Simon Green - Daemons Are Forever

“I wouldn’t have thought you were the fresh air and wide-open spaces type,” said Penny. “I had you marked down as a town mouse.”

“I prefer it out here,” said Mr. Stab.

“Is the room we’ve given you not comfortable enough?”

“I’ve known many rooms, down the years,” said Mr. Stab. He kept his gaze straight ahead, not looking at Penny. “All pretty much the same. Just places to stay, for a while, before I’m forced to move on again. These days I carry a little notebook, to remind me of where I’m staying and what name I’m currently using. No home for me; not anymore. Just another of the many human things I had to give up, to be what I am. My room here is perfectly adequate. Even luxurious. But no; I’m not comfortable here, in the Hall. I’m not allowed to murder, you see, and I find that very trying. It goes against my nature. It grinds against my soul, until I can’t see anything but blood. And that’s why I spend as much time as possible on your extensive grounds, away from…temptation.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much at one time,” said Penny. “You’re a very interesting man, Mr. Stab.”

He looked at her for the first time. “You’re not scared of me?”

“I’m a Drood,” said Penny. “It takes a lot to scare us. And anyway, you’ll be off to South America soon, to fight the Loathly Ones. There’ll be killing enough then to satisfy anyone, even you.”

“It’s not the same,” said Mr. Stab. “I have to murder, to tear the flesh and spill the blood, to see the suffering in their eyes. It’s what I do. It’s all I have.”

“And you always kill women?”

“Yes. Because it’s the only form of intimacy I can ever know now. My punishment and my reward.”

“Is it true…Have you really done all the things they say you have?”

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Stab. “All that, and more. Make no mistake, Penny; I have done terrible things, and gloried in them. I have thrust my arms deep into the guts of horror, and brought them out dripping red up to the elbows. They called me Jack the Ripper, and I was. The things I did, to poor Marie Kelly, in that small shuttered room … I opened her up like a book, and read her secrets. I sent the press a letter, once, and gave them my address. From Hell, it said. And that was just the beginning.”

“And you… have to kill? You’re driven to murder?”

“Yes.”

“Then…if you don’t have any choice, it isn’t really your fault, is it?”

“Yes it is, Penny. I killed those six women of my own free will, savouring the agony and terror in their dying eyes, breathing in their last exhalations like the finest wines. And if this particular form of immortality isn’t quite what I thought I was buying with my ceremony of slaughter, it’s the Hell I earned for the evil I did, back in that unseasonably warm autumn of 1888.”

“But you haven’t killed anyone here,” said Penny.

“I gave my word,” said Mr. Stab. “But it won’t last. It never does.”

“This is a new place. You’ve never known anywhere like Drood Hall. All kinds of things are possible here. Even redemption. Come back to the Hall with me. And just maybe … I can show you that you’re stronger than you think you are.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “This can only end badly, Penny.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Penny. “I’ve never believed that.” I watched through the mirror as she casually slipped an arm through his and led him back across the great grassy lawns, to the Hall.

I must have been frowning in my seat on the plane, because Molly dug me in the ribs with her elbow. “What’s up, sweetie? Afraid of flying?”

“No, it’s not that. I was just…thinking.”

“Well stop frowning like that; you’ll get lines. You know, this really is some plane, Eddie. I’ve flown first class on all the best airlines, on faked tickets of course, but never anything to match this. Really comfortable chairs, plenty of leg room…and it hardly seems like we’re moving. I’ll bet the US president doesn’t have it this good, on Air Force One.”

I had to smile at her enthusiasm. I was pretty excited myself. I’d never been allowed out of the country before. Never been on a plane before. I kept looking out the window to make sure it was real. And yet…there was something in the air in the long cabin, an atmosphere of tension and anticipation. Torced and untorced family members sat side by side, not talking much, trying to pretend they were reading the books or magazines they’d brought with them. The Blackhawke’s augmented engines would get us to our destination in under two hours, but that was more than enough time for everyone to think of everything that could go wrong. I was no different. This was the family’s first big military operation since I took control and changed everything. We had to win this one. For all kinds of reasons.

I wondered what I was going to do, about Penny and Mr. Stab. It’s always the bad boy that makes a girl’s heart beat that little bit faster .

As if I didn’t have enough to worry about.

By the time we’d crossed the South American continent and descended over the Nazca Plain, we’d all got over the novelty of flying in a plane, and were more than ready for a little action. Molly had trouble getting her head around the fact that because the torcs made us invisible to all forms of detection, it meant the planes we travelled in were essentially invisible too. There wasn’t a radar installation or spy satellite anywhere that could detect our presence, even for a moment.

“Look, trust me,” I said finally. “No one knows we’re here, no one knows we’re coming. Compared to us, stealth bombers are painted bright pink, with big neon signs on them saying, Hello, sailor; come and get me ! Our only worry is avoiding other aircraft, because we won’t show up on their radar. We’re staying well above all the usual commercial flight paths, but there’s always the chance of bumping into some secret military job, or even the occasional UFO.”

“Hold everything,” said Molly. “UFOs, as in flying saucers? Close encounters of the extremely unlikely kind, where they stick things up your bottom? Really?”

“Not as such,” I said. “But there are a hundred and thirty-seven different alien species currently running around on Planet Earth that we know of. Most of them we keep in line through various long-established treaties and agreements; others we just step on hard now and again, to remind them not to make waves. But there are always a few Unidentified Objects zipping through the stratosphere, on their own inscrutable business, and they can be a damned nuisance sometimes.”

“Real aliens…” said Molly. “That is so cool!”

I had to smile. “You don’t have any trouble that we’re on our way to slap down a bunch of soul-eating demons, but the thought of aliens gets you all excited?”

“That’s different,” Molly said stubbornly. “I just don’t tend to bump into aliens in my line of work. All I know is magic. Vampires, werewolves, ghouls, and necromancers, no problems. Deal with them every day. But most of what I know of aliens comes from Ridley Scott’s Alien and John Carpenter’s The Thing . Tell me that is not representative of most aliens, please. There must be some like ET?”

“Would you rather have the truth, or a comforting lie?” I said.

“Oh, shut up. Are we nearly there yet?”

We landed at a private airfield, far away from anywhere civilised that might ask awkward questions about things like passports and visas. The family owns or leases such places in countries all over the world, for just such occasions as this. (Through a series of concealing false names and cutouts, of course.) We all filed off the Blackhawkes, and the heat hit us like a hammer. The sun was directly overhead in a cloudless sky, and my skin actually smarted just from the impact of the sudden heat. I armoured up immediately, in the interests of self-preservation. The family didn’t need a strike force leader with sunstroke. All the other torced Droods immediately followed suit, leaving the rest of the strike force looking distinctly mutinous. Molly worked a quick but subtle magic, and after that it was always shade wherever they happened to be standing.