Simon Green - The Man with the Golden Torc

I considered him thoughtfully. "You just remembered you were only hanging about here in order to help me destroy the Heart…So, and don’t take this the wrong way, but…why are you still here?"

He gave me his usual shifty grin and shrugged vaguely. Little bubbles of blue-gray ectoplasm jumped up from his shoulders before slowly settling back into him again. "Guess I’ve just got used to hanging around here. And besides, I really am curious to see what’s going to happen next. I haven’t had so much fun since the Great Gender Swap of 1741. We never did find out who was behind that…"

"I don’t see Alexandra or Matthew," I said carefully. "What have you done with them, Jacob?"

He met my gaze easily, and just for a moment something of his old terrifying self surfaced in his gaze. "They won’t be coming back. Ever."

"Don’t ask," the Armourer said stiffly. "Trust me, you really don’t want to know."

"Poor Alex," I said, and I meant it.

"Just what was this Alex person to you, anyway?" said Molly.

"It was more…what she might have been," I said. "If things had gone differently."

"Oh…" said Molly. "Yeah. I’ve had lots of relationships like that."

I looked at her for a moment. "I won’t ask," I said finally.

"Best not to," she agreed.

And then, finally, I looked at the Armourer, my uncle Jack, and said the one thing I’d been putting off, the one thing I knew I’d have to say the moment I saw him coming through the door. "I’m sorry, Uncle Jack. I’m really sorry, but…Uncle James is dead."

"I know," said the Armourer. "You couldn’t have done anything else, Eddie. James wouldn’t have given you any other choice. For him, the family always came first. And he never could say no to Mother."

"He was supposed to kill me on the motorway," I said. "But he let me go. Gave me a chance…made all this possible."

"Good for him," said the Armourer. "Maybe he was growing up, at last. So, the Gray Fox is dead…Good bartenders and bad women will be weeping bitter tears in bars all around the world once word gets out."

There was no point in telling him that Molly had actually killed my uncle James. The family was going to have enough problems accepting her as it was.

Jacob fixed me with a firm look. "You have to address the family, Eddie. Here, now! Explain to them what’s been going on. They need to know the truth. I’ll summon them here, and you can tell them what needs to be done to put the family back together again."

"What?" I said. "I don’t know what to tell them!"

"You’ll think of something," said the Armourer. "You have to take charge, Eddie. Push change through before the old guard take control again."

"Wait just a minute!" I said quickly. "I never even wanted to be a regular part of the family, let alone tell them how to run things! I ran away from this family the first chance I got, remember?"

"Well, you can’t run away this time," said the Armourer. "Not after all the trouble you’ve caused. You’ve smashed our defences, wrecked the Hall, demoralised the family fighters, destroyed the Heart, and taken away everyone’s torcs! You have a duty to undo the damage you’ve done."

"But—" I said.

"Only you can tell them the truth," said Jacob.

"It’s what your uncle James would have wanted," the Armourer said solemnly.

I glared at him. "I never knew you were so proficient at emotional blackmail."

He grinned. "Runs in the family."

And then we all winced and shuddered as Jacob took on his deathly aspect again. His spectral presence filled the chamber, cold and distant and only remotely human, powerful beyond imagination now that he was no longer bound by life’s limitations. His voice spread out through all of the Hall, ordering every member of the family to attend the Sanctity. Right now, no omissions, no excuses. I caught only the edges of the ghostly summons, and that was still enough to make me sway on my feet. The sheer power in Jacob’s voice was like nothing in this world. No one in the family would dare disobey.

And soon enough they came streaming through the great double doors and into the huge empty chamber of the Sanctity in ones and twos, and then in groups, and finally in crowds until there was a steady flow of bewildered Droods pressing in through the two doorways. Many of them were still wide-eyed with shock from the sudden loss of their torcs. For the first time in their lives they felt utterly defenceless and vulnerable, and they were desperate for answers and reassurances. They came in gabbling and shouting, only to subside instantly into murmurs and mutterings once they saw who was waiting for them. The family rogue, the family ghost, the bloodied Armourer, and the infamous Molly Metcalf. Whatever answers were coming, they clearly weren’t going to be very reassuring. Still they kept streaming into the Sanctity, house Droods and security Droods, researchers and planners and house staff, and every other member of the family. Right down to some extremely wide-eyed children, the smallest carried in their parents’ arms. The Sanctity filled up from wall to wall with Droods pressed shoulder to shoulder, while more peered in through the doorways.

"Make a start," the Armourer said to me. "Before people start getting crushed in the pack."

I looked at Molly, and she conjured up an invisible platform for the four of us to stand on, and then raised it several feet into the air, so everyone could see and hear me.

"It helps that they have to look up to us," she muttered in my ear.

"Gives us the psychological edge. Now go on; promise them bread and circuses, or something."

"Speaking of edges," said the Armourer just a little testily. "Could you perhaps put a little colour into the edges of this damned platform so some of us can see where the bloody things are? It’s a long way to fall, and some of us are feeling a bit fragile just at the moment."

The edges of the platform glared suddenly silver. They were a lot closer than I’d realised.

The chamber was now packed to bursting, with more faces peering in through the open doors. The muttering kept threatening to break out into something more, but didn’t, because any time someone started to raise their voice they found Jacob glaring at them, and then they got all tongue-tied and went right off the idea. The crowd went completely silent as the Matriarch finally arrived, pushing her way through the crowd. Everyone made as much room for her as they could to let her pass. She reached the front of the crowd and glared up at me on my platform. Instead of Alistair at her side stood the Sarjeant-at-Arms. His face was bruised and swollen, but his gaze was as cold and direct as ever. I nodded to the Matriarch.

"Hello, Grandmother. How’s Alistair?"

"Alive. Barely. He’s in the infirmary. They’re trying to save his face."

"He surprised me," I said, aware everyone in the Sanctity was hanging on our every word. "He was a good man, and true, at the end."

"I’ve always known that," said the Matriarch. "He served the family. Not like you. What have you done to us, Edwin? Where are our torcs? Where is the Heart?"

"That’s what you’re all here for," I said. "To hear the truth at last." I looked out over the crowd, at all the confused, frightened, desperate faces. "You’re here to learn the truth about everything that’s happened. Everything that’s been hidden from you down all the centuries of this family’s existence. The secrets only a Drood can tell you."

"We know you," said a female voice from deep in the crowd. "But what’s the infamous Molly Metcalf doing up there with you?"

There was a general murmur of agreement, quickly cut off as Molly snapped her fingers and the woman in the crowd squeaked loudly as all her clothes suddenly disappeared. Molly smiled sweetly upon the crowd.