Secret Histories 10: Dr. DOA (29 page)

“Yeah, right,” said Molly.

*   *   *

Out in the corridor there was no sign of Melmoth anywhere. Just a single technician, hurrying along. He took one look at us, and turned quickly to hurry off in some other direction. I caught up with him, took a hold of his coat, and picked him up off the floor.

“Which way to the teleport station?” I said.

“I can’t tell you that!” said the technician, trying hard to look everywhere but into my featureless golden mask. “Security must be preserved!”

Molly leaned in beside me and smiled unpleasantly at him.

“Hi! I’m Molly Metcalf!”

“It’s not far!” said the technician. “Down the right-hand corridor, take the elevators at the end, all the way to the top floor. Please don’t turn me into something.”

I dropped him, and we hurried down the right-hand corridor.

“Still scary,” I said.

“Damned right,” said Molly.

We found the elevators, and I armoured down while Molly hit the
call button. And then we had to just stand there and wait. Elevators have no sense of urgency. The doors finally opened, and we stepped inside. I hit the top button, the doors took their own sweet time closing, and we started up. Molly and I stood together, watching the floor lights change.

“He could already have reached the teleport station,” I said. “He could already be gone. And we haven’t got time to go chasing after him. I don’t suppose you could . . .”

“No, I can’t just transport us there!” said Molly. “I told you; I’m wiped out. I couldn’t even produce a top hat from a rabbit. Isn’t there any way to make this elevator go faster?”

I studied the controls again, just on the off chance. “Apparently not.”

We waited, and waited, until the doors finally opened onto a wide-open space, with no one about and any number of corridors leading off. There was a sudden commotion down one of the corridors, so we ran towards it. We burst into what had to be the teleport station, a number of carefully delineated departure pads surrounded by unfamiliar equipment. And standing very still, his hands in the air and well short of the pads, was Dr Melmoth, guarded by a dozen heavily armed security men. Two seriously spooked technicians were staying well back, pressed up against the control panels. One of the security guards nodded to me.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Drood. Bishop Beastly phoned ahead and got us here in time to prevent Dr Melmoth from leaving. He’s not going anywhere. Unless he does something really stupid, and then my men will see just how many holes they can shoot in him before he hits the floor.”

“Of course,” said Molly. “Phones trump slow-moving elevators any day. Why didn’t we think of that?”

“Well?” I said. “Do you have Security’s phone number?”

“No one loves a smart-arse,” said Molly.

Melmoth glanced around him, careful not to lower his hands even
a little bit. He looked the guards over, dismissed them with a sniff, and smiled at me.

“Tell you what, Eddie. I’ll share my discovery with you, if you’ll get me out of this. You want to live, don’t you, Eddie? What I’ve got can’t cure you, but it could give you many more years!”

“You’re the second person to make me that offer today,” I said. “The price is still too high.”

“Wait,” said Molly. “What is it you’ve got, Melmoth?”

“Molly . . .”

“Hush, Eddie! Don’t you want to know?”

I nodded to the security guard. “Let him show us what he’s got. Unless it looks like a weapon, and then . . .”

“He’s dead meat,” said the guard.

Melmoth made a face at him. “You just can’t get good help these days.”

He lowered one hand, reached slowly and carefully into his coat pocket, and produced a small blood-red crystal. He held it out before him so we could all see. It didn’t look like much; just a gleaming crimson stone, in which dark shadows curled slowly.

“This is what I found, hiding unsuspected among a consignment of alien artefacts we received from Black Heir. I’ve no idea what it is, or what strange world it might have come from; but all you have to do is point it at someone, and their life jumps right out of them and into you. Just make a wish . . . and all their years are yours. Your problems could be over in a moment, Eddie . . .”

“And how many more people would have to die, to keep me going?” I said.

He gave me his best engaging smile. “Only little people.”

“Forget it,” said Molly. “I know what that is, and it’s not what Melmoth thinks. It’s not even alien; it’s a vampire jewel. What you get if you take a vampire and reduce it down to its basic essence. Nasty thing.” She looked coldly at Melmoth. “The jewel steals life energies, but that’s
all. It can make you stronger, but it can’t grant you one extra day of life. You’ve been killing people for nothing . . .”

“No . . . ,” said Melmoth. For the first time, he looked genuinely upset. “No!”

He jabbed the blood-red stone at Molly, but before I or any of the guards could react, Molly gestured sharply, and the crimson jewel leapt out of Melmoth’s hand and into hers. He dropped to his knees and rocked back and forth, shaking his head.

“All those people I killed . . . and I’m still going to die! It’s not fair!”

The Soul Witch came in with Bishop Beastly. She looked pale, but back to herself again. She nodded to me, ignoring Molly.

“Leave Melmoth to us. He will be punished.”

“Are you going to kill him?” said Molly.

“No,” said Bishop Beastly. “I don’t think any of us are in the mood to be that merciful. Too many good people have died.”

“Thought you were very holy?” I said.

“Not all the time,” said the Bishop. He smiled at Melmoth. “Vengeance is mine.”

“Ours,” said the Soul Witch.

“Quite so, my dear,” said Bishop Beastly. “Dr Melmoth can serve as our latest guinea pig, for all the most dangerous and extreme experiments. For as long as he lasts. Who knows; maybe through him we’ll find something that does work.”

“Okay,” said Molly. “I can live with that.”

She tossed me the vampire jewel. “Be a love, Eddie, and destroy that thing. No one in this madhouse can be trusted with it.”

I armoured up one hand and crushed the bloodstone. When I opened my golden hand, just a little powder fell away. Bishop Beastly nodded to the security guards, and they grabbed hold of Melmoth and hauled him out of the chamber. He fought them all the way, kicking and screaming. Because he had better reason than most to know what lay in store for him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” said the Soul Witch, “we need to make a report to the Overseers. And arrange for a new Head of the Science Division. The work must go on. Because there really aren’t any shortcuts.”

“The technicians will see you on your way,” said the Bishop. “Safe journey. Don’t feel you have to hurry back any time soon.”

They left, not looking back. The two technicians looked at Molly and me with shocked, vaguely traumatized eyes. And that was when Django Westphalion came storming in through a side corridor, bearing an energy weapon so big he needed both hands just to aim it. The technicians dived for cover again, while I armoured up and put myself between Molly and the Immortal. He opened fire, and a beam of energy shot out, so fierce it seemed to slice a path through reality itself to get to me. The beam slammed into my armoured chest, and the golden strange matter soaked it up like a sunbeam. Django cursed bitterly and threw the weapon to the floor.

“It’s not fair! It’s just not fair!”

Molly came out from behind me, and advanced on the Immortal with a determined look in her eye. “I have put up with enough shit for one day.”

Django saw her coming, and bent down to pick up the energy weapon again. Molly got there first, and kicked him in the face while he was still bent over. He fell backwards, and she was on him in a moment, beating the crap out of him. Just on general principles. I armoured down and watched her do it. After all, it wasn’t like she could do him any real damage. His shape-changing abilities would repair any injury. From the amount of noise he was making, it still hurt like hell. Served him right, the treacherous little toad. Molly finally stepped back, breathing hard, and I approached her cautiously.

“Feeling better now?”

“Much,” said Molly.

I nodded to the Immortal as he pulled himself back together again. “Sorry about that, Django. But she needed someone to take out the day’s
frustrations on, and you were dumb enough to give her an excuse.” I picked up the energy weapon and crumpled it into scrap with my golden hands, before throwing it aside. “Why did you want to shoot me, anyway? You know I’m dying.”

“Not fast enough,” Django said spitefully, rising painfully to his feet.

“Tell me something,” I said. “That teleport bracelet of yours, the one you used to bring us here. Where did you get it?”

“Why should I tell you anything, Drood?”

I looked to Molly. “Ready for Round Two?”

“Oh yeah . . . ,” said Molly.

“Black Heir!” Django said quickly. “I got it from Black Heir.”

“That’s the second time that name has come up,” said Molly. “I think we need to pay Black Heir a visit.”

“Right,” I said. “I still haven’t given up on the idea that Dr DOA’s poison isn’t from around here. It would explain a lot. And Black Heir knows about things like that.”

“Will its people talk to you?” said Molly.

I grinned. “I wasn’t planning on giving them a choice.”

I grabbed hold of Django’s arm and took the bracelet away from him. He started to object, and then fell sullenly silent when I looked at him.

“Can you work that thing?” said Molly.

“Looks straightforward enough. Particularly after some of the things the Armourer’s given me.”

“How am I supposed to get home?” said Django.

“Walk,” said Molly.

I turned to the teleport technicians, who had reluctantly emerged from cover again. “Send the Immortal away. Preferably somewhere very removed from anywhere civilised.”

“No problem,” said the head technician. “We never liked him. No one here does.”

“Of course not,” said Molly. “He’s an Immortal.”

I threw Django Westphalion onto the nearest teleport pad, and the technicians quickly threw a whole bunch of switches. Django glared at me.

“I’ll get you for this! I’ll make you pay for this, Drood!”

“Join the queue,” I said.

He disappeared. The head technician smiled ingratiatingly at me. “You know, you don’t need the bracelet. Our equipment can send you anywhere in the world.”

“No offence,” I said, “but I never trust other people’s equipment. It’s always possible your bosses don’t want us to be able to report on what we’ve seen here. They might have given you secret orders, to send us somewhere very remote. Or even have us arrive in pieces. So if you’ll just drop your security screens, we’ll be on our way.”

“And no messing with the screens,” said Molly. “I’d know. And I’d be very upset.”

“It’s true,” I said. “She would.”

The two technicians exchanged a look, admitting nothing, and got to work. And then both of them froze, staring at the controls in front of them.

“That’s not right,” said the head technician.

“What isn’t?” I said.

“Something’s coming,” he said. “Coming in, from outside. As though they were just waiting for us to lower the shields.”

“But that’s not possible!” said the other technician. “Not without knowing our exact coordinates! We’re not expecting anyone, are we?”

“No. We’re not.”

“Well . . . raise the shields again!”

“Too late!”

A figure appeared suddenly on one of the teleport pads. A large black warrior woman, in heavy jade armour deeply etched with mystical symbols. She was tall and majestic, lithely muscular, with a broad, high-boned face. Her hair was styled in bright green cornrows. She
carried a glowing sword on one hip, and a double-headed axe on the other. Two bandoliers crossed her impressive bosom, bearing luck charms, killing objects, shaped curses, and pre-prepared spells. Weaponized magic. She stared at me with cold, cold eyes.

“I am the Demon Demoiselle,” she announced in rich, carrying tones.

“Never heard of you,” I said. I looked to Molly. “Have you heard of her?”

“No,” said Molly. “And I’ve heard of everyone who matters.”

“Your sins have found you out, Eddie Drood,” said the Demon Demoiselle. “Time for you to die, for what your family has done.”

“It’s those same words again!” I said. “This is some new gang, or maybe a conspiracy.”

“Why is everyone suddenly so keen to kill you?” said Molly. “They never wanted to kill you before you were dying.”

“Yes they did,” I said.

“Of course,” said Molly. “You’re a Drood. I was forgetting.”

I turned to the Demon Demoiselle. “Do we really have to do this? It’s been a long day, I’m tired, and I’m not in the mood.”

“I will kill you, Drood, for what you’ve done!”

“No you won’t,” said Molly.

She snapped her fingers, and the teleport pad activated itself. The Demon Demoiselle blinked out of existence. The two technicians hurried to reset the security measures so she couldn’t get back in.

“Thank you, Molly,” I said. “I didn’t want to have to kill someone else.”

“I thought as much.”

“I thought you were out of magics?”

She grinned. “I may have quietly sucked a few energies out of the vampire jewel before I gave it to you.”

“Of course you did,” I said. A thought struck me. “Do you have any idea where you just sent her?”

“Of course! Remember the reservoir, where we crashed Cassandra’s airship?”

“Ah,” I said. “I hope she can swim.”

“From the look of her, she could probably walk on water,” said Molly.

“True. Okay, off to Black Heir’s Headquarters. We’ll take a look at what its people have, which they’re almost certainly not supposed to have, and find out what they know about Dr DOA.”

“Maybe they can help you,” said Molly. “All the weird shit they’ve picked up down the years, they must have something. But, Eddie . . . Where will we go if they can’t?”

“We just keep following the leads,” I said steadily. “Dr DOA has to stay lucky to stay hidden; we only have to get lucky once.”