Simon Green - Daemons Are Forever

“Understood,” I said. “Where is he?”

“You’re not going to believe this. I’m here looking at it, and I don’t believe it. To be exact, I’m just outside of Stonehenge, keeping what I fervently hope is a safe distance from the outer ring of Stones. Truman has set up his new base in the bunkers set deep underneath the Stones. Once again he’s taken advantage of an old, mothballed government installation, dating back to World War II, I believe. The bunkers were put in place as a last redoubt, to which the government could retreat if the Nazis invaded and forced them out of London.”

“Hold it,” I said. “I thought as long as the Soul of Albion was safely in place at Stonehenge, no one could invade England?”

“Maybe the government of the day didn’t trust it,” said Callan. “Are you ready for the really bad news? Truman’s got his hands on the Soul. He’s dug it up from under the main sacrificial stone and locked it away in his private office.”

“Callan,” I said carefully. “Just how sure are you of your information?”

“I went in and had a look for myself, and I am here to tell you right now that I am not doing it again. Sneaking past all his protections and very heavily armed guards has taken ten years off my life, and positively cured that slight but definite touch of constipation I was suffering from. If I were shaking any more you could mix cocktails in me. See if I ever volunteer for field work again.”

“How could Truman have got to the Soul?” I said. “The family’s been adding layers of protection around it for centuries.”

“I know,” said Callan. “There’s only one answer, and it’s really not a very nice one. Someone in the family must have given him the necessary Words to unlock the guards. And that someone would have to be very high up. A traitor in the family…”

“Impossible!” said the Sarjeant. “It’s unthinkable…”

“Not after the Zero Tolerance debacle,” I said. “They were ready to destroy the family in order to rebuild it in their own image.”

“Just like you,” said Harry.

“Shut up, Harry,” I said. “This is grown-up talk. Recommendations, Callan?”

“Put together a major strike force, transport it straight here, and I will use it to hit Truman where it hurts, right now, while we’ve still got the element of surprise.”

“No!” I said quickly. “I know your idea of tactics, Callan; everything forward and trust in the Lord. You hold your position, keep watching, and report back if there are any new developments. I’ll work out a plan of attack and get back to you. Until then, stay put . That’s an order.”

“You can go off people, you know.”

“Strange, cut him off, and then talk to me.”

“Yes, Eddie. Callan is still talking to the War Room. He is not at all happy.”

“Wouldn’t recognise him if he was,” I said. “Tell me about the Soul of Albion, Strange.”

“I only know what the family knows, Eddie. According to your records, an unnatural, other-dimensional crystal fell to earth from the stars, thousands of years ago. Long ago, so long ago that history shades into legend, someone carried out a major Working with the Soul, harnessing its power to ensure that England could never be invaded. As long as the Soul stayed in position, under Stonehenge.”

“Could we use the Soul to stop the Invaders coming through?”

“I don’t know,” said Strange. “Its full capabilities have never been tested. It might protect England, if it was replaced in time.”

“All right,” I said. “How about you, Strange? Could you stop them? There’s some evidence in the old library to suggest that the Heart intervened to stop them, back in Roman times.”

“No,” said Strange. “You must understand, Eddie; there is so little of me here, relatively speaking. Even with all the extra strange matter I brought through to make your armour. In order to put up a barrier that could keep out the Many-Angled Ones, I’d have to manifest my whole self in this reality, and that would be just as disastrous as the Invaders coming through. Strange matter doesn’t belong here; it upsets the natural balance. You have no idea how far removed I am from what you think of as life.”

“How long do you think it will be before the Loathly Ones are ready to summon the Invaders?” said Molly, just to show she wasn’t being left out of the discussions.

“Three, four days,” said Strange. “I can feel the strain the completed towers are putting on the natural dimensional barriers. I can feel the Hungry Gods, gathering around this little universe and making their terrible plans.”

“I’m beginning to wish I’d never asked you,” I said. I looked at Giles. “How about it, Warrior Prime? Can you put together an army in three, four days?”

“Normally, no,” said Giles. “But this clearly isn’t a normal family, or a normal world. I like it. It’s so … extreme. If the rest of your family are anything like you, I might just manage something interesting in a few days.”

“Actually, you don’t even have that long,” said Sebastian.

We all looked round. Sebastian was no longer cringing in his corner. He stood alone, smiling at us, and there was something in his smile and in his eyes that closed a cold hand around my heart. He didn’t look like Sebastian anymore.

“Seb?” said Freddie, still in his corner. “What are you doing, darling? This is no time to stand up and be noticed. This really isn’t like you, Seb.”

“You don’t know me,” said Sebastian. “None of you really know me. But then, Sebastian was such an easy part to play. Unfortunately, now his time is up. And so is yours.”

“My God,” said Harry. “He’s infected. He’s a Loathly One. How did we miss that? He’s the traitor in the family!”

“Not the only one,” said Sebastian, still smiling his inhuman smile. “I’m afraid you’ve all been very naïve. Now it’s time for you all to die.”

He shook and shuddered, his whole body convulsing and twisting in sudden spurts of growth. He rose up to be eight feet tall, broad at the shoulders and barrel-chested, his torso packed with thick cables of muscle, his angry red skin stretched almost to bursting point. Two more arms burst out of his sides, and all four hands now boasted heavy curving claws. His face was broad and monstrous, with no trace of humanity left in it.

“The Hungry Gods condemn you to death, Edwin Drood,” he said in a horribly normal voice.

“Hit him,” I said.

Harry and the Sarjeant-at-Arms and I all armoured up and threw ourselves at what used to be Sebastian. We hit him with our golden fists, and he just stood there and took it. Harry and I extruded long blades from our golden hands and hacked at him, but the cuts closed up as fast as we made them. The thing that used to be Sebastian laughed at us and struck out with his four heavy fists, and even with all the speed our armour gave us, we were hard put to avoid them. It was the torc, you see. Sebastian still had his torc. He couldn’t wear the armour over this monstrous form, but it still protected him. Why hadn’t it protected him from infection by the Loathly Ones? Why had it hidden the infection from the rest of us?

“Don’t kill him!” I yelled to the others. “We need him alive, to answer questions!”

“Don’t kill him?” said Harry. “I can’t even hurt the bastard!”

Giles stepped forward out of nowhere, swinging his sword. The long blade came sweeping round in a long arc and slammed into Sebastian’s thick, muscular neck. The steel blade rebounded helplessly, leaving the neck undamaged, and the vibrations almost jarred the sword out of Giles’s hands. He shrugged, sheathed the sword, drew his energy gun, and shot Sebastian in the head at point-blank range. There was a bright flare of discharging energies, and when we could see again, half of Sebastian’s head had been blown away. Sebastian lurched sideways, and almost fell. Bits of charred brains fell out of his head. The Sarjeant and Harry and I grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground, using all our armoured strength to restrain him and pin him to the floor. He still bucked and heaved under us, even with half his head gone. Molly and Roger stepped forward, bathing him in soothing spells and stupefying enchantments. Sebastian relaxed with a great sigh and lay still.