Secret Histories 10: Dr. DOA (28 page)

“Have you questioned the Immortal?” said Molly.

“Of course!” said Melmoth. “First suspect we looked at. But it couldn’t have been Django Westphalion. He wasn’t present in Under the Mountain when the murders occurred. And even with his teleport bracelet, he couldn’t get in without contacting us first, to get the security shields lowered. A lot of people wanted it to be him, just on general
principles. We have some idea of the many sins his family is responsible for, down the centuries. But . . . no. It can’t be him. Hard as it us for us to accept, the murderer has to be one of us. The people who really run things here are the Overseers. They founded the Survivors, and still set general policy. They insisted I bring you in on this.”

“Hold it,” said Molly. “Some of the original founders are still alive?”

“Apparently,” said Melmoth. “I’ve never met them. Don’t know anyone who has. Anyway, they felt we needed an experienced outsider. Someone with an independent background. We were still arguing over who might be suitable, when Django said Eddie Drood wanted to come here. We took that as a sign. Your reputation as a solver of mysteries precedes you. And you too, of course, Ms Metcalf.”

“Of course,” said Molly.

I looked at her, and we both got up and moved to the far end of the office so we could talk quietly together.

“We don’t have time for this,” said Molly. “We can’t take on a lengthy murder investigation. We just can’t. Not now. I mean, even talking to all the right people will take ages.”

“We have to try,” I said.

“Why?” said Molly. “We’ve spent too long here already! Wasting our time . . . your time. You’re the one who’s always in a hurry.”

“They helped us, so we have to help them,” I said. “Sometimes it really is that simple.”

“Even when you’re dying?” said Molly.

“Especially then,” I said. “We have to do right, when it matters. Because if not us, then who?”

“You’ve been getting broody again,” said Molly. “You know I hate questions like that.”

“Yes,” I said. “I know. Don’t worry; this won’t take long.”

She looked at me sharply. “You’ve already figured something out, haven’t you? You know something!”

“Let’s say I’ve seen something,” I said.

I turned to Melmoth. “We need to talk to the Overseers.”

He shook his head. “No one talks to them. Even the three Department Heads have no direct connection. All instructions arrive anonymously, from outside Under the Mountain. Just as well; it means we get left alone to get on with our work.”

“Why do they need to be anonymous?” said Molly.

“Since we don’t know who they are, we can’t speculate as to their motives,” said Melmoth. “Well, actually we can and we do, but . . . we don’t dare ask them. Not if we want to go on working here.”

Molly looked at me. “Does this remind you of the Wulfshead Management?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” I said.

“With your permission,” said Melmoth, “I’ll call in the other two Department Heads.”

“Yes,” I said. “I think that would be wise.”

Melmoth raised his voice. “Come in!”

The door opened and the Soul Witch swaggered in, with a general air of
I’m here, so the party can start now
. She was followed by a large, more-than-portly gentleman in a full scarlet cardinal’s gown, complete with a tall golden mitre. I wondered how he kept it balanced on such a round head. His face was all curves and dimples, with deep-set eyes and a knowing look. For a man of his size, he moved with surprising grace, and I sensed a real strength buried under all that bulk. He bestowed a warm and avuncular smile on me and Molly, but I wasn’t convinced.

“This is Bishop Beastly,” said Melmoth. “Head of Death-related Studies.”

“Bishop?” I said. “Of what Church, exactly?”

He smiled a fat smile. “All of them, dear boy. This is no place to be making enemies.”

He chuckled loudly, and ripples spread across his vast form like a slow earthquake. He insisted on shaking my hand, and then Molly’s, with his huge podgy fingers. For a man who looked like he never said
no to a second helping, or turned down a dessert, there was nothing weak about his grip.

“What do you do here?” I said. “Exactly?”

“I cover the spiritual side of things,” said the Bishop. “Because someone has to. These two deal in body and mind; I deal in those matters that concern the spirit. What good does it do to survive, if in the process you compromise your soul?”

“Have you seen some of the things they’re doing here?” I said.

“Alas,” said the Bishop, “my position is largely advisory.”

Dr Melmoth and the Soul Witch exchanged a knowing glance behind the Bishop’s back.

“I saw that,” said Bishop Beastly.

“No you didn’t,” said the Soul Witch.

“I didn’t need to,” said the Bishop. “You’re so predictable.” He smiled knowingly at me and Molly. “Think of me as the designated conscience of this facility. Someone has to be in a position to say,
No, no farther; that is a step too far.
”

“Either you’re not saying it enough, or they’re not listening,” I said.

“It is that kind of facility,” Bishop Beastly admitted. I didn’t care for his smug and superior attitude, like the cat that always expects to get the catnip. I also got a definite feeling of undercurrents of violence running deep inside him, just waiting for an outlet. For an excuse to punish someone. The Soul Witch and Molly were looking at each other thoughtfully, like two predators agreeing to share the same watering hole for as long as it suited both of them.

“When you stare into the Abyss,” said Molly, “remember that the Abyss stares also into you.”

“The trick is not to blink first,” said the Soul Witch.

“How long do you expect this investigation of yours to last?” said the Bishop.

“Exactly,” said the Soul Witch. “Some of us have important work to be getting on with.”

“Not long,” I said. “In fact, I’m almost done.”

“What?” said the Bishop.

“I know who the murderer is,” I said.

“You do?” said the Soul Witch.

“Do tell,” said Melmoth.

“It had to be someone really high up,” I said. “With access to all areas, including the security centre. Someone who knew the surveillance system inside out, so they could avoid the cameras and be in a position to give orders so the security people would stay away from the right places at the right time. Which meant it had to be one of you three. And you forgot, Dr Melmoth; I may be dying, but I’m still a Drood. We don’t trust anyone, even when they seem to be doing their best to help us. Thanks to my torc, I have the Sight, and while you’ve been studying me, I’ve been studying you.”

Molly and the Soul Witch looked intently at Melmoth, and their eyes widened.

“Yes!” said Molly. “I can See it!”

“Dear God,” said the Soul Witch. “Melmoth, how could you?”

“I’m feeling very left out,” said Bishop Beastly. “What are all of you Seeing that I’m not?”

“Dr Melmoth is saturated with life energies,” I said. “I saw them earlier. Far too many for one man to have come by honestly. I might not have understood the significance of that if I hadn’t just had an interesting experience with something similar. When you said the bodies were found dead with no obvious wounds or injuries, Dr Melmoth, it all made sense. You’ve been killing people by sucking out their life energies and storing them inside you.”

“Why?” said the Soul Witch. “Why would you do this, Melmoth?”

He smiled suddenly; it was a happy and entirely unrepentant smile. He stood up behind his desk and looked uncaringly around him, like a great man being bothered by questions unworthy of him.

“I came here to find a cure for death, to save my own life. Because one human lifetime seemed such a pitifully small thing, when there was so much waiting to be learned and mastered. I came to Under the Mountain with the highest of hopes, only to find that for all the techniques being practised here, for all the endless studies and research . . . none of you had come up with anything I could use to save myself. So I found a shortcut. A way to take life from others, and make it my own. It wasn’t as if they were doing anything useful with it . . . The stolen energies extended my life. The years my victims would have had became my years. And I went on killing because . . . Well, you can never have enough life, can you? No matter how many years I took, it wasn’t immortality. I knew I would use up all the energies eventually, and still die. Which was, of course, completely unacceptable.”

“Dear Lord,” said Bishop Beastly. “How could we have had such a monster in our midst, and not have known it?”

“Oh please,” said Melmoth. “Like there’s any shortage of monsters here.”

“What do we do now?” said the Soul Witch. She seemed genuinely stunned.

Melmoth turned his smile on her. “You can share in my discovery. You and the Bishop. Through me, you can live lifetimes, enjoy far more years than you ever anticipated. All you have to do is hold Eddie and Molly in this room while I make my escape. I’ll come back, after they’ve left, and show you how to live. Really live.”

“Yeah, right,” said Molly. “Like they’re going to fall for that one . . .”

“How do we know you’ll be back?” said the Soul Witch. Her voice was flat and harsh.

“Well,” said Melmoth, smiling more engagingly than ever. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?”

He came out from behind his desk. Molly and I started forward, and then had to stop as the Soul Witch and Bishop Beastly moved to block
our way. Melmoth waggled the fingers of one hand in a quick good-bye, and then was out the door and gone. The Bishop moved quickly to fill the doorway, while the Soul Witch stared challengingly at Molly.

“You can’t trust him!” I said. “Hasn’t what you’ve just heard proved that? He’s got to be heading for the teleport station, and once he’s gone, you’ll never see him again!”

The Bishop and the Soul Witch glanced at each other, and shrugged pretty much simultaneously.

“It’s nothing personal, I assure you,” said the Bishop. “But faced with such an opportunity . . .”

“We’d be mad not to take it,” said the Soul Witch.

“Quite,” said the Bishop.

“We can’t risk losing out on the prize we’ve been chasing all our lives,” said the Soul Witch. “There’s nothing like being around the dying all day to make you even more concerned with living.”

I took a step towards the Bishop, and he seemed to expand to fill the doorway even more completely. His smile had become unbearably smug. “Once I have set myself in place, my dear Drood, I am very hard to move. I’m actually very holy, you know, and protected by the powers above.”

“You’re protecting a murderer,” I said.

“No one’s perfect,” said the Bishop.

I considered armouring up and forcing my way past him, but something in his pose gave me pause. He might be bluffing, or he might not. In a place like this, who knew? But then, a man of the cloth wouldn’t last long in a place like this unless he knew how to defend himself . . .

While I was still thinking that, Molly took a step forward, and she and the Soul Witch stood face-to-face; like two gunslingers meeting in the middle of Main Street. There was a sudden tension in the air, as powerful forces gathered. The two witches moved their hands slightly and adjusted their postures; professional fighters taking the measure of each other. And then the Soul Witch seemed to suddenly
unfold
, as all the
souls stacked within her came forth, superimposing their presence upon and around her. Smoky ghosts, uncertain presences, made up of mists and tatters. The Soul Witch gestured, and the ghosts sprang forward like attack dogs, half of them heading for Molly and the others for me.

They swirled around Molly, circling her rapidly, unable to reach her. I armoured up, and they climbed all over me, trying and failing to force their way through my armour. They wrapped their smoky arms around me, holding me in place. They had the weight and gravity of unquiet souls with unfinished business. But when I tried to hit them, my golden fists passed right through them. They were only solid when they chose to be.

I still had my Sight. I could See the shining threads that connected each individual soul to the Soul Witch. And it was the easiest thing in the world for me to grab hold of the nearest shimmering threads with my golden hands and snap them. The souls convulsed as the strings that connected the puppets to their puppet master disappeared, and then I heard silent voices crying out,
Free! Free at last!
as the ghosts disappeared. The Soul Witch swore angrily, and pulled the remaining souls back from Molly and into her.

While the Soul Witch was distracted, Molly slammed her hands together. The whole office was suddenly full of a blindingly bright light. Even I was dazzled, inside my golden face mask. I could hear the Soul Witch and the Bishop crying out in shock and horror. The light hammered against my armour like a hailstorm of burning coals. When the light finally faded away and I could see again, it was all over.

The Soul Witch was curled up in a ball on the floor, murmuring,
Don’t, please don’t . . .
over and over again. The table and chairs had been burned to ashes, and all four walls showed heavy scorch marks. Molly was untouched. I nodded to her respectfully.

“Damn,” I said. “You’ve still got it, Molly. You are still professionally scary.”

“When I have to be,” said Molly. “Believe it.”

“How much magic have you got left?” I said.

“Maybe one or two spells. I’m back to running on fumes.”

“Hang in there,” I said. “We’ve still got work to do.”

We both turned to look at Bishop Beastly, standing in the doorway. Completely untouched by what had just happened. He smiled briefly.

“I really am very holy. Witchery can’t touch me.”

I raised one golden fist. I didn’t even have to do the spiky-knuckles bit before he raised both fat hands placatingly.

“But I know a lost cause when I see one.” He moved away from the door. “Feel free to go after Dr Melmoth, with my blessing.”

“If he’s escaped, because you’ve slowed us down . . . ,” I said.

“He won’t,” said the Bishop. “Trust me.”