Daemons Are Forever sh-2

by Simon R. Green

  “Sign here, squire. One looney to go, and no I don’t answer questions. I just drop people off and leg it before they can turn nasty. Sign there, please, on the dotted line. You are acknowledging delivery of one William Dominic Drood, also known as Oddly John. And get a move on, squire; I’ve got this American gentleman and his giant rabbit to drop off yet.”

  I signed Harry’s name where indicated, and handed back the clipboard. I’ve always been a cautious sort. The driver saluted me again, went around to the back of the ambulance, unlocked a very heavy padlock, and pulled open the doors with a hearty cry of, “Come on out you lovely honey, you’re home.” William Drood stepped out of the ambulance, blinking in the bright summer light, and the driver took him firmly by one arm and brought him over to me.

  “Here you are, squire. One headbanger, as ordered. Hours of fun for the whole family. Try not to lose him; you wouldn’t believe the paperwork if I have to chase him down again. Have a nice day! Forgetting you already!”

  One more salute and he was back in the cab again. The ambulance screeched off down the gravel path and disappeared in midscreech. The day seemed suddenly, blessedly, quiet.

  “What an appalling cheerful person,” said William. “I really must remember to send him a note of thanks. Inside a letter bomb.”

  “Welcome back, William,” I said. “Welcome home.”

  He nodded vaguely and looked around him. He didn’t seem particularly happy to be back. He did look better than the last time I’d seen him, alone in his cell at the Happy Daze sanatorium. They’d dressed him up in a good suit before sending him home, though he looked distinctly ill at ease in it. In fact, he looked generally uneasy. His face seemed somehow in between expressions, and his eyes were as haunted as ever. As though he was still seeing strange worlds and alternate realities out of the corner of his eyes. And given who he was … I said his name again, and his gaze slowly returned to me. I put out my hand, and after a pause he shook it solemnly.

  “Do you remember me?” I said.

  “Of course I remember you, Edwin. I’m not completely gaga. You came to see me in … that place. You got a message to me, saying it was safe to come home again. So here I am. I do hope you’re right, Edwin.”

  “It’s good to have you back, where you belong,” I said.

  “Is it?” he said vaguely, looking at the Hall behind me as though he’d never seen it before. “It doesn’t feel like home. But then it didn’t, even before I left. I found something out, you see, and then nothing seemed the same anymore. I can’t even say I feel like William Dominic Drood, either. I think I was happier as Oddly John. Nobody ever expected anything of him. I think perhaps … I left William here, when I went away. Maybe now I’m back, he’ll come back too. If it’s safe. I saw something, you see, in the Sanctity…”

  “It’s all right, William,” I said quickly. “I know what you saw. What you found out. Everyone knows now. The Heart is dead, destroyed, and all its evil with it. We have new armour now, from a new source. There’s nothing here to be afraid of anymore.”

  He looked at me sadly. “That would be nice. But we’re Droods. So there’s always something to be afraid of. Comes with the territory. I’ve been afraid of so many things, for such a long time now.”

  “Is there anyone particular in the family you want to see?” I said, carefully changing the subject. “Anyone you’ve missed?”

  “No,” said William after a moment. “Never had any family of my own. And old friends … so long ago, it seems. I don’t think I want them to see me like this. Not…properly myself yet. Whoever that turns out to be.”

  “I know what you need,” I said firmly. “You were the best librarian the family ever had; and I’ve got a wonderful surprise for you. We have rediscovered the old library, after all these years. We need someone like you to put the place in order.”

  William looked at me sharply, his face intent and focused for the first time. “The old library? But that was destroyed by fire, centuries ago!”

  “No,” I said, grinning. “Just hidden away, waiting to be found. And you’re not going to believe some of the treasures it contains. Come along.”

  I took him back through the Hall, and he gawked around him like a tourist, as though he’d never seen any of it before. Perhaps he’d forgotten it all, in his efforts to forget what he’d seen in the Sanctity. He’d had to forget, to survive. He’d put himself in the asylum, hiding from the family and what he’d discovered about it. He pretended to be mad to get in, but as the years went by he had to pretend less and less. He’d been gone so long that none of the people we passed along the way recognised him, and he showed no interest in talking with any of them. I took him through to the library, and he brightened immediately. He walked back and forth among the stacks, smiling as he recognised this book or that, and tut-tuting at the state of the place. He was standing straighter now, his gaze was sharper, and he walked with more confidence. Back on his own ground, more of who he used to be was coming back to him.

  Already he was looking and sounding more like the librarian I remembered as a child.

  When I thought he was ready, I took him to the portrait of the old library hanging on the rear wall, opened it up with the right Words, and we stepped through the portrait and into the old library itself. The huge depository of ancient family lore and forgotten world history. William took a deep breath, staring at the miles and miles of shelves with eyes as wide and delighted as a child. Stacks and stacks of books, manuscripts, scrolls, and even a few stone tablets, stretching away into the distance for as far as the eye could see. William smiled suddenly, and it was like his whole face came alive at last. I smiled too, glad I’d finally done something right. The Hall might not feel like home to him, but the old library certainly did.

  “To get you started,” I said casually, “you might like to do a little research for me. I need everything you can find on Kandarian culture, and in particular any old summoning rites concerning Beings called the Invaders. Take your time. End of the day would be fine.”

  “I know, I know,” he said, in a typically snotty librarian’s voice. “Nothing changes. You want the impossible, and you want it to a schedule. Am I expected to do this all by myself, or do I have any staff?”

  “You have a staff of one,” I said. “Namely, the current librarian. Rafe? Rafe, where are you?”

  A head popped out of the stacks further down, a hand waved cheerfully, and a pleasant young chap with a bright, beaming face hurried over to join us. I liked Rafe. The previous librarian had resigned his post when I took over; not just a Zero Tolerance member but also one of the Matriarch’s cronies, he refused to serve under me. I was forced to promote his assistant to full librarian. He hadn’t done too badly. It helped that he loved his job, and practically went into ecstasies when he first saw the old library. He was currently trying to track down an index, so we could get some idea of just what we had on our hands.

  “Hi!” he said to William, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “I’m Rafe. Short for Raphael, which I never use. I am not a turtle. You must be William. You’re a legend, in librarian circles. Which, admittedly, aren’t as big as they might be. But! Here you are, back again, just in time to help me make sense of all this mess. No one’s used this place in centuries, and it shows. I said I needed expert help, but you could have knocked me down with a feather when Edwin said he could get you! And here you are! Really looking forward to working with you!”

  “Don’t worry,” I said to William. “He calms down a bit once he gets used to you. And the Ritalin in his tea helps.”

  “Let’s get to work,” said William.

  And he strode off into the stacks, not looking back at either of us. Rafe nodded quickly to me, grinned, and hurried off after his new mentor. I grinned and shook my head, as William sent Rafe running from stack to stack, searching out ancient volumes and sacred texts, shouting after him like a shepherd with his dog.

  With any luck, putting the old library in ord
er would help William put himself back in order too.

  When I stepped back through the portal into the main library, Penny was waiting for me. I turned my back on her to shut down the portrait, and then walked right past her without speaking. A little childish, perhaps, but I really wasn’t in the mood to be messed with. Penny just strode along beside me, cool and collected as always.

  “You’re not an easy man to track down, Eddie. If someone hadn’t happened to mention they saw William Drood in the corridors, I’d never have thought to look here. Has he really been in a madhouse all these years? Never mind; you were right about the tutors so hopefully you’ll be right about the rogues too. Will you please slow down, Eddie! We need to talk!”

  “No we don’t,” I said, not slowing down.

  “Yes we do! In your absence, the Inner Circle has voted Harry in as a full member. Everyone agreed. Even the Armourer, though that was probably only because Harry is James’s son…Anyway, the point is the Inner Circle then voted unanimously that you not be allowed to make any more decisions of a military nature without consulting the Inner Circle first. And that you should not implement any such decisions without the full support of the Circle. You do see what that means? Do slow down, Eddie, I’m getting a stitch in my side. Well? Have you nothing to say?”

  “Trust me,” I said. “You really don’t want to hear what I feel like saying.”

  “Eddie…”

  “None of this matters,” I said flatly. “I put the Inner Circle together to advise me. Nothing more.”

  “I see,” Penny said coldly. “So you’re the Patriarch now, is that it? You’re running the family all on your own, answerable to no one?”

  “Change the subject,” I said, and she must have heard something in my voice, because she did.

  “I’ve finally managed to make contact with the rogue known as the Mole. Thanks to some rather imaginative work by our communications staff, who turned out to be far too au fait with underground information systems for my liking…You did say you wanted the Mole brought back into the fold…”

  “He could be very useful to us,” I said, just a little defiantly. “When he went rogue he went underground, literally, and put together an information network unmatched anywhere else in the world. He knows things, things no one else knows. And he’s in contact with all kinds of powerful groups and individuals who wouldn’t even dream of talking to us directly. We need the Mole, and his sources.”

  “Well, unfortunately the Mole refuses to leave his hole,” said Penny. “Even though we did everything we could to reassure him of his safety here. He’s made it very clear he won’t leave his refuge for any reason. But you must have impressed him, because he has agreed to help us search out information on what the Loathly Ones are up to, and the possible locations of other nests. Right now he’s teleconferencing with some of our brightest technogeeks, and no doubt teaching them all kinds of unfortunate new tricks.”

  I nodded and slowed my pace a little. Penny was starting to puff. “That’s really the best we could hope for, with the Mole,” I said. “I’ll talk to him later. Any other rogues surfaced yet?”

  “We’ve put the word out,” said Penny. “But it’s up to them to contact us. And many of them have good reason to be … cautious. So; that’s all my news. I am off. Things to see, people to do…”

  “Anyone in particular?” I said. There must have been something in my voice, because she looked at me sharply.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. I’m going to see Mr. Stab.”

  “You really don’t want to talk to him,” I said. I stopped, and she stopped with me. I considered her thoughtfully. She had a fierce, defiant look, so I chose my words carefully. “You don’t know what he is, Penny. I’ve seen some of his victims, or what was left of them, cut open, gutted. I once saw a cache of his old victims, sitting together around a table, propped up and mummified, so he could visit his old kills and glory in them. Savour the memory of their horror, and their screams. He’s not human, Penny. Not anymore. He made himself over into something else entirely, back in 1888.”

  “You don’t know him like I do,” said Penny. “You’ve never taken the time to talk with him, listen to him, like I have. There’s more to him than you think. He needs…help, someone who cares enough to help him change. Anyone can be redeemed, Eddie.”

  I was still struggling for something to say when she turned on her heel and strode away. I could have gone after her, but I didn’t. It wouldn’t have done any good. Some people just won’t be told. They have to find out for themselves, often the hard way. And what man ever understood what a woman sees in another man? And just maybe… she was right. Maybe Mr. Stab could be saved. Molly believed in him. I … didn’t. This was Mr. Stab; murderer and ripper of women for over a century. A century of slaughter, of women who also probably thought they understood him, right up to the point where he drew his knife.

  So I went off and found a private place, locked the door, and called on Merlin’s Glass to show me what Penny and Mr. Stab were up to.

  You’re using the Glass too much, Molly said. Getting dependent on it. But I was just doing what I had to. For the family.

  Penny and Mr. Stab went walking through the grounds, down by the lake. The sky was very blue, the trees were bowing slightly under the urging of the gusting wind, and pure white swans sailed majestically over the dead-still waters of the lake. Penny made encouraging noises to them, but none of them would come close while she had Mr. Stab with her. The two of them walked on together, smiling and talking like old friends.

  “So,” Penny said, “Did you have a good time, killing all the Loathly Ones?”

  “Not really,” said Mr. Stab. “They didn’t die like people do. There was no real suffering, no horror in their eyes, and such things are meat and drink to me.”

  “Was the whole thing as big a disaster as Harry keeps saying?”

  “No,” said Mr. Stab after a thoughtful pause. “We stopped the Loathly Ones from bringing their unholy master through from Outside. Destroyed their tower, killed most of them, and scattered the others. Edwin came up with the plan that made that possible. If he hadn’t, if that Being had come through, that would have been a disaster, and the whole world would have paid for it. Humanity itself might have been wiped out…even me. It was an interesting sensation to find myself face to face with something worse than I am.”

  “Do you still feel the need to kill?” Penny said abruptly. “Or are you…satisfied, now?”

  “I still feel the need,” said Mr. Stab. “I always do.” He looked at her bluntly. “Why do you seek me out, Penny? You know what I am. What I do to women. Do you want me to do it to you?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then why, Penny?”

  “No one’s ever as bad as they’re painted,” she said after a while.

  “I am.”

  “Perhaps. I’ve heard all the stories. But I wanted to meet the man behind the stories. Something…draws me to you.” Penny looked into his face, meeting his cold gaze unflinchingly. “Everyone can be saved. Everyone can be brought back into the light. I’ve always believed that.”

  “What if they don’t want to be saved?”

  “If that were true,” said Penny, “you would have broken your word to Molly by now. You live here with us, surrounded by temptation, but you do nothing. Molly said you were a good friend to her.”

  “Molly believes…what she wants to believe,” said Mr. Stab.

  “So do I,” said Penny. “Enough talk of dark and unpleasant things! Let me take your mind off such things, for a while.”

  Mr. Stab nodded slowly. “Yes. You might be able to, at that.”

  “I thought a picnic,” Penny said cheerfully. “I’ve got a hamper all set out, in that little grove over there. Shall we?”

  “Why not?” said Mr. Stab. “It’s been a long time since I did anything so … civilised.”

  “We need to get to know each other better,” said Penny.
“How long has it been, since you could talk freely to anyone? How long since anyone would just sit and listen to you?”

  “A long time,” said Mr. Stab. “I have been alone … a very long time.”

  “I can’t keep calling you Mr. Stab,” said Penny. “Don’t you have a first name?”

  He smiled. “Call me Jack.”

  “Oh you,” said Penny.

  And they walked on together, arm in arm.

  I put the Merlin Glass away and headed for the front entrance at speed. I didn’t want Penny alone with Mr. Stab, far away from help. I didn’t think he’d dare hurt a Drood right in the shadow of Drood Hall, but… I hurried through the hallways and connecting rooms, and all the way my family drew back and gave me plenty of room. Some glared, some muttered, but none of them had anything to say to me. Just as well. I had nothing to say to them. When I finally got to the front entrance, Molly was there waiting for me, along with one familiar face and one strange one. She had them both in vicious ear holds, putting on just enough pressure to keep them both quiet and grimacing at her sides.

  “Look what I found!” Molly said cheerfully. “Sneaking around in the grounds…”

  “We were not sneaking!” protested the familiar face, with as much dignity as could be managed when someone is twisting your ear into a square knot. “We were just…taking our time about making our presence known.”