From Hell With Love: A Secret Histories Novel

by Simon R. Green

  “If it’s all over,” I said, “what do you care about your files? You’re not here to destroy them; you’re here to destroy all the computer records, to strike back at the Immortals.”

  “Oh hell,” said Molly. “A bright one. What were the odds? Too bad for you . . .”

  She got up to face me, and she’d never looked more beautiful, or more dangerous.

  “The Drood was here before you,” I said. “Edwin. Too stupid to get what he needed from our computers.”

  “Don’t you talk about him,” she said. “Don’t you talk about my Eddie! He’s a better man than all of you put together!”

  “I know,” I said. “But it’s good to hear you say it.” I used the Chameleon Codex to change my shape, and took on my own face and body again. I smiled at Molly. “Hi, sweetie. Miss me?”

  “You bastard,” she said, and her gaze and her voice had never been colder. “You bloody bastard Immortal. How dare you take on my Eddie’s face? I’ll kill you for that!”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I said, retreating rapidly as she advanced on me. “It’s me, Molly, it’s really me!”

  Something in my face and voice stopped her. She looked at me for a long moment, with a cold, unwavering and quite deadly gaze.

  “Prove it.”

  “You’re convinced your left tit is smaller than your right one, even though I keep telling you they’re the same.”

  “It is you! Eddie!” She stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face. “That’s for pretending to be someone else, to test me! Oh Eddie, my Eddie . . .”

  I took her in my arms and we hugged each other tightly, clinging together like we’d never let each other go, like the whole world couldn’t pull us apart, now we’d found each other again. She buried her face in my shoulder, and I hid my face in her hair. We were both breathing hard, as though we’d run a long way to get here, to this moment. Our bodies pressed tight together, as though we wanted to touch every part of each other at once.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” I said finally. “Oh God, Molly, I wanted to die. I didn’t want to go on living, without you.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Molly. She pulled back a little, so she could look me in the eye. “I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t let you know I was still alive. I had to keep you in the dark, for your own protection.”

  We let go of each other, but still stood close together, face-to-face. I could feel her breath on my mouth, and her gaze was like a caress.

  “How?” I said finally. “How did you survive, Molly? I saw the blades . . . and the blood . . .”

  She put her fingertips on my mouth to stop me talking. “I did tell you once, but you clearly weren’t paying attention. I’m a witch, Eddie. We all keep our hearts separate from our bodies, safely stored and hidden in a protected place. As long as they don’t actually cut my head off, I can survive anything. I always come back. Isabella got me out of the Hall, and then watched over me while I slowly healed myself.”

  “But . . . why didn’t you come back to the Hall?” I said. “Why couldn’t you at least contact me, tell me you were still alive?”

  “I had a lot of time to think, while my body was repairing itself,” said Molly. “Everything that had happened only made sense if the Droods had been infiltrated. And the only ones who could do that, were the Immortals. And that meant I couldn’t trust anyone, anymore. It was safer for both of us if our enemies thought I was dead. So I came here, to break into their computers and search out a list of everyone they’ve replaced inside your family.”

  “Hold everything,” I said. “You knew about the Immortals? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “You never asked. I know all kinds of things, Eddie.”

  “We will come back to that, at a later date,” I said. “For now, how did you get into the Castle?”

  “I made a deal with these people, remember? And while I was here, I was allowed to come and go as I pleased; so I took the opportunity to set up my own little back door teleport. Just in case I needed to come back again, without their permission. It never even occurred to the smug little bastards that I might not be as completely taken in by them as they thought I was. How did you get in?”

  I smiled. “The Armourer makes the very best toys.”

  She grinned back at me. “I should have known you’d been here before me. Look at this mess. You never were the most subtle of secret agents.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said loftily. “I am a thing of mists and shadows.”

  “How were you able to look like one of the Immortals?” she said abruptly. “That wasn’t an illusion; I would have Seen through that.”

  I explained to her about the Chameleon Codex, and the Gemini Duplicator, and she grinned wickedly.

  “So . . . you can make two of yourself, or even more? You can change to look like anyone at all . . . Including celebrities? Male and female? Oh, Eddie . . . we are so going to give these toys a workout in your bedroom when we get back!”

  “How well we know each other,” I said.

  The computer made a polite noise, to let us know it was done doing what Molly had told it to do, and we both looked round, and leaned over the monitor to study the long list of names scrolling down on the screen.

  “You don’t look happy anymore, Eddie. In fact, you look like you want to kill someone. I know it’s a lot of names, but is it really that bad?”

  “So many names,” I said. “Past, and present. People I’ve known all my life. Trusted faces. I can’t believe we were infiltrated this badly, and never knew. And from outside. We should have spotted them, we should have noticed something . . . But we were too arrogant. We just couldn’t believe it was possible . . .” And then I saw one particular name. “Damn. I know now. I know who killed the Matriarch. I know who murdered my grandmother, and how.”

  “Who?” said Molly, peering past my shoulder at the screen. “Who was it?”

  I set the computer to downloading the list onto a disc, and turned away from the screen. “It doesn’t matter now. That’s family business. It can wait. We have work to do, Molly. I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with everything that’s happening here, but we only have eight hours or less to get to Area 52, and deal with the Apocalypse Door, before some poor fool opens it.”

  “Damn right,” said Molly. “The old team, back in action again! I’ve missed you, Eddie.”

  “I missed you, Molly. More than life itself.”

  “All right, you’re pushing it now . . .”

  We hugged each other again, but broke apart almost immediately as we heard a whole crowd of people approaching, at speed. Molly grabbed the disc with the list, and tucked it away about her person.

  “Must have set off a silent alarm, this time,” I said. “You’ve got better long-range senses than me. How many are coming?”

  Molly concentrated briefly, and then frowned. “At a conservative guess, I’d have to say . . . all of them. If I’m reading the signs right, and I am, every Immortal in the Castle is up in arms, loaded for bear, and headed this way with vengeance on their minds. All right, Eddie, what have you done this time?”

  “Why is it always my fault?” I said innocently.

  “Because it is always your fault!”

  You can’t argue with logic like that. “How far to the nearest exit?”

  “Eddie, they’ve blocked off every exit, including half a dozen I didn’t even know existed until now. And I’m very thorough about things like that.”

  “So,” I said. “You and me, up against the whole family of Immortals. Not good odds . . .”

  “Can’t you just open a doorway for us, with the Merlin Glass?”

  “It won’t work inside the Castle’s protections. Nothing living can pass through their defences. What about your teleport spells?”

  “Same problem,” said Molly. “We’re going to have to fight our way out.”

  “Works for me,” I said. “Don’t suppose you happe
ned to bring any really nasty and powerful magical weapons with you, by any chance?”

  “I don’t normally need them,” said Molly. “I take it you can at least armour up?”

  “Oh yes. Ready to rock and roll.”

  “Oh good. I was almost worried there, for a moment.”

  “Here they come,” I said. “Don’t hold back, Molly. They won’t.”

  “The thought never even crossed my mind.”

  “Of course. Don’t know what I was thinking of. Now, let us go forth and smite the ungodly with malice aforethought.”

  “Let’s,” said Molly. “I can do malice. I am just in the mood to do appalling things.”

  “Never knew you when you weren’t,” I said. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

  “And you love it.”

  We left the computer room and headed down the stone corridor to the back stairs. I was still sort of hoping the Immortals might have overlooked them. I didn’t want to fight down in the dungeons if I could help it. Not enough room to manoeuvre. But by the time we’d got to the foot of the stairs, I could already hear a host of angry voices hurrying down towards us. They sounded really quite upset about something. I smiled, and I could feel it was not a very nice smile. Now they knew how it felt to be infiltrated, violated, where they lived. I armoured up, gleaming golden strange matter sweeping around me in a moment. I felt stronger and faster and more focused, more alive. I was a Drood, in my armour and in my fury, and the Immortals were about to learn what that meant. I extended golden spikes from my knuckles, and took up a position blocking the foot of the stairs. I didn’t want anyone getting past me. I wanted them blocked in, only able to come at Molly and me a few at a time. Molly moved in beside me, disturbing energies already spitting and crackling around her hands, waiting to be unleashed. I reached inside my armour, and drew my Colt Repeater. I like to think of myself as an agent and not an assassin, but sometimes the enemy just doesn’t give you any choice. The first Immortals came charging round the corner and down the stairs, and I opened fire.

  The first few were thrown back by the bullets’ impact, but you can’t kill an Immortal with lead. The fallen were already healing as the next few jumped over them, to get at us. They flesh danced in midair, growing their thick bony plates, and my bullets ricocheted away harmlessly. I tried silver bullets, to no better effect, and then called on cursed ammunition, and that did the job. The cursed bullets punched right through the bone protection, and the Immortals cried out in pain and horror as the curse took root in their Immortal flesh. Their skin cracked and burst apart, the meat beneath corrupting and rotting from the inside out, eating them up. The Immortals died horribly, screaming, and the ones coming next hesitated. I raised my Colt, but when I pulled the trigger nothing happened. I called for more bullets, for any kind of ammunition; but nothing came. The Immortals had found a way to block the Colt, so its bullets couldn’t reach it. Clever Immortals. I put the gun back inside my armour, and grew long golden blades from my fists. The Immortals found their courage again, and came forward, howling ancient war cries.

  And Molly and I waited for them with death in our hands.

  We hit the first few hard, striking them down and trampling them underfoot. My golden blades sliced and chopped through Immortal flesh, my armoured strength slamming the blades through skin and bone with equal ease. Blood spurted, staining the stone walls and running thickly down the stone steps. Immortals died screaming, and behind my featureless gold mask I was smiling a cold, cold smile. Let them die. Let them all die for what they had done to the world, and Humanity, and my family.

  Crackling energy bolts flew from Molly’s upraised hands, blasting heads and bodies apart, exploding bone and flesh with bad intent. The Immortals were used to striking from hiding, from behind trusted faces; they weren’t used to going head to head and hand to hand, even with overwhelming odds on their side. The ones at the front hesitated, and even tried to back away, but the press of eager bodies behind wouldn’t let them. So they came at Molly and me with every kind of weapon, guns and blades, ancient and modern, scientific and magical, and none of it did them any good.

  I pushed forward with Molly at my side, forcing our way up the stairs over the bodies of the dead and the dying. I punched a golden blade right through a bony chest plate and into the heart, twisted once and then withdrew, hauling the falling body out of the way so I could get at the next Immortal. Molly grabbed a man by the chin and ripped his face right off. And while he was screaming through the crimson mess, she blasted a fireball down his throat. Molly always did fight dirty. Side by side, step by step, we fought our way up the narrow stairway, and there was nothing the pack of Immortals could do to stop us.

  Molly blasted them with Words that hit like shrapnel, tearing through flesh and ripping out eyes. She sent lightning bolts dancing among the packed bodies before us, and the stench of burning meat was thick on the close air. I cut the bastards down, and crushed their skulls with casual blows. And if I always seemed to position myself so that I stood between Molly and most of the attackers, that was my business. She would have been furious if she’d noticed, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t risk losing her again.

  The Immortals came at us with swords and axes, in a dozen styles out of history, their blades glowing brightly, reinforced with terrible magics and sparkling plasma energies. Most of them rebounded harmlessly from my armour, and I dodged the rest. I could be hurt, even inside my marvellous armour, though it took a lot to do it. And if anyone could come up with a supernatural can opener, it would be the Immortals. Molly blew the more dangerous-looking weapons apart with a quick gesture, before they could get anywhere near her. Some of the Immortals had guns, firing bullets and explosive charges and all kinds of fierce energies. None of them could penetrate my armour, though the deadlier energies crackled around me like malevolent ivy for a worryingly long time, before falling reluctantly away. Molly had her own shields, magical protections established so long ago they kicked in automatically.

  One Immortal hid behind others, and jabbed an Aboriginal pointing bone at me. The magic slammed against my chest, hitting me like a cannonball, stopping me dead in my tracks. The Immortal cried out in triumph, and stabbed at me again. The magic crashed against my armour, made a sound like the striking of a great golden gong, and then rebounded. The bone exploded in the Immortal’s hand, driving hundreds of bone splinters into the ruined flesh. The woman behind him hauled him back out of the way, ignoring his agonised screams, and smiled nastily at me as she held up a Hand of Glory. My heart missed a beat as I remembered Methuselah showing us all the Hand he’d made from an angel’s flesh, and then I breathed again as I realised this wasn’t that. It was a Hand of Glory all right, made from a dead man, with the fingers lit like candles, and presumably she thought she could use it to unlock my armour. She really should have known better. She thrust the dead Hand at me, and its fingers writhed briefly, and then it turned around, grabbed her by the throat and throttled her to death. She should have done her research.

  The next Immortal pushed past her, making no attempt to help her, and trained on me the biggest machine gun I’ve ever seen, complete with trailing bands of ammo. I was frankly amazed he could even lift the thing. He sprayed me with bullets, trying to force me back so he could get at Molly. I stood my ground, and the armour absorbed every single bullet. Molly sheltered behind my armoured form until the shooting stopped abruptly, as the Immortal ran out of bullets. And then she just peeked past me briefly, snapped her fingers, and where the Immortal had been there was now a rather surprised-looking toad. It’s a neat trick, and not one Molly can do often, as it takes a lot out of her; but the psychological effect on the enemy is always outstanding. The Immortals at the front turned and fought those behind them, refusing to be pushed forward to a fate worse than death. They jammed together in the narrow stairway, and Molly and I cut and blasted our way through them like lumberjacks through virgin forest.

  We pressed forward, forcing our
way into and through the Immortals, stepping over bodies and splashing through blood. I cut them down and hauled them aside, and plunged on again, with nothing in my heart for them but a terrible coldness. For all the things they’d done, and for all they intended to do, there could be no quarter, no mercy. And after a while I hardly heard the screams, and the pleas, and the horror.

  It was still slow, hard, bloody business. They fought us every inch of the way, with all kinds of ˚ weapons, and they took a lot of killing. And for a family built on treachery and striking from the shadows, they weren’t cowards. They could fight, when they had to. I was glad of that. It made killing them easier. Less like butchery. More like execution than slaughter. Molly pressed in close beside me, when she could, when there was space enough, and threw energy bolts and vicious magics from behind me when she couldn’t. She was having to change her spells more frequently now, as she used up her reserves. There were limits to what even she could do, though she went to great pains to hide that from people. Her magic was running out, and by the time we made it to the top of the stairs she was breathing hard, and blood was seeping from her eyes, from the strain of what she’d done to herself.

  I paused in the doorway, looking quickly around the open space before me. The wide corridor was packed with howling Immortals, crying out for our deaths, and if Molly and I moved forward, it would leave us open to attack from all sides at once. We had to get off this floor, and down into the hall below, with a chance at the main door. But there were hundreds, maybe even thousands of Immortals between us and the great stairway. I might make it, protected by my armour, but Molly almost certainly wouldn’t. She had to see the situation as clearly as I did, but she didn’t say anything. She was waiting for me to come up with a plan, and then she’d back me up, whatever it was. The Immortals were waiting too, grinning and yelling mockingly at me, daring me to step out from the protection of the doorway, so they could fall on Molly and me like the pack of wolves they were. But I had no intention of fighting my way through that crowd to the great stairs. I’d had a better idea.