Property of a Lady Faire: A Secret Histories Novel

by Simon R. Green

  “Somebody took it from him,” I said. “Ripped it right out of his chest. How is that even possible, Uncle Jack?”

  “I don’t know,” said the Armourer. “Nothing magical or high tech could even touch it . . . Brute force, maybe. Do you know who, or what, was able to destroy the whole Department of Uncanny?”

  “No,” I said. “It was all over by the time Molly and I got there. No evidence left anywhere, to point a finger.”

  “The family thinks you did it.”

  “What?”

  I started to get up, but the Armourer gestured sharply for me to sit down again.

  “I don’t believe a word of it,” he said. “And neither will they, once they’ve calmed down a bit. But apparently you and Molly were seen fleeing the scene after the massacre. And it’s not just the family. The word is out everywhere that you’re responsible. That Molly took her revenge on the Regent for the killing of her parents, and the two of you wiped out everyone else when they tried to stop you.”

  “That’s not what happened!” I said.

  “I know,” said the Armourer. “I wasn’t born yesterday! But mostly, everyone else wants your blood for this. Pretty much every organisation in our line of work is on the lookout for you two.” The Armourer scowled briefly. “This is all so well organised, you’d think someone arranged it . . . I can turn the family around, but it’s going to take time. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather drop this mission of yours, just for now, so you can beg the family’s forgiveness and accept their protection? For Molly’s sake, as well as yours?”

  “I can’t,” I said. “And if you knew why, you wouldn’t want me to.”

  “Oh,” said the Armourer, nodding wisely. “One of those cases, eh? But, Eddie, how were they able to get to the Regent? Do you know?”

  “Grandfather left me a final message,” I said. “It seems there was a traitor inside the Department, who lowered all the shields and let the enemy in. He didn’t know who. They were there for the Lazarus Stone. But I have reason to believe the Regent didn’t have it.”

  “Of course not,” said the Armourer. “He gave it to James, long ago.”

  “What?” I said.

  The Armourer winced. “Please stop doing that, Eddie. It goes right through me. Now, where was I . . . Oh yes. You have to remember, Eddie, that while I was in touch with your grandfather on and off through the years, it all had to be very much under the radar. The family couldn’t know. For my safety, and yours, and your parents’. So a lot happened that I only heard about later, after the fact. The Regent gave the Lazarus Stone to your uncle James, because James asked him for it. And James . . . gave the Stone to the Lady Faire.”

  “What?”

  “Eddie, either you keep the volume down or I will plunge you into a bath of industrial-strength tranquiliser! We don’t want the rest of the family coming down here to see what’s going on. Do we?”

  “But he gave it away? To the Lady Faire? Why would he do that?”

  “Because there’s no fool like an old fool,” said the Armourer. “James had an affair with the Lady, perhaps because he was getting on and needed one more chance to play his legend. To be the illustrious Grey Fox . . . To prove to himself that he wasn’t getting old. Other people buy a Porsche . . . You do know who and what the Lady Faire is, Eddie?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “Just rumours. You do hear things, out in the field, whether you want to or not. Isn’t she supposed to be . . . well, the ultimate courtesan?”

  “The Lady Faire is much more than that,” the Armourer said sternly. “The Lady Faire is a ladything. You know, like a ladyboy, only even more so. Oh, do try to keep up, Eddie—we’re both a bit old for me to be explaining the birds and bees to you. The Lady Faire is an omnisexual, the ultimate sexual object. All things to all people, and indeed, all people to all things . . .”

  “I have no idea what that means,” I said.

  “You’ve led a sheltered life, haven’t you, boy?” said the Armourer. “We used to get out a lot more, when I was a field agent. It was expected of us. You could learn a hell of a lot more through pillow talk than through burgling an office . . . Look, the Lady Faire is . . . Oh well, we might as well use the term . . . She’s not male or female, but a combination of both. A whole that is supposed to be far greater than the sum of its parts. If you’ll pardon the expression. She’s beautiful, bewitching, irresistible—the ultimate honey trap. You know, seduce them, wring all their secrets out of them, and then throw them to the wolves. The Lady Faire is every love and lover you ever dreamed of, especially the ones where you wake up screaming, in a cold sweat. One of the Baron Frankenstein’s more inventive creations, when he was getting old, and a bit kinky.”

  “Did you ever meet her?” I said, fascinated despite myself.

  “Just the once. Years ago, when I was working a case in Los Angeles with your uncle James. He introduced me to the Lady Faire at a Hollywood party. Every star and diva you can think of was there, but no one had eyes for anyone but the Lady Faire. I have to say, I was a bit creeped out by her, myself. Her magic doesn’t work on everyone, you know. There is such a thing as too sweet . . . But it was obvious to me even then that James was smitten with her. So, years later, he decides he’s in love with her, and gives her the Lazarus Stone. Because she said she needed it to get her out of a bind. Don’t ask me what that was all about. James never told me. I’m not even sure he got all the details from the Lady Faire . . .

  “Of course, the family never knew anything of this. They would not have approved. They’ve made a hell of a lot of allowances for James, down the years, because he was the Grey Fox, the greatest field agent we ever had. But an affair with the Lady Faire? That would definitely have been a step too far. Anyway, according to what James finally told me, the Stone was only supposed to be on loan. A temporary gift. But, love is blind . . . James never saw the Lazarus Stone again.

  “And then he died . . . After that, I had too many other things to worry about, and I just forgot about the Stone. Until you reminded me. To the best of my knowledge the Lady Faire still has it. Far as I know, she’s never used it. Though, of course, how could I be sure? How could anyone?”

  “Does anyone else know she has the Stone?”

  “I don’t see how. But information has a way of getting out.”

  “I have to get hold of the Lazarus Stone,” I said. “And no, I can’t tell you why. Are you positive the Lady still has it?”

  “Oh yes,” said the Armourer. “I’d definitely have heard if it had turned up with someone else. The family does like to keep a close eye on all the Major Players. Though it has to be said, the Lady Faire is semi-retired these days. Keeps people off her back by threatening to publish her memoirs. In fact . . . she’s just sent out the invitations to her annual Ball, a get-together for all her lovers and friends. Past, present, and future. No address given, no date or time; you either know where and how to find her, or you don’t deserve to get in. And at the moment the family doesn’t know.”

  “How can we not know?” I said. “Given that we keep such a close eye on all the Major Players?”

  “I think the family prefers to keep its distance,” said the Armourer. “As long as she stays semi-retired, we don’t care where she is. And she never was as important, or significant, as her legend liked to make out. But it does mean you’ll have to locate the venue for the Ball yourself, Eddie. And you can’t go after her as a Drood. We can’t be seen to be openly connected with her.”

  “Even though I’m currently a rogue and a mass murderer?”

  “Perhaps especially because of that.”

  “All right,” I said. “I can’t involve the Droods in what I’m doing anyway. I’ll just have to do this as Shaman Bond.”

  I stopped, and looked at him thoughtfully.

  “While I’m here . . . I need to talk to you about the Merlin Glass. It’s started . . . doing things. Acting independently . . .”

  “Ah,” said the Armourer, “I
was afraid of that.”

  “You were? Then why didn’t you warn me!”

  “I did,” said the Armourer. “Never trust a gift from Merlin Satanspawn. The clue is in the name, after all . . . I believe there is some kind of living thing, trapped or perhaps lurking, inside the Glass. Sometimes you can just catch a glimpse of it moving, somewhere in the background of your reflection. I wonder whether it might be some last trace of Merlin himself, trying for a comeback . . .

  “And of course, what you have now is a combination of the original broken Glass and the duplicate Glass you found in the Other Hall. Merged together in a way I fully admit I don’t understand at all. God alone knows what the Other Merlin might have hidden in his Glass.”

  He sighed heavily, seeming suddenly that much older, and tireder.

  “This is why I wanted you to give the Merlin Glass back. So I could run some exhaustive tests on it. I don’t think it’s safe to handle any more. If it ever was.”

  “You can have it back,” I said. “After I’ve finished this mission.”

  And then we both looked round sharply. A lot of people outside the Armoury were heading our way.

  “Your assistants must have figured out the dragon was just an illusion,” I said. “I was hoping we’d have more time . . . I’d better get out of here.”

  “I can’t help you, Eddie,” said the Armourer, as we both rose to our feet. “Can’t even give you any new toys for your mission.”

  “Where did you send the dragon?” I said. “Molly went to join it.”

  “Just out into the grounds,” said the Armourer. “Give my best to the Lady Faire when you find her. See if she remembers me. Or James.”

  I opened up the Merlin Glass, and was gone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  False Knight on the Road

  I’d told the Merlin Glass to take me straight to Molly, and I can’t say I was completely surprised when I stepped through the Glass into an area of almost entirely devastated Drood grounds. A great circle of scorched and blackened grass stood before a copse of trees, all of which were on fire. The heat from the flames was enough to stop me in my tracks, while a thick cloud of black smoke boiled up into the sky from what had been a favoured picnicking spot for young Droods. All around the scorched grass, the wide-open lawn was pockmarked with impact craters, heavy-duty bullet holes, and signs of extensive use of high explosives. All the usual local wildlife was conspicuous by its absence. Except for the wild witch herself, Molly Metcalf, standing quietly and demurely to one side. She smiled innocently at me.

  “Can’t take you anywhere,” I growled.

  “Wasn’t my fault!” she said immediately. “This was all done by the lab assistants doing their level best to take out a dragon that wasn’t really there, with enough firepower to win a war. They can be very enthusiastic, those lab assistants. Especially when they’ve got all kinds of guns and a really big target.”

  “Why didn’t you just drop the illusion, once you were safely out of the Armoury?” I said.

  She shrugged. “I wanted to buy you some time. And the lab assistants were having so much fun . . .”

  I shook my head slowly. “Capability Maggie is not going to be pleased.”

  “You made that name up!” said Molly.

  “I wish,” I said. “She’s in charge of looking after the Drood grounds. Or at least she was; she’s just been made the new Matriarch of all the Droods.”

  “All right,” said Molly. “Now your family has another Matriarch I’m not going to listen to.”

  “Could you at least put out the trees?” I said. “As a sign of goodwill, and a personal favour to me?”

  “Oh well,” said Molly. “If you’re asking nicely . . .”

  She glared at the burning copse, and all the flames snapped off in a moment, revealing the dead, spiky remains of half-consumed trees. The copse now looked, if anything, rather worse. Molly saw the look on my face, and heaved her best martyred sigh. She gestured broadly with one hand, and all the charred bark jumped off the trees, falling to the ground like so much soot, revealing fresh new growth underneath. The elm trees jerked and swayed in an unfelt breeze, twisting and stretching themselves back to full size again. New leaves flourished everywhere.

  The huge circle of scorched grass jumped into the air, and by the time it had reseated itself in the earth, everything was a vibrant shade of green again. The blast holes and exploded craters healed in a moment, with nothing left to show they had ever been there. And a whole bunch of new flowers burst up out of the earth, like so many Technicolor exclamation points.

  The last few vestiges of black smoke drifted away on the breeze. Birds started singing again.

  “You see?” said Molly. “I’m not just here for the bad things in life.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m sure that will go a long way towards helping with your current status in my family.”

  She looked at me. “My current status? I thought this was all about you?”

  “Unfortunately, as it turns out, not,” I said. “They’ve put you back on the supernatural terrorist list.”

  Molly smirked, actually flattered. “Been a long time since I thought of myself as that. Happy days . . . All right, what am I supposed to have done now? And it had better be something particularly stylish and impressive, or I’ll walk right back in there and demand to know why they thought it was me. I mean, I have my standards.”

  “We’re supposed to have murdered everyone at the Department of Uncanny,” I said. “Including my grandfather, the Regent of Shadows.”

  Molly stared at me for a long moment. “Who the hell thinks that? I have only ever killed people who needed killing! Everyone knows that.”

  “Pretty much everyone in our line of work believes we’re guilty,” I said. “Very definitely including my family. So I think we should get the hell out of Dodge. Right now.”

  “Fine by me,” Molly said immediately. “You should never come home, Eddie. This place has always been bad for you. Let’s go back to my forest. No one can track us there, and we can talk freely without fear of anyone listening in.”

  I looked back at the Merlin Glass, still floating on the air in full Door mode. The opening was full of quietly buzzing static, as it waited for new instructions. I looked at it for a long moment, before subvocalising the coordinates for Molly’s wild woods. I wasn’t entirely confident about trusting Molly to the Glass, after everything the Armourer had said, but it didn’t seem I had much of a choice. The Glass was the only real option I had for staying ahead of my enemies. My many enemies. I could have asked Molly to teleport us, but I didn’t like to. That kind of spell was a major drain on her magical reserves, and I was pretty sure we were going to need those in the not-too-distant future. So I waited for the woods to appear on the other side of the Glass, and then strode quickly through, with Molly right behind me.

  • • •

  It was good to be back in the wild woods again. The moment I stood among the huge and ancient trees, I felt half my cares just slip away, like a weight I no longer needed to carry. I stood a little taller, and breathed more easily. Tall and vast and heavy with foliage, the great trees spread away in all directions, as far as the eye could see . . . and farther. The primordial forest, of Olde Englande. From when life was new and free, and we all lived in the woods because there was nowhere else.

  The air was heavy with rich and pungent scents, of earth and grass, leaves and flowers and other living things. A low wind gusted through the trees, carrying the songs of all sorts of birds, only some of which I recognised. Creatures large and small moved in the shadows among the trees, going about their business, entirely unconcerned with human visitors but preferring to keep their distance nonetheless. Just as well. They usually made rude remarks when they saw it was me. The forest wildlife was very protective when it came to Molly.

  The Merlin Glass quickly shrank back down to hand-mirror size the moment Molly and I had passed through. As though it was limited by the
old magics working in the wild woods. Or perhaps it just wanted to be put away and not thought about for a while. Until it was needed again. Looking back, it surprised me how quickly I’d become . . . not dependent upon the Glass, but certainly used to it. I don’t normally like relying on devices, even the Armourer’s ingenious little toys. Better to depend on your wits in the field; they’re less likely to let you down at a critical juncture. But the Glass was just so useful . . . I should have distrusted it long before this. Unless it was somehow influencing me. I tucked the hand mirror away in my pocket. It felt like storing a live grenade . . . that was just waiting for the right moment to go off.

  Molly slipped her arm through mine and we strolled along together, through the tall trees. There were no open paths, as such, but Molly always knew which way to go, and the heavy vegetation seemed to just lean back out of the way, to let her pass. The trees’ branches bent ponderously together overhead, forming a thick, dark canopy, through which golden shafts of sunlight dropped down like shimmering spotlights. Birdsong rose up on either side of us, close and sweet and tuneful. A breeze caressed my face, filling my head with restful scents and a pleasant sense of languor. I could feel the day-long tension seeping slowly out of my muscles. It occurred to me then that it was always summer here in the wild woods, no matter what time or season it might be anywhere else in the world. Whenever Molly brought me here, it was always summer.

  “One of these days,” I said, as casually as I could, “you’re going to have to trust me enough to tell me exactly where your private forest really is. Or perhaps the more proper question would be when it really is.”

  “One of these days,” said Molly just as casually, looking straight ahead. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you, sweetie. It’s just that some secrets aren’t mine to share. I don’t own this place; I just get to visit. I’m a guest here, just like you.”