Callan grinned. “About time. I’ll show you all how it’s done.”
And off he went, to inflict his personality on someone else.
The Armourer wandered over, holding one of his special long-stemmed glasses, which he swore were specially designed to never spill a drop, no matter what you did with them. Judging by the wine stains all down the front of his lab coat, the mark fifteen was no more successful than any of the previous models. The Armourer smiled vaguely at Molly and me, and then remembered why he’d come over to us, and launched into a briefing update. He never was much of a one for small talk.
“We knew the Hungry Gods were dead the moment it must have happened, because every drone in every nest and all over the world died or disappeared at the exact same moment. They even vanished from inside the poor possessed souls we were holding in the isolation tanks. All trace of infection gone, just like that. Most of the poor bastards are still suffering from internal changes, and even some brain damage, but there’s a lot the medical people can do. If not . . . well, the family will care for them till the day they die, if need be . . . The important thing is, there’s not a single Loathly One left in the whole wide world! Hell of an achievement, the pair of you!”
“Thank you, Uncle Jack,” I said. “You know, we wouldn’t have made it out if it wasn’t for you. Your teleport bracelet came in handy after all.”
“I knew it!” he said happily. “I’m glad you finally got around to testing it for me. I was almost sure it would work.”
He wandered off again, before I could hit him. Almost sure? Molly shuddered suddenly beside me.
“I don’t remember much about how it felt to be infected. To have that thing inside me, eating away at my mind and my soul. Probably just as well.”
“Yes,” I said. I hadn’t told her about the drone taking control of her body and using it to kill her old friend Subway Sue. What good would it do? Sometimes love is in the things we don’t tell each other.
“Did they ever find out who killed Sebastian?” she said suddenly.
“Apparently not,” I said. “Odds are he was killed by the original traitor, the Drood who first brought the Loathly Ones through into our world. Presumably Sebastian knew something, or the traitor thought he did . . .”
“And you’re not worried the bastard is still here?”
I had to smile. “If I could believe there was only one traitor left in this family, I’d be a happy man. Sooner or later, he or she will give him-or herself away. Traitors always do. But that . . . is a matter for another day.”
The Matriarch came over to join us, stiff-backed and regal as always, and everyone else hurried to get out of her way.
“Well-done,” she said, brisk as ever. “One crisis averted, so many more to go.”
“Business as usual, for the family,” I said.
“Quite.” She considered me thoughtfully. “If you’re willing, I’m quite prepared to continue running the day-to-day business of the family, while leaving you to set policy and make operational decisions. You would still be in charge . . . but there’s a lot I could do for the family.”
“Of course there is,” I said. “I can use your experience. But I don’t plan to run things forever. I have no wish to be Patriarch. The sooner I can set up some kind of democratic system in the family, to choose our leaders, the sooner I can get back to being a field agent, where I belong.”
The Matriarch shrugged. “The family has tried pretty much every way there is of running things, at one time or another, but we always come back to a Matriarch. Because that’s what works. But you’ve earned the right to your little experiment with democracy.”
“Thank you, Grandmother,” I said dryly. “You do realise I’ll have people watching you like a hawk all the time, just in case?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’d expect nothing less.” She paused, looking out over the great throng of dancing couples filling the ballroom floor. “I do miss Cyril. He was always such a good dancer, as a boy.”
“Him?” I said. “The Sarjeant-at-Arms? The man was a thug and a bully!”
“That was just his job,” said the Matriarch. “Cyril was always so much more than that. He was such a promising student . . . Tell me he died well, Edwin.”
“Yes,” I said. “He died well. He stood his ground against overwhelming odds, so that the rest of us could get away. He was a credit to the family.”
“Of course,” said the Matriarch. “I’d expect nothing less. We’ll have to appoint a new Sarjeant-at-Arms as soon as possible. He represents discipline, and dedication to the family.” She looked at me sternly. “But what in the good God’s name were you thinking of, Edwin, in bringing a half-elf into the Hall? Now the Fae Court have their very own golden torc! You have to get it back, Edwin!”
“It’s right at the top of my list of things to do,” I said.
“Good,” said the Matriarch. She allowed herself a small smile. “You have done well, grandson. You’ve achieved what you set out to do, reestablishing the Droods as a power in the world, by stamping out the Loathly Ones once and for all, and saved the whole world at the same time. You have redeemed the family’s honour, and proved our worth in the eyes of those who matter. Keep it up.”
And off she went, to circulate among the family, and make sure no one was having too much fun.
Harry and Roger came by, talking quietly but animatedly together. Molly and I trailed along behind, shamelessly eavesdropping.
“What do you mean, you were sent to seduce me?” said Harry.
“Just what I said,” Roger said patiently. “I was set in place in that Parisian nightclub specially to bump into you and ensnare you with my charms. The idea was that if we became a couple, I’d get you to bring me here to meet the family, and then Hell would have its own agent and informer, right at the heart of the Droods. The sheer amount of information I could have passed on, down the years . . . Hell always takes the long view.”
“But . . . you risked your life to save mine, warding off the Soul Gun!” said Harry.
“Yes . . .” said Roger. “Well, it would appear even hellspawn can have their off days . . . Relax, sweetie. I’m only telling you this now to prove how much I trust you. Things have changed between us. A fake relationship has become the real thing, much to my surprise. Who knew a half-demon could be capable of love?”
“Yes,” said Harry. “Who knew?”
They walked on, arm in arm, and Molly and I let them go.
“I think I’m insulted,” said Molly. “He and I were a couple for months, and he never fell in love with me.”
“He was never worthy of you,” I said.
“Well, of course,” said Molly. “That goes without saying.”
We looked out over the assembled family, filling the huge ballroom from wall to wall, full of good cheer and celebration.
“At least it’s all over now,” said Molly.
“You know better than that,” I said. “It’s never over. That’s why the Droods are so necessary. Men are mortal, but demons are forever.”
“Let’s get out of here,” said Molly. “Go back to bed.”
“Feeling tired?” I said.
“No,” said Molly, grinning.
“All right,” I said. “I think they can manage here without us. Let’s go. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Well, I should hope so,” said Molly.
Back in my room at the top of the Hall, I had my surprise already installed: the Merlin Glass, standing upright and fixed firmly in place, at the back of the room. I said the Words, and our reflections disappeared, replaced by a gateway into the wild wood that was Molly’s home. She gasped and clapped her hands delightedly, and hugged me hard.
“A permanent doorway,” I said. “A direct link between my room and your beloved wood, so you can come and go as you please, and never be more than a door away from me. The best of both worlds. If this is what you want . . .”
“Oh, I want,” said Molly, pushi
ng me onto the bed. “I want.”
Shaman Bond will return in THE SPY WHO HAUNTED ME
Simon R. Green, Daemons Are Forever
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