Simon Green - Daemons Are Forever

“How soon they forget,” murmured Molly.

“Don’t care, neither,” said the thug. “Doesn’t matter who you are. No admittance, no exceptions. Now piss off, or we’ll hurt you.”

“No one does decent threats anymore,” said Molly. “They just can’t be bothered to make the effort to be decent henchmen.”

“I really don’t have the patience for this,” I said. “Jacob, do you think you could…”

The ghost thrust his ancient grinning face forward, his eyes blazing, and all the thugs took one involuntary step back. Jacob drew his awful aspect around him, and the corridor was suddenly full of the presence of death and horror, and the cold, inescapable embrace of the grave. It was like waking up and finding a corpse in bed with you, like suddenly knowing when everyone you loved was going to die.

It was sometimes all too easy to forget what Jacob really was: a dead man walking, only held together by an inhuman effort of will.

Jacob took a step forward, and the thugs just broke and ran, departing screaming down the corridor. Jacob laughed softly, and I winced. There was nothing human in the horrid sound. And then suddenly he was just Jacob again, my old friend and support. But after seeing what he really was, or could be, I had to wonder if I’d ever be able to look at him the same way again.

He must have sensed something, because he turned and looked at me uncertainly. He tried to smile, but it wasn’t very convincing.

“Sometimes … I feel like I’m just the tip of an iceberg, Eddie, and that if I ever found out just how much more of me there really is, I wouldn’t be me at all. That’s why I need to keep my living self close; he reminds me of what it is to be human. To be only human.”

“Wonderful,” I said, deliberately keeping my voice light. “Something else to worry about.”

Jacob managed something like his old grin. “It’s not easy being a ghost. Or everybody would be doing it.”

“Fascinating,” said Giles. “You people have taken psychological warfare in a whole new direction.”

“Can we please burst in on Harry and ruin his day?” said Molly. “I’m feeling an increasing need to hit someone.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s been that kind of a day.”

I kicked in the Sanctity doors, and we all stormed into the great open chamber. Strange’s rich crimson glow had expanded to fill almost half of the massive hall, but it no longer projected the old comfort and reassurance. Harry broke off from shouting at his advisors and spun around to face us. He recognised me immediately, but instead of the surprise I expected, after eighteen months away and no guarantee I was ever coming back, all I saw in his face was a cold, calculating anger. Behind him, his advisors’ jaws dropped in a quite satisfactory manner, though I didn’t think much of Harry’s choices. The Sarjeant-at-Arms was there, of course, and Roger Morningstar, and Sebastian and Freddie Drood. The latter pair doing their best to hide behind the first two. Still, to give Harry his due, he recovered quickly. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, as though to see me more clearly, and glared haughtily at me.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. “Typical of you, Eddie, not to be around when you’re needed. And where are my guards? They’re supposed to keep out…unnecessary people when I’m working.”

“Your guards will be back,” I said. “Eventually. There’s only so far they can run before they run out of grounds. One of them called you Patriarch. When did that happen, Harry?”

He sniffed loudly. “Someone had to take charge, after you abandoned us to go play with your Time Train.” He looked disparagingly at Giles. “It took you eighteen months to find…him? A barbarian with a sword?”

“I am Giles Deathstalker,” said the future warrior, and there was something cold and very dangerous in his voice that shut Harry up immediately. “I am Warrior Prime to the emperor Ethur, commander of his armies, and conqueror of worlds. Do but say the word, Edwin, and I will make him kneel to you. Or I could cut off his head. I’m really quite good at that, and it just might stop him yapping.”

“A nice thought,” I said, “but leave it for later. You can forget that Patriarch crap, Harry; I’m back, and you can return to the substitutes’ bench.”

“You really think it’s going to be that easy?” said Roger, stepping forward to stand at Harry’s side. “Harry’s been running this family for over a year. The family has accepted him. What makes you think anyone wants you back in charge?”

“When I walked in, this room was full of barely suppressed hysteria and panic,” I said calmly. “Not what I’d expect from a Patriarch. And really, Harry, is this the best you could do for advisors? I wouldn’t take their advice on how to pick my nose. I swear, I take my eye off this family for five minutes, and everything goes to hell.”

“Five minutes?” said Harry. “Eighteen months! We didn’t know whether you were dead or alive, or captured, or gone over to the enemy, or ever coming back! And now you swagger back in here with a smug smile and a condescending word, and what have you got to show for it? One man!”

“One Deathstalker,” said Giles. “And that makes all the difference.”

“He’s big,” said Sebastian.

“I had noticed,” said Freddie.

“And he’s got a really big sword.”

“Best kind.”

“What happened to my Inner Circle?” I said loudly. “I chose them carefully, to represent all the voices in this family. I’m not surprised to see the Sarjeant here, hello Cyril, and Molly and Jacob are with me…but where, pray tell, are the very sensible Penny and our extremely experienced Uncle Jack?”

“The Armourer is back in the Armoury, where he belongs,” said Harry. “And Penny is very busy looking after those tutors you so graciously inflicted on the family. They’re popular enough, I suppose, if not especially useful. If I had to be in charge, and there was no one else, I decided I wanted my own advisors. People I could trust to see things my way, and carry out the policy I set. There’s no room for arguments during an emergency. Don’t think you can just walk back in and take over, Eddie. You had your chance, and you blew it.”

“Whereas you have done so much better?” I said. “Do tell.”

“You weren’t here! You don’t know everything that’s happened in the last year and a half! I’ve been fighting a war against an enemy that threatens the whole world. Not just one nest, one tower, but thousands of the bloody things. Hundreds of thousands… we can’t even keep count anymore, they’re spreading so fast. Look at you, standing there, sneering at me… You have no right to judge me! You have no right to just walk in and expect us all to fall at your feet, and plead with you to save us! I run the family now, by right. I’ve earned this. I am the Patriarch; if you want it, you’re going to have to take it from me.”

“You see, that’s the difference between us right there, Harry,” I said. “I never wanted it. But I’ve always known my duty to the family. And that’s why I have to replace you—for the good of the family.”

Harry armoured up, and to my surprise the metal that flowed from his torc was golden, not silver. He laughed at the expression on my face, his own hidden behind the featureless golden mask.

“I never liked the silver look. So I talked to Strange, and he saw no reason why the strange matter shouldn’t be gold … so I had him change it. Gold is the colour of tradition, of continuity, a reminder of the days when our family was strong. And will be again!”

“Strange!” I said. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, Eddie.” The voice emanating from the crimson glow sounded strangely muted, and far away. “It’s so good to see you again. You’ve been a long way; I can see it on you. And the world… has moved on, while you were away. Even I am not what I was, being spread so thin. Only my protections keep the family safe. It’s the Loathly Ones, Eddie. They infect the living world like a virus, like a cancer. And the more they take over, the more their presence limits me. I provide armour for the Droods, and power for the family’s weapons and defences…but every day I find it that little bit harder. The Hungry Gods are coming…and not even I can hope to stand against them once they manifest in all their awful glory.”