“I wondered what you were going to do there for a moment,” said Molly, coming over to join me.
“I wondered too,” I said. “Just for a moment.”
The few groups of soldiers still standing threw down their guns and all but begged to be allowed to surrender. The tank crews had already abandoned their vehicles. I nodded formally to them all, accepting the victory. Molly looked like she would have preferred to go on fighting until she’d ground every single one of them beneath her feet, but, then, that’s Molly for you. She stood stiffly beside me, arms tightly folded, looking hopefully around for someone dumb enough to mouth off. But none of the MI 13 soldiers were that dumb. They stuck their hands in the air or clasped them on top of their heads, and did their best to avoid Molly’s gaze. Even the officers. Perhaps especially the officers.
The last of my anger went out of me, as I realised how scared they all were. Most of them looked like they were still expecting me to slaughter everyone within reach, even though they’d surrendered, because that was what Droods did in this world. I took a deep breath and armoured down, so they could see I was just a man. A murmur of relief rose among the soldiers, followed by some odd looks as they studied my bare face. It was obvious none of them recognised me.
I had to struggle to keep a sudden wave of tiredness off my face. Without my armour’s strength the exhaustion was back, hitting me so hard it almost drove me to my knees. I had forgotten how bad I felt, until I didn’t have my armour to hold me up. I made myself smile easily. I couldn’t afford for anyone to realise just how weak I was. I sent a trickle of golden strange matter down my back, under my clothes, and it lent me a measure of support.
I looked carefully around until I picked out the officer in charge. A major, by his insignia; smartly turned out, not far from my age. Handsome enough, apart from the old-fashioned military moustache. I beckoned to him, and he lowered his hands and moved slowly forward to join me. He looked like he thought he was walking to his death. He finally crashed to a halt right in front of me, fired off a salute, and then snapped to attention. His back was ramrod straight, and he met my gaze steadily, braced for whatever appalling thing I had in mind.
“Relax, Major,” I said. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“You’re not?” said the major. He sounded honestly surprised.
“I’m not Edmund,” I said.
“I have no idea who that might be,” the major said carefully. “Or who you are. I don’t recognise you from our files, though before today I would have said that was impossible. MI Thirteen has extensive files on the Drood family. Know thy enemy, if you want to survive meeting him.”
“I’m Eddie Drood. Why did you attack us, Major?”
“Because you’re a Drood,” said the major, in a way that suggested his answer should have been self-evident.
“I’m a different kind of Drood,” I said.
“If you say so,” said the major. He did relax a little, and even managed a small smile. “I’m Major Benson. I really thought you were going to kill me as an example.”
“And you were ready to go along with that?” said Molly.
The major jumped, just a little, at the sound of her voice. He glanced at her and then stared determinedly back at me, the lesser of two evils. He might be scared of me, but he was terrified of Molly.
“Why are you so scared of her?” I said.
“Because that’s Molly Metcalf!” said the major, his voice rising in spite of himself. “It’s a wonder to me we’re not all sitting around on a rock pool somewhere, catching flies with our tongues! Nobody warned me we’d be going up against an infamous wild witch, supernatural terrorist, and Mistress of the Dark Arts!”
“I am nobody’s mistress,” Molly said haughtily.
“I could always pay you a retainer,” I said.
“Don’t push your luck, Drood,” said Molly. She glowered at the major. “I am a different Molly Metcalf.”
“Clearly,” said the major. “I was surprised to see you here, with him. I always thought you and the Droods were mortal enemies.”
“You have a file on Molly too?” I said.
“Of course!” said the major. “She’s been Most Wanted for three years running on the Occult Crimes Register!”
Molly clapped her hands delightedly. “I made number one! I always knew I could . . . I am so proud.”
“We thought you were still hiding out in the Paris catacombs,” said the major, “after what you did to the Louvre. Can I ask: What are you doing here? With the Droods, of all people?”
“We’re together,” said Molly.
The major looked politely baffled. “Together . . . ?”
“We’re an item,” I said.
“Okay,” said the major. “Not the most unlikely thing I’ve ever heard, but pretty damn close. You’re together? That’s just spooky . . . and not a little disturbing. Two of the most dangerous people in the world are now involved with each other.”
“You do realise you’re saying this out loud, Major?” I said.
“I’m probably just giddy at still being alive,” said the major. “Isn’t it a lovely day? I might go for a stroll later.”
“Pull yourself together,” I said sharply. “We have questions we want answered. And while Molly and I might not be exactly who you were expecting, we are still a Drood and a witch.”
“Most Wanted supernatural terrorist witch,” said Molly. “Get the billing right.”
“You’re not feeling nostalgic, are you?” I said. “You promised me you’d put all that behind you.”
“Live your dreams—that’s what I say,” Molly said cheerfully.
“Can’t take you anywhere.” I turned my attention back to Major Benson and fixed him with my best thoughtful stare. “How did you know someone was back in the Hall, Major?”
“You have got to be kidding!” said the major. “Drood Hall has been under constant surveillance ever since the Great Invasion. We have sensors scattered across the grounds, along the perimeter, and all through the Hall. We have farscrying viewers watching this place in eight-hour shifts, and satellites in orbit specifically tasked to do nothing but scan the Hall and its surroundings on every known scientific and supernatural wavelength. The second you appeared inside the Hall, your torc set off all kinds of silent alarms. It was just my bad luck I happened to be on guard duty outside the gates, so I got the call to investigate. My first impulse was to tear off my uniform and sprint for the nearest horizon, and I do wish I’d listened to it.”
“Breathe, Major,” I said kindly. “You’re hyperventilating.”
“Can I just ask: How did you get inside the Hall, past all our very expensive safeguards?” The major sounded honestly curious. “Black Heir assured us no one could get past the kind of security it had put in place.”
“Never trust Black Heir,” I said. That seemed a safe enough thing to say, no matter what world I was in. “If I were you, I’d ask for my money back. Now tell me: Why have you been keeping such a close eye on the old place, Major? Given that all of my family are supposed to be dead?”
“Because there was always the possibility not all of you died here that day,” said the major. “It’s possibilities like this that keep good people from sleeping soundly at night.”
“Don’t worry, Major,” I said. “Molly and I aren’t planning on staying.”
“So . . . ,” the major said casually, “are you . . . the only surviving Drood?”
“You’re asking the wrong man,” I said.
“Hold everything; throw it in reverse,” said Molly. “Your sensors must have told you it was just the two of us in the Hall, so why bring all these tanks and a small army of soldiers?”
“To deal with a Drood and Molly Metcalf?” said the major. “Anything less would have been suicide! I wasn’t convinced any of this would do much good, to be honest,
but someone higher up the food chain thought we’d tried everything but brute force, so . . .”
“You really believed you were all going to die, trying to stop us,” I said, studying the major’s face carefully. “But you took us on, anyway. Why?”
He shrugged quickly. “It’s the job. It’s our duty, to protect the world from people like you.”
I actually liked him rather better for saying that, though I did my best to keep it out of my face.
“Tell me what I need to know, Major,” I said. “And in return I promise you and all your people will get to walk out of here.”
The major looked at me oddly. “You’re giving me your word? And you mean it . . . I can see it in your eyes. What kind of a Drood are you?”
“You’d be surprised,” I said. “Talk to me about the Great Invasion. Who was involved? Who killed my family? Was it the Immortals?”
The major paused, considering his words carefully. “They took the lead, naturally. But basically, once word got out that all the Hall’s protections were down, and for the first time ever the Droods were seriously vulnerable, everyone just came running. Representatives from all sorts of secret agencies, heroes and villains and everyone in between. Everyone wanted in. Your family made a lot of enemies, down the years. No one wanted to miss out on what might be their only chance for revenge.”
“Revenge?” I said. “For what?”
“For what you’ve done to the world,” said the major. And just like that, his voice and his gaze were very cold.
“Were the Droods really that bad?” said Molly.
The major looked at her. “You should know; you were here. Along with your sisters. God alone knows how many Droods the three of you killed that day.”
Molly and I looked at each other, but neither of us felt like saying anything. I looked around the grounds for a while, getting my mental second wind, and then turned back to nod briskly at Major Benson.
“All right,” I said. “Major, it’s time for you and your people to be on their way. Do not pass go, do not stop off at the gift shop, and don’t even think about coming back. Tell your superiors: Drood Hall is dead. Leave it in peace.”
“I can tell them,” said the major, careful in his choice of words, as always. “But they’re never going to believe this . . .”
“Make them believe,” I said. And something in my voice made him nod quickly.
I gestured for him to leave, and he backed quickly away. He gathered up his people, including the wounded, the unconscious, and those still hacking and coughing from the purple gas; and pointed them towards the long gravel path that led to the main gates. The soldiers set off at a fair pace, supporting or carrying others where necessary. Afraid I might change my mind at any moment. A few looked back sadly at the tanks they were leaving behind, but knew better than to ask. The major was the last to leave. He hesitated, and then looked at me steadily.
“I never thought I’d be saying this to a Drood, but . . . you did right by us, when no one expected you to. You’re not like any Drood I ever heard of; except when you’re fighting. So . . . we’re leaving, but you can be sure other forces are already on their way. Bigger and far more dangerous forces, with real firepower. Hell, somebody’s probably already talking about nuking the Hall from orbit, as the only way to be sure. They only let us come in first because we were nearest, and they wanted to see what you would do. What you were capable of. All they really expected of us was that we might hold your attention long enough for everyone else to get here. All kinds of people will be coming . . . if only for one last chance to kill a Drood. You really don’t want to be here when they arrive.”
“Thank you, Major,” I said.
He shook his head as though even simple courtesy was beyond anything he’d expected. “Can I just ask: Who are you, really? We honestly believed all the Droods were dead. And there’s definitely no Eddie Drood in any of our files.”
“They’re gone,” I said. “And I’m not staying. Now get off my lawn.”
The major threw me a quick salute, turned smartly about, and hurried off after his men.
“We’re really just letting them go?” Molly said quietly. “After they did their best to kill us?”
“Not us,” I said. “This world’s version of us. And I’m starting to wonder if they might not have been justified. Come on. Let’s see to our business in the Old Library, and then get the hell out of here.”
“You really think we’re going to find anything useful?” said Molly.
“Who knows what we might find,” I said, “in this strange new world?”
“Maybe it’ll be something we can sell,” said Molly.
CHAPTER TWO
You’d Be Surprised What You Can Find in a Library
I went striding back through the Hall, with Molly hurrying along at my side. More than ever it seemed to me I could hear the clock ticking. I was still spotting small but telling differences in the Hall, and I couldn’t help wondering why I hadn’t noticed them the last time I was here. I had been very upset back then, convinced it was my family who’d been slaughtered, but still . . . Did some other influence touch my mind, to keep me from noticing things I wasn’t supposed to see?
Molly could tell I was brooding again, and did her best to lighten the strained atmosphere.
“It was good of MI Thirteen to provide us with a decent workout. There’s no better way to start the day than taking on a whole army of bad guys and making them cry like babies. You looked a lot more like your old self out there. How are you feeling?”
“I wish you’d stop asking me that!” I said. “It doesn’t matter how many times you ask—the answer isn’t going to change!”
“Don’t you snap at me, Eddie Drood!”
I had to smile at her. “You know you only use my full name when you’re mad at me?”
She smiled back at me. “I need to be sure you’re paying attention.”
And then I slammed to a halt as my eyes were drawn to a door that shouldn’t have been there, in a wall I didn’t remember. Even though time was pressing, something about that particular door held my gaze. Molly moved in close beside me, looking back and forth between me and the door, waiting for me to explain why we’d stopped. And I couldn’t tell her, because I didn’t know.
“I really don’t think standing around, frowning at strange doors, is getting us anywhere, Eddie,” she said finally. “What’s so special about this one?”
“It called to me,” I said.
“Oh, that is so not in any way good,” said Molly. “If we had any sense we’d start running right now.”
“You’re being very cautious all of a sudden.”
“It’s Drood Hall! It brings out the survival instincts in me.”
I reached out a hand to open the door, and Molly’s hand clamped down hard on my arm.
“Aren’t you at least going to armour up first?”
I withdrew my hand, and Molly let go of my arm. I looked at her carefully.
“Does it feel to you like I’m going to need my armour? Are you picking up some kind of warning about what’s on the other side of that door?”
“Not . . . specifically,” said Molly. “But given this is the only door in the entire building that’s called out to you . . . Come on, you must remember the old story about Bluebeard. He tells his new wife she can go anywhere she likes in his house, but there’s one door she must never open. Of course, eventually she does, and the room turns out to be full of horrible things that tell her far more about her new husband than she ever wanted to know. I think this is that kind of door.”
I looked at her for a long moment. “In this story, which one of us is Bluebeard?”
“It doesn’t matter! What if this is the one door you really shouldn’t open because you really don’t want to know what’s in there?”
“This whole Hall h
as been like that,” I said. “What could be worse than a massive statue of the goddess Kali with blood on her feet?”
Molly scowled at the closed door. “I have a horrible suspicion we’re about to find out.”
I took a careful hold of the handle and eased the door open a crack. Molly tensed, ready to blast anything that moved that shouldn’t. But everything was still and quiet, and we both relaxed, just a little. I pushed the door all the way open, and stepped cautiously in. With Molly right there at my side, determined as always not to be left out of anything.
The shadowy, windowless room was full of men and women sitting on chairs. None of them so much as turned their heads. They just sat there stiffly in their stiff-backed chairs, looking at nothing. A dull, flat light rose in the room, from no obvious source, just enough to give me a clearer view of the occupants. I glanced quickly at Molly, not wanting to take my eyes off the unmoving figures for too long.
“Is that your light?” I said quietly.
“No. Nothing to do with me.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” I looked quickly round the room. “Okay . . . I am going to assume the light is a standard response to anyone entering the room and not let it creep me out at all.”
“Very wise.”
“I thought so.”
“Who are all these people?” said Molly. “Are they dead?”
“They’re not moving or looking at us, and they’re covered in dust,” I said. “So I am going to go out on a limb and say yes, they’re probably dead. Is this what Bluebeard’s wife found?”
“I forget. Why would the Droods keep a room full of dead people sitting around on chairs?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Trophies? Souvenirs?”
“If this turns out to be like Norman Bates’ mother in Psycho, you can pay for my therapy bills.”
I surprised myself with a brief snort of laughter. “You’ve seen worse. Hell, you’ve done worse.”
“Not recently.”
I moved cautiously forward, ready to pull on my armour in a moment if any of the shadowy figures so much as stirred. I leaned in close, for a better look at the nearest faces. The skin had been stretched taut, cheekbones pressing out against the skin, and the eyes and mouths were closed. I couldn’t see any stitches holding them shut, but I knew what the figures were now. Dead bodies preserved for future use was an old Drood trick. Like the scarecrows out in the grounds, these were old Drood enemies made over into nonliving sentinels, to guard and protect us from unwelcome intruders.