Molly and I looked around sharply as Freddie came uncertainly forward to join us. He nodded briefly to Molly and me, but his attention was fixed on Sebastian. I hardly recognised Freddie. All his usual glamour and flamboyance were gone, stripped away by events. He looked smaller, diminished, staring at Sebastian with an awful fascination.
“Hello, Seb,” he said finally. “Are you still Seb? Do you remember me? Do you remember being my friend?”
“Of course I remember you, Freddie. I haven’t changed, not really. I’m just being more honest about what I am. I remember our friendship, all the good times we had together; I just don’t care any more. Never did, really. All part of the job. You were just a means to an end, I’m afraid, a plausible way of gaining entry to the Hall. I knew it would go easier if I had you there to vouch for me. Eddie might have called all the rogues home, but he had good reason not to trust me.”
“Were you infected, even back then?” I said.
“I’m not going to tell you. Now hush, I’m talking to Freddie. I couldn’t believe it when you just went dashing off again, Freddie, right after I’d brought you here. I needed you, and your extreme personality, to distract people from me. That’s why I made such a point of calling you back here, to be one of Harry’s advisors. You never had a useful thought inside that pretty head of yours in your entire life. But I made a point of seducing you, to make sure you’d stay this time. You’re so larger than life that no one ever looked at me when you were around.”
“Did you ever really feel anything for me?” said Freddie, almost whispering.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Sebastian. “Perhaps. Sometimes. Sometimes…I’m more human than at other times. But it doesn’t matter. That’s all over now. There will be no room for real human emotions in the world that’s coming. You’ll love us because we’ll make you love us, to make the transition easier. But we won’t care. We are the Hungry Gods, the Many-Angled Ones. And you’re just food.”
Freddie turned away, as though Sebastian had hit him, and then he walked slowly away, not looking back.
“That was cruel,” I said to Sebastian.
“Have to be cruel to be kind,” Sebastian said briskly. “Now go away. I have nothing else to say to you. If there’s anything else you want to know about being a drone, ask Molly. Of course, you may not be able to trust her answers … as time goes on.”
He laughed at us. I took Molly by the arm and pulled her away, and we walked back through the isolation ward. All the drones came forward to the front of their tanks, and watched us intently through the steelglass, and all their expressions were exactly the same. They watched Molly, not me. She was staring straight ahead, lost in her own thoughts, and I don’t think she noticed. I hoped not.
“I didn’t know Sebastian and Freddie were gay,” she said finally.
“I don’t think Freddie’s ever been that discerning,” I said, glad of a chance to talk about something else. “He’d stick it in mud, if he thought it would wriggle. And Sebastian… would probably do whatever he thought was necessary. Freddie was always a serial romantic, couldn’t stand not to be in a relationship with someone. Anyone. Sebastian just used that, so he could use Freddie as cover. Poor bastard.”
“Sebastian knows about me,” said Molly. “Sooner or later, he will talk. When he thinks it’s to his advantage. And sooner or later, someone will listen, and believe. You know that.”
“That will take time,” I said. “And we only have three, four days till the Invaders come through. The family is going to be too busy to care about Sebastian’s ravings.”
We stopped as one of the armed guards approached us. Molly tensed and grabbed my arm. I did my best to look casual and unconcerned.
“We’ve had word from the man guarding Sebastian,” said the guard. “Apparently he has something else to say to you. Something important. But he’ll only say it to you two.”
“Probably just a trick,” said Molly. “Distract us with false information.”
I could tell how much she wanted out of the isolation ward, but I couldn’t just leave. Sebastian did know things; there was always the chance he could be manoeuvred into saying more than he intended. So we went back to Sebastian’s isolation cell, with Molly walking stiffly at my side. When we got there, he smiled sweetly at us, leaning at his ease on the heavy steelglass wall.
“I was infected long ago,” he said, without even bothering with any pleasantries this time. “You have no idea what it feels like, when the change really starts to kick in. It’s like being part of something bigger, something far more important and significant. I felt a real sense of purpose, of destiny, for the first time in my life. Being human is such a limited thing. Why should I regret leaving it behind, when I will become so much more? When the Hungry Gods come through, I shall be part of them, and glory in your destruction.”
“But you’re losing yourself,” I said. “Giving up everything you’ve made of yourself. That used to mean so much to you, Sebastian.”
“I never knew how small I was, until I was touched by the gods,” said Sebastian. “Why stay a caterpillar, when you can become a butterfly?”
“Butterflies don’t normally kill everything else in the field,” said Molly.
Sebastian smiled at her. “They would if they could. And so will you, Molly dear.”
“You said you had something important you wanted to tell us,” I said. “Spill it, or we’re leaving.”
“Oh yes… You’ve been very clever, Eddie, discovering and rounding up all the drones we infected during the battle on the Nazca Plain…But from now on, every time you come into contact with us, you’ll lose more people. No matter how many battles you win, we’ll take more of you, until there’s no one left. You don’t dare fight us, because if you do we’ll make you just like us.”
I smiled right back at him. “Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?”
I took Molly back to our room. We both needed some down time. Time to think. I stretched out on the bed but, instead of joining me, Molly stood by the window, looking out over the grounds. The silence in the room seemed to grow stronger and heavier the longer it went on, but neither of us knew how to break it. I’d said I’d help her, said I’d save her, but I didn’t know what to do. I’d said I’d protect her from my own family if necessary, but we both knew the fate of all humanity had to come first. We both knew a lot of things, but neither of us wanted to be the first to say them.
“How do you feel?” I said at last, just to be saying something in that awful silence.
“I can feel the first changes,” she said, still looking out of the window. “Physical changes. My body feels…different. Uncertain. And there are strange thoughts in my head, that seem to come out of nowhere… My magics are keeping things under control, for now. I know so many spells, so many forbidden magics and secrets, but I never thought I’d need a weapon I could use against myself.”
“There must be someone who can help you,” I said. “All the places you’ve been, all the contacts you’ve made…”
“The price they’d ask would be worse than the affliction,” said Molly.
“Then, someone in the family,” I said. “We just need to stop or slow the changes till after the war. Till we can really go to work on it.”
“Who could we ask?” said Molly. “Who could we trust with a secret like this?”
“The Armourer,” I said. “Uncle Jack would understand. We had to kill his brother James, and he understood about that.”
“That was to save the family,” said Molly. “And I am becoming a real and present danger to the family. Who else is there?”
“I don’t know! How about the Blue Fairy? He owes me. Maybe he could fish for a cure. He found one for himself.”
“We can’t trust him. All elves have an agenda.”
“Well… maybe Giles could take you with him, back to his future,” I said desperately. “Who knows what kind of cures and medical technology they have then?”
�
�You heard the man,” Molly said sadly. “His is a strictly scientific future. His people probably wouldn’t even be able to recognise what was wrong with me. And anyway, we can’t unleash the Loathly Ones and the Hungry Gods on the future. They have to be stopped, here and now.”
I had to smile. “Am I hearing this right? The infamous Molly Metcalf, developing scruples and morality at this late stage?”
She turned around and managed a small smile for me. “Everyone has to grow up eventually. All it took for me was an other-dimensional parasite infecting my body and eating my soul.”
I sat up on the bed and looked at her thoughtfully. “Now you’re one of them… Are you part of their hive mind yet? Can you hear them? Can you listen in on the Loathly Ones’ communications?”
Molly frowned, concentrating. “There is something… on the edge of my thoughts. Far away, a background sound. But it’s just babble, a meaningless gabble of noise. Not human… alien. Perhaps I’ll come to understand it, as I become… more like them. Will my thoughts come to sound like that? So alien, so intrinsically other… as to be beyond human comprehension?” She looked at me intently. “We have to stop them, Eddie. While I’m still me. Maybe… if we drive them all back out of our reality, the infection will go with them.”
“Yes,” I said kindly. “Maybe.”
“I’m scared, Eddie. Scared of becoming less and less me, and becoming something that won’t even care what it’s lost. I won’t even care that I don’t love you anymore… If there is no cure, if there is no hope left, kill me, Eddie, while I still know who you are. If you love me, kill me.”
“Yes,” I said. “I can do that.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Peace and War
All Droods are fighters. It’s in the blood, and the training. We’re all born to the torc, and raised to fight the good fight from childhood on, even if most of us never get to leave the Hall, or ever see a hand raised in anger. Because the family has always known that a day like this might come, when all the Droods must go to war in defence of humanity, and the world.
Cry Havoc, and let loose the Droods of war.
Janissary Jane taught us a lot, but Giles Deathstalker taught us something else. Under his harsh instruction, we learnt not just how to be warriors, but soldiers in an army. When Jane was running things, she put us through war games. Giles ran his manoeuvres like the real thing, with half the family set against the other half, so we could learn how to fight as part of a group. It wasn’t enough for us to be warriors any more, nor even heroes; we had to be an army. Giles taught us strategy, and tactical thinking, instead of relying on our usual one-on-one philosophy. To think of the operation as a whole, and not just our own individual part of it. We caught on quickly. We’re used to training.
And so there we all were, out on the great grassy lawns, shining bright and savage in our golden armour as we all did our level best to kill each other. Every Drood man and woman, save for the absolute minimum specialists necessary for running Operations, the War Room, and the infirmary, charging this way and that under Giles’s strict commands. We slammed together, body against body, pushing our muscles and nerve to their limits. The sound of combat was deafening as golden blades sought golden chests, and armed fists hammered into armoured heads, and voices rose in fury and passion and eager exhilaration. The gryphons hauled themselves up off their haunches and sulked away in search of somewhere more peaceful, soon followed by the peacocks and other wildlife. Even our resident undine poked her head up out of the lake to see what the hell was going on before quickly disappearing again. Ranks of children excused from lessons watched us make war, and cheered and applauded excitedly from a safe distance. They were there so they could learn too.
Because we all knew, though no one ever said it out loud, that even if we won this war a hell of a lot of us probably wouldn’t be coming back. And the next generation of Droods might have to step into our shoes a lot earlier than any of us had intended.
I was there, right in the middle of the action, training alongside everyone else. Running back and forth on the increasingly churned-up lawns, taking turns leading and being led in the various battle groups. I was far too used to being a lone wolf, and that was a luxury I could no longer afford. So I charged again and again, running madly till my lungs ached and black spots flickered in front of my eyes, growing long golden blades from my armoured hands, and throwing myself into yet another savage, brutal mêlée.
I ached in every limb, and my heart pounded so hard I thought it might leap right out of my chest. And this was just a rehearsal for the real thing.
Apparently Giles had known something very like living battle armour in his far future time, because he had all kinds of ideas on how to make our armour a weapon in itself. During the short breaks between his carefully choreographed campaigns, he lectured us on how limited the family had always been in its thinking, where the armour was concerned. It didn’t have to be just a defence, a second skin to protect us and boost our strength and speed. James’s trick with the blades showed the armour could be made to respond to our thoughts and needs. If a sword, then why not a battle-ax? If I could raise spikes on my knuckles, why not all over my body? The armour was the shape it was only because it had never occurred to us that it could be anything else.
If you already have a miracle, why try to improve on it?
It took an outsider like Giles to make us see the armour’s true capabilities; that the possibilities were limited only by our lack of imagination. Once the idea took hold, there was no stopping us. It took a lot of concentration, but the strange matter of our armour moulded itself under the force of our various desires. Golden hands grew all kinds of weapons, and gleaming faces became scowling gargoyles, howling wolves, monsters, and angels. Pliable body shapes twisted and transformed, taking on mystical shapes and legendary forms. A few even grew golden wings from their backs and flapped awkwardly into the air. We couldn’t hold our new shapes for long, not yet; it took too much concentration. But who knew what might become possible after long practice?
I watched the fierce shapes and impossible transformations strut back and forth before admiring audiences, and wasn’t sure I entirely approved. Right now we needed an army with every weapon at its command. But what would become of us, after the war? When there was no more need for golden monsters and gleaming gladiators? Under normal conditions, all the family ever needed to keep the peace was a limited number of specially trained field agents, like I used to be. Would these golden soldiers be ready to give up these exciting new possibilities?
And what if… what would happen if the armour itself started responding to unconscious impulses as well as conscious commands? Might we all become monsters from the id, ravening creatures driven by personal demons? Perhaps even trapped inside our own armour, as it responded to deep unconscious needs and ignored our conscious, horrified pleas to stand down?
Nightmares for another day. Right now, my job was to make sure the world would see another day. First win the war, then worry about the peace. So back to battle I went, armour clashing against armour, all through the long hot day. And before my eyes the Drood family quickly became something else, something fiercer and finer and more concentrated in its purpose. Giles Deathstalker was cranking the family up to eleven.
And we loved it.
During another brief break, I sat exhausted on the grass drinking a wonderfully chilled Becks straight from the bottle. The Matriarch had come out to observe how the manoeuvres were going, and had very thoughtfully brought a picnic hamper with her. I got first crack at it because rank has its privileges. So I chewed on cold chicken legs, enjoyed my nice Becks, and ostentatiously ignored the cucumber sandwiches. Sometimes I think Grandmother takes the whole county aristocracy bit far too seriously.
She sat beside me, perched confidently on a shooting stick in her usual tweeds and pearls, watching everything with great interest. She made a point of consulting with me at regular intervals, and agreeing with everythin
g I said. This was all for public consumption, of course, so that the whole family could see I had her full backing. After a while, Giles Deathstalker came over to join us. He’d been working himself harder than any of us, but didn’t seem to be sweating or even out of breath. He looked like he did this every day, and for all I knew maybe he did. He was a Warrior Prime, whatever the hell that was. Giles bowed courteously to the Matriarch, and nodded cheerfully to me.
“Doing good, Eddie. Strong form and a fierce will to win. I’m impressed. So, what say you and I put on a bit of a show, demonstrate to your family just what two experienced fighters can really do? Nothing too strenuous, just a mock duel. What do you say?”
I sighed inwardly, while carefully keeping my face calm and composed. It seemed like every time I brought someone new in, they had to fight me, to see if I was fit to lead them. To test themselves against me, preferably in full view of everyone else. Everyone always wants to know if the legendary gunslinger really is as fast as his legend. And I was getting pretty damned tired of it. If Molly had been there, she would have snorted loudly and said Men! Why don’t you both just get them out and measure them? in a loud and carrying voice.
But Molly wasn’t there. She was off wandering the grounds again, communing with her inner self. Whoever or whatever that might be these days.
“Of course,” Giles said easily, “if you’re too tired, Eddie, or don’t feel up to it, I’d quite understand. And so would everyone else.”
“That’s quite enough of that,” the Matriarch said briskly. She rose smartly up from her shooting stick, leaving it standing there looking just a little lost and abandoned. She advanced on the startled Giles, fixing him with her cold stare. “I don’t know how they run things in your time, Giles Deathstalker, but we don’t choose our leaders through right of challenge. We’re all warriors here. You have to be far more than just a fighter to lead the Droods. But if you’re really so desperate for a duel, I’ll oblige you.”
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