Night Fall

by Simon R. Green

  “Apart from that bomb-shell about the Management, no,” said Eddie. “I don’t think any of them know much, for certain. That’s why they’re all so upset. Droods aren’t used to being in the dark. Which is why the Matriarch was so ready to send a field agent into the Nightside and risk defying the Pacts and Agreements.”

  “She’s up to something,” said Molly.

  “Of course,” said Eddie. “My family is always up to something. But this strikes me as a particularly bad idea.”

  “You have been to the Nightside before,” said Molly.

  “It’s one thing for an agent to sneak in and out, as part of an on-going mission,” said Eddie. “It’s quite another for us to be sent in by the Matriarch on official business. If we screw this up and get noticed . . .”

  “You really think anyone will give a damn?” said Molly. “What do a few ancient Pacts and Agreements matter?”

  “They’re the only thing that keeps the Droods from going to war with the Nightside,” Eddie said steadily.

  Molly looked at him. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Let’s not screw up then. Hell, let’s not go.”

  “We have to,” said Eddie. “And not just because of what might have happened to the people in the Wulfshead. This is important, Molly. It matters. The Nightside isn’t supposed to change. Ever.”

  “Neither is the Wulfshead,” said Molly. “It was supposed to be a safe place, where people from all sides of the moral divide could find refuge from the storm. Neutral ground that you can depend on is hard to find. I hate to think how many friends we might have lost . . .”

  “The sooner we find out the truth, the better,” said Eddie. “If only so we can set about avenging those we’ve lost.”

  Molly looked at him seriously. “Who do you think is behind this?”

  Eddie shrugged. “It’s not like there’s any shortage of suspects. The long night is full of bad people, powerful people, and really bad really powerful people. One of the reasons why I’ve always said the whole place should be shut down, by force if necessary. It’s a haven and a breeding-ground for half the evils we end up having to do something about.”

  “Just like the rest of your family,” said Molly. “You only see what you want to see. There are just as many good people as bad in the Nightside. And all the shades of grey. And anyway, you’re missing my point. Who is there left who’s powerful enough to do something like this and not give a damn about the Droods’ response? Down the last few years we’ve wiped out everyone big enough to pose a real threat. Or even an unreal threat. There’s nobody left!”

  “No one we know of,” said Eddie. “The most dangerous enemy is always going to be the one you don’t know is out there.”

  “Oh, very profound,” said Molly.

  “I thought so,” said Eddie.

  “Enough talking,” said Molly. “Cram the crown on your head and fire up the Merlin Glass so we can get going. I need to be doing something.”

  “I think we’d better wait till we’re out in the grounds,” said Eddie. “You saw how touchy the defences were when we arrived. If I activate the Merlin Glass inside the Hall, odds are the alarm systems will go into meltdown, and my entire family will come running with every weapon they can lay their hands on.”

  “We could handle it,” said Molly.

  “Well, yes, probably, but I don’t want to see anyone hurt.”

  Molly beamed at him. “You can be very thoughtful sometimes, Eddie.”

  “One of us has to be,” said Eddie.

  * * *

  • • •

  Once they’d left the Hall and moved off into the grounds, Eddie stopped and looked around him. It all seemed very quiet and peaceful. No one else was around, and even the gryphons and peacocks had wandered off somewhere else. Eddie thought he could sense the underground defences stirring in their bunkers, but they had enough sense not to bother him twice. As he looked around the calm and settled scene, it was hard to believe that one of the great fundamentals of the hidden world had changed, and changed the rest of the world with it.

  “Your family won’t be the only ones who are upset,” said Molly, reading his mind with the ease of long familiarity. “You can bet it’s kicking off all over the Nightside by now, with everyone blaming everyone else, and all the lower orders looking for some way to make a quick profit.”

  “We need to step on this hard,” said Eddie. “Get things back to normal as quickly as possible, before things get out of hand.”

  “Probably a bit late for that,” said Molly.

  “Let us hope not,” said Eddie. “Or the Matriarch will have her war after all.”

  Molly looked at him. “She’d start something like that, without even being sure who’s behind this?”

  “She doesn’t need to know that,” said Eddie. “She could decide the only sure way to stop the Nightside expanding, and protect the rest of the world, is to take control of the Nightside. By force. Put an end to the long night once and for all.”

  “You really think she’d do that?” said Molly.

  “She’s getting there,” said Eddie.

  “Would the rest of the family go along? Would you?”

  “Of course,” said Eddie. “She’s the Matriarch.”

  “But the Sarjeant was saying . . .”

  “He might say a lot of things, right up to the point where the Matriarch makes her decision. But after that, it’s always going to be Anything, for the family.”

  “You honestly think you’d win?” said Molly.

  “Don’t you?” said Eddie.

  Molly looked away. Eddie looked at the silver crown in his hands, pulled a face, and settled it on his head. It was so light he couldn’t even feel it was there.

  “How does it look?” he said, trying to sound cheerful.

  Molly turned back to look at him. “How does what look?”

  “The crown! I’ve got it on!”

  “I can’t see it,” said Molly. She frowned, concentrating. “And I should be able to, with my witch’s Sight.”

  “Good to know the Armourer are still on top of things,” said Eddie.

  “Hold it, why can I still see you?”

  “Because I’m only psychically invisible,” Eddie said patiently, “not physically invisible.”

  “Is there a switch that makes you less insufferable, as well?” said Molly.

  Eddie shook the Merlin Glass out until it was the size of a door, hanging on the air in front of him, then ordered it to show him the entrance to the Wulfshead Club. His reflection immediately disappeared, replaced by a view of a familiar dark alley-way. A hot, damp wind blew through the door towards him, reeking of filth and decay. He stepped through the door, with Molly following right after him, and just like that, they were somewhere else.

  * * *

  • • •

  Eddie shut down the Glass and put the hand-mirror away in the pocket dimension he kept in his trousers. It occurred to him it was well past time he had a good turn-out just to check what was in there. He’d picked up all kinds of useful things on field missions, just on the grounds they might come in handy someday. He pushed the thought aside as it occurred to him that something about the alley didn’t look right. Something was off. He looked quickly around him. Molly picked up on his mood and did the same.

  “The traffic noises at the end of the alley sound wrong,” Eddie said finally. “They’re too loud. Usually they sound dim and distant, because this alley-way is only loosely connected to the everyday world. This is one of the in-between places, which is why they put the door to the Wulfshead here.”

  “It smells like something died in here. Recently,” said Molly. “So no change there.”

  “The graffiti’s disappeared,” said Eddie.

  “What?” said Molly.

 
“The walls used to be covered with graffiti,” said Eddie. “You know, Cthulhu Does It in His Sleep, that sort of thing. And it’s all gone.”

  The bare, brick walls were dark and grimy and running with condensation, without a mark on them.

  “It’s not like anyone would have stolen the graffiti,” said Molly. “Maybe someone finally got around to cleaning up the place.”

  “You couldn’t shift that unnatural graffiti with a flame-thrower and a bucket of holy water,” said Eddie.

  And then he stopped and silently pointed at a cat that had just strolled into the alley. A scruffy thing with matted fur, it gave every impression of being entirely at ease with its surroundings.

  “Now that’s just wrong,” said Molly. “You’d never find a cat in this alley-way before.”

  “Of course not,” said Eddie. “The things would eat it.”

  Molly looked at him. “What things?”

  “I never felt inclined to find out,” said Eddie. “Did you never wonder why there aren’t any rats here?”

  “I thought that was them moving in the garbage.”

  “No, that’s the garbage.”

  Molly fixed the cat with a cold glare. “You. Leave. Now.”

  The cat stopped and regarded Molly thoughtfully. It then performed a dignified about-turn and left the alley, as though that was what it had meant to do all along.

  “Okay,” said Eddie. “I’m impressed.”

  “We should have brought Scraps.2,” said Molly.

  “He’d only have shot it.”

  “Exactly.” Molly pointed to one section of the wall, near the end of the alley. “At least the door to the Wulfshead is still where it should be.”

  They approached the door cautiously. Set flush with the brickwork, the solid silver slab was deeply engraved with threats and warnings in angelic and demonic script, but Eddie only had to look at them for a moment to see they were blurred and distorted, like a bad copy. There was no door-handle, but that was normal. The Wulfshead wasn’t supposed to be easy to get into. The dully gleaming metal surface was running with condensation like the rest of the alley-way. Eddie frowned. It wasn’t that hot. He reached out a hand to test how warm the door was but stopped immediately when Molly dropped a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t,” she said quietly. “That’s not condensation. It’s sweat.”

  Eddie looked at her. “Are you sure?”

  “Smell it.”

  Eddie leaned in close, took a deep breath, and quickly retreated. “Oh, that’s rank. Almost . . . animal. That door is sweating.”

  “Why would it do that?” said Molly.

  “I don’t know,” said Eddie. “Maybe it’s nervous.”

  “What has a door got to be nervous about?”

  “We’re here.”

  “There is that,” said Molly.

  “The door is a fake,” said Eddie. “Like the writings. It’s alive.”

  “Try it with your name,” said Molly. “If the door is still connected to the Club, the entrance protocols should be enough to get us in.”

  Eddie pronounced his name carefully, but there was no response from the door. He subvocalised his activating Words, and the golden armour surged out of his torc and surrounded him in a moment. His face mask was entirely blank, without gaps for mouth or eyes, though he could see perfectly clearly. Because experience had taught the Droods that this particular look was very good for making enemies wet themselves. Eddie stretched slowly. Putting on his armour was like waking from a long doze into full wakefulness. He felt like he could take on the entire world and everything in it. He placed one golden hand on the sweating door, and it flinched away from his touch. Eddie made a fist and grew thick metal spikes out of his knuckles. The door trembled in its frame. Eddie grinned behind his featureless mask and addressed the door.

  “I am Eddie Drood, and this is Molly Metcalf. You really want us mad at you?”

  “Eddie,” said Molly. “You’re threatening a door . . .”

  “A living door,” said Eddie. “Though that might not be the case for very much longer.”

  “Okay,” said Molly. “I just heard that thing whimper. It’s scared of you.”

  “Good,” said Eddie. “Everything sensible is scared of a Drood in his armour.”

  “But I can’t help noticing the door still hasn’t opened,” said Molly.

  Eddie grew a long, golden blade out of his right glove. He showed it to the door.

  “Co-operate, or it’s can-opening time.”

  The door disappeared, leaving just a dark gap in the wall.

  “What a sensible door,” said Molly.

  “I thought so,” said Eddie.

  He drew the golden sword back into his hand, then studied the new opening with all the sensors built into his mask. That included infra-red and ultraviolet, but he still couldn’t see an inch beyond the opening.

  “The dark is keeping me out,” he said finally. “If the Wulfshead is still there, I should be picking up something.”

  “The field agent said she could see Blaiston Street,” said Molly.

  “Maybe she stuck her head in,” said Eddie.

  “I wouldn’t,” said Molly.

  “Only one way to be certain,” said Eddie. “Step through and see for ourselves.”

  “You do that,” said Molly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Why am I going first?”

  “Because you’re the one wearing armour.”

  “Good point.”

  Eddie stepped into the darkness, and Molly followed him.

  * * *

  • • •

  They stood side by side on a filthy, lonely street, lit only by a night sky full of stars and a freakishly oversized moon. There was no sign anywhere of the Wulfshead Club. Eddie looked quickly up and down the street, but there was no one else about.

  “We’re in the Nightside,” said Molly.

  “I had noticed,” said Eddie. “Even though that wasn’t one of the recognised ways in. Is this Blaiston Street?”

  “Yes,” said Molly. “I’ve been here before.”

  “What were you doing in a neighbourhood like this?”

  “Business,” said Molly.

  Eddie nodded. He knew better than to ask for details. He looked behind him. The doorway was still there, just a dark gap in a grimy brick wall. Eddie armoured down, leaving him just another visitor to a street where no one belonged. He smiled briefly at Molly.

  “I don’t want to attract any attention.”

  “Then you’ve come to the right place,” said Molly. “No one cares who you are in this place because if you’re on Blaiston Street, you’ve fallen off the bottom of the world.”

  Eddie looked around some more and shook his head disgustedly. “You were right. This is a shit-hole.”

  “Even the worst-off people need somewhere to go,” said Molly.

  Blaiston Street looked like what it was: the back-end of nowhere. Shabby dwellings on a shabby street, for people who’d run out of future. Slum terraces lined both sides of the street, long rows of human misery with broken and boarded-up windows. Everything looked foul and diseased, falling apart and falling down. The street-lamps had all been smashed, possibly because the locals felt more at home in the shadows.

  Rubbish had been dumped in festering piles all along the street, and the grimy brick walls were covered with obscene graffiti in a mixture of languages. Half the houses looked like they’d collapse if they weren’t holding each other up. Steam rose from sewer gratings, drifting like disease on the wind. Homeless people lay curled up inside ragged blankets in the back alleys. The whole street stank of decay, physical and spiritual.

  “This is the real face of the Nightside,” said Eddie.

  “No,” said Molly. “It’s just one face.”

>   “Let’s get this done,” said Eddie. “And hope my psychic crown is working, in case I have to raise my armour to take care of business . . .”

  “We’re only supposed to gather information,” Molly said carefully.

  Eddie snorted loudly. “That’s never been what we do. We’re hands-on people. We get answers by beating them out of the case.”

  “I don’t think you can beat up a street,” said Molly. “Even with Drood armour.”

  Eddie looked up and down Blaiston Street. “The Wulfshead has to be here somewhere. The door brought us here.”

  Molly frowned. “If someone in the Nightside is planning to extend its territory, why start with Blaiston Street?”

  “Because it’s expendable?” said Eddie. “I’m more interested in how something like this was able to overwhelm the Wulfshead, with all its protections. Maybe it’s trapped here, inside one of these buildings. People could still be alive, inside the Club.”

  “Let’s hope it’s not too late to rescue them,” said Molly. “Come on; the sooner we get this done, the better. It’s only a matter of time before the Authorities pick up on us.”

  “Let them,” Eddie said immediately. “We are here for as long as it takes to get answers. This street has attacked my world and abducted my friends. Someone’s got to pay for that.”

  “Information gathering only, remember?”

  “Since when do you care what the Matriarch wants?”

  “Since it involves the Nightside,” Molly said steadily. “You don’t want to start something you might not be able to finish.”

  “Remember who you’re talking to,” said Eddie. “I’m a Drood.”

  “Remember where you are,” said Molly. “Normal rules do not apply in the long night. Including the one you’re most used to: that Droods always win.”

  Eddie strode off down the street, and after a moment, Molly followed on behind.

  * * *

  • • •

  Although Eddie wasn’t prepared to admit it, Blaiston Street was creeping the hell out of him. He could feel the pressure of unseen watching eyes, heavy with malice. His footsteps sounded loudly on the quiet, as though warning he was coming. Molly moved at his side, barely making a sound.