Simon Green - From Hell with love

"You killed my Molly," I said, leaning in close. "You Immortals. I will kill you all, for that. I will cut you down and trample you underfoot, and make you extinct."

Rafe looked at me, but though he met my gaze steadily enough, he had nothing to say. The Armourer took me by the elbow, and pulled me gently away so he could talk to the Immortal.

"How were you able to masquerade as Droods?" he said bluntly. "How could you pretend to have torcs, and armour?"

"Because we did, for a long time," said Rafe. "The Heart remembered the Immortals, and indulged us. I think we amused it. We've been inside the Droods, working both for and against you, for centuries now. Of course, that all changed after the Heart was destroyed. A definite setback there, thanks to you, Eddie. Who knew one man could make so much trouble for everyone?"

"It's a gift," I said. "But flattery will get you nowhere. What did you do, after Ethel gave the family new torcs and new armour?"

"We learned to fake it," Rafe said easily. "We've had centuries to learn how to hide in plain sight. Our scientists produced new torcs, good enough to hide us from Ethel, unless she looked really closely, and why should she? We made it easier on ourselves by only substituting Droods who would probably never be called on to armour up."

"But we're a family," I said. "We're all so close, living on top of each other in the Hall. How could you fool everybody? How could we not notice?"

"Because we've been doing this forever, and we're really good at it. We can fool anyone, because deep down you want to be fooled. You don't want to believe that the high and mighty Droods could ever be infiltrated, and played for fools. It's not difficult to replace a Drood. Just catch one on their own, pose as someone they trust, then abduct and kill them, and replace them before anyone even knows they're missing. And taking on a new face, even a whole new body, is never a problem. We're flesh dancers. Shape-changers. Just one of the many arcane abilities we've acquired down the centuries. We can look like anyone… and we do! We can be your friend, your mother, your child… you'll trust us right up to the point we stick the knife in, and twist it. Look around you. Anyone could be an Immortal. And if we live a little too long, and people start noticing, we can always fake our own death and come back as our own bastard offspring. Always lots of Drood bastards turning up…"

"Like Harry, and Roger," said the Armourer, frowning.

"Exactly!" said Rafe. "Isn't paranoia wonderful? A game for the whole family!"

"You're everything we exist to fight," said the Armourer. "Heartless, soulless, all the evil in the world in one place."

"Evil is such a subjective term," said Rafe, yawning widely. "So… situational. Immortals see the long game. Compared to us, all Humanity, and yes that includes you Droods as well, are just… mayflies. Come and gone in a moment. You're just there to be used, because after all, you're not around long enough to make any real difference in the world." He stretched slowly, within the chair's restraints. "I've had enough of this. My superior flesh has metabolised your stupid drug. I don't need to justify myself, to the likes of you."

I drew my Colt Repeater from its holster, and pointed it at Rafe's face. "Tell me where the Headquarters of the Immortals is located. Tell me where to find you. Or I swear I'll shoot you in the head. Right here, right now."

Rafe looked at me, and saw I was completely serious. He tried to shrink back in the chair away from my gun, but the chair wouldn't let him. I centred my aim on his left eye.

The Armourer cleared his throat. "I don't think we should kill him, Eddie. Not when there's still a lot more we could get out of him."

"Nothing else matters," I said. "Except this. Did you think I was joking, Rafe, when I said I'd kill you all? After what you did to my grandmother, and my Molly?"

Rafe looked past me at the Armourer. "You can't just stand by, and let him shoot me in cold blood!"

"There's nothing cold about my blood," I said. "All I have to do is think about my Molly, and how she died, and my blood is blazing hot. Where do I find the Immortals? Where are Doctor Delirium and Tiger Tim and the Apocalypse Door?"

Rafe couldn't meet my gaze, so he concentrated on the Armourer. "You're a Drood. This isn't what Droods do! Stop him!"

"Most Droods don't do things like this," said the Armourer. "That's why we have field agents. He's all yours, Eddie."

"Is it any easier to die, having known centuries?" I said. "Or is it harder, knowing you could have had centuries more? You have so much more to lose than us mere mortals…"

"All right, all right!" said Rafe. There was sweat on his face, for the first time. "I'll tell you, but only because it won't do you any good. You can't get in. No one can get in, who isn't an Immortal."

"Tell me anyway," I said.

"We live in Castle Frankenstein," said Rafe. "The real one, the original thirteenth-century fortress, set atop a great hill overlooking the River Rhine. The Baron Georg Frankenstein killed a dragon there, in fifteen thirty-one. These days, another castle stands in for the original; they've made it over into a hotel for tourists who love the legend, and the films. We took over the original facilities at the end of the nineteenth century, after the infamous Baron Viktor von Frankenstein went on the run. He was never one of us; we just liked the irony. The Baron hasn't been seen since, but various of his offspring and his creations keep turning up, looking for knowledge, or revenge, or closure. The hotel takes them in, gives them the grand tour, and sends them on their way. No one ever bothers us. I told you. No one can get in, unless you're one of us."

I made him give us an exact location, and the Armourer checked his computer. He nodded briefly.

"Any more questions?" said Rafe.

"No," I said. And I shot him in the left eye. His head slammed back against the chair. He kicked once, and then slumped in the restraints, and was still. I shot him twice more in the head, because I wanted to be sure. Above the chair, the display screens went out, one by one.

"For Rafe," I said. "The real Rafe." I looked at the Armourer. "See that this piece of shit is cremated. And then scatter the ashes in the grounds, just in case."

Here Comes the Bride The Armourer threw a sheet over Rafe's body, and then we both turned our backs on it. The noisy hustle and bustle of the crowded Armoury went on around us, as though nothing unusual had happened. As though I hadn't just shot a defenceless man in the head. The Armourer's lab assistants are a tough crowd to shock. I slipped the Colt Repeater back into its holster with a steady hand, and looked at the Armourer. He shrugged.

"Some of my people will take care of the body," he said. "When they're not so pushed."

"I'm going to break into the Immortals' base," I said. "Right now, while they're still trying to figure out what's happening. One agent on his own has a far better chance of getting in, uncovering the necessary information and getting out again, than any larger force. And it has to be me, Uncle Jack. I'm the only one the family can spare. The rest of you have to concentrate on making the Hall and grounds secure again. Just in case there's another assault on its way."

"That isn't why you want to do this," said the Armourer. "It's still all about revenge. Didn't I teach you better than that? Never take it personally. You weren't the only one who was lied to, and taken in."

"But I'm the only one who can do something about it."

The Armourer shook his head. "You always were good at finding reasons why you should be allowed to do something you'd already decided to do anyway."

"This needs doing, Uncle Jack, and it needs doing now!"