Book 2 - Daemons Are Forever (8 page)

Jacob the ghost was falling apart, body and soul, and he knew it.

The Sarjeant-at-Arms glared at Jacob. He disapproved of the old ghost’s very existence, and didn’t care who knew it.

“Why don’t you find yourself a nice grave and settle down?” he said pointedly. “You know you shouldn’t be here. Family policy on ghosts is very clear. Any ghost that shows up here gets sent on its way sharpish. No exceptions. Otherwise we’d be hip deep in the things by now.”

“I’m exempt,” Jacob said firmly.

“On what grounds?” said the Sarjeant.

“Because I say so, and don’t you bloody forget it. I’m exempt from anything I damned well feel like, on the grounds that I’ll kick anyone’s arse who says otherwise. Being dead is very liberating. You should try it, Sarjeant. Preferably soon.”

“Behave yourself, Jacob,” I said. “Remember, I’ve still got that exorcist on speed dial.”

“We need to talk about the witch’s presence here,” Penny said stubbornly.

“No we don’t,” I said.

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Molly. “Let’s talk about your presence here, Penny dear. Are you another of Eddie’s old flames, like that appalling Alexandra person?”

Penny snorted loudly. “He wishes…”

“Are you going to introduce just anyone you want into the Circle?” said the Sarjeant. “Don’t we get a say in the matter?”

“If you’ve got anyone else in mind, suggest them,” I said. “I’ll take all the help I can get. I’m only running things now because I can’t find anyone else I can trust. I’m the only one in this family without an agenda. The whole point of this Inner Circle is to set things up for the formation of a new elected Council, so they can take over and I can go back to being just a field agent again, where I belong. Where I was happy.”

“Are you saying you haven’t been happy since you met me?” said Molly.

“You are the only good thing in my life and you know it,” I said. “So stop fishing for compliments.”

“Blow me a kiss right now,” said Molly. “Or I’ll tell everyone where you’ve got a funny-shaped mole.”

“We need to discuss Jacob’s position in the family,” insisted the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “He’s moved back into his old room in the Hall, the one he used to live in back when he was alive. He frightened the proper occupant so much he ran out screaming, and has refused to go back.”

“I know,” said the Armourer. “We’ve got the poor lad down in the infirmary. I don’t know what you did to him, Jacob, but he still hasn’t stopped twitching. And he can’t go to sleep unless someone holds his hand.”

Jacob sniggered. “He shouldn’t have been playing with himself when I materialised. And I am here because I’m supposed to be here. I like being back in the Hall, if only because it annoys so many of the proper people. Been a lot of changes since I was last here … I can’t believe how crowded the Hall is these days. Family’s been breeding like rabbits…We need to get more of the youngsters out into the world. Kick them out of the nest! Fly, little birdies! Yes, I know, I’m rambling; you’re allowed to when you’ve been dead as long as I have.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, “but why are you still here, Jacob? I thought you only hung around as a ghost so you’d be here to help me save the family from the Heart.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Jacob, scowling. His eyes disappeared, leaving only deep, dark pits in his face. “But something is still holding me here. Some force…like an undischarged promise. My job here isn’t over yet, dammit. Something is coming, Eddie. Something good, something bad…something.”

We all waited, but he had nothing else left to say. I decided it was very definitely time to change the subject, and since I wanted to remind everyone that I was in charge, I went with something that had been bugging me for some time. I stared sternly at the Sarjeant-at-Arms.

“What is your name? I can’t keep calling you Sarjeant, and I’m damned if I’ll go back to calling you sir, like when I was a kid.”

“Call me Sarjeant. It’s my title.”

“I could have Molly rip it out of your living brain,” I said. I was bluffing, but he didn’t know that. If the Sarjeant was so determined not to tell me, I wanted to know even more. It had to be something good. The Sarjeant sighed, just a little.

“My name is Cyril.”

Sometimes things are just too good to be true. I think the only thing that kept the whole Circle from collapsing into gales of hysterical laughter was our extensive knowledge of the Sarjeant’s brutality, and that he could summon weapons out of thin air when he felt like it.

“Cyril?” I said happily. “Bloody Cyril? No wonder you grew up to be a thug and a bully, with a name like that. You must have loved your parents.”

“They were fine, upstanding people,” the Sarjeant said firmly. “Now, if I may continue my report on the transgressions of the ghost, Jacob?”

“Oh by all means,” I said. “Don’t let me stop you, Cyril.”

“There have been numerous reports of Jacob haunting the ladies’ showers and changing rooms.”

“I keep getting lost.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Jacob,” I said.

“And,” said the Sarjeant, “there have even been reports of him chasing the ghost of the headless nun through the catacombs.”

Jacob grinned. “Hey, she’s the only other ghost in the Hall. Can you blame me if I just want to swap a little ectoplasm? Nice arse, for a nun. Damn, she’s fast on her feet, especially considering she can’t see where she’s going.”

“You’re a member of the Inner Circle!” snapped the Sarjeant. “You’re supposed to set an example!”

“Oh, I am, I am…”

“Stop that,” I said quickly. “Your ectoplasm’s going all quivery. Let us move on. Are we any closer to establishing who was behind the recent attacks on the Hall, just before I was summoned home? Do we have any new information?”

“Nothing. Not a word,” said the Armourer.

“Perhaps we should ask the strange matter,” said the Sarjeant pointedly. “Since it did turn out to be responsible for the destruction of the Heart, in the end.”

“Wasn’t me,” said a calm and reasonable voice from inside the warm crimson glow. “I was still searching for the Heart at that stage, and didn’t even know it was in this dimension. You must remember; the Heart had made many enemies, from all the worlds and races it enslaved before it came here. Some of those enemies have been looking for the Heart almost as long as me.”

That sounded reasonable enough, but though I had much to thank the strange matter for, and it always said the right things…the fact remained that the strange matter was still very much an unknown factor. All we knew about it was what it had chosen to tell us. If it had been behind the other attacks, would it admit that? We had no way to compel the truth from it. I rubbed at my forehead as a slow, grinding headache began. Being paranoid is very tiring, but when you’re a Drood it’s the only way to stay one step ahead.

“Strange matter…” I said.

“Oh, please, call me Ethel.”

“We are not going to call you Ethel,” I said, very firmly.

“Why not? What’s wrong with Ethel? It’s a perfectly good name. I like it. It’s honest, it’s charming, it’s…me.”

“We are not calling you Ethel!”

“Nothing wrong with Ethel,” said the strange matter. “Winston Churchill had a pet frog called Ethel.”

“No he didn’t!”

“He might have. You don’t know.”

“I’m calling you Strange,” I said. “It’s the only name that fits.”

“You have no sense of fun,” said Strange.

“Actually…” said Molly.

“Hush,” I said quickly.

The Armourer produced another of his impressive throat clearings. “How did you get on with the Matriarch, Eddie?”

“Not good,” I admitted. “She told me to go to Hell. She’d rather see the whole family collapse than prosper with me in charge.”

The Armourer nodded reluctantly. “Mother always could be very stubborn…But you have to keep trying with her, Eddie. You need her on your side if you’re to get the whole family moving in the same direction. She represents the past, and tradition, and all those things that make the family feel safe and secure.”

“It isn’t going to be easy,” I said.

“Of course it isn’t going to be easy, Eddie! You killed her favourite son, my brother James! I know you had to do it, and I still have trouble forgiving you. The old Gray Fox…was the best of us, for so many years. And don’t forget; he had a lot of admirers, outside the family. Old friends and old enemies, who won’t be at all happy to hear he died at your hands. They could turn up here at any time, ready and willing to express their extreme displeasure…and then you’re going to need the whole family backing you up.”

“We could say James had gone rogue.” Penny suggested tentatively.

“Who’d believe that?” I said. “The Gray Fox always was the best of us. You’d better beef up the Hall’s defences, Uncle Jack; just in case.”

I finally got to the meat of the meeting, and told them about MI5’s ambush outside my old flat. The Armourer and the Sarjeant insisted I tell it all, in as much detail as I could remember. Molly chimed in here and there, sometimes helping and sometimes not. The Armourer and the Sarjeant both reacted very strongly when I told them who was behind the attack.

“The prime minister?” said the Sarjeant incredulously. “Who does he think he is, to take on the Droods? Man’s getting thoughts above his station. We can’t allow this to go unpunished, Edwin. People might think we were getting soft.”

“I’ve already sent him a very definite message,” I said.

“Killing a few MI5 agents won’t bother him,” said the Armourer. “As far as he’s concerned, they’re all expendable. We need to hit him where he lives.”

“Right,” said the Sarjeant. “Can’t have the prime minister getting cheeky. We need to slap him down hard, Edwin. Make an example of him.”

I shook my head slowly. “We can’t afford to show our hand yet, and risk revealing how weak we really are. And no one else in power seems to be feeling their oats. Penny took me down to the War Room; it was all very quiet.”

“Quiet before the storm,” said Penny. “Our researchers are all over the world’s media, official and unofficial, getting a feel for each government’s mood. And all our telepaths, scryers, and clairvoyants are working full time.”

I had to smile. Politicians only think they can keep secrets from the Droods.

“So far, everyone’s being very cautious, not wanting to rock the boat until they know whether or not there’s sharks in the water,” said the Armourer. “I don’t think they can believe their own reports about how weak and disorganised we are, at present. But that can’t last. They know all our field agents have gone to ground, and most of them know or suspect about the golden torcs’ disappearance. So sooner or later, somebody’s going to do something…just to see what happens. To see how much they can get away with. There might even be a direct strike against the Hall itself. Remember when the Chinese tried to nuke us, back in the sixties?”

“We have to do something about the prime minister,” the Sarjeant said firmly. “Something sufficiently unpleasant, to send a clear message to all the world leaders.”

“All right,” I said reluctantly. “Come up with some options, and I’ll look at them.”

“I thought one of the reasons you took over running the Droods was to free the world from Drood control,” said Molly. “I distinctly remember you saying something about letting politicians make their own decisions.”

“I did,” I said. “Turns out things are more complicated than that.”

“Isn’t that always the first response of every dictator?”

“Look; survival first, politics second, okay?” I said.

“Just wanted you to be sure of what you’re getting into,” Molly said sweetly.

“Speaking of survival,” said Penny. “We need to get as many of the family as possible into the new silver torcs, as quickly as possible. We’re just too vulnerable to sudden attack, as things stand.”

I nodded reluctantly. “All right, you guys get together and draw up a list for me to consider. Those who should get their torcs right away, those who should but only after they’ve proved themselves worthy, and those who won’t ever be trusted with a torc again.”

“Such as?” said Penny, her cool eyes openly challenging me.

“Anyone who knew about the secret of the golden torcs and just went along with it,” I said sternly. “Any unrepentant Zero Tolerance, and anyone who’d more than likely use a torc to start a civil war within the family. Use your own best judgement. We’re only talking about a small percentage of scumbags, I hope. Strange, any problem with producing so much strange matter, for the torcs and armour, so quickly?”

“Please, call me Ethel.”

“Not if there was a gun to my head.”

“You can have as many silver torcs as you want, Eddie,” Strange said easily. “It’s just a matter of bringing more of me through from my home dimension. I am great and limitless, wise and wonderful…But you don’t really need torcs, you know. I could teach you all to be superhuman. You have such potential within you, you humans. To be far greater than any torc could ever make you. You could all shine like stars.”

I looked at the Inner Circle, and they looked at me.

“How long would this take?” I said.

“Years,” said Strange. “Generations, maybe. This whole consecutive time thing is a new concept to me.”

“I think we’ll stick with what we know, for now,” I said. “The family needs to be strong as quickly as possible. But by all means, consider the alternative, Strange, and let me know when you’ve got something more specific to tell me.”

“Oh goody!” said Strange. “This is going to be such fun!”

“Any other matters?” I said quickly.

“Just one,” said the Armourer. He produced a small object wrapped in white samite from under his lab coat and passed it to me. I accepted and then unwrapped it with great care and caution. Gifts from the Armourer have a tendency to be downright dangerous, if not actually explosive. The object turned out to be a simple hand mirror, with a silver frame and handle. I hefted it a few times cautiously, just in case, but nothing happened. And the face in the mirror was quite definitely mine, so … I looked inquiringly at the Armourer.

“Jacob and I have been studying in the old library,” said the Armourer. “When I can tear him away from his…other pursuits. And we’ve turned up some quite remarkable items. A number of books thought to be long lost, or destroyed, a number of ancient maps of dubious provenance but exciting possibilities…and a handful of lost and quite legendary treasures. That… is Merlin’s Glass. It disappeared from the Armageddon Codex in the late eighteenth century, under somewhat murky circumstances. Jacob discovered it inside a hollowed-out book about voles.”