by P. S. Power
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 lea
st, 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?”
He looked shocked at the words. “Why would I have any hard feelings dear, it's you that would have any right to those...” He actually looked worried, she saw. It warmed her heart a little to see.
Then she started hitting him, gouging at his eyes with her first blow, making him cry out, then a series of uppercuts, awkward in the dress she wore, her wound pulling at her a little, hit his mid-section. Too weak, they didn't do any real damage. He fell back instead of trying to fight, diminishing the power of her blows even more, her new body not really in condition for fighting yet, and the injury to her chest suddenly burning making it hard to use even the small amount of power she should be able to muster.
She kept after him, kicking and gouging, noticing that the detectives in the outer office had come to look. None of them broke through the wall created by their fellow detectives to help her. The situation was probably just too confusing for them.
She spun, grabbing the heavy chair Mathews had just been sitting in, planning to hit him with it as hard as she could. The man on the floor put his hand in his pocket and smiled at her a little sadly, even as the chair passed through his position without seeming to make contact making a thunk on the floor and sending a shock through her arms, then he disappeared altogether.
No one moved for a time.
The man had fucking disappeared. Vanished. Not just invisible either or the chair would have connected. Right in front of her! Right. Magic. Fucking adapt Gwen. Adapt. She chanted that to herself for a moment, feeling the blood rushing away from her head.
She finally, still breathing hard, asked Bethany to go back into her normal state, the non-work mode, so that she could get the others to do whatever they needed to, not having a clue what you did with mesmerized people at all.
The female detective took charge immediately. “Right, everyone out there, the chief and these four in front of the door have been influenced via radiative aided mesmerism. He had a device for it on him. We need to snap them out of it. Start telling them to come out of it and wake up. They'll likely be confused, so try to explain things clearly.” She spun, looking at Gwen.
“He's not insane. Mathews. His mind was clear and focused the whole time, in fact, nearly as much as my own, which is highly unusual given the circumstances. I did pick up that he told you what he believed to be the truth however. He didn't add a lot more, some small bits and pieces I'll need to work out, if I can.”
Peals took the longest to rouse, people shaking him, slapping him a bit, ordering him to wake up fully and come back to himself now. Bethany told them all that it made sense, having the freshest mesmerism. The others had been under for at least an hour longer than Peals had.
Not knowing what else to do, Gwen started writing down everything she could remember about talking to the man, and her actions, so that she wouldn't lose the information later. She moved to Bethany's desk to do it. After about an hour, half the men scrambling out to alert the full Constabulary about Mathews' guilt and escape. Peals called her back into his office.
He looked pale and a bit shaken.
“I have to apologize for my weakness. I, well there's no excuse. I should be on my guard at all times... to resist such things, and I wasn't. Constabulary Detective Westmorland tells me that you continued the questioning even after you realized something had gone wrong? Even while fearing that we... might be brought in by this... man... to harm you if you attempted to detain him? Most impressive. If he hadn't had a translocator on him, he'd be in custody right now. Hard to beat high magics like that on the fly though.” He took a shaky breath, that Gwen realized, given this culture, she probably wasn't supposed to notice. To her it seemed natural enough. He'd been assaulted, if mentally, and left powerless. Why wouldn't it affect him?
Even with all the pain of being stabbed, what still haunted her most about the attack had been her own inability to move, or fight back in any way. It made her feel weak and useless. The chief probably felt the same.
Maybe even worse.
She'd felt helpless to protect herself, but Peals had been left helpless to protect her, she realized. Given his profession and culture that might make things a lot harder on him.
If hiding the effects help
ed him, she didn't have a problem with it. He'd deal with it, probably by redoubling his efforts to not let it happen again. Not knowing the man well, she couldn't be certain, but that felt right. He seemed like the kind of person that, finding themselves weak to something, responded by learning more, becoming a better fighter, not letting the same thing get them twice. There had been a lot of people like that in her martial arts classes over the years. Mug me once, shame on you, mug me twice and I'll collapse your trachea...
It had been early morning when Mathews had been brought in, the work day just beginning. As the hours passed, scrambling to search every second of conversation or thought for any clue they could find, they all forgot that they were supposed to go to the quarry that afternoon to try and run this group to ground that way.
