Free Tremble in the Dark: A Gwen Farris Novel by P. S. Power Page A

least.
    "Okay,
Pete. Set that all up. Oh, I told Duke Aubry that you'd arrange for
teletransport travel for him to a party that Ethyl is having in three weeks.
You'll need to get a dress uniform for that." She meant for the party,
since having a miniature Westmorland would just be cute, at least to her way of
thinking.
    The
boy stood a little taller though, suddenly seeming very proud for some reason.
    "I'm
going to be working with a Duke?"
    The
others hid grins, being a little too obvious about it, but Gwen didn't see why.
He was, after all.
    "Probably
more than one. Several other people too, if it comes up. Doctor Grainger at the
University, who's one of the top people in Radiatives in the world, the
Vernors, and possibly the King. You'll be at parties and events, so learn the
social rules for that. Someone will have to teach me. It might as well
be you."
    Beth
looked at the short version of a super-soldier and nodded, very primly for some
reason.
    "Gwen
was asked to marry Duke Aubry earlier this evening. She said yes."
    That
got the kid to go wide eyed.
    "That's
a good match. Is it a secret, or am I allowed to tell the others? They'll want
to know that Farris is doing that well." He cleared his throat, and then
looked away. "I mean, if it's allowed, ma'am?"
    Gwen
tilted her head, but finally nodded. A lot of those people were her friends
after all.
    "Why
not? It could end or be undone, but this time it's even a real thing, I think.
You should definitely tell Heather and Darren." She should have already
done it, she realized. Just calling them up on the Telestator.
    Darren
was actually her brother, as in from her own world, physically related to the
her there, sibling. Her real brother. Heather was kind of her sister, after a
fashion, too. Being that she was this world's version of Gwen. The real
Gwen, not Katherine Vernor. The strawberry blonde was fit and healthy, not at
all warped and uneven like she had been though. What Gwen should have been.
    That
could happen when you're crazy mother also happened to be an evil genius and
decided that genetically turning her daughter into a super-soldier was a
wonderful idea. After her failure, the woman had given up on the idea, and used
something remarkably similar to the Westmorland protocols to torture Billy into
being a very dangerous fighter. It was where she'd come up with the idea for
the combat training that she had in mind.
    Only
a little less intense. Unarmed combat was useful on occasion, but there were
limits to what was needed. She didn't want to turn them all into assassins or
anything, just give them a non-magical option, in case it ever was needed.
    "If
you could tell them about this? I have a death curse on me, so I have to take
care of that right now. No big." She tried to downplay it all, and the boy
smiled.
    "I'll
pass the word on that too. Who did it, and why?"
    That
information came from Beth, as if it was a thing that anyone really wanted to
know. Then, without waiting for orders to leave or anything as silly as that,
Peter scampered out of the room, walking at just under a jog. That was one of
the nice things about the Westmorlands. They all actually hurried everywhere.
Most of the time things moved at a glacial pace here, without a few of them
around.
    Manly
followed the boy, which had her and Bethany walking out into the hallway even
faster, to show him where to go. It took a bit to get there, even stomping
along like they were at a quick march. The Westmorland Trainer didn't waste the
transit time however, starting to speak before they even got to the central
staircase on the first floor.
    "Most
curses tend to be fairly weak things. That doesn't mean they can't make you
ill, or kill you, if left unchecked, simply that with a bit of practice, you
can break them quickly and without too much effort or stress. The best way to
think of a curse, or any kind of traditional spell meant to influence a person,
is like a very gentle bit of grit or something slightly