Well, better, relatively speaking. I looked at Molly.
“Trust me?”
“Always.”
“Good.”
I grabbed her round the waist, held her tightly to me side, and using all my armoured strength I leapt right over the crowd of Immortals, over the balcony, and out into open space. Everyone fell silent. Molly and I fell through the air, and the hall lay below us, a very long way below us. Molly whooped with enthusiasm as we dropped to the floor below. We hit hard, the parquet flooring exploding under my armoured feet. My armoured legs absorbed most of the impact, and I didn’t fall back a step. Molly took the sudden stop rather harder, all the breath knocked out of her, her head snapping back on her neck. I held her up as the strength went out of her legs. I looked quickly to the front door, at the far end of the long hall.
There were still a lot of Immortals down here in the hall, between me and that door. And more spilling out of adjoining rooms, and plunging down the main stairs. I had only a few moments before battle would be joined again. From all sides, now. But . . . I could feel something. There was a sense of . . . pressure, of something pressing hard against the Castle’s shields with growing, resolute strength, fighting its way towards me. The power of the Immortals might be ancient and forbidding, but what was coming had been made by Merlin Satanspawn himself, and it would not be denied. I called to it, and the whole Castle seemed to cry out, as something primordial and inviolate suddenly shattered, broken by something greater than itself. And just like that I held the Merlin Glass in my golden hand.
Not all my luck is bad.
Molly finally stirred, got her feet under her, and pushed herself away from me. Her face was pale, and she was breathing hard, but her eyes were tracking and she knew what was happening.
“Okay, mind the first step, it’s a bastard. Next time, a little warning, perhaps?”
“If I’d told you what I was going to do, you wouldn’t have let me do it,” I said reasonably.
“True. Can you get us out of here through the Glass?”
“Not as such, no. The Glass broke through the main shields to get here, but my armour’s telling me the remaining protections are still functioning. No living thing can pass through them, either way. But, I think I’ve got an idea.”
“Should I go and stand somewhere else?”
“No, trust me, you’re going to like this one. I think I can get us some reinforcements. Very special reinforcements.”
I held the Glass up before me. A few Immortals shouted out, as they recognised it. But none of them were worried. No living thing could pass through Castle Frankenstein’s shields. But we live in a big world, and it contains far more than just the living. I used the Glass to make an opening between the hall and the Castle Hotel, and the Merlin Glass leapt out of my hand, growing rapidly to provide a door between me and the Castle Hotel ballroom. The Spawn of Frankenstein were still partying. They all stopped abruptly and looked round, as the door appeared out of nowhere in the midst of them. The Bride stepped forward, and then bowed respectfully as she recognised my armour.
“Who calls on us? What can the Spawn of Frankenstein do for the mighty Drood family?”
I couldn’t call on her as Shaman Bond; no one must ever know he was a Drood. Luckily the mask disguises my voice.
“Eddie Drood, at your service. And it’s more what I can do for you. I’m speaking to you from inside Castle Frankenstein. Yes, the real one, currently occupied by the Immortals. I’ve opened a door between here and you; no living thing can pass through the Castle shields, but you’re not living, are you? If you’ll come through, and fight alongside me against the Immortals, the Droods will give you Castle Frankenstein for your own. The whole place will be yours, along with whatever secrets you can find here.”
Give her credit, she didn’t hesitate, not even against the terrible Immortals themselves.
“Deal,” the Bride said crisply. “Stand back and give us some room; we’re coming through.”
She charged through the doorway, all seven foot of her, spiked silver knuckle-dusters gleaming on both hands again. And right behind her came Springheel Jack, with his cloak and top hat and gleaming straight razors. And behind him came all the Spawn of Frankenstein; all the creatures and creations, ready to fight for the home they’d never known, and the secrets of their creation. Not the living but the living dead, come to fight the Immortals on their behalf as well as mine, laughing as they came, because death held no terror for any of them. They’d been there, done that, and were all too ready to hand it out to those who’d kept them from their ancient home for so long.
The Immortals cried out in shock and horror as the monsters came surging out of the doorway I’d opened, realising at last that their hidden retreat was no longer inviolate. They opened up on the Spawn with all kinds of weapons, but most of those had been designed to work on the living, not the living dead. The Spawn fell on their hated enemies, and blood and horror filled the hall.
The Bride paused briefly to look at me. “How can we best serve you, Drood?”
“Hold these bastards off, till I can get to the front door,” I said. “I’ve had another idea.”
“Wonderful,” said Molly.
The Bride threw herself at the nearest Immortals like a wrecking ball, sending bodies flying this way and that with the unnatural strength of her long slender arms. She just strode right into them, lashing about her with casual grace, her spiked silver knuckle-dusters ripping off faces and smashing in skulls. She towered above them, her black beehive hair clearly visible at all times, her face stark and cold with years of fury. The Immortals fought back as best they could, and could not hurt her dead flesh. The Bride threw them all back, with contemptuous indifference.
Springheel Jack was at her side and at her back, hopping and leaping, and sometimes jumping right over the heads of his enemies, somersaulting in midair. His razor-filled hands struck out with inhuman speed, never missing a target, and blood spurted everywhere. Immortals fell to the ground, clutching at new crimson mouths in their throats, or pawing feebly at where their eyes had been. Springheel Jack danced among them with deadly grace, spinning and pirouetting, his glowing razors shining with supernatural brilliance. The Immortals were the enemy of his Bride, so he was their enemy too.
The rest of the Spawn spread out to form a protective barrier between me and the Immortals, so Molly and I could head for the front door. The Immortals were trying desperately to block my way. They didn’t trust their shields to protect them anymore. The Spawn held them back easily, tearing and clawing, biting through centuries-old flesh, or just smashing in heads with blunt grey fists. If nothing else, the Baron had made sure his creations would always be able to protect themselves. The Spawn also opened fire with a surprisingly large number of really quite appalling weapons they just happened to have about their person. When you’re a Spawn of Frankenstein, the thought of mobs with pitchforks and flaming torches and modern firepower is never far away. And they’ve been trying to find or force their way into Castle Frankenstein for many years—centuries, for some of them. They didn’t hold their annual meeting in the Castle Hotel out of sentiment. They’d always hoped their day would come, and now they were delighted for this chance to bestow years of frustrated fury on their old enemy, the usurpers of Castle Frankenstein.
The Immortals came flooding into the hall from all directions, filling the long hall from wall to wall, flesh dancing desperately to make them strong enough to take on the Spawn of Frankenstein. They writhed and twisted, flesh rippling across bones and exploding into wild new shapes as they became ogres; with massive slabs of muscle, terrible fangs and claws, all their vulnerable parts hidden behind bony armour. They became gargoyles, and lizards, and even weird abstract shapes, as they struggled to find some form strong and vicious enough to match the Spawn of Frankenstein. Who, if anything, became even more furious, believing the Immortals were mocking them, becoming monsters to fight monsters. The Spawn fell on the Immorta
ls with angry cries, tearing them limb from limb with their more than ordinary strength. And though their dead flesh took awful wounds, they did not bleed, or hurt, or cry out. They were beyond such things.
Molly and I fought our way down the long hall, heading for the front door. Molly was almost out of magic now, her protective shields flickering on and off. Only her pride kept her back straight as she staggered exhausted beside me. She held a glowing witchblade in one hand now, and enough basic viciousness to make her dangerous. Inside my gleaming armour, I was deathly tired too. I’d been on my feet and fighting for a long time now, moving from one battle to another with never a chance to rest. Every movement was difficult, every muscle ached, and sweat ran down my face behind my golden mask. The armour is only ever as strong as the man inside it. But still Molly and I pressed forward, striking our enemies down and kicking their bloody corpses out of our way. I’d lost count of how many Immortals I’d killed, men who should have lived forever; but it seemed like there were always more.
I hadn’t seen Methuselah anywhere, and tired as I was I was still alert enough that his absence worried me.
A group of maybe twenty Immortals, savage teenage men and women with ancient eyes and powerful guns, blocked our way, standing between us and the front door, determined not to be moved. The guns were energy weapons, alien by the look of them, and I lurched to a halt so I could study the situation. If those guns were what I thought they were, I could be in real trouble. Energy weapons of that design could blast the armour right off me, like a steam hose blasting paper off a wall. Even strange matter has its limitations, in this material ˚ world. And while I was still struggling desperately for something I could do that didn’t involve running or hiding in a corner, Molly drew herself up from where she’d been standing slumped against me, glared at the Immortals blocking our way, brought up both her hands, and slammed them together in a single almighty clap. The impact blew the Immortals away like a storm wind, sending them flying through the air to the left and to the right, slamming them into the walls on either side so hard that the walls cracked. The Immortals fell, and did not rise again.
For the moment, there was nothing between us and the front door. I grabbed Molly as her legs started to buckle, threw her over one golden shoulder and sprinted for the door with all the speed I had left in me. I ignored her muttered Eddie, you bastard, and yelled for the Bride and Springheel Jack to guard my back. I didn’t look back to see if they’d heard me. All of my concentration was fixed on that door. I got there in a few moments, grabbed the heavy door with both hands and ripped the bloody thing right off its hinges. I threw it to one side, and charged out into the night.
I put Molly down, and she sank into an exhausted heap, too tired even to curse me properly for offending her dignity. Outside the Castle, the cold fresh air seemed to revive her some. I knelt down before her, and she fixed me with bleary eyes.
“What? What do you want, Eddie? Because I am really very tired right now. I am running on fumes.”
“This Castle is surrounded by protective shields,” I said urgently.
“Even outside the front door. But when you made your deal with the Immortals, you were given a free pass to come and go. It was never revoked. That’s how you got in here. I need you to channel that invitation through the Merlin Glass, and open a door between here and Drood Hall. Can you do that, Molly?”
She looked used up. She looked like death warmed up and allowed to congeal. But she managed one of her old wild grins for me anyway.
“Of course I can do it. I’m Molly Metcalf.”
I helped her stand up, and then she pushed herself away from my supporting arm. I called the Merlin Glass into my hand again, and held it up before us. Molly glared around at the Castle’s shields as though she could see them, and maybe she could. She always had more of the Sight than I did. She thrust out a hand, the fingers splayed, and spoke aloud a single Word that shook her whole body. The Glass flared brightly against the night, and I felt rather than saw a great powerful force rush through it, blasting a hole right through the Castle’s protections. The Merlin Glass leapt from my hand, growing into the biggest door it had ever made. And through that doorway I could clearly see the Armoury, in Drood Hall.
All kinds of alarms went off, and lab assistants came running towards the opening I’d made with all kinds of weapons in their hands. They stopped when they saw me in my armour, and gaped at Molly, who was sitting on the ground beside me, resting her head on her drawn-up knees.
“It’s Eddie!” I yelled. “Get the Armourer! Now!”
I looked behind me. The Bride and Springheel Jack stood together in the gap where the front door had been, holding back any number of Immortals with a merry, vicious fury. I looked back through the Glass, and there was the Armourer, and the Sarjeant-at-Arms.
“Come on through!” I yelled to them. My voice was harsh, ragged. I barely recognised it. “This is Castle Frankenstein, home to the Immortals, and I’ve opened a door for you, right through all their shields! This is your chance to take out the Immortals, once and for all.”
The Armourer turned to his assistants. “Grab every weapon you can find, and follow me! Sarjeant, gather the family and bring them after us! All of them, every damned Drood who can stand and fight! Death to the Immortals!”
He charged through the Merlin Glass, armouring up as he came, and after him came thirty or forty lab assistants, also in full armour, carrying deadly and disturbing weapons.
“The Spawn of Frankenstein are on our side!” I yelled at them as they passed. “The Immortals are all teenagers! And if you see any kobolds, leave them alone! And above all, for God’s sake don’t mess with the Bride and Springheel Jack!”
I was shouting at golden backs. The first Droods had already shot past the pair defending the door, hammered into the waiting Immortals, and were doing terrible things to them. They had guns that melted people, or froze them from the inside out, and made their blood run out through their pores. The Armourer had his Kirlian gun again, and people exploded wherever he pointed the ghastly thing. And they all wore the armour of the Droods, against which the Immortals could not stand. The ancient teenagers fell back, scattering, running and screaming and shouting confusedly. They had never thought this could happen; to be invaded and attacked in their most private redoubt, by those who had most reason to hate them.
And then the Sarjeant-at-Arms came through the Merlin Glass, followed by an army of hundreds of armoured Droods, and the real slaughter began.
I got Molly up on her feet again, and helped her back through the empty doorway of Castle Frankenstein. I knew she’d want to see the end of the Immortals. The Bride and Springheel Jack were back fighting in the hall again, alongside the Spawn and the Drood. We were a terrifying sight, and the Immortals broke and ran before us. Their confidence had been shattered, destroyed, their ancient arrogance and certainty broken for the first time, and all they wanted to do now was run. But after everything they’d done, even that simple mercy could not be allowed to them. I saw one of the Spawn tear an Immortal apart like a chicken at the table. I saw a Drood rip off an Immortal’s head, and use it as a flail to smash in other skulls. I saw the Bride tear a glowing sword from an Immortal’s hand and run him through with it. I saw Springheel Jack dance among the screaming Immortals, doing awful, unforgivable things with his flashing razors. One by one, the Immortals died, their long lives ending in blood and fear and horror. For what they’d done. They screamed in agony, begged for help, pleaded for mercy, and no one listened. Because they had never listened, never cared, for all the suffering they’d caused.
We didn’t get them all. There was a teleport ring set up in an adjoining room, and maybe half a dozen got out before we found the ring and shut it down. There were a few hidden doors and secret passageways, and maybe a few got out that way, before we sealed them off. But that was it. We could hunt them down later, because no one would give a fallen Immortal sanctuary. The family of Immortals was destroyed
, from the youngest to the Eldest. We cut them down and piled up the bodies, and moved on, searching through the Castle from top to bottom.
At the very end, one of them ran up to me, and sank to his knees before me. He was a teenager, like all the others. I didn’t recognise him. He could have just joined the family, or been one of those originally made immortal by Methuselah. I had no way of telling. There was blood on his face, and his eyes rolled wildly. He babbled tearfully on his knees, begging me for mercy. He tried to grab my legs, but his hands couldn’t get any purchase on my armour. I looked down at him, as the Bride and Springheel Jack stood watching. The Immortal was promising me anything, everything, money and hidden weapons, all the secrets of the Immortals and their plans for the future, if only I would spare him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. And I was, in a way. “I’m sorry, but we could never trust you.”
I took his head between my two golden hands, and twisted it hard. His neck broke and I let go, and he fell away, dead at my feet.
“Typical Drood,” said the Bride. Her voice was cold and flat, and she could have meant any number of things.
I showed her my featureless golden mask, and she stirred uneasily.
“Would you have done anything else?” I said.
“Probably not.” She shrugged and turned away, draping one long arm companionably over Springheel Jack’s shoulders. “Come on, Jack. Let’s take a walk around our new home.”
“Ifyou hadn’t killed him, I would have,” said Molly Metcalf. She was standing a little straighter now, absorbing strength and magic from the air around her. “Are you all right, Eddie? You should be happy. Rejoice; your greatest enemy has been defeated and destroyed.”
“I’m an agent,” I said. “Not an assassin. But sometimes . . . your enemy just doesn’t give you any choice.”