Simon Green - Property of a Lady Faire

“How many of these Doors did you sell?” I said.

“Only forty-seven,” the Doormouse said quickly. “I made a hundred, as requested, but not everyone has picked them up yet. Once it became clear these Doors weren’t . . . officially sanctioned, I locked them away. I can provide you with a list of everyone who’s already received their Door . . .”

“That’s something,” I said. “Don’t give me the list; send it to the Hall, marked Attention: Armourer. And: Really, really urgent . He’s almost certainly worked out a way to block the Doors by now, but it’ll probably help him to know who might try to use them.”

“The Armourer, of course!” said the Doormouse. “I know Jack Drood. He does good work. He often pops in here for a chat. Hell of a poker player too.”

I gave him my very best hard look. “Uncle Jack visits the Nightside regularly, doesn’t he? Even though he isn’t supposed to.”

The Doormouse shrugged, elaborately casually. “I couldn’t possibly comment. I haven’t heard anything at all about him being given special dispensation. I have nothing to say on the subject. On the grounds that Jack Drood can be a seriously scary individual when he chooses.”

“What, that sweet old man?” said Molly.

“My uncle Jack was one of the family’s top field agents, during the coldest part of the Cold War,” I said. “A respected and feared troubleshooter in all the worst parts of the world, just like his brother, the Grey Fox.”

“James Drood,” said the Doormouse, nodding energetically. “I may or may not have met him, as well. Somewhere or other.”

“Just how many members of my family come to the Nightside?” I said.

“I couldn’t possibly comment,” said the Doormouse. “On the grounds that I don’t want to end up as a rug in Drood Hall.”

“Look, this could be your chance to get back into the Droods’ good books,” said Molly. “We need a Door. A very special kind of Door.”

“Oh well,” said the Doormouse. “If it’s for the Droods . . .”

I smiled. “Send them the invoice.”

I looked around at the long rows of hovering Doors, heading off into the distance in every direction. It was like standing in a forest of very flat trees. And it had to be said: they weren’t just Doors. I could feel their presence, like they were watching me. I turned back to the Doormouse with a certain sense of relief.

“How did you learn to make Doors?”

“I studied with old Carnacki, years and years ago,” said the Doormouse. “When I was just a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young hippy. When I was still human.”

I started to say something, but the Doormouse had already turned away to address Molly.

“I had your sister Louisa in here, just the other day. Or was it last year? Anyway, she wanted me to make her a very special kind of Door.”

“Of course!” said Molly. “That’s how she got to the Martian Tombs!”

“Please don’t tell anyone!” said the Doormouse, glancing furtively around him. “Mars is supposed to be off-limits, especially the Tombs. I went there, once, just to test the Door, you understand. I couldn’t get my fur to lie flat again for weeks afterwards.”

“Do you know what’s there?” I said. “Inside the Tombs?”

“No,” said the Doormouse, very firmly. “And given all the connotations attached to the word Tombs , I don’t want to. Ever. I didn’t really want to make the Door, but your sister can be very persuasive, Molly. And very hard to say no to when she’s got you by the throat.”

“We need a Door to take us to Ultima Thule,” I said loudly, to get us back on track again.

“Why on earth would you want to go there?” said the Doormouse. “Awful place! Cold enough to freeze the nuts off a squirrel . . .”

“It is necessary that Molly and I attend the Lady Faire’s annual Ball, this year, at the Winter Palace,” I said carefully. “And no, we don’t have an invitation. We’re going to crash. Which means we need to sneak in. Unnoticed.”

“I’d say you weren’t her type,” said the Doormouse. “Except the whole point of the Lady Faire is that everyone and everything is. She’s a ladything, you know! The only one of her kind, which is probably why she’s so very . . . lonely. I did meet her once, in person. If that’s the right term . . . At one of the late Immortal’s parties, at Griffin Hall, here in the Nightside. Of course, that was before the Griffin and his wife and his Hall were all dragged down to Hell by the Devil himself . . . But then, that’s the Nightside for you. Their cook used to make the most marvellous canapés. Stuffed baby Morlock.”

“Stuffed with what?” said Molly, before I could stop her.

“Baby Eloi, probably,” said the Doormouse. “An amazing creature, the Lady Faire, quite delightful. In her own singular way. Sweet and charming and most . . . overwhelming at close quarters. Like being hit over the head with the Kama Sutra . She was very kind to an old mouse . . .”

“You didn’t!” said Molly.

“No, I didn’t,” said the Doormouse, drawing himself up to his full height so he could look down his muzzle at her. “I made an excuse, and ran. She isn’t my type. Or, to put it another way, she scared the living crap out of me. Far too intense. But I do understand the attraction. She was made to turn people’s heads. And I did used to be a person, long ago.”

“I never knew you were human originally,” said Molly. “You never said . . . Would you like me to turn you back?”

“No, I would not,” said the Doormouse very firmly. “I am the way I am by choice. There were several of us, once. Very happy being hippies, in that long lost Summer of Love. But the world changed and moved on, and we didn’t like the way it was going. So we made the decision to give up being human, and become something closer to how we actually saw ourselves. We are the Mice! Fear our playfulness! The others went off to form a commune in some small country town, but I was always much fonder of the bright lights. City mouse . . . I found a trade and a craft, working with Doors. Look at them! Aren’t they marvellous?

“Every Door is a possibility, a chance to be Somewhere Else, to travel through all the places there are . . . all the worlds of if and maybe. A never-ending exploration into the works of God . . . No, my dear Molly, I am content as I am. Except for when Droods come into my life and mess it up, big time. You can’t go directly to Ultima Thule, Eddie Drood! Even I couldn’t make you a Door that would sneak you through that many layers of protection.” He stopped abruptly, and thought about it. “Well, actually I could, but you’d probably have to blow up a sun to generate enough energy to power it. And you said you didn’t want to be noticed.”

“I thought you could make a Door to take anyone anywhere,” Molly said innocently.

“I can!” the Doormouse said immediately, bristling. “I have made Doors to Heaven and Hell and Everywhere in Between! But there are always going to be . . . problems. Side effects. Look, you’d better come with me.”

And he scurried off into the long ranks, darting in and out of the hanging Doors. Molly and I hurried after him. We had to struggle to keep up. He could move pretty damned quickly for an oversized mouse. Moving between the rows of Doors proved to be a creepy and even disturbing experience. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that they were looking at me, and considering-and not in a good way. Some of them felt . . . attractive, as though tempting me to open them and see what they had to offer. Others felt alien, invidious, as though there was something lying in wait behind them, just waiting for someone foolish enough to open the Door. And some . . . I didn’t even want to get close to. As though they were Doors to places that shouldn’t exist, or at the very least shouldn’t have access to our world. I passed one Door that made all my hair stand on end. It felt like something was beating and hammering on the other side of the Door, trying to break it down so it could get into our world . . . to do terrible, unspeakable things. I gave that Door plenty of room, and hurried on.