Simon Green - The Man with the Golden Torc

"Shaman?" she said in her usual dark and sultry voice. "What brings you to my door, uninvited? I wasn’t aware you even knew where I lived. Not many do, and I’ve killed most of them. I hate being bothered."

I gave her my best charming smile. Molly Metcalf looked like a delicate china doll with big bosoms. Bobbed black hair, huge dark eyes, ruby rosebud mouth. She wore a gown of ruffled white silk, possibly to lend a touch of colour to her pale skin. She was beautiful, in an eerie, threatening, and utterly disturbing way.

"Sorry to bother you, Molly," I said when it became clear the charming smile wasn’t having any effect. "I need to talk to you. About the new rogue Drood, Edwin. I know something about him that I think you need to know. May I come in? It is rather urgent."

She thought about it for a long moment, studying me with her dark unblinking eyes, but finally nodded and stepped back, opening the door just a little wider. I squeezed in past her, and she immediately shut the door behind us and locked it. I barely noticed. I was standing in a vast forest glade, with my mouth hanging open. I didn’t know what I’d expected to find behind the facade, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. Molly lived in style.

Towering trees surrounded me on every side, heavy with summer foliage. The clearing rose and fell in grassy mounds, and a nearby waterfall tumbled down a jagged rock face into a wide crystal clear pool. Out among the trees, deer watched solemnly from a safe distance, while birds sang sweetly and heavy shafts of golden sunlight dropped down through the overhead canopy. Dappled shadows gave the clearing a drowsy, cosy feel, and the air was thick with the rich damp and earthy smell of woodland.

Molly ignored me, walking among a small stand of trees. She talked to them in a soft whispered language I’d never heard before, and I swear they bowed down their heads to listen. Wide-eyed deer came forward to nuzzle her with their soft mouths, and she rubbed their muzzles with gentle hands. A russet squirrel dropped out of the overhead branches to land lightly on her shoulder. It chattered urgently in her ear, and then looked straight at me.

"Hey, Molly," it said. "Who’s the rube? New boyfriend? About time; you get really moody when you’re not getting your ashes hauled regularly."

"Not now, dear," Molly said indulgently. "Run along and play while I speak to the nice man. And don’t eavesdrop or I’ll do something unpleasant to your nuts."

The squirrel pulled a face at her and leapt back up into the safety of the trees. Molly came unhurriedly back to stand before me, beside the pool. I decided not to ask about the talking squirrel. I didn’t want to get sidetracked into what promised to be a very long story.

"Talk to me, Shaman Bond," Molly said. "Tell me this thing you know. And it had better be good, or there’ll be another cute little talking animal in my garden paradise."

"It’s about Edwin Drood," I said. "The new rogue. He’s in real trouble. Outlawed by his family, forsaken by his friends, all alone and on the run. He has been given good reason to doubt his family, or at least some part of it, and he wants to know the truth. He believes you can tell him things that others couldn’t, or wouldn’t. In return for your help, he’s prepared to offer you the one thing you want more than his head on a spike: a chance to bring down the whole corrupt Drood family."

"Works for me," Molly said easily. She sat down on the edge of the pool and trailed her fingers lazily through the lily-pad-covered waters. Fish came to nibble at her fingertips. I stayed on my feet. I would have felt too vulnerable sitting. Molly looked up at me with her dark, thoughtful eyes. "Where do you fit into this, Shaman? This is way out of your usual league. Why should I believe you when you say these things?"

"Because I’m Edwin Drood," I said. "And I always have been."

I armoured up, the living gold covering me in a moment. Molly scrambled onto her feet, glaring at me with wild, dangerous eyes. Her ruby mouth contorted with rage as she raised one hand into a spell casting position. I made myself stand very still, my arms limp at my sides, my hands conspicuously open and empty. She stood there, breathing harshly, and then slowly she pulled back from the edge and lowered her hand.

"Take off the armour," she said harshly. "I won’t talk to you while you’re wearing the armour."

With the armour off, I’d be defenceless. She could kill me, torture me, or mindwipe me into her slave; all things she’d threatened to do in the past. But I had come to her, so I had to make the gesture of trust. Of vulnerability. I subvocalised the Words, and braced myself as the living gold disappeared back into my torc. Molly looked me over, as though searching for signs of treachery, and I looked back at her as calmly as I could. Molly nodded slowly and moved a single step closer.

"I heard about what happened, on the motorway. About all the things your family sent after you. People all over town are having a hard time believing you fought them all off. I mean, no offence, Edwin, but…no one on the scene ever thought you were that good. Did one of the Fae really shoot you with an arrow?"

Moving slowly and carefully, I unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it back to show her the arrow wound in my shoulder. Molly took another step forward to study the healed wound more closely. She didn’t touch me, but I could feel her warm breath on my bare skin as she leaned in close. She pulled back again and met my gaze squarely. She was taller than I remembered, her eyes almost on a level with mine. She smiled suddenly, and it was not a pretty smile.

"So; Drood armour can be breached, after all. That’s a thing worth knowing. I could kill you now, Shaman. Edwin."

"Yes," I said. "You could. But you won’t."

"Really? Are you sure about that?"

"No," I admitted. "You’ve never been…predictable, Molly. But I’m not your enemy anymore. I’m not Drood: I’m rogue. That changes everything."

"Maybe," said Molly. "Convince me, Edwin. I can always kill you later, if I get bored."

I relaxed just a little and buttoned up my shirt again. Give me an inch, and I can talk anyone into anything. "You’ve tried to kill me often enough, in the past," I said. "Remember the time you blew up the whole Bradbury building, just to get me? The look on your face when I walked unharmed out of the ruins! I thought you were going to pop an artery."

Molly nodded, smiling. "Do you remember the time you stuck me through the chest with three feet of enchanted steel? Only to discover that like all good magicians, I keep my heart safe and secure somewhere else? I thought you were going to have a fit."

"We’ve lived, haven’t we?" I said dryly, and she laughed briefly. "We can work together," I said. "We want the same things in this, and who else has shared as much history as we have?"

"That makes sense," said Molly. "In a warped kind of way. Who knows us better than our enemies? Though I have to say the Shaman Bond thing came as a bit of a surprise." She cocked her head to one side, like a bird, considering me. "Why did you come to me as Shaman? You could have burst in here in your damned armour, safe from all my magics, smashed through my defences, and demanded I help you."

"No, I couldn’t," I said. "You’d have told me to go to hell."

"True, very true. You do know me, Edwin."

"Please; call me Eddie. And besides, I wanted to make a point. That I would share my secrets with you, if you would share yours with me. You know things, Molly, things few other people know; things you’re not supposed to know. And there are things I need to know about my family. Things that have been withheld from me." I looked around.

"And I really would like to know how you got a forest inside your house."