Simon Green - Daemons Are Forever

“You stay right where you are,” I said. “Talk to Truman, promise him anything; stall him. As long as he thinks there’s still a chance, he won’t do anything. I’ll get back to you as soon as we’ve made a decision. Strange, cut him off.”

“He’s still talking to the War Room,” said Strange. “Though shouting is probably more accurate. Dear me, such language…”

“First things first,” I said. “We have to find out who the traitors are in the family.”

“We don’t have time for a witch hunt,” said Harry. “Not when we have so many more important decisions to make.”

“Well, you would say that, Harry,” I said. “I think I’ll start by having a nice little chat with the Matriarch. I think she’ll talk to me, once I tell her about Sebastian.”

“You can’t see her,” said Harry. “She’s ill. She’s not seeing anybody.”

“She’ll see me,” I said. “Now, Strange, show me what the family’s been doing to fight the Invaders during my unintended absence. Just the highlights, for now. I’ll catch up on the details as we go along. Just show me what I need to know.”

Visions appeared, emerging from Strange’s crimson glow. Shifting scenes of golden-armoured family in running fights with Loathly One drones, in the nightmarish streets of ghoulvilles. I saw dozens of armoured forms taking on hundreds of drones and killing everything that moved that wasn’t family. The drones were often horribly misshapen, monsters with only the barest touch of humanity left in them. The Droods beat them down with golden fists and tore the drones limb from limb. A quick death was the only mercy they had left to offer. They stormed through the narrow streets, their golden armour shining bright in the sharp, painful light of the ghoulville. They destroyed buildings, tearing them apart and pulling them down through brute strength, to be sure they hadn’t missed anyone hiding inside, and afterwards they set fire to the ruins.

Whole towns went up in flames. They say fire purifies.

Sometimes the drones were already dead and decaying, only kept moving by the unnatural energies within them. Sometimes they looked just like you or me. They came out into the streets, pleading and crying and protesting their innocence. But they were so far gone they’d forgotten how to sound and act as people do. Especially the children. The armoured Droods killed them all. They had to be Loathly Ones, or they wouldn’t be in a ghoulville.

Sometimes family members dropped their armour, to vomit, or cry, or just sit on a pavement, holding themselves and rocking back and forth.

We’ve never seen ourselves as killers. That’s not the Drood way. We’ve always preferred to operate behind the scenes, making small changes here and there … to prevent the family as a whole having to do things like this. Secret wars are one thing; mass slaughter quite another. But we’re Droods, and we’ve always been able to do the hard, necessary things. To protect humanity.

I just hoped we didn’t get a taste for it.

I saw my family destroy towers in the ghoulvilles; huge, unnatural alien structures, part technological and part organic. Sometimes the towers screamed as they fell. They fell and they fell, and yet somehow there were always more of them…

The visions stopped. I stood silently, thinking. The Sarjeant cleared his throat in a meaningful way.

“We are further handicapped by our need to keep all of this secret from the general populace. They can’t be allowed to know what’s happening. We’re keeping politicians and governments informed, to a point, and they’re all cooperating. To one extent or another. Worldwide panic and chaos is in no one’s best interests.”

“Now you’ve seen how bad it is,” said Harry. “The odds we’ve been facing. Maybe Truman’s right. Maybe we should open the Armageddon Codex.”

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

“Tell me you’ve got a really good plan,” said the Sarjeant.

“Well,” I said. “I’ve got a plan.”

I threw everyone out, as fast as I could without being too obvious about it. I sent Giles Deathstalker away with the Sarjeant-at-Arms, to discuss new training programs for the family. Between the two of them, I’d bet on our army against anyone else’s. Harry and Roger stalked off all on their own, no doubt to stir up new mischief somewhere else. Neither of them even looked back at me as they left. And after a discreet pause, Molly and I said good-bye to Freddie, and to Strange, and we went looking for some empty place where we could talk safely together, in private.

People looked at us as we walked through the corridors. No one actually cheered or booed, they just watched us and kept their thoughts to themselves. Most just looked like they were waiting for someone to tell them what to do for the best. I knew exactly how they felt.

Molly and I finally ended up in the main dining room at the back of the Hall. It was completely deserted, in between shifts, the rows of tables standing silent and waiting under their pristine white tablecloths. It was hard to believe that eighteen months has passed since we were last here. Molly and I sat down facing each other, and I suddenly realised I didn’t have a single clue what to say. What do you say when the woman you love is dying?

“It’s not like we haven’t been here before,” Molly said kindly. “Remember when you were infected by the strange matter, and we both thought you only had a few days to live? We didn’t sit around crying our eyes out; we just got on with business. We survived that. We’ll survive this.”

“How do you feel?” I said. “I mean, really; do you feel any…different?”

“I can feel…something else inside me,” she said slowly. “Like after a large meal. A feeling of… heaviness. As though there’s more of me now. My standard magical protections are containing it, for the moment.” She smiled briefly. “But then, I would say that, wouldn’t I? If I were already a Loathly One drone, in mind as well as body.”

“No,” I said. “I’d know the difference. I could tell if you weren’t…you.”

“Yes,” she said. “You probably could.”

“Let’s talk about something else, just for a while,” I said. “Give us a chance to sneak up on the main subject, maybe catch it by surprise.”

“All right. What did you have in mind, Eddie?”

“Well…what was all that business with Heaven and Hell, and I’ve been around ?”

“Ah,” said Molly. “Yes … I suppose that had to come out eventually. You’ve been very good, Eddie, really you have; not asking too many questions about what I did, and what I promised, to gain my magical powers. Possibly because you were afraid of what the answers might be. Well, relax, sweetie, I haven’t sold my soul to anyone. I made a series of pacts and deals down the years, with various Powers. Some Infernal, some Heavenly, a few alien… And I paid for my magic with years off my life. Don’t look like that, Eddie; I never wanted to grow old anyway. Now, of course, it would appear the whole question has become irrelevant. My various debtors were paid with years from my putative old age, and now it seems more than likely I won’t get that far. The thing growing inside me will take me long before my allotted time.”

“Not while I’m here,” I said. “I’ll never give up on you, Molly. There must be something we can do. This is Drood Hall; we work miracles for the world every day. I have the right to expect one small miracle, just for you. You know … I could get you a torc. Strictly speaking, it’s forbidden for anyone not of Drood blood, but I’m sure Strange would help. I probably wouldn’t even have to explain why. He’s very understanding, for an inexplicable other-dimensional being.”