Daemons Are Forever

  “Will everyone please stop panicking?” I said. “It’s very unnerving. I am in charge, therefore I am officially the only one allowed to panic. Everyone else; I’ll tell you when. Get a grip on yourself, Strange, or I’ll start to think you’re aren’t as important an entity as you like to make out. What matters is we can still win this. Now, Strange, talk to the Sarjeant-at-Arms, give him the relevant names, and have him take all the drones into custody. Very secure custody. Tell him to do it quietly and discreetly; no public violence unless absolutely necessary. We don’t want the rest of the family upset. I want all twenty-seven taken alive, and capable of answering questions.”

  “Yes, Eddie. About Molly . . .”

  “Not now, Strange,” I said steadily. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  “Yes, Eddie.”

  “Is something wrong with you, Molly?” said the Armourer. “You look very pale. And Strange sounded worried about you.”

  “Oh, it’s just something that happened during our trip through time,” Molly said easily.

  She distracted him with details about the yellow dragon and the Starbow, while I wandered off to do some thinking of my own. I’d hoped to find some way of discussing Molly’s problem with Uncle Jack, but this new emergency had to take precedence. Twenty-seven infected family, all working secretly to undermine and betray us? No wonder the war had been going so badly in my absence. There had to be an original traitor, embedded deep within the family, passing on his infection . . . Or could it be a Typhoid Mary, not aware of what they were doing? Something in that thought reminded me of an old worry that I hadn’t checked in on since I returned. I looked around me. Molly had Uncle Jack chuckling at her stories. The lab interns were all engrossed in their own dangerous business. So I found a quiet corner, hidden away behind a blast shield, and took out Merlin’s Glass. I commanded it to show me the present.

  “Show me Penny Drood and Mr. Stab,” I said. “Where are they, right now?”

  My reflection in the mirror vanished, replaced by a view of Penny in her room. She was sitting elegantly on the edge of her bed, idly kicking her long legs. She was wearing her usual tight white sweater over tight gray slacks, and looked her usual cool and collected self. And then the view seemed to pull back, showing me Mr. Stab, standing on the other side of the room, considering Penny thoughtfully. He was wearing a casual dark suit, and looked almost normal and everyday, until you took in his face, and his eyes. Even in repose, Mr. Stab looked like what he was. He might as well have had the mark of Cain branded on his brow. But Penny smiled at him, as though he were just another man.

  “You don’t need to stand so far away. I trust you.”

  “You shouldn’t,” said Mr. Stab.

  “After all the time we’ve spent together? If you were going to hurt me, you would have done it long ago. But you’ve been here in the Hall for over a year, and you haven’t hurt anyone. You’re stronger than you think you are; I wish I could make you believe that.”

  Mr. Stab smiled briefly. “If anyone could, it would be you.”

  “Why won’t you tell me your real name? Mr. Stab isn’t a name; it’s a title, a job description.”

  “You could always call me Jack.”

  “No I couldn’t,” Penny said firmly. “That’s who you used to be, not who you are. I don’t think you realise how much you’ve changed during your time here. You have students and followers, your lectures are always packed; you have a place here, with us. With me. You’ve shown me sides of yourself you’ve never shared with anyone else. You’ve let me get closer than anyone else.”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Stab. “I have.”

  He moved over and sat down beside her on the bed. His back was straight and stiff, and he kept his hands together in his lap. Penny forced an arm through his, hugged it to her side, and then leant her blond head on his shoulder. He sat very still.

  “I do care for you,” he said. “In my way.”

  “It’s all right for you to care,” said Penny. “You’re allowed to care, to love.”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Stab. “I can love. I have. But it always ends badly.”

  Penny lifted her head and glared playfully at him. “You are the gloomiest person I know! It doesn’t always have to end badly. We’re the Droods, and we exist just to make sure that things don’t have to end badly! That’s our job.”

  “My job is very different,” said Mr. Stab. “I have done . . . such terrible things, Penny.”

  “Anyone can change,” said Penny. “Anyone can be saved. I’ve always believed that. The Mr. Stab I’ve come to know, and love . . . is very different from the stories I’ve heard. I love you, and you can love me.”

  “I wish it was that simple, Penny.”

  “It is that simple! And part of being in love is being together. Like this. How long has it been since you allowed yourself to be . . . close, to a woman?”

  “A long time. I don’t want to hurt you, Penny.”

  “You won’t! This is love, two people together. Just . . . let yourself go. Do what you want to. I want you to. It’s all right, really.”

  “I love you, Penny,” said Mr. Stab. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

  Penny smiled and turned to take him in her arms, and then stiffened, and looked down at the long blade Mr. Stab had eased into her gut. There was hardly any blood yet. He turned the blade, and pulled it across, cutting deeper, and she cried out and grabbed his shoulders with both hands. The expression on her face was pure disbelief. She tried to push him away, but she didn’t have the strength, so she just hung onto his shoulders as he pulled the long blade out and stabbed her again. Blood spurted from the first wound, soaking the front of her sweater and splashing across the front of Mr. Stab’s jacket. His face was . . . quietly sad. Penny convulsed and cried out again. Blood flew from her mouth, spraying across Mr. Stab’s face.

  I grew the Merlin Glass to full size the moment I first saw the knife, and I was already through the Glass and heading for Mr. Stab by the second attack, but already I knew I was too late. Mr. Stab let go of Penny and backed away as I headed for the bed. I let him go, intent only on Penny. I was already screaming mentally to Strange for help, and he was telling me help was on the way, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I leant over Penny and tried to close the wounds with my hands. Blood quickly soaked my arms to the elbow. She looked at me, jerking and kicking, and tried to say something, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was more blood. The bed was soaked in it now. She died in my arms, still trying to say something. I let her go. I stood up and moved away from the bed. There was blood all over me. I looked at Mr. Stab, still standing silently by the door. He could have left, could have run, but he hadn’t.

  “I tried to tell her,” he said. “Tried to warn her. That . . . is all the pleasure I can know of a woman, now. Part of what I bought, along with my immortality . . . from my celebration of slaughter, when all of London knew my name. That . . . is all the love I can show. All that’s left to me. I tried so hard . . . to stay away from her. But I am . . . what I am.”

  “I told you,” I said, and I could hear the cold cold rage in my voice. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t control yourself.”

  I armoured up, grew a long golden blade from my hand, stepped forward, and cut off his head with one savage blow. He didn’t move, didn’t try to evade the blow. My golden blade sheared right through his neck, and the head fell to the floor and rolled away, the eyes still blinking and the mouth still working. I stood before the headless body, breathing harshly from the rage and grief still burning within me, and only slowly realised that the body hadn’t fallen. It just stood there, by the door. No blood spurted from the neck stump. And as I watched, the body stepped slowly forward, reaching out with its hands. I backed quickly away, but it wasn’t interested in me. One hand reached down and grabbed the severed head by its hair. I made some kind of sound. I don’t know what. The body lifted up the head and put it back on the stump, and the wo
und healed in a moment, leaving no trace behind.

  Mr. Stab looked at me expressionlessly. “You think no one ever tried that before? I’ve been beheaded, shot, poisoned, staked through the heart . . . I can’t die. That is what I bought with the deaths of five whores in 1888. Immortality, whether I want it or not. I’m Jack, Bloody Jack, Jack the Ripper, now and forever. And the only love I can ever know, the only pleasure I can ever have of a woman, is through the knife. Send me out into battle, Eddie. Maybe the Loathly Ones can find some way to kill me.”

  The door burst open as the medics arrived and rushed in, too late. Mr. Stab walked away as they clustered around the body, not looking back even once.

  There was nothing I could do, so I transported myself back to the Armoury. It wasn’t as though I had anywhere else to go. Molly cried out when she saw the blood soaking me and hurried forward, running her hands over me to see where I was hurt. Uncle Jack started to shout for the Armoury’s medical staff, until Molly assured him I was okay. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t say anything. I held Molly tightly to me, and she let me, even though the blood soaked her too. I buried my face in her hair, in her shoulder, and she murmured soft, soothing words to me. Until finally I was able to let her go and stand back.

  Molly took me by the hand and led me like a child to the nearest chair. I sat down heavily. I felt tired, drained. And finally, in a voice that didn’t sound like mine at all, I was able to tell them what had just happened. Uncle Jack found me some medicinal brandy and patted me awkwardly on the shoulder while I drank it. Then he moved away to call up the Sarjeant-at-Arms to get the details. Molly sat beside me, holding my hand.

  After a while, Uncle Jack came back with some lab coats for me and Molly to change into, so we could get out of our bloody clothes. Molly had to help me undress. My hands were still shaking. We left the clothes in a heap on the floor. The lab coats were fresh and clean, and smelled of disinfectant.

  “Talk to me,” I said. “Tell me something. Anything. I don’t care. I just need something to do, so I don’t have to think about Penny.”

  “Well,” said Molly, glancing at Uncle Jack. “There is a problem, with the Blue Fairy.”

  “When isn’t there?” I said. “What’s he done now?”

  “He’s been kept under constant but covert surveillance by the Sarjeant-at-Arms ever since he got here,” said the Armourer. “And don’t look at me like that, Eddie; I know you vouched for him, but his reputation went before him. And anyway, he’s a half elf; and elves always have their own agenda. So, it seems he spent a lot of time in the old library, having a series of what he thought were casual and unobserved conversations with Rafe and William concerning the origins, powers, and capabilities of the Drood torc. When he’d pumped those two dry of everything they knew, he went to the source, and continued his questions with Strange. Very detailed questions. In fact, he’s in the Sanctity right now, according to the Sarjeant-at-Arms.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s listen in.”

  I used the Merlin Glass again, and as my reflection disappeared from the mirror I thought for one moment it would show me Penny and Mr. Stab again, and my heart almost stopped; but then the Glass showed me the Blue Fairy, standing alone in the Sanctity, calmly addressing the crimson glow of Strange. Blue was doing his best to seem entirely relaxed and at his ease, and perhaps only someone who knew him as well as I would have detected how tense he really was. Molly and Uncle Jack crowded in behind me, watching the scene over my shoulders.

  “But what is it you want from me?” Strange was saying patiently. “We have had many fascinating conversations, Blue, and I have enjoyed them, but I really can’t keep going around in circles with you. Not when so much is happening. Just tell me what you want. I assure you, I have no human sensibilities to be offended.”

  “Very well,” said the Blue Fairy. “If straight-talking is to be the order of the day . . . I want a torc. A golden torc for my very own, just like everyone else.”

  “But you are not family,” said Strange. “You are not of the Drood bloodline. And it has been made very clear to me that only they can wear the torc. No exceptions. Why would you want a torc, Blue? You are half elf, with powers and abilities of your own.”

  “Yes,” said Blue. “I have. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but . . .” He moved his hands in a certain way, the long, elegant fingers tracing unnatural patterns on the crimson air. “An exception has been made in my case. Give me a torc.”

  “That was a very intriguing compulsion spell,” said Strange. “But of no avail against such as I.”

  The Blue Fairy moved his hands more urgently, this time muttering urgently in old elvish under his breath. The air seemed to shudder under the impact of the ancient Words, and shimmering trails followed the Blue Fairy’s gestures, spitting discharging magics. And then something unseen picked up the Blue Fairy and threw him the length of the Sanctity. He slammed into the far wall with enough impact to kill a simple human, and then he slid slowly down it, ending up in a crumpled heap on the floor. He was breathing harshly, his hands limp at his sides.

  “Oh dear,” said Strange. “And we were getting on so well, too . . . But no one compels me. What am I going to do with you? Something suitably unpleasant, I think, pour discourager les autres. Maybe I’ll turn you inside out, keeping you alive of course, and then put you on display. That should give you a whole new way of looking at things.”

  I decided I’d seen enough. I opened up the Merlin Glass and transported myself into the Sanctity. Molly followed me through quickly before the doorway closed itself down.

  “Ah, Eddie,” said Strange. “Eavesdropping again? And after all you had to say to me on the subject?”

  “I’m in charge,” I said. “I’m allowed to be contradictory. In fact, I think it’s a job requirement. What was all that about turning the Blue Fairy inside out? I’ve never heard you sound threatening before.”

  “He tried to compel me,” said Strange. “No one compels me. I help because I choose to. No other reason.”

  “Of course,” I said. “But in the future, if punishments are to be handed out, I’ll do it. Clear?”

  “You’re no fun any more,” said Strange.

  I walked over to the Blue Fairy, who was slowly and painfully rising to his feet. He looked briefly at the door, but Molly had already moved to put herself between him and it. He sighed briefly and tugged vaguely at his clothes to try to make himself look more presentable.

  “Hello, Eddie,” he said calmly. “Molly. Didn’t know you were back.”

  “Clearly,” I said. “Why were you trying to force Strange to give you a torc?”

  He shrugged, and tried his best charming smile. “Reverting to nature, I fear; my old self coming out again. You know how it is . . .”

  “I’m really not in the mood for civilised chitchat,” I said, and there must have been something in my voice because he stood a little straighter. “Talk to me, Blue. Tell me the truth. Or I might just let Strange have you.”

  “Your time away has not mellowed you,” said the Blue Fairy. “Very well; I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely honest with you when I arrived. I only came here to help myself, not you. I wanted a torc. I wanted a golden Drood torc . . . so I could take it to the elves. Present it to the Fae Court and bargain its secrets for admittance to the elven realm. I’m tired of trying to live as a human, in the human world. I’ve never been very good at it. And after my near-death experience, I thought a lot more about the other side of my heritage. And it seemed to me that they might be kinder than you. In the end, it’s all about family, Eddie. The need to belong. You should understand that.”

  “Your very existence is an abomination to the elves,” said Molly. “Breeding outside the fae blood is their greatest taboo. They’d kill you on sight, torc or no torc.”

  “He knows that,” I said. “But hope springs eternal in the deluded heart. No torc, Blue, not for you. Not now, not ever.”

  He nodded slowly. “And y
ou’re not going to kill me?”

  “I should. But I’ve already lost one friend today.”

  “I did try to warn you, Eddie. Even half elves always have an agenda.”

  “That’s right, you did. So here’s your choice. You can go, or you can stay.”

  “That’s it?” said the Blue Fairy after a moment.

  “Yes,” I said. “I don’t have the energy to be mad at you. But if you stay, and fight alongside us in the war that’s coming, you could win acceptance. And a place here. Friends can be a kind of family.”

  “You shame me with your generous spirit,” said the Blue Fairy. “I’ll stay, and I’ll fight. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

  I nodded to Molly, and she stepped aside from the door to let him leave. She waited until the door was firmly closed behind him, and then looked at me.

  “Are you crazy? You can’t trust him! He’s half elf.”

  “I know,” I said. “That’s why I want to keep him close, where I can keep an eye on him.”

  “You humans, with your subtleties,” said Strange. “You’re far more frightening than I could ever be.”

  Next, Molly and I went to visit the isolation wards in the infirmary, in the north wing. Neither of us wanted to, but we had to see how the infected Loathly One drones were doing. Twenty-eight now, including Sebastian. Twenty-nine, including Molly. I was ready to go on my own, but Molly insisted on accompanying me, and I couldn’t say no. Not when she was fighting so hard to hang on to her humanity.

  The family has always trained its own doctors and nurses, to staff its own hospital. Partly because we don’t want the world to know that Droods can be hurt, even with their marvellous torcs, and partly because only we are equipped to deal with the kind of problems faced by Droods, in and out of the field. Our doctors have to be able to diagnose and treat all kinds of physical, spiritual, and unnatural accidents, everything from werewolf bites to long-distance curses to post-possession stress disorder.

  Our infirmary equipment is extremely up to date, and sometimes even a bit beyond, but the place itself is still the traditional pale, paste-coloured walls, snotty matrons, and the faint but pervasive smell of boiled vegetables. Molly and I strode quickly through the wards, nodding briskly to the staff on duty. A few looked like they would have liked to object to our presence, but we were come and gone before they could put their objections into words. Most of the ward beds were occupied, far more than normal. Some were clearly dying, despite all the doctors could do for them. A small, cold part of me was glad to see that Harry had been as bad a leader as me, but I pushed the thought aside.