Simon Green - From Hell with love

"Has anyone… ever tried to open this Door?" said Isabella, leaning forward, fascinated.

"Usually, the owner of the Door only has to threaten to open it, and the world will give them whatever they want," said the Waking Beauty. "They want to be persuaded, to be paid off. But there have always been a few, who for their own various reasons wanted to unleash Hell on Mankind. Famous names like Faustus, and a certain Doctor Ware, back in the 1960s… These people always come to bad ends. You can't play with Hell and not get your fingers burned. The Droods, or someone else in the same line of work, always turns up just in time to stop these people, and stamp on their heads." The Waking Beauty stopped, and frowned thoughtfully. "Theoretically, or theologically, speaking… should the Door be opened, and the contents of Hell let loose on an unsuspecting populace; then the forces of Heaven would be obliged to turn out to stop them. Though the conflict would almost certainly lay waste to the Earth and everything on it. So Apocalypse would seem to be the appropriate name, for this particular Door."

"What has all this got to do with us?" I said.

The Waking Beauty smiled upon me, like a mother with a really dim child. "Follow the connections. All the way to the end."

"You mentioned a name I didn't recognise," Isabella said suddenly. "A family called the Immortals."

"Who are they?" I said.

The Waking Beauty sat back in her chair, her face slipping into shadow. Her bangles clattered softly. "A great many people would like to know the answer to that question. Well, here is wisdom, for those wise enough to receive it. If the Apocalypse Door has reappeared in the world of men, it can only mean the Immortals are close to revealing themselves, at last. They've been trying to get their hands on the Door for centuries, for their own inscrutable reasons, but somehow it's always eluded them. However; just before the legendary Independent Agent died, he sold off many of his accumulated treasures, and one of them, to the surprise of many, turned out to be the Apocalypse Door. Apparently he needed a great deal of money at the end, for some last scheme… I have heard that a battle has just been fought over the Door in Los Angeles, involving Doctor Delirium, the Immortals, and one Eddie Drood."

"Is he all right?" I said.

"Oh, he's fine. But the hotel will never be the same again."

"Yeah," I said. "That sounds like Eddie."

"What about the Immortals?" said Isabella.

"It's not easy to talk about them," said the Waking Beauty. "They're powerful, they're vicious, and they're everywhere… and no one knows who they really are. They can be anyone, anywhere, hiding behind faces you've trusted all your life. But if you want to know what I know, you're going to have to pay my price."

Isabella nodded slowly. "I know. You want an end to your bargain, to your curse. You want to be able to sleep again."

"Okay, you've left me behind now," I said. "Bring me up to speed. How do you know what she needs, Is?"

"Because I did my homework before we came here," she said. "I don't just go rushing into things. Like you."

I ignored her, giving all my attention to the Waking Beauty. "If you break your bargain, you'll die. Won't you?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. But I'm ready to find out."

"So, who did you make your deal with?" I said. "The Devil?"

Carys Galloway snorted loudly. "Please, I'm older than Christianity, and your limited concept of the Enemy. I made my deal with Queen Mab, original leader of the Faerie. Humanity, as such, hadn't been around long then, and Mab saw us as no threat to her people. But still, we had something they didn't have, something Mab wanted for herself. The Fae don't sleep, don't dream, and that limits their imagination, their creativity. Faeries are always curious, always wanting what they don't have… So Mab chose me. I don't know why. And we made a deal; my ability to sleep and dream, in return for immortality. I had no idea what I was giving up, and she had no idea what she was getting. Mab slept, and dreamed, and was never the same afterwards. She dreamed marvellous new cities, and weapons, and customs, and woke to make them real. She made the elves mighty. But she also became a little less Fae, and a little more human. Perhaps that's why Oberon and Titania were able to end her reign, replace her, and throw her down into Hell. I like to think so."

"Mab is back," I said. "She rules the Fae again, in the Sundered Lands."

"I know," said Isabella. "I met with her, some time back." Again, this was all news to me, but Isabella silenced me with a hard glare before I could ask any more questions. She'd tell me what she thought I needed to know, on her own time. She always was the bossy one.

"I also made a deal with Mab," said Isabella. "I took her humanity from her, so that she could be pure elf again, and retake the Ivory Throne. I took back her ability to sleep and dream. And I have it right here, with me."

She placed a small plastic snow globe on the table, between us and the Waking Beauty. It looked like a cheap toy, until you looked at it closely, and then wished you hadn't. Behind the continually falling snow, something looked back…

"All you have to do is break this, and sleep and dreams will be yours again," said Isabella. "Whether you'll still be immortal or not… is probably up you. You're not losing anything, after all, just getting something back."

The Waking Beauty cupped her large hands around the snow globe, staring unblinkingly into its unknown depths. "You have no idea how tired you can get, when you haven't been able to sleep for thousands of years. Never any rest, never any ease, never any break from the sheer effort of living, and thinking… You can have too much of a good thing."

"You've got what you wanted," said Isabella. "Now tell me about the Immortals."

"I'm the only one who can tell you about them, because I was there before them," said Carys Galloway. "I am the only living human being older than both the Droods and the Immortals. I was already centuries old when the other-dimensional entity known as the Heart crash-landed in ancient Britain. When the Heart materialised, its emanations affected the genetic material of every living thing for miles around. Most died, some mutated, and a few survived by making deals with the Heart. The Druid ancestors of the Droods were granted the armour they requested, so they could be shamans for the human tribe.

"But one man got to the Heart before them, and he asked to be made immortal. Him, and his wife and children. Apparently this amused the Heart, and it agreed. The first Immortal went back to his family, and passed his blessing on to them, and so were born the Immortals. They can be killed, if you try really hard, but otherwise they just go on, and on and on and on. Fortunately they breed only rarely, and never with each other. Their children are half-breeds, incredibly long-lived but not immortal. They serve the Elders in the family. Down the centuries, the Immortals have learned the art of flesh dancing, of shape-changing. They can take on the appearance of anyone, be anyone, infiltrate any organisation, or family, so that they can shape the world as they wish, for their benefit. They are always on both sides of every conflict, whipping up the flames, growing rich and powerful on the proceeds of war. We're just mayflies, to them. We don't matter. Only family matters, to the Immortals. Remind you of anyone?

"And like the Droods, the Immortals take the long view. They deal in small, subtle changes, designed to bear useful fruit in three or even four generations time. No wonder no one ever detects the truth, of their slow and remorseless influence; not even the shadowy agencies who like to think they guard the world. The Immortals have been shaping and manipulating history for fifteen hundred years, right under the Droods' noses.