Daemons Are Forever sh-2

by Simon R. Green

  “Well, quite,” said Callan. “Do feel free to just chime in and interrupt my briefing whenever you feel like it, Cyril. Finally, there is patchy but convincing evidence that Heaven and Hell are taking a direct interest in what’s going on. There are reports of angels. From Above and Below.”

  We all looked at Roger, who shrugged. “No good looking at me. Neither side would confide in a half-breed. In fact, they’d probably fight each other just for the privilege of killing me.”

  “I know just how they feel,” I said.

  At which point, the terrible sound of a really huge gong slammed through the War Room, so loud people clapped their hands to their ears to try to keep it out. Everyone looked frantically around, bracing themselves for an attack, but all that happened was the Merlin Glass hopped out of my jacket pocket, grew to full size while hanging in midair, and formed a gateway between the War Room and the old library. William Drood stared out of the opening at the panicked War Room and smiled weakly.

  “Sorry about that. I thought I’d disabled the gong function.”

  I sighed heavily. “I’m a bit busy at the moment, William. Is this really important?”

  “Of course!”

  “Of course,” I said. “Everything’s important these days. Always breaking news, and never any time for the heartwarming stuff, about a badger that’s learned to skateboard. Don’t mind me, I’m just babbling, because it’s either that or start throwing things. What do you want, William?”

  He smiled distantly, looking, it had to be said, even more twitchy and distracted than usual. “Rafe is looking after your friend. I have some new and quite probably vital information on the nature and intentions of the Loathly Ones. You need to hear this, Edwin, before you go making any plans.”

  “All right,” I said resignedly. “The Inner Circle’s here with me. Fill us in.”

  The Armourer stepped forward suddenly, standing beside me to stare into the opening. He smiled broadly at the librarian. “William!” he said. “My God, but it’s good to see you again! I didn’t know you were back in the Hall. Why didn’t you come and find me? You’re looking…good. Come on through and join us here! We’ll have a good long talk about old times, once this is over.”

  William looked sadly at him. “I’d rather not…come through. I’m not ready yet. It’s Jack, isn’t it? Hello, Jack. It has been a while, hasn’t it… Though I couldn’t tell you how long. I rather lost track of things, like time and…things.”

  The Armourer looked at me, lowering his voice. “What’s the matter with him? I thought you said he was…”

  “Cured?” said William. “A bit optimistic, that, I’m afraid. And I’m crazy, not deaf. Let’s just say…I’m slowly getting back to who I used to be.”

  “Why did you stay away for so long?” said the Armourer. He was trying to talk calmly, naturally, but it was clear how much his old friend’s condition was affecting him. “Why didn’t you say good-bye to anyone? To me? You didn’t even leave a note! Didn’t you realise how worried we’d be? I spent years trying to track you down, long after everyone else had given you up and labelled you a rogue. I never gave up on you. Why didn’t you tell me you were going, William? We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

  “The Heart drove me out,” said William. You could tell he was trying hard to concentrate, to hold his straying thoughts together. “It hurt me. Bad Heart. I had to run, get away from the Hall, and the family, run for my life and what was left of my sanity. Yes. I had to go to ground where no one would think to look for me, and then hide deep inside myself, so even the Heart couldn’t find me. I went so very deep inside, Jack, and coming back is … difficult. We’ll talk later, Jack. Yes. Catch up, just the two of us. Just…not yet.

  “For now, I need you all to listen to what I have to tell you. And pay attention; I don’t think I’m up to going through this twice.”

  His face firmed, his voice becoming clearer and more authoritative, as he took on his old role as expert lecturer. Perhaps because it was just another role he could hide behind, that required nothing of him but his expertise.

  “The family knows the Invaders of old. We fought them long ago, when the Druidic Droods were still supporting the Romans in their occupation of old Britain. According to the Latin texts, it took the whole might of the Roman Empire, along with the first Drood field agents, to destroy towering structures being built all across the known world, by possessed primitive peoples. The Roman military stamped these early nests out with their usual brutal efficiency, but more kept springing up. There is evidence to suggest that in the end the Heart stepped in and intervened directly, destroying the remaining structures and preventing the Invaders from entering our reality. Presumably because it wasn’t prepared to lose its new property. This was the Heart’s world, and it didn’t feel like sharing. Anyway…many centuries later, the last Matriarch but one, Sarah Drood, took the knowledge from those times from the supposedly lost old library, and used it to summon the Loathly Ones back into our reality. Supposedly to be used as weapons against the Nazis.”

  “Supposedly?” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms sharply. “I’ve seen the records. The soul-eaters made excellent weapons against the Nazi war machine, before the Vril Force came in on the other side and balanced the scales again.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they did a lot of damage,” said William. “But I don’t think that was why they were brought back.”

  “I’ve never understood why we chose them,” said the Armourer. “I mean, soul-eaters? There had to have been better, safer options we could have pursued.”

  “Oh, there were,” said William. “But someone, someone fairly high up in the family, insisted on the Loathly Ones. The more I read in the unexpurgated family records, the more I am forced to the conclusion that someone in the family was a traitor. Perhaps already possessed by some demon.”

  “But…how was that possible?” spluttered the Sarjeant. “The torcs protect us from all forms of possession or soul peril!”

  “Only one way it could have happened,” said William. “Someone gave themselves up willingly to possession. Just like the Kandarians.”

  That stopped us all in our tracks for a while.

  “A traitor in the family,” I said finally. “That’s easier to believe now, after all we’ve discovered about the Heart, and the Matriarchs, and the Zero Tolerance faction, but still… a Drood giving themselves up to a demon, and allying with soul-eaters? Why? What could they hope to gain?”

  “More importantly,” Harry said slowly, “could there still be traitors, or possessed Droods, still operating inside the family? That could explain how we were so easily ambushed down on the Nazca Plain…”

  William nodded sadly. “I was better off when I was crazy, and didn’t know what was going on… One thing seems regrettably clear. Ever since the Loathly Ones were let back in, for whatever reason, sixty years ago, they’ve been possessing victim after victim, slowly building their power and influence to the point where they could start building their structures again, and summon the Invaders.”

  “There are reports coming in of more of these structures, in various stages of completion, from all across the world,” said Callan. “It’s like they’re not even trying to hide them anymore.”

  “How many?” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms.

  “Hundreds, so far. Wouldn’t surprise me if we ended up with thousands.”

  “Let us discuss what we know of the Loathly Ones,” said William, in full lecture mode now. “They don’t just move in and take over their victims like most demons, or devils from Hell.” There was a slight pause while everyone looked at Roger, but he had nothing to say. William sniffed a few times, and then plunged on. “No; these demons infect their victims, through simple proximity. They implant a mental/spiritual embryo into the human body and soul. The invading presence then uses the human as food while the embryo gestates, before finally hatching into a complete Loathly One.

  “Demonic cuckoos, as it were.

&nbs
p; “First come physical changes. Warpings of the flesh, strange mutations in the body, all concerned with making the host strong enough to hold and contain the Loathly One embryo that’s forming. As this grows inside the host, it eats into the mind and soul, changing the thoughts and personality of the human host, who can feel themselves going mad, becoming alien…but is helpless to stop or even slow the change. We can only imagine the kind of hell these poor unfortunates go through. Thoughts, emotions, beliefs, all change…until nothing is left but a new Loathly One drone. The human is gone, replaced.”

  “So essentially,” I said, “once infected, their victims die by inches, day by day, losing every bit of themselves to become the thing that infected them. Just more drones for the Invaders. Right; that’s it. Kill the poor bastards on sight. No exceptions. We’ll be doing them a favour.”

  “The really worrying thing,” said William, “is that there exists a small but definite possibility that some, perhaps even all, of those who survived the battle of the Nazca Plain could themselves have been infected. And are now becoming traitors within the family. They might not even know themselves; they could have been made to forget. The Drood armour should have been protection enough, but we don’t have enough data yet to know if the new silver torcs are as powerful as the old gold ones.”

  Harry frowned. “Shouldn’t we be able to see the infection in a person, using our Sight, or through our masks?”

  “We should,” said William. “But the records say no. It would seem the infecting presence is just too…other.”

  I looked at the Armourer. “We need a test, some way to find out the truth. Something that can detect an infected person. We have to be sure of who’s who. And what’s what.”

  “I’ll get right on it,” said the Armourer.

  “We need a test that can be applied to the whole family,” said Harry. “We need to know who we can trust.”

  “Couldn’t agree more, Harry,” I said, looking straight at him. “Anything else, William?”

  “The next logical step for the Loathly Ones has to be a full summoning,” William said heavily. “Once enough of the structures have been completed, they will attempt to bring the Hungry Gods through into our world. To consume everything that lives. I think we can assume that our destruction of the tower on the Nazca Plain has shown them the dangers of trying to do this with just the one, isolated structure, so that should buy us some time. But how much…”

  “Ready for some more bad news?” said Callan. “Intelligence seems pretty sure, thanks to some intercepted communications, that to get this far the Loathly Ones made use of a Judas goat. They made a deal with Truman, and his Manifest Destiny organisation: for money, technical supplies, concealment, and so on. Apparently Truman believes he can use the Invaders to take control of our world, and then force them out again. The idiot actually thinks he’s using them…”

  “Shows how desperate he is,” I said. “Well… we wanted a big battle, to show off our renewed strength and power to the world, and now we’re facing the biggest fight of our lives, with the whole world watching and the whole world at stake. Be careful what you wish for… All right. That’s it. Everyone in the family gets a new silver torc. As soon as possible, no exceptions. I’ve already talked with Strange, and he doesn’t see any problems. He’s just waiting to be asked. If this family is going to war, I want us all in armour. Because we’re going to need every fighter we can muster. Sarjeant-at-Arms; you’ll have to take sole charge of the training, at least until Janissary Jane shows up again. I have to say; a lot of them looked pretty good, even without armour.”

  “The family will be ready,” said the Sarjeant. “I’ll see to that, Edwin. No damned cosmic locusts can hope to stand against the Drood family in its armour.”

  “All very rousing, I’m sure,” said Harry. “But I have to ask; is this wise? Putting us all in armour before the Armourer’s had time to come up with his test for possible traitors within the family? Do you really want to give Drood armour to a potential traitor or assassin?”

  “You’ve changed your tune,” I said, just a little amused. “Only this morning you were calling me every name under the sun because I hadn’t already made the armour available to everyone.”

  “That was then,” said Harry. “This is now. And I’m not convinced we can properly train so many people in time anyway. The Sarjeant can be very…inspirational, but untrained agents in the field can be a danger to themselves and their companions, never mind the enemy.”

  “This family has more trainers and tutors on hand than ever before, thanks to me,” I said. “And we won’t launch another attack until I’m sure we can win it. I won’t lose any more good men and women. Fortunately, I’ve already made certain…arrangements, to bring in expert help. Advisors in the art and practice of war.”

  “Oh God,” said the Armourer. “I know that look on your face. You think you’ve done something really clever. What have you done, Eddie? And why do I just know I’m not going to like it?”

  “Probably because you know me so well, Uncle Jack,” I said. “You all said I didn’t have the relevant experience to lead this family into the war that’s coming; and you were right. But since no one else in the family does either, I was forced to go further abroad to find people who did have the experience and the expertise. I asked the Merlin Glass to find me the two most suitable members of the family, one from the past and one from the future. And it did.”

  “You did this without consulting the Inner Circle first?” said Harry. “How dare you…?”

  “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d try and talk me out of it,” I said calmly. “And I didn’t intend to be talked out of it. And anyway, it worked. William, have Rafe bring our visitor here, so everyone can meet him.”

  “I’ve got him standing by,” William said dourly. “I knew you’d get to this point eventually.”

  The living Jacob stepped into view beside him and smiled cheerfully at the dumbfounded faces before him. He had a glass of wine in one hand, and he must have found some food, because he’d spilled half of it down his front. “Greetings to my noble descendants! I am Jacob Drood: soldier, philosopher, and bon vivant!”

  The Armourer and the Sarjeant-at-Arms, both of whom had good reason to know the ghost of Jacob, both looked equally shocked and appalled. Harry and Roger and Callan all recognised the name, and looked at me sharply. The Sarjeant, not surprisingly, put it into words first.

  “Have you gone stark staring mad? Does he know about…?”

  “No he doesn’t,” I said quickly. “And I really don’t think we should tell him just yet. It’s the kind of thing you need to work up to.”

  “Tell me what?” said Jacob, immediately suspicious.

  “Does the other Jacob know?” said the Armourer. “How’s he going to take it?”

  “He does know,” I said. “And he’s taking it… as well as can be expected. He approves, though. He says it’s…necessary.”

  “What other Jacob?” said the living Jacob. “Edwin, is there something thou’rt keeping from me?”

  “Oh, lots,” I said. “You know how it is in this family.”

  Jacob sniffed, and drained his wineglass.

  I stared steadily at the Armourer and the Sarjeant. “The Merlin Glass chose this man, as the best and most suitable candidate out of the whole past family. That ought to tell you something. Jacob, all will be made clear to you, in time. Now please, introduce yourself.”

  “I have fought in many wars,” the living Jacob said, just a little grandly. “Those secret and invisible wars the Droods have always specialised in, for the protection of the world. I can help thee deal with the practical and political sensibilities, those being my area of expertise, in my day. The principles of waging war are really quite simple: divide and conquer, identify and strike at weak spots, and most of all, get everyone else so confused they don’t dare do anything for fear of doing the wrong thing.”

  “The world has changed some, since y
our day,” said Callan.

  “But the hearts of politicians have not, I’ll warrant,” said Jacob.

  “He’s got a point,” said Callan.

  “Thank you, Jacob,” said the Armourer. “I’m sure your experience will prove invaluable. Now, if you and William will excuse us, we have private matters to discuss.”

  William nodded and gestured, and the Merlin Glass shrank back down to normal size again and tucked itself into my jacket pocket. Thankfully without the bloody gong sound this time. The Armourer glared at me.

  “All right, Eddie. You’re still looking dangerously smug. Drop the other shoe. Who or what did the mirror find for you in the future?”

  “Ah,” I said. “This is where it gets just a bit complicated. I have located a superb future warrior, and distant descendant of ours, called Giles Deathstalker.”

  “Deathstalker?” said Harry. “What kind of a name is that?”

  “It suited him,” I said. “The point is, I’ve seen the man fight, and he’s death on two legs and nasty with it. Just what we need. He’s quite ready to help us out. Unfortunately…”

  “I just knew there’d be a catch,” said the Armourer.

  “Unfortunately, he’s so far ahead of us in the potential timelines that the Merlin Glass couldn’t just bring him through, like Jacob. I’ll have to go get him. And that means using the Time Train.”

  The Armourer didn’t actually sink to the floor and bury his face in his hands, but he looked very much like he wanted to.

  “The Time Train? Have you finally lost every last little bit of your senses, Eddie? You can’t use the Time Train! It’s far too dangerous!”

  “By all means, try it,” Harry said generously. “Either way, we win.”

  “Smugness is very unflattering, Harry,” I said loftily. “I know what I’m doing, Uncle Jack.”

  The Armourer snorted loudly. “Be the first time. Well, if you must go … be sure and bring back as many future weapons as you can.”

  “Deathstalker,” said Roger Morningstar. “Hell of a name.”