Simon Green - Daemons Are Forever

“Honey, I’ve never been that busy in my life,” said Freddie.

And with a wave and a wink, he sauntered off into the Hall, with Sebastian trailing dolefully after him.

“Was that wise?” said Molly. “One’ll get you ten they only came back to loot the Hall.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Hopefully the Sarjeant will keep them under his thumbs. It’s either that, or kill them. And we need the rogues to come home. We need their different viewpoints, knowledge, skills.”

“Even if it means welcoming back pond scum like Sebastian?”

“Everyone deserves a chance,” I said. “I need to believe…that anyone can be redeemed.”

At which point Freddie returned, without Sebastian. “I’ve just had a thought!” he said brightly. “As I understand it, the family has put out a call for all rogues to come home, but hardly any are taking up the offer. Am I right? Thought so, darlings. Quite understandable, I’m afraid. Not everyone trusts the new regime to be terribly different from the old one. But… I have been known to bump into all sorts of rogues in my time, in all sorts of interesting places. Some long forgotten, or even thought dead, by the family. How would it be … if I were to go out into the world, track these elusive fellows down, and use all my many charms to persuade them to come home? For a generous bounty on each head, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” I said. “Sounds good to me. Do well, and I guarantee you a new torc. Didn’t take you long to get tired of the old homestead, did it?”

“Honey, I’d forgotten just how oppressive the old pile is,” said Freddie. “I could never live here. It would just crush my spirit. I would wither, darlings, positively wither! I must have my freedom.”

“You’ve got it,” I said. “You can leave right now.”

“And the extent of the bounty?”

“Depends on who you can deliver,” I said. “You can find your own way out, can’t you?”

“I always do, honey,” said Freddie.

He sauntered off down the long gravel pathway, swaying his hips just that little bit more because he knew we were watching. Somehow I just knew Freddie was always happiest in front of an audience.

“Your family never ceases to amaze me,” said Molly.

“They can surprise me too, sometimes,” I said. “My own Inner Circle has turned against me, because you weren’t there to back me up.”

“Eddie, that’s not fair,” said Molly. “If you can’t control them, you certainly can’t expect me to.”

“I don’t want to control them,” I said. “Not as such. I just want the stupid bastards to understand that I’m right. I need them to believe that my way is the right way. Or everything I’ve done, to save the family’s soul, could be undone.”

“You don’t need me for that,” said Molly.

“Yes I do! I do need you, Molly. I’m…stronger, more confident, when you’re with me.”

Molly smiled and moved in close, putting her hands on my chest. “That’s very sweet, Eddie. But I can’t always be with you. I just can’t. Not here. Not in this place. I told you; I’m never going to fit in here. I belong in the wild. I’m beginning to think I made a mistake in coming here with you. I love you, Eddie, you know I do. You matter to me in a way no one else ever has. I want you, Eddie, but I don’t want all this.”

She looked at me for a long moment, her dark eyes deep and unfathomable. “You’re starting a war, Eddie. A war I’m not sure you can win. The Loathly Ones were bad enough, but that thing they were summoning? Major-league bad. I signed on to fight demons, not gods. You need to start with something smaller, more manageable. Like Manifest Destiny. Truman’s still out there, putting his nasty little organisation back together again. And this time he won’t have the Zero Tolerance people holding his reins and pulling him back. Start with him, Eddie. With a fight you can win.”

“I’ll consider it,” I said. “Now, please, come back inside. Be with me, if only for a while. I’m tired. I need to crash. Get some sleep, forget the world and its problems for a while. It’s going to be a hard day tomorrow.”

“Of course, sweetie. Come and lie down with me, and I’ll take all your cares away. And you can help me forget mine. But what’s so special about tomorrow? What’s happening then?”

“The funerals,” I said.

Next morning came round all too quickly, and the insistent clamour of a bullying alarm clock made sure Molly and I were up bright and early to greet the coining day. And all the pressures and problems it promised. Molly and I went down to breakfast in one of the big dining rooms. Rows and rows of tables covered with bright white cloths, a long sideboard with every kind of breakfast you could imagine, and huge windows looking out over the lawns. There were braised kidneys, and kedgeree, and even porridge, though you couldn’t get me to eat that stuff no matter how much salt you put on it.

I’m not really a morning person, never have been, and I’m not all that keen on breakfast, but this day of all days I needed to be seen, so that no one could accuse me of avoiding the funerals. My absence would have been interpreted as an admission of guilt.

So I nursed a cup of strong black coffee while Molly tucked into a full fry up, complete with liver and mushrooms and more scrambled eggs than was good for her arteries. I’d never realised what a noisy eater she was, unless it was the terribly early hour. Everything sounds louder and more oppressive, first thing in the morning. There were a lot of other people around us, breakfasting and talking animatedly. None of them had anything to say to me, or Molly.

“Why are we up this early?” said Molly, attacking her mound of steaming scrambled eggs with quite appalling vigour.

“Funerals here are always held early in the morning,” I said. “It’s tradition. Probably for the best, this time; we’ve got a lot to get through. All the people I lost…”

“Don’t start,” Molly said sternly, threatening me with her fork. “None of what happened was your fault. If it was, I’d tell you. Loudly and violently and where everyone could hear me.”

I considered that. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“So, why are we holding the funerals so quickly? It’s not like they’re going to go off.”

“We don’t hang around, where funerals are concerned,” I said. “The family has too many enemies who might try to use our own dead against us.”

Molly chewed on a crispy bit of bacon, thoughtfully and thoroughly. “What kind of funeral does your family put on?”

“Oh, it’ll be a big ceremony,” I said. “My family has a ceremony established for practically everything. We’re very big on tradition. Helps discourage the rank and file from thinking for themselves. And I’ll have to make a speech, at the end. It’s expected of me.”

“What are you going to say?” said Molly.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose I could throw myself on the family’s mercy…”

Molly shook her head. “I wouldn’t.”

After breakfast, I led Molly to the back of the main house and out through the huge French windows onto the long sloping lawns where the funeral was to be held. The coffins gleamed brightly in the early morning sun, rows and rows of them stretching away before us. All closed, of course, to hide the fact that most contained only parts of bodies, and some contained nothing at all. Two hundred and forty wooden boxes. I didn’t know we kept that many in stock. Or perhaps someone just used a duplication spell. Two hundred and forty fewer Droods, to stand between the world and all the evils in it.

All family loss matters. But my family matters more than most.

The whole family, or so it seemed, turned out for the funeral. They came from all over the Hall, standing in groups according to their calling or status. No one wanted to stand with Molly and me, not even the other members of my Inner Circle. Ranks and ranks of the living lined up before the rows of coffins, while hidden speakers pumped out consoling music. The Armourer was off to one side, fussing over a remote control panel. Keeping an eye on the energy field that protected us from enemy attacks and spying eyes.