From Hell With Love: A Secret Histories Novel

by Simon R. Green

  “Why not?” said Tiger Tim. “What have they ever done for me? I thought you of all people would understand, Eddie. They made you a rogue too, just for wanting to be different. Of course, you weaselled your way back in. You probably even think you can save them. But the Droods are really no different from the Immortals, when it matters. All these generations of golden men and women—we should have been ruling the world by now, worshipped and adored! Why settle for being shepherds, when we should have been lords of all we surveyed . . . I’m tired of hiding my light under a bushel, Eddie. I want the throne that’s rightfully mine.”

  “God, you Droods love the sound of your own voices!” said Molly. “Okay, everyone step away from the Door, before I decided to turn you into something small and squishy.”

  “But you haven’t heard the best bit yet,” said Tiger Tim. “Haven’t you wondered why we’re here, in this particular room?” He snapped his fingers loudly, and one whole wall disappeared, replaced by a virtual view of an outside scene, of the snow and ice surrounding Area 52. The image was flawless; it could have been a window. I could almost feel the cold.

  “We’re here,” said Tiger ˚ Tim, just a bit grandly, “because this room has the best view of what’s going to happen. Out there is where we’re going to place the Door and then open it by remote control. And then we can stand here and watch, as all the hordes of Hell break out, into the world of men.”

  “The Door chose those particular coordinates,” said Doctor Delirium. “I confess I’m not entirely sure why. Sentimental value, perhaps? Did something important happen here long ago, before the poles shifted, and snow and ice came to cover everything that was here? It doesn’t matter. I would have chosen the centre of some great city, for maximum shock and maximum slaughter, but then, that’s just me.”

  “Think what you’re saying!” said Molly. “Mass murder? Death and suffering and the slaughter of innocents? You’re just a mad scientist with a thing for rare postage stamps; when did you ever care about things like that?”

  The Doctor paused, uncertain. “I have changed. I know that. I had to grow up. Become . . . cold. Because I couldn’t get the revenge I wanted so badly, if I stayed my old soft-hearted self. I never really wanted to destroy the world, before. It was all about power; about threatening the governments of the world with my wonderful plagues, just so that they would be forced to acknowledge my genius. But that was then, this is now. I will have my revenge. It’s all I’ve got left.”

  Tiger Tim beamed happily at the virtual view before him. “Nothing like a ringside seat, for the end of the world.”

  I advanced on Doctor Delirium, and then stopped as he put one hand on the Apocalypse Door. The room felt distinctly warmer, the smell of Hell more distinct. The Door’s presence seemed to beat upon the air like great membranous wings. The light was fading, slowly but surely, as darkness pressed in around us. Molly glared about her uncertainly, but none of the other three seemed to have noticed anything. Perhaps because they’d spent too much time in the presence of the Door.

  “Is this really what you want, Doctor?” I said. “It’s not too late to turn away from the destruction of the whole world.”

  Doctor Delirium drew himself up to his full height, and glared at me; but close up, more than ever he looked like a child playing dress-up. Not a mad scientist and supervillain, just a small podgy man in a grubby lab coat, standing next to something far more evil than he could ever hope to be.

  “Typical Drood,” sneered the Doctor. “Still trying to save the world, even when it’s far too late. Why? It’s not like the world’s worth saving. It’s rotten, corrupt, and it doesn’t care. Let it burn. I wasn’t always Doctor Delirium, you know. I had a real name once, a real life in the real world. I was hired right out of college, given all the best equipment and really good money, and all I had to do was make bio weapons for the Government. Nasty new diseases, with which to smite our enemies.

  “I wanted to work on cures, but it was made very clear to me that there were no resources, no money, for that. I wanted to achieve great things, but my Government just wanted me to be a mass murderer. And I went along with it . . . Until a lawyer told me my Uncle had left me a fortune, a secret base and a private army. I quit that very day, and chose a new name for myself, a new identity. And then I set out to make the world respect me, as it never had before. I wanted to be Louis Pasteur; but it was bullies like you Droods that made me Doctor Delirium.

  “I gave my life to that cause. I gave up friends and family, all hope for love and happiness, in pursuit of my revenge. It’s all I’ve got left, and I will have it.”

  “Who was this uncle of yours?” I said. “We never could work that out.”

  “Oh, that was us,” said Methuselah.

  “What?” said Doctor Delirium.

  “Just standard meddling,” said the Immortal. “We regularly locate and identify useful embittered people, and give them funding. Just to see what will happen. I suppose it’s our equivalent of poking an ant’s nest with a stick . . .”

  Doctor Delirium stared at him incredulously. “You started all this? You pushed me into this life? When I could have been happy? Then I suppose it’s only fitting that you should be here for the end. I could kill you; I do want to. But what’s coming will be far worse than anything I could do to you. Hell is coming, Methuselah, and all its horrors . . . And you will grovel at my feet and beg for mercy. And I’ll say no.”

  Methuselah shrugged. “There’s just no pleasing some people.”

  “Nasty little man,” said Tiger Tim.

  I moved as close to the Apocalypse Door as the Doctor would allow, and studied it thoughtfully. Tiger Tim tried to join me, but Molly moved quickly to block his way. Methuselah stayed where he was, watching us all calmly. Up close, the Door’s presence was disturbing. It seemed more real, more there, than the rest of us . . . I could feel the Door watching me, studying me as I studied it. I started to raise my Sight, and then stopped. I didn’t want to See what lay beyond the Apocalypse Door.

  The teleport chain lying in a circle around the Door looked familiar. I’d seen that crystal tech before, and there was nothing human about it. Doctor Delirium might claim he invented it, but his genius was with germs. More likely he’d adapted the ring from some alien leftover.

  The Apocalypse Door dominated the room, just by being there. Like a ticking bomb, or a murderer with a fresh blade in his hand.

  “Where is everybody?” I said, looking in particular at Tiger Tim. “Where are your scientists and soldiers, the mercenaries and the security guards? Why haven’t I seen a single living soul in this entire base, apart from you three?”

  Methuselah smiled. “You didn’t really ˚ think we’d share this sublime moment with anyone else, do you?”

  “We cleaned house,” said Tiger Tim. “Just like in the Amazon, only not as messy. We didn’t need anybody else, anymore. They’d only have got in the way.”

  “Really quite a subtle organism,” said Doctor Delirium. “I released it into the base’s air supply, and it ate them all up. Flesh and bone and even their clothing. Hungry little bug, and very industrious. The Door gave me the idea. Of course, I took pains to inoculate myself and Tiger Tim in advance, just in case any of the bug happened to hang around after it was supposed to have dispersed.”

  “And I don’t need any inoculation,” said Methuselah. “I am an Immortal and a flesh dancer; after all these years my immune system produces white blood cells like wrecking balls. Though I have to say, given that there could still be a few traces of the nasty thing floating about, for all your protestations, Doctor, I’m surprised you and the witch are still here, Drood.”

  “I have my torc,” I said.

  “And I’m Molly Metcalf. The most powerful witch you’ll ever meet.”

  “Witch,” murmured Tiger Tim. “Not quite the word I had in mind . . .”

  “Don’t push your luck, Timothy,” I said.

  Molly went back to glaring at Doctor Del
irium. “You killed everyone here? Your own people?”

  “Why not?” said Tiger Tim. “We didn’t need them anymore, and who knows, they might have tried to stop us opening the Door.”

  “They never cared about me,” said Doctor Delirium. “All they ever cared about was my money! They weren’t loyal. Mercenaries are never loyal; I’ve always known that. And they would have died anyway, after I opened the Door.” He giggled suddenly, a shockingly childlike sound. “Maybe I’ll see them again, running and leaping among the hordes of the damned . . . I don’t care. They were just people. And what have people ever done, but laugh at me? Do you hear anyone laughing now?”

  Molly looked at me. “Total bugfuck weirdo, and nasty with it.”

  “Was there ever any doubt?” I looked at Methuselah. “What about the other Elders, the ones who believed in you? Aren’t you going to wait, just in case any of them turn up? It’s always possible we missed a few.”

  “No more waiting,” said Methuselah. “I never was big on sharing. I was the first Immortal, so I suppose it’s only fitting that I should be the last. And the first again, to transcend this appallingly limited world. I shall become glorious, and know pleasures beyond belief.”

  “Another loony tune,” said Molly. “I’m starting to feel like the only sensible one here, and I’m not used to that.”

  Methuselah ignored her, staring out at the virtual view. “I suppose I’ll be sorry to say good-bye. For all its many problems and imperfections, it has been a pleasant enough world, I suppose. You mayflies don’t appreciate it.

  “The things I’ve seen, since the Heart made me Immortal, all those centuries ago. The wild boars and hairy mammoths running wild in the primordial forests of Olde Englande. The pyramids up beyond Hadrian’s Wall, (although the Sceneshifters made them never happened, the bastards.) I danced at Louis’ Court at Versailles, sat with the first Queen Elizabeth, laughing at a production of Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, complete with fireworks. I’ve talked with Genghis Khan, Hitler and Pol Pot. All of them surprisingly good company. Though they all had a taste for peasant’s food. I’ve met great poets and painters, actors and authors, and lent most of them money. I’ve seen wonders and marvels, abominations and atrocities, and applauded them all. I never fought in a war, but I’ve profited from most of them. They all had their moments, as spectacle, if nothing else.”

  “But you never got your hands dirty,” I said. “Never the hero or even the villain, just a voyeur.”

  “Do you interfere in a dog fight?” said Methuselah. “Or intervene in a war between two anthills? I’ve seen it all, done it all, and I’m bored. Time to move on, to trade up, to leave this grubby world behind in search of fresh new pleasures and indulgences.”

  “Were you ever at Camelot?” Molly said suddenly. “Did you ever visit the Court of King Arthur? I’ve always been fascinated by that period.”

  “No,” said Methuselah. “By the time I realised just how important Arthur was going to be, Merlin had already got his claws into him. And relatively young as I was then, I still had enough sense not to get up against Merlin Satanspawn. I did get to meet Mordred, though. Very ambitious, in a single-minded sort of way. Completely dominated by his mother, of course.”

  “You wasted your life,” I said, and the harshness in my voice brought his head jerking round. “All the things you could have done, all the things you might have achieved . . . and you wasted your years, your lifetimes, because you didn’t know what to do with them. No great causes, no great achievements, because you didn’t have it in you. You could have made a better world, you could have been greater than Arthur and Merlin, built a Camelot that would have endured for centuries, but all you cared about was yourself. You could have led Humanity out of the darkness, but you couldn’t be bothered. And when you’re finally gone, you’ll leave nothing behind but a bad taste in the mouth of history.”

  I turned back to Doctor Delirium. “Give it up, Doctor. You’ve been lied to and used, all along. Timothy Drood is here to betray you, just as he betrayed his own family. He has his own plans for the Apocalypse Door. So does Methuselah.”

  The Doctor sneered at me. “Yes, well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh Eddie,” Tiger Tim said sadly. “Always putting your faith in the truth, when a lie can be so much more liberating.”

  “And you can wipe that smug smile off your face, Timothy,” I said. “I’m taking you back to the family to stand trial at Drood Hall for all the evils you’ve done.”

  Tiger Tim laughed softly. “Dear Daddy got to you, didn’t he? Asked you to go easy on me . . . Sentimental old fool. You’re not taking me anywhere.”

  “I have the armour,” I said. “And you don’t.”

  “Funny you should say that,” said Tiger Tim. “You’ll never guess what I found, locked away in the vaults of Castle Frankenstein.” And he opened the top of his shirt to show me the golden torc around his neck. “I don’t know how the Immortals got their hands on this originally. Perhaps an Immortal murdered and replaced a Drood, and took the torc . . . Or maybe the old Baron himself cut it off one of his victims . . . Don’t suppose we’ll ever know. The point is, this torc had been locked away inside a box inside a vault, under the wrong description. No one even knew it was there, until I came across it quite by accident, while looking for something else. Isn’t that always the way? I took the torc for my own, because I just knew the Immortals wouldn’t appreciate it. And it settled around my throat quite happily, like it was coming home, like it belonged there.”

  “You might have asked,” Methuselah said reproachfully.

  “No I couldn’t. You might have said no. I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position. And besides, who has a better right to it, than me?”

  “Knew I should have killed you when I had the chance,” said Methuselah.

  “You never had the chance,” said Tiger Tim. He looked at me and smiled suddenly, a happy, anticipatory smile. “I haven’t had a chance to try out my new torc; been a bit busy, you know how it is. And I was just a bit concerned that your armour might be able to detect mine, once I put it on. But now, all bets are off. We’ve come to the end of the line, Eddie, where it’s just you and me, armour to armour, man to man. To the death.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said.

  He armoured up, and so did I. And just like that there were two gleaming golden figures in the room, facing off against each other. Doctor Delirium cried out, and hid behind the Apocalypse Door, peering round the edge with wide eyes and an uncertain mouth. Methuselah fell gracefully back to a safe distance; and Molly moved quickly out of our way to give us room to fight. Her eyes were shining as she urged me on. It must have looked like a fair match and a fair fight, but I knew different.

  Timothy Drood had the old armour, and I had the new.

  I raised up a golden fist, and grew a set of heavy spikes from the knuckles. And then I concentrated, and extruded razor-sharp blades all the way up my arms to my shoulders. I reshaped my mask into a grinning devil face, complete with curling horns. Tiger Tim stood very still. He didn’t know how to make his armour do any of those things. In fact, he’d been away from the family so long he probably didn’t even know such things were possible now. I wondered if he was afraid, biting his lip behind his featureless golden mask. I hoped so. I was too angry to be afraid.

  He lunged at me, striking out with a golden fist. I stood my ground, blocked the blow with a raised arm, and then we went head to head, battering each other fiercely with all our unnatural strength. The sound of armour beating on armour was deafening as we slammed each other all over the room, kicking the furniture out of the way, the floor cracking under our stamping feet. But neither of us could hurt the other, for all our strength and fury. The armour protected us. But my armour was strange matter, provided by the other-dimensional entity now known as Ethel. Tiger Tim’s armour derived from the destroyed entity once known as the Heart.

  I cut at Tiger Tim w
ith razored fists, and the unnaturally sharp edges opened up long cuts and furrows across his chest. Which should have been impossible. The furrows healed quickly, filling themselves in, so I cut him again, and again, harder each time, gouging deep scars into his ˚ mask and chest, and they took much longer to heal. I wondered if he was bleeding, inside. I pressed him hard, determined to tear open his armour and drag him right out of it.

  We hammered each other back and forth across the lounge, fists rising and falling with inhuman speed, while the others scattered hurriedly to get out of our way. Because we were both so caught up in the fight that we had eyes only for each other. Both of us moving so swiftly it seemed like everyone else was moving in slow motion. If any of them had got in our way, I think either one of us might have swept them aside without thinking, our heads were so full of rage and fury. I would have been sorry afterwards, of course, but right then . . . Timothy Drood seemed to be responsible for all the evils I’d encountered since this all began, and I wanted him dead more than anything else in the world.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry before. Because he was a Drood.

  Tiger Tim broke off, and backed away. He couldn’t match my strength and speed, and he knew it. He had nothing with which to meet my armour’s versatility. So he picked up heavy furniture and threw it at me. I slapped them away effortlessly, and laughed out loud, full of the exhilaration of my armour. Tiger Tim picked up the heavy couch and brought it sweeping down in an overhead blow. I put up a golden arm to block it, and the couch broke in two across it. We were moving like superhumans now, in a world made of paper, and things just broke when we touched them.

  But we never went near the Apocalypse Door. We could both See it clearly now, and neither of us could bear to look at it.

  In the end, Tiger Tim broke. He reached out and grabbed Molly, moving so swiftly she didn’t even know what was happening till he had her in his golden arms. She started to struggle, and he crushed her briefly, driving all the breath from her lungs. Her legs sagged, until he was all that was holding her up. ˚ I stood very still, knowing he could kill her easily before I could reach him.