Simon Green - Daemons Are Forever

“I haven’t seen him since the Circle meeting,” I said.

“He disappeared when Harry turned up,” Molly said thoughtfully. “Could there be some connection?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “Not everything that happens here is part of some conspiracy; it just seems that way. I should never have encouraged Jacob to leave his chapel. I only wanted him here in the Hall because I needed his support. He was always so much more…together in the chapel. He knew who he was there. He only left the chapel to save me…”

The Armourer put a large, comforting hand on my shoulder. “And not everything bad that happens here is your fault, Eddie. Jacob will turn up. He always does…unfortunately. You couldn’t get rid of him with bell, book, and candle. Now, the Glass…I’ve got some of my people working their way through the old library, looking for mentions of the Glass, or Merlin, but without an overall index…It’s a slow process. And the current librarian isn’t much use. He didn’t even know the old library existed until you rediscovered it. Now all he does is roam the stacks going Oooh ! and Aaah ! and trying to keep my people from reading the older texts in case they damage them. Idiot. Those old books can look after themselves. You could probably pour boiling napalm on them and not even mark their covers. Some of them would probably fight back…”

“Then you’ll probably be pleased to know that one of the rogues I’m planning to bring back is our long lost William Dominic Drood,” I said. “He always was the best librarian we ever had.”

“Damn right!” said the Armourer, brightening again. “You found William? Well done, Eddie! I never did believe that nonsense about him going rogue when he disappeared. I knew him well, back in the day; a first-class mind. Where has he been all these years?”

I shot a look at Molly before answering, but there was no easy way to say it. “William…isn’t the man he used to be, Uncle Jack. He had some kind of confrontation with the Heart, before he left…and something bad happened to him. He held himself together long enough to go to ground, but then … he had a breakdown. He’s currently residing in a sanatorium.”

“A lunatic asylum?” the Armourer said incredulously. “You mean he’s crazy?”

“It’s not such a bad place,” Molly said quickly. “They’re looking after him properly there. Eddie and I visited him just recently. He was…distracted, but he was also quite sharp, for a while. I think the Heart did something to his mind. Now that it’s gone, perhaps the effects will disappear too…”

“I’m sure he’ll feel a lot better, once he’s back in the Hall,” I said just a bit weakly.

“Hell,” the Armourer said gruffly. “This whole place is a madhouse at the best of times. He’ll fit right in.”

“New weapons?” I said, figuring that was the best way to take the Armourer’s mind off things.

He sniffed loudly again. “I don’t know if I want to trust you with any of my good stuff. The Bentley came back covered in scratches, and I still haven’t forgiven you for breaking my one and only reverse watch. And you lost that special directional compass I made for you!”

“Let us take it for granted that I am careless and ungrateful, and never appreciate anything you do for me, and move on, shall we?” I said patiently. “I still have the Colt Repeater, but I could use something more…dramatic.”

“I’ve still got that nuclear grenade…”

“No,” I said, very firmly.

“All right, how about a portable sonic generator that can make your enemies’ testicles swell up and explode in slow motion?”

“Oh, please!” said Molly.

“Tempting, but no,” I said. “I’d prefer something a little less…conspicuous.”

“You were always fussy with your food, too.”

“Moving on, please…”

“I’ve got a short-range teleporter I’ve been riddling with,” said the Armourer, scrabbling through the junk piled up before him on the workbench. “Jumps you instantaneously half a mile, in any direction. Just think of a place, say the Words, and go. Completely untraceable. And unlike Merlin’s Glass, completely undetectable.”

“That sounds more like it,” I said. “Why only half a mile?”

“Because any farther than that, and you tend to arrive in an arbitrary number of separate pieces,” the Armourer admitted reluctantly.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Molly.

“You are not alone,” I said.

“Oh, go on,” said the Armourer. “Give it a try. Ah! Here it is.” He held up a simple copper bracelet, breathed on it, polished it on his grubby coat sleeve, and then handed it to me. It looked very much like one of those bracelets people wear to ward off rheumatism. The Armourer grinned. “I’ve been trying to find someone to test it in the field for me. And given your current circumstances, being able to be suddenly somewhere else can only be an advantage.”

“He may be scary, but he has a point,” said Molly.

Reluctantly, I slipped the copper band round my wrist. “With my luck, it’ll probably turn my skin green. And you still haven’t offered me a decent weapon…”

“You don’t need a weapon,” said Molly. “You’ve got me.”

“She’s got a point,” said the Armourer.

Molly and I used the Merlin Glass to transport us to our first destination, that notorious drinking dive, neutral ground, and den of iniquity, the Wulfshead Club. All I had to do was tug at the Glass’s silver frame while muttering the right Words, and the mirror stretched like a piece of Silly Putty, until it was the size of a door. Our reflections vanished, replaced by a dim and gloomy view of our destination. Molly and I stepped through, and just like that we were standing in a familiar deserted back alley, deep in the heart of London’s Soho. The Glass snapped back to its usual size, and I put it away.

The Wulfshead Club is a well-known watering hole for all the strange and unusual people in the world. And for those just passing through…No one’s quite sure exactly where the club itself is located, and the very anonymous management likes to keep it that way, but there are authorised access points at locations all around the world, if you know where to look. And if your name’s on the approved list. This isn’t the kind of club where you can get in by bribing the doorman. Either you’re a member in good standing, or you’re dead.

I took a quick look around to make sure we were unobserved. The alley was empty, apart from general assorted garbage and a handful of rats with very strong stomachs. The only sound was the distant roar of passing traffic. It was barely early evening, but already the alley was heavy with shadows, dark and impenetrable. The stained brick walls were covered with the usual graffiti: dagon shall rise again!, vampires suck!, and the somewhat more worrying supersexuals of the world unite.

I moved over to the wall, said the right Words, and a massive silver door appeared in the wall, as though the door were shouldering the lesser reality of the wall aside. The solid silver was deeply etched with threats and warnings, in angelic and demonic scripts. There was no door handle. I placed my left hand flat against the disturbingly warm and sweaty silver, and after a moment the door recognised me and swung slowly open. I always find the wait just a tad worrying. Because if your name isn’t on the approved list, the door will bite your hand right off.

I looked at Molly. “Remember, my name here is Shaman Bond. Slip up and you could get us both killed.”

She smiled sweetly at me. “You know, it’s almost charming, this need you have to hold my hand and explain everything to me. But if you don’t cut it out sharpish, I will slap you halfway into next week.”