Simon Green - Daemons Are Forever

“Are you saying you haven’t been happy since you met me?” said Molly.

“You are the only good thing in my life and you know it,” I said. “So stop fishing for compliments.”

“Blow me a kiss right now,” said Molly. “Or I’ll tell everyone where you’ve got a funny-shaped mole.”

“We need to discuss Jacob’s position in the family,” insisted the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “He’s moved back into his old room in the Hall, the one he used to live in back when he was alive. He frightened the proper occupant so much he ran out screaming, and has refused to go back.”

“I know,” said the Armourer. “We’ve got the poor lad down in the infirmary. I don’t know what you did to him, Jacob, but he still hasn’t stopped twitching. And he can’t go to sleep unless someone holds his hand.”

Jacob sniggered. “He shouldn’t have been playing with himself when I materialised. And I am here because I’m supposed to be here. I like being back in the Hall, if only because it annoys so many of the proper people. Been a lot of changes since I was last here … I can’t believe how crowded the Hall is these days. Family’s been breeding like rabbits…We need to get more of the youngsters out into the world. Kick them out of the nest! Fly, little birdies! Yes, I know, I’m rambling; you’re allowed to when you’ve been dead as long as I have.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, “but why are you still here, Jacob? I thought you only hung around as a ghost so you’d be here to help me save the family from the Heart.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Jacob, scowling. His eyes disappeared, leaving only deep, dark pits in his face. “But something is still holding me here. Some force…like an undischarged promise. My job here isn’t over yet, dammit. Something is coming, Eddie. Something good, something bad…something.”

We all waited, but he had nothing else left to say. I decided it was very definitely time to change the subject, and since I wanted to remind everyone that I was in charge, I went with something that had been bugging me for some time. I stared sternly at the Sarjeant-at-Arms.

“What is your name? I can’t keep calling you Sarjeant, and I’m damned if I’ll go back to calling you sir, like when I was a kid.”

“Call me Sarjeant. It’s my title.”

“I could have Molly rip it out of your living brain,” I said. I was bluffing, but he didn’t know that. If the Sarjeant was so determined not to tell me, I wanted to know even more. It had to be something good. The Sarjeant sighed, just a little.

“My name is Cyril.”

Sometimes things are just too good to be true. I think the only thing that kept the whole Circle from collapsing into gales of hysterical laughter was our extensive knowledge of the Sarjeant’s brutality, and that he could summon weapons out of thin air when he felt like it.

“Cyril?” I said happily. “Bloody Cyril? No wonder you grew up to be a thug and a bully, with a name like that. You must have loved your parents.”

“They were fine, upstanding people,” the Sarjeant said firmly. “Now, if I may continue my report on the transgressions of the ghost, Jacob?”

“Oh by all means,” I said. “Don’t let me stop you, Cyril.”

“There have been numerous reports of Jacob haunting the ladies’ showers and changing rooms.”

“I keep getting lost.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Jacob,” I said.

“And,” said the Sarjeant, “there have even been reports of him chasing the ghost of the headless nun through the catacombs.”

Jacob grinned. “Hey, she’s the only other ghost in the Hall. Can you blame me if I just want to swap a little ectoplasm? Nice arse, for a nun. Damn, she’s fast on her feet, especially considering she can’t see where she’s going.”

“You’re a member of the Inner Circle!” snapped the Sarjeant. “You’re supposed to set an example!”

“Oh, I am, I am…”

“Stop that,” I said quickly. “Your ectoplasm’s going all quivery. Let us move on. Are we any closer to establishing who was behind the recent attacks on the Hall, just before I was summoned home? Do we have any new information?”

“Nothing. Not a word,” said the Armourer.

“Perhaps we should ask the strange matter,” said the Sarjeant pointedly. “Since it did turn out to be responsible for the destruction of the Heart, in the end.”

“Wasn’t me,” said a calm and reasonable voice from inside the warm crimson glow. “I was still searching for the Heart at that stage, and didn’t even know it was in this dimension. You must remember; the Heart had made many enemies, from all the worlds and races it enslaved before it came here. Some of those enemies have been looking for the Heart almost as long as me.”

That sounded reasonable enough, but though I had much to thank the strange matter for, and it always said the right things…the fact remained that the strange matter was still very much an unknown factor. All we knew about it was what it had chosen to tell us. If it had been behind the other attacks, would it admit that? We had no way to compel the truth from it. I rubbed at my forehead as a slow, grinding headache began. Being paranoid is very tiring, but when you’re a Drood it’s the only way to stay one step ahead.

“Strange matter…” I said.

“Oh, please, call me Ethel.”

“We are not going to call you Ethel,” I said, very firmly.

“Why not? What’s wrong with Ethel? It’s a perfectly good name. I like it. It’s honest, it’s charming, it’s…me.”

“We are not calling you Ethel!”

“Nothing wrong with Ethel,” said the strange matter. “Winston Churchill had a pet frog called Ethel.”

“No he didn’t!”

“He might have. You don’t know.”

“I’m calling you Strange,” I said. “It’s the only name that fits.”

“You have no sense of fun,” said Strange.

“Actually…” said Molly.

“Hush,” I said quickly.

The Armourer produced another of his impressive throat clearings. “How did you get on with the Matriarch, Eddie?”

“Not good,” I admitted. “She told me to go to Hell. She’d rather see the whole family collapse than prosper with me in charge.”

The Armourer nodded reluctantly. “Mother always could be very stubborn…But you have to keep trying with her, Eddie. You need her on your side if you’re to get the whole family moving in the same direction. She represents the past, and tradition, and all those things that make the family feel safe and secure.”

“It isn’t going to be easy,” I said.

“Of course it isn’t going to be easy, Eddie! You killed her favourite son, my brother James! I know you had to do it, and I still have trouble forgiving you. The old Gray Fox…was the best of us, for so many years. And don’t forget; he had a lot of admirers, outside the family. Old friends and old enemies, who won’t be at all happy to hear he died at your hands. They could turn up here at any time, ready and willing to express their extreme displeasure…and then you’re going to need the whole family backing you up.”

“We could say James had gone rogue.” Penny suggested tentatively.

“Who’d believe that?” I said. “The Gray Fox always was the best of us. You’d better beef up the Hall’s defences, Uncle Jack; just in case.”

I finally got to the meat of the meeting, and told them about MI5’s ambush outside my old flat. The Armourer and the Sarjeant insisted I tell it all, in as much detail as I could remember. Molly chimed in here and there, sometimes helping and sometimes not. The Armourer and the Sarjeant both reacted very strongly when I told them who was behind the attack.

“The prime minister?” said the Sarjeant incredulously. “Who does he think he is, to take on the Droods? Man’s getting thoughts above his station. We can’t allow this to go unpunished, Edwin. People might think we were getting soft.”