Book 2 - Daemons Are Forever (14 page)

“To be fair, he could have disowned me, but he didn’t. But it meant we were never as close as we might have been. And it meant… he could never allow me to come home. No one from the family could ever know that the famous womaniser James Drood had sired a bum boy. He had his reputation to think of.”

“He protected you,” I said.

“Yes,” said Harry. “But he never accepted me.”

“Look,” I said. “I don’t give a wet slap whether you’re gay or not. But I have to ask. How can Roger be your…partner, when he’s also your stepbrother?”

Harry smiled crookedly. “If his being a hellspawn doesn’t bother me, why should anything else? We knew we were meant for each other, the moment we met in that awful little nightclub in Paris.”

“Even hellspawn have hearts,” said Roger.

“You still stink of the Pit,” I said bluntly. “He’s a demon, Harry. You can’t trust him or anything he says. Demons don’t love anyone. They can’t.”

“I’m only half demon,” said Roger. “I’m half human, and very bothersome that can be, at times. I have all the usual run of human emotions, though I never let them get in the way before. I was there in that nightclub on purpose, sent to seduce Harry as away of getting at James, and through him the Droods…but instead, our eyes met, and that was that. I was in love, much to my alarm. We fell for each other right then and there, and we’ve never been apart since.”

“Are you complaining?” Harry said fondly.

“No,” said Roger. “Never. But it does mean I can never go home again. They’d never understand…”

“I know the feeling,” said Harry, and squeezed Roger’s hand.

“You can’t trust him, Harry,” I said, trying my best to get through to him. “He’s a hellspawn! They lie like they breathe; it’s natural to them!”

“I don’t trust anyone,” Harry said flatly. “Not this family, and least of all the man who murdered my father.”

“It wasn’t murder,” I said. “It was a fair fight. Neither of us wanted it, but…”

“Yes,” said Harry. “It always comes down to the family, doesn’t it, and the awful things we do because of it. Tell me this much, at least—tell me my father died well.”

“Of course he did,” I said. “He went down fighting to the last.”

Harry looked at me thoughtfully, his head cocked slightly to one side. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Cousin Eddie.”

“There’s a lot of things I’m not telling you,” I said easily. “I keep my secrets to myself. So should you. I won’t tell the family you’re gay…”

“How very noble of you,” said Roger.

“But the longer you two stick around, together, the sooner someone will realise. And the holding hands is a dead giveaway.”

Harry glanced down at the hand holding Roger’s, but didn’t let go.

“Thank you for the kind advice, Cousin Eddie. And your reticence on our behalf. More than I had any right to expect from you, I’m sure. But don’t make the mistake of thinking that we’re ever going to be friends.”

“I’ll settle for allies,” I said. “We’re going to have to find a way to work together in the bad times that are coming. For the good of the family, and the world.”

“Oh, of course,” said Harry. “Anything, for the family.”

V
isiting the family Armourer is always an interesting experience, and often an excellent chance to test how good your reflexes are. There’s always something loud and noisy going on, usually of an explosive nature, and how productive a visit you have can depend on your ability to duck and cover at speed. So when I went to visit the Armoury, set deep in the bedrock under the Hall, so that when things inevitably go wrong at least the rest of the family will be protected from the awful consequences, my first surprise was how quiet and peaceful everything seemed. The Armoury is basically a long series of connected stone chambers, packed to bursting with equipment, workbenches, and testing areas. And its own adjoining infirmary, just in case.

The place seemed busy enough. Interns in stained lab coats clustered around computers and chalked pentacles, chattering animatedly with each other as they designed new, terrible things to unleash on the enemies of humanity. One young man with recent scorch marks on his coat was working industriously on a portable lightning generator, while another was cautiously testing an aerosol that could spray plague in any chosen direction. Judging by the look of him, he was still having problems with blowbacks. Giving him plenty of room, I moved on, and then looked up to see an intern walking upside down across the high stone ceiling, using boots that stuck to the stone. He waved cheerfully to those watching from below, and then one foot slipped right out of the boot, and he was left dangling precariously from the one boot still stuck to the ceiling. He called piteously for help, and another intern, with what I fervently hoped were only temporary bat wings sprouting from her back, fluttered up to assist him.

Meanwhile, half a dozen interns with the same face stood together in a tight circle, arguing fiercely over who was the original and who were the clones. And one guy sat giggling inside a glass pyramid while an endless stream of butterflies flew out of his nose. Just another day in the Armoury, basically.

So why did the whole place seem so … subdued? No sudden bangs or fires or clouds of poisonous gas drifting on the air … I strode through the Armoury, stepping carefully over clumps of colour-coded wires and the occasional exploded test animal, and finally spotted the Armourer himself, sitting hunched over a workbench, as usual. He was tinkering with some new gadget, trying to make it do what it was supposed to do through a combination of craft, genius, bullying, and bad language. He looked around as I sat down beside him and sniffed loudly.

“This is all your fault, you know. All this unnatural peace and quiet. It’s the lack of torcs; makes my interns far too cautious. I’m not getting any real work out of them since they started worrying about consequences. We need those new torcs down here, Eddie.”

“Then make sure the list is ready for me when I get back,” I said patiently. “I’ll see that everyone who needs one, gets one.”

The Armourer looked at me sharply. “Get back? What do you mean, get back? You’re not off again, are you? You haven’t been home ten minutes!”

“I find my family is best appreciated in small doses,” I said solemnly.

“Yes, well, there is that,” said the Armourer. “But while the cat’s away, you may find the rats getting damned uppity. It’s only your presence and example that’s holding this family together in these troubled times. And now that Harry’s back…”

“Don’t worry about Harry,” I said. “I can handle him, if I have to.”

“Oh good,” said Molly, strolling over to join us and kicking a wandering dodo out of the way. “Does that mean we don’t need to be nice to Roger anymore, and I’m free to kill him in slow, horrible, and innovative ways?”

“You really do nurse a grudge, don’t you?” I said.

“You have no idea,” said Molly.

“I was just telling Uncle Jack that we’re off to look up a few old friends,” I said. “You ready to go?”

“Of course. Are you?”

“Not quite.” I turned back to the Armourer. “We could use some of your latest gadgets and dirty tricks on this one. What have you got?”

“Ah,” said the Armourer, brightening up. He was always happiest when discussing new methods of murder and mayhem. “I just might have a few new things that will chill and thrill you, only waiting for some brave soul to test them out in the field…”

“Hold it,” said Molly, peering over the Armourer’s shoulder. “What is that you’re working on there?”

He scowled. “It’s supposed to go bang. And it doesn’t.” He picked up a large lump hammer and hit the black box before him. Molly and I both flinched, and I wrestled the lump hammer away from the Armourer and put it down safely out of reach. His scowl deepened. “You have to teach technology to respect you! It needs to know who’s in charge!”

“You can try again later,” I said. “When we’re both safely out of range. Now, tell me about your new gadgets.”

“Yes, well… To start with, you’d better have this.” He took a heavy sheaf of handwritten papers out of his desk drawer and handed them to me. “This is your instruction manual for Merlin’s Glass. Don’t let anyone else see it. I wrote it all out in longhand so there’d be no record in the computers. Something this powerful needs to be kept strictly confidential.”

“There’s over forty pages here,” I said feebly.

“And more to come,” said the Armourer. “The damned thing’s full of extra options, many of which I don’t fully understand. Yet. Typical Merlin; couldn’t just make the Glass he was asked for… had to show off… These are just the options I’ve identified so far, along with the activating Words. And don’t go experimenting, Eddie; the thing’s probably full of booby traps for the unwary. It’s what I would have done. And Merlin Satanspawn was apparently renowned for his strange and unpleasant sense of humour.”

“You sure he wasn’t a Drood?” I said, thumbing quickly through the pages.

“Pay attention, Eddie. The two most useful options are these: the Glass can see everywhere in the present, as well as the past and the future, and it can also be used as a door, for immediate transport to anywhere in the world. Just tell it where you want to go, tug at the frame till it’s big enough, and then step through.”

I gave up on the pages, folded them neatly, and stuffed them into an inside pocket of my jacket. “Thank you, Uncle Jack. I’m sure it’ll be very helpful. But I was hoping for something a bit more…aggressive.”

“Hold everything,” said Molly. “If the Glass can show us scenes from absolutely everywhere in the present…we can use it to spy on people in the shower, or on the toilet! Maybe even take incriminating photographs! The possibilities for blackmail are endless!”

“You can take the witch out of the wood…” murmured the Armourer.

“Let’s test it!” said Molly. “Go on, you know you want to.”

I took the silver-framed hand mirror out of my pocket and hefted it thoughtfully in my hand. “I suppose we should try it out, in the spirit of scientific enquiry. Just to make sure it can do what it’s supposed to do.”

“That’s my boy!” the Armourer said cheerfully.

I sighed. “You are both such a bad influence on me.”

I used the activating Words I’d memorised from the pages and ordered the Glass to show me what the Matriarch was doing, right then. Molly and the Armourer crowded in on either side of me as we stared into the Glass. Our reflections became dim and uncertain, and then were suddenly replaced by a view of the Matriarch’s bedchamber. It was as though we were watching from someplace by the door, unseen and unsuspected. Martha was now sitting on a chair beside the bed, ignoring Alistair, who stared up at the ceiling, making low, dreamy sounds. Presumably there had been a heavy dose of something in the soup. The Matriarch’s bedroom was still full of friends and supporters, but now she had new guests: Harry and the Sarjeant-at-Arms. I wasn’t really surprised to see either of them. Harry, because he needed support if he were to establish a new power base inside the family, and the Sarjeant because I’d always known which way his sympathies went, even before I invited him into my Inner Circle. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, especially when they’re family.

No Roger, though. Presumably Harry was hoping out of sight would mean out of mind. The three of us stared into the hand mirror, watching and listening silently as the voices in the room came clearly to us from far away.

“Hello, Grandmother,” said Harry, leaning right over to kiss her offered hand. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“There were reasons,” said the Matriarch. “As well you know. But you are here now, back where you belong, and that is all that matters. It is good to see you again, Harold. You have your father’s looks…”

“And my mother’s, so I’m told,” said Harry.

The Matriarch ignored that. “Much has changed, but the family’s needs must always come first. You can serve the family now, more than you ever did in your self-imposed exile. James was always my favourite son, high in power and esteem. Be my favourite grandson, Harold. Take control of the family back from the traitor Edwin. Restore the proper way of things. And all old…arguments shall be forgotten and forgiven.”

Harry smiled. “That’s what I’m here for, Grandmother.”

I shut down the Glass with a Word, and the scene was swept away by our returning reflections.

“Treacherous little scumbag,” said Molly. “Didn’t take him long to stick his knife in your back, did it?”

“Can’t say I’m surprised by any of this,” I said, slipping the Glass back into my pocket. “Disappointed, but not surprised.”

“Want me to turn him into something small and icky?”

“I can stop Harry,” I said. “If I have to. Grandmother believes in bloodlines, in children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”

“Am I supposed to understand that?” said Molly.

“No,” I said.

“You and your family’s secrets,” said Molly. “Like I care.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the prodigal son till you return,” growled the Armourer. “But don’t rely on me to stop him from making mischief. I may be Inner Circle, but I don’t have the power or influence I once had. Nobody does anymore. The whole family’s fragmented, arguing with itself over what we should do next, and what we’re supposed to be. So don’t stay away too long, Eddie. Or you might not have a family to come home to.” He sniffed loudly, and then ostentatiously changed the subject. “And be careful with that Glass! I’m still trying to work out what the drawbacks might be. There are always drawbacks with something that powerful. What little I’ve been able to discover about past uses of the Glass comes from texts in the old library. Jacob was helping me research, but he’s disappeared. Again. Don’t suppose you know where he is?”

“I haven’t seen him since the Circle meeting,” I said.

“He disappeared when Harry turned up,” Molly said thoughtfully. “Could there be some connection?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “Not everything that happens here is part of some conspiracy; it just seems that way. I should never have encouraged Jacob to leave his chapel. I only wanted him here in the Hall because I needed his support. He was always so much more…together in the chapel. He knew who he was there. He only left the chapel to save me…”