Simon Green - Property of a Lady Faire

The mood of the watching guests quickly turned against the blood-red men. They shouted and jeered and threw things, and when it became clear that wasn’t going to stop the slaughter of the security people, many of the guests decided it was time to do something.

Some guests tried to teleport out, only to look shocked and startled when they discovered they couldn’t, because someone had reinstalled the anti-teleport shields. Some tried to run, only to find there was nowhere to run to. All the doors were full of blood-red men. Some tried to impress the masked invaders with their names and status, only to find the blood-red men didn’t give a damn. And some of the guests fought fiercely, just because it was in their nature.

Dead Boy got stuck right in, wading into the fighting where it was fiercest, beating up blood-red men with his unfeeling fists, and happily ripping arms out of their sockets with his unnatural strength. His deep purple greatcoat flapped around him as he received and handed out appalling punishment. Dead Boy was almost as hard to stop as the ones he fought. But in the end they came at him from every side at once, piled on top of him, and just dragged him down by sheer weight of numbers. He went down still fighting, and continued to struggle even under a weight of bodies that would have held down an enraged rhino.

The Bride fought with more than human strength, breaking bones and smashing in skulls with effortless ease, while Springheel Jack guarded her back with two nasty-looking straight razors. The Bride tore blood-red men limb from limb, and Springheel Jack cut them up like joints of meat. Until finally they too fell under the weight of so many attackers, and disappeared from view.

Jimmy Thunder struck his enemies down with Mjolnir, and whoever the hammer hit did not rise again. Even the blood-red men were no match for that mighty and ancient weapon. The Norse godling strode through the chaos with contemptuous ease, sending broken bodies crashing to the floor, singing some old Norse song on the joys of blood and slaughter. But in the end, the blood-red men found his weakness. They ganged up on the costumed adventurer Ms. Fate, despite all her fighting skills, and beat her savagely. Jimmy lost his temper and threw his hammer at them. Mjolnir flashed through the air, and just the impact of its arrival killed half the blood-red men, but then the hammer dropped to the floor and lay there. Jimmy called desperately for it to return to his hand, but either the hammer didn’t hear him or it had forgotten how. The blood-red men hit Jimmy Thunder from every side at once, and eventually they pulled him down. For all his strength and fury.

Most of the other guests didn’t last long. And when they saw the blood-red men tear the Living Shroud apart, unravelling and scattering its rags and tatters until there was nothing left . . . they surrendered. The Lady Alice Underground sat down and put her hands on her head. The Last of Leng retreated to a corner and crouched there, snarling. Everyone else put their hands in the air, or ostentatiously dropped their weapons to the floor. Surprisingly, the Replicated Meme of Saint Sebastian hadn’t got involved at all. They just stood together by a far wall, watching silently from behind their impenetrable metal masks.

Molly and I stood back to back in the middle of the room, not actually surrendering but no longer fighting. There just didn’t seem any point. We were surrounded by rank upon rank of blood-red men. A dozen or more came forward, encircling the Lady Faire and urging her on. She didn’t appear to be hurt, but there was no doubt she was no longer in charge. She went where the blood-red men indicated for her to go. She strode along with her head in the air, projecting icy dignity. She shot me a cold and angry look, as though I’d betrayed her by not fighting to the death. Molly made her blazing sword disappear, and I armoured down, to keep her company. Fighting against the odds had taken us as far as it was going to. All that remained now was to stand down and see what happened next.

The Ballroom was still and quiet, with blood-red men in control everywhere. I couldn’t see a single white-uniformed security person still standing. I hoped they weren’t all dead. They’d fought well. I realised I was still wearing the white face mask of the Head of Security. I peeled it off and threw it away, along with the comm earpiece. Voices rose on every side from among the guests, as some of them recognised me. Or at least the torc at my throat. The voices died quickly away again as the blood-red men stirred dangerously. The guests were split up into small groups, surrounded by silently watching blood-red men. The Ball was over; it remained to be seen what would replace it.

To discover what this had all been about.

“Really don’t like the odds here, Eddie,” Molly murmured. “Please tell me you’ve got something up your sleeve.”

“Just my arm,” I said quietly. “On the bright side, I think we’re finally about to find out who’s been running the blood-red men all this time. The villain behind the Voice. Hopefully, we’re about to get some answers to a whole lot of questions. You know how bad guys love to boast.”

“He’s going to make a speech, isn’t he?” Molly said gloomily. “I hate speeches.”

“Even when I make them?”

“Especially when you make them!”

“Oh, that hurts,” I said.

And then a man came walking through the crowd towards us, wearing James Drood’s face. The blood-red men fell back, to open up a wide aisle for him to walk through. The closer he got, the less like Uncle James he looked, though the face stayed the same. He didn’t move like James, or act like him. The face . . . was just another mask, in a Ballroom full of masks. And yet . . . there was something familiar about this man. I did know him from somewhere. He walked right up to me, ignoring Molly standing at my side, and stopped right in front of me.

“You’re not James Drood,” I said roughly. “Nothing like him. Who are you, really?”

The face flickered and disappeared, like the illusion it was, and standing before me was Laurence Drood. The Drood from Cell 13, free at last. He laughed softly at the look of surprise on my face.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “I can’t believe you didn’t guess it was me all along. I mean, who else was there? Who had better reason than me to want the Lazarus Stone?”

“How did you get out?” I said numbly.

“I could have left any time,” said Laurence. “I know everything the family knows, remember? How could they build any jail that could hold me? I just never had a reason to leave before.”

“Why did you choose to look like my uncle James?” I said, and he grinned again at the anger in my voice.

“Because he was the Drood I always wanted to be. Oh yes. The man who got to go out into the world and have adventures, and beautiful women, and make a legend of himself. I always wanted to be the Grey Fox. Didn’t you, Eddie? He got to live the life, while I remained stuck in my Cell, living my half life . . . But I don’t want to talk about that now. I want to talk about us, Eddie! Because this has all been about you and me.”

“I told you,” Molly said resignedly. “He’s going to make a speech. Boast about his triumphs, and explain his motives. Like we care. We know why you did all this, you miserable little scrote! It’s because you’re a sick scumbag who gets off on hurting people!”

“If she speaks again,” Laurence said to me, “I will have my people sew her lips together. It’s up to you.”

“She’ll be quiet,” I said quickly. “Talk to me, Laurence. Because there’s a lot going on here that I don’t understand.”

“Hoping to buy some time, Eddie?” Laurence said cheerfully. “Thinking perhaps that while I’m talking, people aren’t dying? Or just hoping you can use the time to put together some brilliant plan to defeat me, at the very last moment? I don’t think so. I know everything the family knows. Including you. That’s why I’ve been one step ahead of you all along. Now shut up and listen. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I would say when I finally got out.”