Night Fall

by Simon R. Green

“But are we really ready to use them?” said Eddie.

  “Only in self-defence,” said the Matriarch.

  “Where have I heard that before?” said Eddie.

  “Are you questioning my authority?” said the Matriarch.

  “Of course,” said Eddie. “That’s what I do. That’s why you wanted me here.”

  The Matriarch surprised everyone then with a brief smile. “Exactly. I can always rely on you to tell me what I need to hear, whether I want to hear it or not. You are the sounding-board I test my ideas against, to see if they have value. But at the end of the day, Eddie . . . I make the decisions for this family. Not you. Cross that line, and I will have the Sarjeant-at-Arms arrest you.”

  Eddie looked thoughtfully at the Sarjeant. “Like to see you try that, Cedric.”

  “Right,” said Molly, grinning unpleasantly.

  “I lead this family,” said the Matriarch.

  “Of course you do,” said Eddie. And then he thought, but didn’t say, Right up to the point where I decide to take it away from you.

  The Matriarch accepted his words at face-value and smiled around the room, in a good mood again. “Now, you’re probably wondering why I summoned you all here. I have decided to call a Summit Meeting, for all the more important secret organisations. So we can discuss possible combined actions against this mutual threat.”

  “That’s your big plan?” said Molly. “To gang up on the Nightside?”

  “The sooner we put an end to this situation, the less damage and loss of life there will be, on both sides.” The Matriarch looked challengingly around the room. “No one wants a long war.”

  War, thought Eddie. She finally used the word war. He caught the Sarjeant-at-Arms looking at him, but he still didn’t know what to say for the best. So he said nothing.

  “We don’t have time for the usual formalities,” said the Matriarch. “All the diplomatic courtesies and endless arguments over acceptable neutral ground. And there’s always the possibility of a breach in security. We can’t have anyone else knowing about this.”

  “Because we don’t want people knowing we couldn’t do this on our own and had to beg for help?” said Eddie. “Or because we don’t want certain groups to know the kind of sneaky deals we make behind their backs?”

  “It’s not about help, or deals,” said the Matriarch. “We just need to do this as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

  “Right,” said Molly. Packing a world of sarcasm into one drawn-out word.

  The Matriarch turned to Ammonia Vom Acht. “I need you to make telepathic contact with the proper representatives of each group, so we can talk.”

  “They’re not going to like that,” said Ammonia. “It’ll mean breaking through their protections. And I’m not comfortable with their knowing I can do that.”

  “Needs must when the devil drives, my dear,” said William. “Even if she is just an ex-gardener with a power complex. Do it, Ammonia. We need to know where we stand with the other organisations before we start anything.”

  “For you, William,” said Ammonia.

  Both of them glowered at the Matriarch, but she just stared impassively back. Ammonia frowned, concentrating. A strange new tension filled the air, an almost overwhelming sense of Ammonia’s presence. As though she were growing, looming over them, filling the chamber . . . and then suddenly it was gone. Ammonia scowled and shook her head slowly.

  “They’ve been upgrading their defences again. I could break through, but there’s no telling how much time that would take.” She turned to Eddie. “I’m going to need the Merlin Glass, to use as a focusing agent.”

  Eddie reluctantly took out the hand-mirror and passed it to Ammonia. She accepted it, then pulled a face.

  “If you could only feel the sticky psychic imprints from all the people who’ve used this thing in the past, you’d never touch it again. I’m going to have to scrub my psyche down with wire wool afterwards.”

  She shook the Glass out to door size, and it leapt from her hand to hang on the air before her. Instead of showing her reflection, the Glass was full of buzzing static. Ammonia scowled at it, and the Glass slowly cleared to reveal an interior view of Castle Inconnu, home to the London Knights. It looked like a fairy-tale castle, with walls of warm yellow stone, bubbling fountains in huge galleries, and great, sweeping stairways. And then that view was suddenly swept aside, replaced by a full-bodied woman in a long gown of shimmering white samite. Her face was handsome rather than pretty, topped with golden hair tied in old-fashioned braids. She glared out of the Glass at Ammonia.

  “I should have known. Only you would have the brass balls to punch right through our defences. What do you want, Ammonia?”

  “Allow me to present the London Knights’ foremost telepath, witch, and on-going mystery,” said Ammonia. “Vivienne de Tourney. Also and more properly known as Vivienne La Fae.”

  Eddie looked sharply at Ammonia. “Hold it. Any relation to Morgana La Fae, the ancient sorceress who was, till very recently, imprisoned in the Merlin Glass?”

  “Depends on who you talk to,” said Ammonia. “Some say this is Morgana’s sister. Some say she’s just a distant descendant, and others say she only uses the name to mess with people’s heads. Other people say other things. No one knows the truth except Vivienne; and she’s not telling.”

  “Because it’s no one else’s business,” said Vivienne. “What do you want, Ammonia? I’m right in the middle of breaking a young Knight’s spirit, and he’s loving every moment of it.”

  The Matriarch launched into a terse explanation of the Droods’ position over the expanded Nightside. Vivienne raised a hand before the Matriarch was even half-way through.

  “We already know about that. And take it from me, the London Knights will not become involved in any action that includes the Droods.”

  “Perhaps I should speak to Grand Master Kae,” said the Matriarch.

  “I’m here to protect Kae from people like you,” said Vivienne. “The London Knights may be on speaking terms with the Droods these days, but some of us still remember when we were at war. We will never turn our backs on you again.”

  “But the Nightside . . .” said the Matriarch.

  “We already have people investigating what’s going on in the long night,” said Vivienne. “And we’ll make our own decisions about what needs doing.” She deliberately turned away from the Matriarch to scowl at Ammonia. “This conversation is at an end. Don’t ever disturb me like this again, or I will fill your subconscious with psychic tapeworms.”

  Vivienne de Tourney disappeared from the Merlin Glass, and the buzzing static returned. Almost with a sense of relief. Ammonia looked at the Matriarch.

  “On the whole, that went as well as could be expected. Do you want me to carry on? It’s not going to get any better.”

  “Continue,” the Matriarch said steadily. “I need to talk to the Soulhunters.”

  “Them?” said Molly. “Why the hell would you want to talk to them? They’re crazy! You have to be crazy to get into the Soulhunters. In fact, you’d have to be crazy to want to get in.”

  “But they know things no one else knows,” said the Matriarch. “Do it, Ammonia.”

  The telepath shrugged and concentrated on the Merlin Glass again. The static swayed this way and that, as though meeting resistance, before clearing to reveal a tall and unhealthily slender individual in a pale lavender suit with padded shoulders. He turned unhurriedly to study the Drood Council, then struck a studiedly louche pose. The front of his jacket hung open to reveal he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just a black string tie. His skin was grey and looked like it could use a good scrub down with a wire brush. His face was sunken and hollowed, as though consumed by spiritual fires, and his eyes were disturbingly knowing. His smile didn’t fool anyone. He knew that and didn’t give a damn.

  “Well, well,
how nice. Good to see you . . . good to see anyone, really. It’s not often we have visitors. I do love to tell people things they need to know, but they never thank me afterwards. Of course, when you’ve stared reality in the face and French kissed her like your favourite sister, it’s bound to change the way you see things.”

  “Oh hell,” said Molly. “We’ve got Demonbane.”

  The Soulhunter turned his disquieting gaze on her. “Hello, Molly! How nice to see you again, sweetie.”

  “I was never your sweetie!” Molly said loudly.

  Demonbane pouted, an expression no more real than his smile. “That’s not what you said in the sewers under Paris.”

  “Talk to me, Soulhunter,” said the Matriarch.

  Demonbane favoured her with his meaningless smile and a patently insincere bow. “Mother Drood! Well, well, I am honoured! What can I do for the illustrious Drood family? Do you want to know the true meaning of life and death, or what goes walking between the stars we can’t see and lusts after human souls? Or would you like me to tell you the real reason why you should be afraid of the dark?”

  The Matriarch started her speech again, but the Soulhunter interrupted her before she was even well underway.

  “We know about that, and we don’t care. We have more important things to worry about. And I think it’s only fair to say, we’d rather bite our own heads off than play nicely with the Droods. We do have standards. Bye-bye, everybody.”

  “No!” said the Matriarch. “You need to listen to me!”

  “Kiss my stigmata,” said Demonbane.

  And just like that, he was gone. The buzzing static returned, with a palpable sense of wishing it had never gone away. Ammonia shook her head hard, as though trying to dislodge something.

  “Sometimes I wonder if they’re even human any more, after everything they’ve seen . . . Who do you want me to try next?”

  Before the Matriarch could say anything, the static was blasted out of the Merlin Glass and replaced by Old Father Time, in all his terrible authority. The Matriarch looked quickly at Ammonia.

  “Why is he here? I didn’t tell you to contact him!”

  “That is the personification of Time itself, a living legend of Shadows Fall,” said Ammonia. “He can do whatever he feels like doing, and I’m not going to be the one to tell him he can’t. That isn’t even what he really looks like. It’s just a human shape he puts on to interact with us, like a hand inside a glove puppet. Because the human mind couldn’t cope with any more than that. You talk to him. Just looking at him makes my mind hurt.”

  Old Father Time appeared to be an old man with shoulder-length white hair, a haughty face, and penetrating eyes. Dressed to the height of Victorian fashion, he gripped the lapels of his jacket with both hands and started talking before the Matriarch could even open her mouth.

  “Of course you weren’t going to summon me,” he said testily. “I come when I’m needed, not where I’m wanted. It simplifies things. And I would think even the Droods would have more sense than to bother Shadows Fall. But I know about the Nightside, and I know what you’re planning. I see everything. The whole of the chronoflow is my domain.”

  Molly looked at Eddie, and he gave her a Don’t ask me look. He studied Old Father Time with great interest, fascinated to see one of the great powers and enigmas of Shadows Fall. The town where legends went to die when the world stopped believing in them. Only sometimes, they didn’t die . . .

  “I know what’s going to happen,” said Old Father Time. “And no, you can’t stop it. Because you’re part of it. No one in Shadows Fall will help or hinder you because this is your fate, your destiny.” He shook his leonine head sadly. “So arrogant, so sure of yourselves, so ready to impose your authority on others . . . You will be the horror in the long night, the nightmare in the Nightside. You will come right to the edge of a terrible abyss, and jump anyway. Because you are . . . what you are. But in the end, there is still a faint chance, still a slender hope . . . If one good man can do the right thing.”

  He disappeared from the Merlin Glass, and the return of the buzzing static came as a relief. It was like being lectured by God’s stand-in.

  “So,” said the Matriarch. “It would appear we can forget about any assistance from Shadows Fall.”

  “Really?” said Eddie. “That’s what you got, from what he just said? Didn’t you listen? We are going to be the terrible thing that everyone in the Nightside is so afraid of!”

  “Which is as it should be,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “It’s always been part of our job description, to be scarier than the threats we face.”

  “Exactly,” said the Matriarch.

  Eddie looked to Molly. “You talk to her. She’s not listening to me.”

  “If you can’t get through to her, I don’t know what you expect me to do,” said Molly. “I could knock her down, sit on her, and scream in her ear; and she still wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Hush, Molly,” said the Matriarch.

  “See?” said Molly.

  “Ammonia,” said the Matriarch. “I want to talk to the Carnacki Institute.”

  “The Ghost Finders?” said Eddie. “What can they do to help?”

  “They have sources in realms even we can’t reach,” said the Matriarch. “And unlike the Soulhunters, it hasn’t driven them crazy.”

  The Merlin Glass cleared abruptly, to show the new head of the Carnacki Institute sitting at his desk, looking straight at the Matriarch. JC Chance looked perfectly splendid in his expertly cut ice-cream-white suit, with his handsome face, rock-star mane of long black hair, and very dark sun-glasses. He looked at the Matriarch as though he could see right through her and shook his head firmly.

  “No.”

  “You don’t even know what I was about to ask,” said the Matriarch.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said JC. “Word has got around as to what you’re intending to do, and you are not dragging us in with you.”

  “You’re very well informed, for a company of ghost chasers,” said the Sarjeant.

  “We have more sense than to get involved with the Nightside’s problems,” said JC, still giving his whole attention to the Matriarch. “The long night goes its own way and always has, right back to its creation. Some say that’s the whole point. Nothing any of us can do will make any difference.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said the Sarjeant.

  “I just did,” said JC.

  “Who have you been talking to about this?” said the Matriarch.

  “The dead,” said JC, quite calmly. “We talk to them all the time, in our line of work. Of course, you can’t trust a lot of what they have to say. The dead always have their own agenda.” He paused, to study the Matriarch thoughtfully through his very dark sun-glasses. “How desperate must you be, that you had to come to us for help?”

  “You can’t sit this out,” the Matriarchy said forcefully. “If we don’t stop the Nightside from expanding, the long night will come for you too.”

  “Operating in the dark on a regular basis teaches you one thing above all others,” said JC. “You have to have a little faith.”

  “What if I ordered you to help us?” said the Matriarch. “Do you really think you can defy Drood authority?”

  JC took off his sun-glasses. His golden eyes burned with a fierce unearthly light.

  “Don’t contact us again,” said JC Chance.

  He disappeared from the Glass. The Matriarch turned to Ammonia.

  “Bring him back! I wasn’t finished!”

  “I didn’t break contact,” said Ammonia. “He did. Which is . . . interesting. Because a simple Ghost Finder shouldn’t be able to do that.”

  Molly looked at Eddie. “What was wrong with his eyes?”

  “I don’t know,” said Eddie. “But I think I’d pay good money not to have to see them again.” />
  “Get me the Department of Uncanny,” the Matriarch said to Ammonia. “As the Government’s office for dealing with the weird and unnatural, they won’t be allowed to hide under the bed.”

  But when Ammonia concentrated on the Merlin Glass, nothing happened. She couldn’t get through. It was no different when she tried to contact the Spawn of Frankenstein.

  “Word has got around,” Ammonia said flatly. “They’ve reinforced their barriers and battened down the hatches. It’ll be the same with everyone now. I can’t break through without endangering them and myself. Which I’m not going to risk just for a conversation we can all predict anyway. We’re on our own.”

  “They may be a bunch of wimps,” said Molly. “But they’re not stupid.”

  Ammonia shut down the Merlin Glass and gave the hand-mirror back to Eddie. He slipped it into his pocket dimension without saying anything, but he was thinking hard. He hadn’t known the Glass could be used to break through other people’s protections.

  “Traitors! Cowards!” The Matriarch looked like she was going to explode. Her face had gone a dangerous shade of purple, and she slammed her fists down on the table as she glared at everyone. “Those damned fools would let the world be destroyed rather than give up their own petty territories! Because some ideas are just too big for them. This . . . This is why the Droods exist! To do the big necessary things that no one else has the guts to do!”

  No one said anything. The Matriarch took a deep breath, unclenched her fists, and sat back in her chair. When she spoke again, she sounded her usual cool and composed self.

  “We’ll deal with them later. For now . . . we need more information. Eddie, Molly: I’m sorry, but I don’t see any other way. Before I can make a final decision on the best course to take, I must know more about what’s happening inside the Nightside. You have to go back.”

  “Why does it have to be us?” said Molly, before Eddie could say anything. She glared defiantly at the Matriarch. “Eddie’s in no fit state to do this, and you know it! He nearly died because of Dr DOA. You promised him a long break.”

  “Yes,” said the Matriarch. “I did. I’m sorry, Molly, but I can’t trust anyone else with this mission.”