Simon Green - The Man with the Golden Torc

"How is he?" said Molly. "Is my uncle having one of his good days?"

Tommy shrugged easily. "Hard to tell, with him. Long as he behaves himself, that’s all I care about." He sniggered again, this time looking at me. "Oddly John—that’s what we call him. He’s really not all there, poor bastard. First visit, is it? Don’t expect too much from the old man. We keep him well tranked, so he won’t go wandering. A lot of them get restless legs…"

"It’s nice to know you’re taking such good care of my uncle," said Molly. "I must be sure to give you a little something, before I leave."

Tommy smiled and nodded, the fool.

He and Molly talked some more, but I stopped listening. I used the Sight the torc gave me to see the lobby as it really was, hidden from merely mortal gaze. There were demons everywhere, scuttling across the ceiling and clinging to the walls and riding on the backs of the patients. Demons don’t cause madness, but they delight in the suffering it causes. Some of the demons had grown fat and distended, like parasites gorged on too much blood. A squat black insect thing squatted at the attendant nurse’s feet, like a faithful pet waiting for a treat. Some of the demons realised I could See them. They stirred uneasily, sinking barbed claws and hooks into the patients’ backs and shoulders, making it clear they wouldn’t give up their victims without a fight. I wanted to kill every demon in the room, rip them off their victims, feel their skulls and carapaces break and shatter under my golden fists, but I couldn’t risk making a scene. I needed to see Oddly John. I needed to know what he knew.

I turned my back on the parlour and shut down my Sight. There’s a reason why I don’t use it very often. If we could all See the world as it truly is, all the time, we couldn’t bear to live in it. Not even Droods. Ignorance can be bliss.

I went back to stand with Molly, who immediately sensed my impatience. She stopped pressing the guard for information and said she’d like to see her uncle now. Tommy shrugged and led us over to the elevators. And all the time I was thinking, Three days, four tops. Part of me wanted to sulk and stamp my feet and shout, Not fair! But when had my life ever been fair? I couldn’t afford to give in to hysterics. Had to stay calm and focused. Perhaps, at the end, all that would be left to me was to go down fighting and take as many of my enemies with me as I could.

If so, I couldn’t wait to get started.

Tommy took us up to the top floor. The elevator had its own security override lock. I peered unobtrusively over Tommy’s shoulder as he punched in the combination. Sure enough, it was 4321. A bunch of determined Boy Scouts could burgle this place. Probably get a badge, these days.

"Why Oddly John?" I said abruptly. "What is it that’s so…odd, about him?"

Tommy sniggered. I was getting really tired of that sound. "Because he talks to people that aren’t there and often won’t talk to people that are. He sees things no one else can and talks all kinds of rubbish about it, if you’ll let him. Lives in a world all his own, that one. Used to have really bad nightmares, until we increased his medication. To be fair, though, he’s never violent; eats up all his food and never makes a fuss about taking his pills. That’s the best kind of patient, in a place like this."

He led us all the way down to the end of the corridor. Its walls had been painted in pale pastel colours, so as not to overexcite the patients. Motion-sensitive cameras followed us all the way. The door to Oddly John’s room stood halfway open. Tommy stood back and gestured for Molly and me to go in.

"Any problems, there’s a big red panic button right by the door. Hit that, and I’ll come running. Don’t be afraid to use it. We had a nurse here not long ago who let a guy get too close to her, and he bit half her face off before we could pull him away. We kicked the crap out of him afterwards, but it didn’t do her much good. Never came back. Don’t blame her. Heard she got some really decent compensation money, though. Remember: no matter how nice and sweet they are to you, you can’t trust any of them. They’re all sick, vicious bastards, or they wouldn’t be here. No offence, Molly. You have a nice visit with your uncle John."

He ambled away, and Molly and I looked at each other. "Cheerful fellow," she said.

"I thought so."

"I really must remember to give him an appallingly fierce case of hemorrhoids before I leave."

"I would. Shall we go in?"

We went in. The room seemed pleasant enough. More calming colours on the walls, a comfortable-looking bed, and some basic furnishings, all clearly bolted to the floor. Some books on a shelf, flowers in vases, and a television in one corner, turned off. The patient was sitting quietly in a chair by the window, looking out through the bars. A frail old man, in a faded dressing gown. He didn’t look around as we came in or react at all as we approached him. I checked him out briefly with the Sight. He didn’t have a demon anywhere on him, but he did have a golden collar around his throat. He was a Drood, all right. I moved around to get a good look at his face, and then gasped and gaped openly.

"What?" said Molly. "What is it? Do you recognise him?"

"Hell, yes," I said. "His name isn’t John. This is William Dominic Drood. And he’s not a rogue; he’s listed as missing. The family’s been looking for him for years. He used to be head librarian, back at the Hall. One of our very best research scholars. He just…disappeared one day, and was never seen again. And believe me, we all looked really hard for him. He knew all kinds of things about the family and the Hall, secrets we couldn’t afford anyone outside the family to know. But we never found him. His disappearance is one of the great unsolved mysteries of my family. And all these years, he’s been…here?"

I stopped and looked abruptly at the surveillance camera in the far corner of the room.

"It’s all right," Molly said quickly. "I hit it with my illusion spell the moment we walked in here. They’ll see just what they expect to see, nothing more. But it won’t last long. So talk to the man. Call him by his right name. I’ve tried everything I could think of and never got more than a dozen words out of him. See if you can do any better. But make it quick. Time is not on our side."

"I know," I said. "Trust me, I know."

I crouched down beside Oddly John’s chair. It was easier to think of him that way, mostly because of the really unsettling look in his eyes. Whatever he was seeing out of his window, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t see it if I looked out. Or would want to.

"William?" I said. "William Dominic Drood. Can you hear me?"

He didn’t even look around. The sad, lost look on his face didn’t change for a moment.

"Try showing him your torc," Molly said suddenly. "That might jar something loose."

I opened the top buttons of my shirt with my right hand only, revealing the golden collar around my throat. I took hold of Oddly John’s chin with my hand and turned his face gently but firmly around to look at me. "Listen to me, William. I’m Edwin Drood, sent to find you. See my torc. Do you remember me? I used to be in and out of the library all the time, when I was just a kid."

He looked at the torc, and just like that, he woke up. It was eerie, even shocking, to see a whole new personality flow into his face, like water pouring into a glass. He looked sharp and intelligent, and not in the least mad or drugged. He jumped up out his chair and backed away from me, both hands held out as though to ward me off.

"Is this it?" he said. "Have you come to kill me at last, for the family?"

"No, no!" I said quickly. "I mean you no harm. I’m not here for the family. I’ve been declared rogue, and I don’t know why. I was hoping you might have some answers, or at least some advice."