to be there for him. I don’t know if I’m the best person for Christophe, but if that’s what we’re doing, then we’ll do it right. Can you see to getting the rest of the people there? The ones that might not have come, but should?” There were always people like that, weren’t there? Those that even wanted to go, but didn’t feel welcome for instance. It was how she’d always felt before.
Not this time. Now she was just lost. Gwen sighed and pushed her little plate away.
“I can do this. If not, I’ll just come to you and have you fix it all for me. Because that makes perfect sense. Doesn’t it? If I have a problem I can’t deal with, just dump it on the King?” She meant it as a joke, but it sounded tired and unhappy.
The man nodded, his mild voice very clear, if lower in tone than would be normal for him.
“I stand ready to serve at need. Please call on me at any time.”
The words were probably meant as a polite throwaway thing, but Gwen grinned and made herself wink at the man. It wasn’t a very good wink, that not being a skill she’d ever used in her old life, but it was enough to make the man smile in return.
“I will. I mean it. No getting out of it now. You said the words. We’re practically buddies now, even. Yep. Why, I should get you to be my maid of honor at the wedding. If they have those here. Well, really, I’ll probably get Beth to do it, but you can throw out the flower petals or something. It will be cute.”
They both laughed then, and after a few minutes of polite speech, she drafted the man to do the intro to her class, which was going to be read off of an outline she quickly dashed out on her little pad. She needed music for it, or sound effects, but it was going to have to be enough, her just talking. They’d run out of time to do more.
Gwen was ready to stumble through a clumsy reading of things, hoping that no one would notice too much, but instead found herself reliving the days of instruction she and Billy gave people, and quickly added in bits of information that people had wanted at the time. The microphone in front of her was huge, about the size of her right hand, covered with a dull gray metal mesh. If that wasn’t the part that picked up sound itself. She thought about it for a brief second while explaining that, even though a bomb could be made to look like anything, they normally were going to be placed in areas meant to do the most damage.
