A jolt of surprise and even shock ran through Eddie as he realised Ammonia was holding William’s hand. Which meant she was physically there, in person. Normally she only sent a telepathic image to Council meetings because of the toll it took on her to keep everyone else’s thoughts outside her head. For her to put up with a Hall full of Droods, things must be even worse than he thought.
On the opposite side of the aisle sat the Armourer, Maxwell and Victoria. They still looked almost indecently young for such an important post, responsible for providing the family with the very best in guns and gadgets. Looking impressively intelligent in their pristine white lab coats, Max was tall, dark, and handsome, while Vicky was tall, blonde, and beautiful. Together, they were love’s young dream personified. Always hand in hand, never separated, and prone to sickening levels of lovey-doveyness. They smiled quickly at Eddie and Molly, in perfect unison, then looked away again. They didn’t say anything because they were waiting for the Matriarch to speak first. They’d always had too much respect for authority figures, even now that they were one.
Ethel was there too, manifesting as a rose-red glow that permeated the whole of the Sanctity. Just being in Ethel’s presence was enough to make you feel warm and cared-for and protected. Eddie had never been sure he trusted that feeling. Even though Ethel had saved his life on more than one occasion, he found it hard to entirely trust someone who refused to explain themselves. But then, that was what being a Drood did to you.
“Welcome, welcome, Eddie and Molly!” Ethel said loudly. “I do so love to see the family together. Deciding things.”
“If we could get started,” said the Matriarch, in her cold level voice. “We have a lot to discuss and even more to decide, and not much time to do it in.”
“Of course,” said Eddie. “Situation entirely normal.”
He folded his arms and stared right back at the Matriarch. Because long experience with his family had taught Eddie that if you didn’t fight them for every inch, they’d walk right over you.
“All right,” he said flatly. “We’re here. Now, will somebody please tell me exactly what has happened with the Nightside? How has it expanded? Where has it gone? And why do we care so much?”
He expected the Matriarch to bludgeon him into submission with a series of cold, implacable facts, but instead she looked to the Sarjeant-at-Arms to answer for her. Eddie smiled internally. One of the first lessons every Matriarch had to learn was how to wrong-foot people, keeping them off balance so she could dominate the meeting. Eddie had done a lot of that, in his time running the family. One of the reasons he’d stepped down so soon was because he decided he didn’t like what that was doing to him.
“It all started with a series of increasingly scared and desperate reports from psychics all over the world,” the Sarjeant said heavily. “Claiming that part of our reality had been invaded and overwritten. Changed and replaced by the Nightside. The Matriarch commanded the family psychics to focus their attention on the long night, and they quickly confirmed this to be true.”
“Hold it,” said Eddie. “Why didn’t our psychics pick up on this at the same time as everyone else?”
“I’ve got people looking into that,” said the Sarjeant. “It’s possible our psychics were deliberately targeted and blocked, so they wouldn’t be able to warn us of what was about to happen. So we wouldn’t be able to stop it. The one thing we are sure of is that the long night has broken out beyond its normal boundaries, into the unsuspecting everyday world, and taken part of it for its own.”
“But where did this happen?” said Molly.
“The Wulfshead Club is gone,” said the Matriarch.
Eddie and Molly looked at each other, shaken and shocked. The Wulfshead Club was one of the most popular watering holes and neutral grounds for the supernatural and super-science community. Good and bad people lined up beside each other at the long bar, and even bought each other drinks. Unlikely friendships were made, unusual alliances formed, and as a result a lot of really bad stuff never happened. Everyone approved of the Wulfshead. Eddie and Molly had spent a lot of time there, with friends good and bad.
“How can it be gone?” Molly said angrily. “The Wulfshead is famous for its protections! Really serious protections!”
“But apparently not strong enough to keep out the long night when it wanted in,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms.
“So what has it become?” said Eddie. “Just another club in the Nightside?”
“No,” said the Matriarch. “It’s gone, Eddie.”
“As far as anyone can tell, the Wulfshead doesn’t exist any more,” said the Sarjeant. “Which means everyone inside the Club at the time is almost certainly dead.”
Eddie reached out for Molly’s hand, and she squeezed it tightly. Both of them wondering what friends they might have lost.
“What do we know for sure?” said Molly.
The Matriarch concentrated on Eddie. “Technically, you are still our field agent in London. But after we thought Dr DOA had killed you, I made the decision to appoint a new London agent. A very bright and determined young lady called Nina. You wouldn’t know her. I sent her to check out the situation, given that the Wulfshead main entrance point has always been somewhere in Soho.”
“You sent Nina because she’s new, and therefore expendable if something went wrong,” said Eddie.
“Of course,” said the Sarjeant. “She knew that. A teleport bracelet took her straight to the Club’s door. She says the door is still there, but it doesn’t open onto the Club any more. Just a street in the Nightside. She had a good look but didn’t go through, mindful of the long-standing Pacts and Agreements that keep the family out of the long night.”
Eddie nodded stiffly. “She did the right thing. Was she able to identify which street it was?”
“Blaiston Street,” said the Matriarch.
Molly pulled a face. “Yeah, I know it. One of the scummiest, nastiest, and most desperate places in the Nightside.”
“No wonder you know it,” said the Sarjeant.
Molly fixed him with a look. “Don’t push your luck, Cedric.”
Everyone else stirred uneasily because you just didn’t talk to the Sarjeant-at-Arms like that. The Matriarch looked like she was about to say something. Molly looked at her, and the Matriarch thought better of it.
“Could the Wulfshead be hidden away somewhere on Blaiston Street?” said Eddie, steering them back on track.
“Unknown,” said the Matriarch. “We’ve been unable to make contact with the Club, or anyone in it.”
“Has anything like this ever happened before?” said Eddie.
“No. Never,” William said immediately. “The Nightside’s boundaries were laid down and guaranteed at the time of its creation, back before history began. Contained forever within the spiritual heart of London.”
“Then why is this happening now?” said Eddie.
“I don’t know,” said William unhappily. “My assistant is currently searching through the stacks in the Old Library, looking for everything we have on the background and nature of the long night. Unfortunately, that covers a lot of territory and a lot of books, and much of what’s in them is blatantly contradictory. Of course, that’s the Nightside for you, right there . . .”
“Do we have any idea who might have been inside the Club when it vanished?” said Molly.
“No,” said the Sarjeant.
“Then talk to the Management!” said Eddie. “They run the place, they must have means of communication that we don’t have access to. All right, we don’t know who they are, no one does, but we must be able to talk to them . . .”
“The time for secrecy is past,” said the Matriarch. “We are the Management.”
Eddie rocked in his chair, as though he’d been hit. Molly’s mouth flattened into an angry straight line. One of the great secrets of the hidde
n world had just been revealed, right in front of them.
“What?” said Molly, dangerously.
“The most secretive group of all, with business connections all through the hidden world, is really us?” said Eddie. “Of course. I should have known.”
Molly turned in her chair to glare at him. “How could you not know this? You ran the family for a while!”
“They didn’t tell me everything,” said Eddie.
“Clearly,” said Molly.
“It was decided long ago that we should have an entirely separate group to deal with practical matters,” said the Matriarch. “So the rest of us could concentrate on our main mission. Down the centuries, the Management became a family within the family, and finally moved outside it, so they could deal with the rest of the hidden world without anyone knowing their connection to the Droods. We put them in charge of the Wulfshead Club so we could keep an eye on things there.”
“And why did we feel the need to do that?” said Eddie.
“Because you always know where you are with your enemies,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “But you never know when a trusted friend or ally might decide to stab you in the back.”
“Are the Management real Droods or not?” Molly asked. “And would they be more likely than you to know what’s really going on in the Nightside?”
“We have reached out to them through the usual channels,” the Matriarch said steadily. “But they haven’t replied. They haven’t been based in Drood Hall for centuries. They are separate from us. Droods with no torcs and no armour.”
“How can you be a Drood without a torc?” said Molly.
“It’s complicated,” said the Sarjeant.
“You mean, like the Grey Bastards?” said Eddie.
“Exactly,” said the Matriarch. “Your late uncle James’ illegitimate brood. Many of them have joined the Management down the years, as a way of doing service to the family and proving themselves worthy to join us. But the Management also contains people not even distantly related to the family. The Management has become a business concern.”
“They must know about the Wulfshead by now,” said Eddie. “Why haven’t they contacted you?”
“We don’t know,” said the Sarjeant.
Molly turned suddenly to glare at Ammonia Vom Acht. “Why are you here, in person? You never leave your coastal bolt-hole unless you have to.”
“The Matriarch convinced me I was needed here, to protect the family,” said Ammonia. “If there is someone or something behind this change in the Nightside, they’ll be anticipating a reaction from the Droods. The Hall could be their next target.”
“Ethel?” said Eddie. “I thought protecting the family was your job?”
“I’m your guardian angel, not your nanny,” said Ethel. “I provide you with armour so you can look after yourselves, as well as the world.”
“Speaking of protecting the family,” said the Sarjeant, “show Eddie what you have for him, Armourer.”
Maxwell and Victoria quickly produced something very like a crown: a silver circlet studded with chunky, glowing crystals. Maxwell handed it to Eddie, who turned it dubiously back and forth. He’d seen something like it before, constructed to protect Ammonia from the invading thoughts of others. A crown to make the wearer psychically invisible. He looked at the Sarjeant.
“Why would I need something like this?”
“Because I’m sending you into the Nightside to find out what’s going on there,” said the Matriarch.
“Normally your torc would be enough to keep you from being noticed,” said Max.
“But this is the Nightside, where things are never normal,” said Vicky.
“So we made this for you,” said Max.
“So no one will know that a Drood has entered the long night,” said Vicky.
“As long as you don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”
“Well obviously, Max.”
“I was just saying, Vicky.”
“Of course you were, dear.”
Molly raised a hand. “Why don’t I get one?”
“You don’t need one,” said the Sarjeant. “No one in the Nightside would be surprised to see you there.”
“Do I have to wear this?” said Eddie, just a bit plaintively. “I’ll look like an idiot . . .”
“No one will be able to see it,” Max said reassuringly.
“I can see it!” Molly said immediately.
“It’ll be invisible once it’s activated,” said Vicky.
“Just put it on,” said Max.
“Think I’ll wait till I have to,” said Eddie.
“Try not to break it,” said Max.
“It’s a prototype,” said Vicky.
“Aren’t they all?” said Eddie. He put the crown in his lap. “What else have you got for me? Any useful guns or gadgets?”
“Just this,” said Maxwell.
Victoria handed Eddie the Merlin Glass, and he accepted it with a sense of resignation. No matter what he did with it, or who he gave it to, the Glass always seemed to find its way back to him. An old-fashioned hand-mirror, its silver back was covered with intricate chased scroll-work of a vaguely Celtic nature. The lines always looked to Eddie as though they might start moving if he looked at them long enough, so he took care not to.
“We haven’t had time to do any real work on it,” said Vicky.
“But as far as we can tell, it is functioning as it should,” said Max.
“Though it is hard to tell.”
“At least the Glass doesn’t have Morgana La Fae hiding inside it any more,” said Max, beaming happily.
“I don’t know how we missed that, Max,” said Vicky.
“Well, it wasn’t like we were looking for her, was it, darling?”
“Of course, dear. You’re quite right, as always.”
“Hush, sweetie, you’ll embarrass me.”
They turned to Eddie and smiled tentatively at him in unison, and he sighed inwardly. He knew that smile. It meant they were about to hit him with the bad news.
“By your own account,” Max said carefully, “a lot happened to the Merlin Glass during the Moonbreaker mission.”
“So there is always the chance the Glass could prove to be just a tad . . . unreliable,” said Vicky.
“But if you have any problems at all, just bring it straight back to the Armoury,” said Max.
“Assuming it doesn’t get me killed,” said Eddie.
“Well, yes, obviously,” said Vicky. She looked at Max. “What an odd thing to say.”
“Field agents . . .” said Max.
“You are to go to Blaiston Street immediately, Eddie,” said the Matriarch, wrenching back control of the conversation. “And once there discern exactly what has become of the Wulfshead Club and all the people who were in it at the time.”
“Why me?” said Eddie. “I was on leave. I’d earned it. You said so.”
Again, the Matriarch looked to the Sarjeant-at-Arms.
“You are going,” said the Sarjeant, “because you are the best investigatory field agent we have. And because you’ve visited the Nightside before. Molly will accompany you because she knows the Nightside better than any of us. And because we couldn’t stop her going with you if we tried.”
“Damn right,” said Molly. And then stopped to carefully consider the last few remarks, to see if she’d been played.
“Let me be very clear, Eddie,” said the Matriarch, leaning forward across her desk. “This is to be an information-gathering mission only. You are not authorised to take any direct action or to put on your armour for any reason. The Nightside Authorities must not know a Drood has entered the long night, in violation of the Pacts and Agreements. We don’t want any direct conflict with them at the moment. Just find out what you can and report back.??
?
“I can do that,” said Eddie.
“Me too,” said Molly.
“We know how to follow orders,” said Eddie.
“It’s just that usually we can’t be bothered,” said Molly.
“Oh, this can only go well,” said William.
Ammonia surprised everyone then with a brief bark of laughter.
“Go now,” the Matriarch said to Eddie and Molly. “The Council will remain. We still have much to discuss.”
The Sarjeant looked at Eddie, and Eddie knew this was his cue to raise the matter they’d discussed earlier, as to whether the Drood family should consider going to war. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know nearly enough about what was really going on to feel like committing himself to anything. And the only place he could hope to find that kind of information was on Blaiston Street. So he thought he’d keep his thoughts to himself until he got back.
He rose to his feet and bowed to the Matriarch, perhaps just a little ironically. Molly rose to her feet, looked down her nose at the Matriarch, and blatantly ignored the Sarjeant-at-Arms. They strode out of the Sanctity, side by side, and didn’t look back once.
* * *
• • •
They walked back through the Hall, where people were still running around like someone would shoot them somewhere painful if they didn’t. Eddie wondered vaguely why they weren’t all out of breath by now, leaning against a wall with swimming heads and trying not to throw up. If there was one thing he’d learned as a field agent, it was the importance of pacing yourself, so you still had something left when you needed it.
“She didn’t actually tell us much, did she?” Molly said finally.