I smiled briefly. “She would too.”
“I believe you,” said Peter. He sighed loudly. “You’ll have to forgive me. Old men have a tendency to get caught up in old arguments. You’re quite right, Molly. The work comes first. It’s just . . . it’s been a long time since I had to justify myself to anyone. Follow me, and I’ll show you how to get into the Hall.”
“Hold it,” I said. “Shouldn’t we tell the Matriarch what we’re doing?”
“And give away the secret entrance?” said Peter. “It’s bad enough I’m showing you. I may be the last of my kind, but I swore to take my secrets with me to the grave. I’m only doing this now because the Hall’s in danger.”
He led us along the grass verge to the far end of the Hall. Everyone else was so caught up in their own business, none of them gave a damn what we were doing. We rounded the corner of the Hall and followed the outer wall of the East Wing until Peter finally stopped before one particular section that at first glance appeared no different from any other. No door, no window, just a wide expanse of weathered stone. Peter tapped briefly on the shimmering air, as though to reassure himself the barrier was still there. Vicious energies flared up, and he snatched his hand back. I leaned in close to Molly.
“Can you See anything out of the ordinary here?”
“No,” she said quietly. “Not a thing.”
“Stop muttering, children, and pay attention!” Peter said sharply. He tapped the torc at his throat three times, and muttered under his breath. “Right! Hold on to my shoulders. And whatever you do, don’t let go.”
Molly and I each placed a hand on his bony shoulders. It didn’t feel like there was a lot to the old man under the jacket. Peter walked us straight into the field, and the shimmering hit me hard. It was like walking through a rain of knives, stabbing into me from every direction at once. I stumbled, and might have fallen if I hadn’t had Peter’s shoulder to hang on to. His face was drawn into grim lines of pain and determination, but he still pressed doggedly forward. Molly’s lips had drawn back in a snarl, revealing gritted teeth. I lowered my head and bulled on with them.
The pressure suddenly vanished, and just like that we were on the other side of the force shield. I made a soft sound of relief. Molly was swearing quietly. I let go of Peter’s shoulder, shuddered once, and then nodded to Molly. She smiled shakily back.
Peter bent over suddenly, breathing hard. I started to say something and he put up a not entirely steady hand, asking for a moment. His breathing finally slowed, and he straightened up again. His back made some unpleasant noises, and his face was pale with strain. He seemed older, frailer, but when he finally looked at me his gaze was steady.
“I can remember when doing that was a lot easier,” he said crossly. “But, then, I can remember when you got two films, a newsreel, and cartoons at the cinema.”
Molly grinned at him. “Please, sir, what’s a cinema?”
“Damned digital generation,” said Peter.
“What did you just do?” I said.
“Used my torc to tap into a preexisting dimensional shortcut,” said Peter.
“Dimensional,” said Molly. She looked at me. “Told you.”
“But the shield is still there,” I said.
“It’ll take more than a dimensional shortcut to disrupt that field,” said Molly. “What else have you got, old man?”
Peter reached inside his jacket pocket and brought out an instant Door. A standard black blob, the kind the Armourer hands out like sweets to any agent going off on a mission. Handy things: Just slap the blob against a wall and watch it flatten out to form a new Door. But the blob on Peter’s outstretched palm looked different. It pulsed and quivered, as though eager to be of use. Molly regarded it dubiously.
“Is that thing alive? It looks alive. Hey, Eddie, remember the gengineered leech we found at that medical Clinic in the Shade?”
“I’m still trying to forget it,” I said.
“That ambulance fancied you.”
“I’m trying to forget her too.”
“This is a special kind of instant Door, which Jack only made for the very special agents,” Peter said patiently. “It doesn’t just make a connection between one room and the next; this is an actual dimensional Door. Able to transport us from one location to another, without crossing the space between.”
“More dimensional,” said Molly.
“Hold it,” I said to Peter. “Why am I only hearing about this now? I could have used something that useful out in the field.”
“Jack was persuaded to keep it back from the rest of the family,” said Peter. “Because once word got out that such a thing was possible, all our enemies would have started making them. We felt it important that we should always have an edge.”
I scowled at him. “What about Anything for the family?”
“We were the only ones to ever really embrace the anything,” said Peter. “So we got the best toys. Live with it.”
He slapped the black blob against the wall, and it quickly spread out to form a quite ordinary-looking door: polished wood with a brass handle. Peter opened the Door with a flourish, and I braced myself, but there was nothing there. Just a complete emptiness that hurt my eyes. Peter started forward, and then stopped and looked back as he realised Molly and I weren’t following. He raised a single eyebrow with impeccable style.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me?”
Molly smiled nastily. “What do you think, Mister I see no line in the sand?”
“I like to think I know most people in the family,” I said thoughtfully, “if only to nod to in passing, but I don’t recall ever seeing you before . . . Peter.”
“I don’t mix much,” said Peter. “Comes with the job, and the memories. We all went our own ways, the very-secret agents. Occasionally meeting up, because who else could we talk to about the things we’d seen and the things we’d done? But when you’re the last of your kind, conversation with anyone else becomes difficult.”
Molly looked at me. “Are you by any chance thinking this old boy might not be who he seems?”
“There is a lot of that going around at the moment,” I said. “And this would be a really good way to lure us into another trap.”
“It’s up to you, Eddie,” said Molly. “If you really think this might be Edmund in disguise, just say the word. I am more than ready to smack him between the eyes with a lightning bolt, and then piss on his ashes.”
“I am not Edmund,” said Peter, just a bit plaintively.
“Hush,” said Molly. “We’re talking.”
“I don’t think this is Edmund,” I said. “He was safe behind his shield. Why invite us in and risk us putting a stop to his fun?”
Peter nodded solemnly. “Welcome to my world. Paranoia as a lifestyle choice. I have no way of proving I am who and what I say I am, but . . . I am your best shot at getting to Edmund. I’m going in now. You are welcome to accompany me, or not, as you please. I would prefer your company, because loath as I am to admit it, I’m not sure I can do this on my own.”
“Lead the way,” I said. “Molly and I will be right behind you. So if you do betray us, we can stab you in the back.”
Peter nodded approvingly. “You’d have made an excellent very-secret agent.”
“Now you’re just being nasty,” I said.
I let him go first and then followed him quickly through the doorway, with Molly right beside me, and then we both made loud noises of shock and surprise as the emptiness disappeared and a fierce cold hit us. Molly grabbed my arm.
“Eddie, where the hell are we?”
I looked around and winced. “Inside the family’s walk-in freezer. Big enough to make the one in The Shining look like a pantry.”
Molly hugged herself tightly against the cold and glared around her. “I can’t believe the size of this
place. You could feed an army with what you’ve got in here!”
“We are an army,” said Peter. He peeled the Door off the inside wall, and it immediately became a black blob again.
The massive white-tiled room, harshly lit by overhead fluorescent tubes, was big enough to hold a football match in. The temperature was breath-takingly cold, and a faint mist curled on the air. I know people who claim to have seen it snowing on occasion. Boxes and crates were piled up all the way to the ceiling, covered with stencilled markings in every language from every country in the world. Whole carcasses hung from steel hooks, stretching off into the distance. Cows and deer, sheep and pigs, and a few I didn’t recognise. Meat mostly looks like meat without its clothes on. Molly stabbed an accusing finger at one carcass.
“Talk to me, Eddie. Is that what I think it is? Is that a unicorn?”
“Looks like it,” I said. “The long horn protruding from the skull is a bit of a giveaway. You’ve seen the winged unicorns that some of the Drood girls like to ride around on.”
“You eat them?” said Molly, her voice rising.
“Only after they’re dead,” I said. “Usually of natural causes. We’re not a terribly sentimental family, and unicorn meat really is very tasty.”
Molly thought about it. “Can I try some later?”
“If you’re good,” I said.
“Can we please get a move on?” said Peter, in his most long-suffering voice.
But Molly had already gone bustling off, exploring among the towering stacks, having a good look at everything and cooing delightedly over some of the more obscure and exotic delicacies. Devilled gryphon eggs, jugged manticore, and moebius mice. (They stuff themselves. Very moreish.) She stopped to peer closely at one particular label, and wrinkled her nose.
“Zombie dodo? What the hell is that?”
“Well,” I said. “You’ve heard of game meat: birds left hanging until the meat starts to rot. This is like that. Only more so. And this version will walk itself to your plate. It is something of an acquired taste.”
“Damned aristos,” said Molly.
I made a polite gesture, indicating it might be best for us to move on before Peter burst a blood vessel, and she nodded reluctantly. Peter led the way through the piles of comestibles, while I continued my running commentary for Molly’s benefit.
“It takes a lot to feed my family. We eat an entire supermarket every week. The supplies in here are constantly being replaced, teleported in from the outside by trusted suppliers.”
Molly shot me a quick look. “Who would your family trust to do that?”
“The Wulfshead Club Management,” I said. “It’s a long-standing arrangement. I don’t think anyone below the Matriarch knows the exact details.”
“Hold everything,” said Molly. “You used to run this family. Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”
“I wasn’t in charge long,” I said patiently. “And I did have a great many other, more important things on my mind. Besides, I get the feeling this is one of those deals I’m probably better off not knowing about. Because I’d only get angry and start throwing things.”
“Lot of that going on in this family,” Peter said wisely.
“You should know,” said Molly.
“I do,” said Peter.
“This freezer exists in its own pocket dimension inside the Hall,” I said quickly. “Hence the need for a dimensional Door to get us in here. The family couldn’t have an unprotected teleport station actually inside the Hall, for fear someone might piggyback on the signal and use it to launch an invasion.”
“Given that there are already icicles forming on my eyebrows and hanging off my tits,” Molly said dangerously, “I have to ask: Why bring us in this way?”
“Because it is a separate dimension,” said Peter. “So there’s a real chance Edmund won’t notice us arriving. Which he almost certainly would if we just popped up inside the Hall proper. I’m a great believer in the advantages of a surprise attack and sneaking up on people from behind. Could we perhaps move just a little faster? You aren’t the only one with icicles hanging off sensitive parts of their anatomy.”
• • •
We strode quickly through the massive freezer, shivering and shuddering all the way. Sometimes we had to slow down and turn sideways, to edge through the narrow aisles. Even in a freezer this big, space was at a premium. Peter led the way with complete confidence, only occasionally glancing down at the colour-coded arrows on the floor. It took a while to reach the only exit, a massive slab of solid steel, thickly layered with frost, with no obvious handle.
“Time for your instant Door again?” I said to Peter.
He smiled condescendingly. “No need.”
He leaned in close to the door and wiped away some of the frost with his sleeve, revealing a keypad set into the dully gleaming steel beneath. He bent over the lock, hiding it from me, and stabbed in the correct code. Taking his time, to make sure he got it right. There was the sound of heavy locks disengaging, and the door swung slowly outwards. I looked at Peter.
“What’s the matter?” I said. “You don’t trust me to know the codes?”
“I didn’t get where I am today by trusting anyone with anything I didn’t have to,” Peter said calmly. “I find you live longer that way.”
We emerged from the freezer in a great cloud of steam. Molly and I walked around in circles for a while, stamping our feet hard and beating our hands together to restore the circulation, while Peter carefully closed and locked the freezer door again. He then hugged himself tightly and scowled heavily.
“I really hate the cold,” he said loudly. “You feel it more at my age. I tell everyone: Once I’m gone, forget the morgue; just rush me straight to the incinerator.”
“You’re a cheerful soul, aren’t you?” said Molly.
Peter shrugged heavily. “That’s old age for you. You have so much more to complain about.”
“Where are we now?” said Molly, glowering about her.
“Welcome to the Drood kitchen,” I said grandly.
“Are we in the Hall itself, finally?” said Molly.
“Of course,” said Peter. “We passed through a dimensional Door when we left the freezer.”
Molly was already ignoring him. She darted around the huge kitchen, peering closely at everything and making quiet impressed noises. As well she might. The Drood kitchen is a futuristic setting, packed with every kind of high-tech apparatus and labour-saving device the culinary mind can conceive of. As well as row upon row of cleavers, bone-saws, and big stabby knives. The kitchen staff have everything they need to cope with anything even remotely edible, including Tasers. The cooks and their staff are the only people in the Hall more feared and respected than the Armourer’s lab assistants. Everywhere you looked, there were spotless stainless steel, porcelain work surfaces, and a floor so clean you could eat a surgeon’s lunch off it.
“This looks more like the bridge of a starship than a kitchen,” said Molly after a while. “And what’s that? If it was any more complicated, it would be in four dimensions and plotting to overthrow Humanity.”
“That is a warp-drive oven,” I said. “For when we need food really quickly.”
“Really?” said Molly.
“No,” I said.
She punched me in the arm.
“Ah . . . young love,” said Peter.
Molly laughed despite herself.
“We’re a big family,” I said, massaging my arm. “With big appetites. There’s usually a small army of people in here, chopping things up and mixing things, and competing over sauces and spices. And how many things you can stuff inside other things.”
Molly looked at me. “Who does the actual work? I mean, you don’t have servants in the Hall.”
“We all spend some time down here,” I said. “Taking it in turns. Especi
ally when we’re younger. We have to do everything for ourselves because we can’t trust anyone else. Of course, there’s good jobs and bad jobs, depending on your behaviour. I spent a lot of time cleaning the kind of things no one else wanted to clean.”
“Tell me you pissed in the soup,” said Molly.
“Hardly,” I said. “Seeing that we all ate the same food. But I did think about it a lot.”
“That’s my boy,” said Molly.
Peter finally got us moving again, but once we were outside the kitchen he was the first to stop in his tracks. The expression on his face set me looking quickly around, but nothing seemed immediately threatening, or even obviously out of place.
“What is it?” I said, but Peter didn’t move.
Molly moved in close beside me. “Where are we? I don’t think I recognise this part of the Hall.”
“Not sure I do,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I was down here, and there’s always upkeep and general improvements going on.”
Molly glanced at Peter. “Why is he looking like that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I don’t like it.”
“I can hear you, you know,” said Peter, not looking round.
“Good,” I said. “Why have we stopped? I thought we were in a hurry.”
“Can’t you feel it?” said Peter.
I peered up and down the deserted hallway. I did feel . . . something. A vague sense of not being where I should be. As though someone had moved the scenery of the world around when I wasn’t watching. I looked at Molly. She shrugged.
“You know my Sight doesn’t work that well inside the Hall. Too many protections and safeguards. You’d almost think they didn’t trust me.”
I turned back to Peter. That seemed safest. “All right, I give up. What are you feeling?”
“I know every part of the Hall,” said Peter. “Every room, every corridor and open space. And this . . . is just wrong.”
I flinched despite myself, as I remembered how parts of the Other Hall had disturbed me by not being as they should be. Like greeting someone you know and having them turn round to present an unfamiliar face. For a moment, I wondered whether something had gone wrong with Peter’s dimensional Door and we’d somehow been transported back to the Other Hall. A quick glance at Molly confirmed the same thought had struck her too. She took hold of my hand and squeezed it. Peter suddenly raised his voice.