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

meet up with James, her personal Lorrie driver.
    That
part wasn't just a conceit of the Vernors either. Driving a Lorrie was at least
as hard as driving a car, and she was pretty certain it was actually several
times more complicated. Only professionals did it in the main. Well, pro's and
her Cousin Reggie. She nodded, and got in the shower, trying to remember him.
    Not
in a naughty fashion, though the cute redheaded boy was a cross between a puppy
dog and better looking than she'd ever thought of for herself, back in her old
life. Really he was about in the same range that way as Christophe, come to
think of it. In looks. Chris was a little goofy looking, with a slightly too
big nose, and oversized ears. Not comically so however. He was fit, and lean,
which made him look pretty good in her book. He wrestled for exercise, if she
had that right.
    Most
people were good-looking really, so it wasn't a hard sell, that way, as far as
marriage went.
    Reggie
however, would be a great person to invite to the party. So would his father,
Admiral Welk. Neither of them were fearful of the Westmorlands as far as she
could tell, so that would make a good, six or seven people on the list that
would be willing to talk to them like people. Maybe more than that, by the time
they were done. A lot of the University professors had seemed all right that
way as well. It would be a good idea to have some of them in too, not just the
Graingers.
    The
water pressure here had been really good, everywhere she'd gone, but this, the
shower in her room at Park Street, was the only one in the entire world that
had a shower head on it. Most of them were just faucets, and the general idea
seemed to be that what soap and elbow grease might not remove from you, brute
force would. She didn't let herself take too long though, but did give herself
a minute to just stand there, trying to decide if sobbing was in order or not
yet. The whole night had been brutal in the truest sense of the word. She'd
been beaten before, many times. It was less painful than the training she'd
gotten.
    The
only good part of the whole thing was that now, if anyone tried to curse her at
all, she'd instantly start trying to break it. She couldn't help herself, which
was the point. She'd throw everything she had into the correct breaking pattern
and then do it as long as it took to stop the spell from working on her. Near
the end Beth and Manly had been working together to put things on her that
would have really killed her, in hours, if she'd failed to stop them. She
hadn't though, which they assured her meant that even the most powerful
ceremonial groups wouldn't easily take her out that way now.
    So
there was that.
    She
was sore though, if not in real pain. Her body had tried to fight against it
all, stiffening, and twisting to get away, even if that had been impossible.
Her arms and legs had locked out for hours practically, and her spine felt like
it had been warped permanently in a few places from the effort. It hadn't
though. She was in decent shape really, and a little bit of horrible pain
wouldn't break her. It would just make her slightly uncomfortable. That was
all.
    A
life time of surgeries had taught her that too. Who said nothing good could
come of suffering? She stuck her head under the warm water, knowing that she
might not get a chance to really get clean for a while. The trains here sounded
a lot more practical than nice. Beth had suggested that they both be prepared
for that part of things.
    Gwen
had lived a hard life in a lot of ways, growing up, but it had always been a
clean and tidy one too. A lot of time spent in hospitals had made her
comfortable with clean, as a rule. So, knowing that she might be a few days
without a real shower was less then welcome news. She'd live. Starting out
clean wasn't going to hurt, however.
    That
meant that half an hour later she had her clothing bag and her pack on her
shoulder and was moving down the stairs toward the kitchen, hoping to