From Hell With Love: A Secret Histories Novel (30 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: From Hell With Love: A Secret Histories Novel
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The teenager squirmed unhappily in the chair, the tubes clattering quietly around him. He was breathing hard, and he didn’t look nearly as certain as he had. The Armourer glanced at the display screens.
“He’s not faking it. If I’m reading the screens right, he’s seriously traumatised . . . What the hell did you see down there, Eddie?”
“Ask me later,” I said. I leaned in close, to glare right into Rafe’s face. “What’s your name? Your real name?”
He smirked. “Call me Legion, for we are many.”
“You want another slap?” said the Armourer. “This is taking too long, Eddie.” He held up a hypodermic needle big enough to frighten a horse, and shot a thin stream of clear fluid out the tip. “I have truth right here, in liquid form. I don’t care what the screens say, he’s close enough to human for this to work. Slide the needle past his eyeball and into the forebrain, and he’ll tell us things he doesn’t even know he knows. Of course, a certain amount of brain damage is inevitable. So, Rafe, tell us what we need to know. And the first time you don’t answer, or the screens tell me you’re lying, in goes the needle. I don’t care how many doses I have to deliver. You can’t have too much truth, can you?”
“All right, all right!” Rafe took a moment to compose himself, and then fixed me with his cold arrogant gaze. “It doesn’t matter what I tell you. It won’t help. We’re always ten steps ahead of you. I’ve been plundering the Old Library of useful items ever since you rediscovered it. I was put in here, years ago, to work as an assistant in the Armoury. To get a good look at new weapons before they were put into the field, so we’d be ready for them. Pure luck put me in charge of the Library—all of the Droods’ secret knowledge, under my control! And then, the Old Library, with all its forgotten secrets and treasures . . .”
“How long did you work for me?” said
˚
the Armourer. “Did I ever know the real Rafe?”
“Oh, I think I’ll let you work that out for yourself. The Old Library . . . I’ve been systematically removing anything that even mentioned the Immortals, their history and practices, along with anything else we didn’t want you to know about. When I’d finished with that, I started removing any books we didn’t have: unique editions, original manuscripts and folios, that sort of thing. It wasn’t difficult to keep William from noticing; he’s always been easily distractible. Any time he did spot a missing volume, I just blamed Zero Tolerance fanatics. I did slip a few in Truman’s direction, for Manifest Destiny, so I could point the finger if necessary, but never anything important. We were quite happy for him to keep you busy, but we never trusted him. He could have been dangerous, if only his viewpoint hadn’t been so terribly limited. I also removed certain Books of Power, that were weapons in their own right. You can never have too many weapons, and besides, you wouldn’t have appreciated them.”
“Having established that you’re a thief as well as a traitor,” I said, “let’s get to the important stuff. Have the Immortals joined forces with Doctor Delirium and Tiger Tim, to exploit the Apocalypse Door?”
Rafe hesitated. The Armourer leaned in, and showed him the horse needle.
“Of course we’re working together! We’re big, big enough to take in anybody, to get what we want. We would have taken the Door for ourselves, in Los Angeles, if you hadn’t interfered. But we always look forward, never back. So we made a deal, with Doctor Delirium and the rogue Drood, offering them our resources in return for access to the Door.”
“What do you want with the Apocalypse Door?” I said. “Are you really going to risk the Doctor opening it?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” said Rafe. “You have to understand; there were only ever twenty-three original Immortals. The man who first made contact with the Heart, and his immediate family and friends. Though there have of course been many long-lived offspring, down the years. Immortals can’t breed with each other, so children can only ever be half-breeds. You’d recognise the names of some of them. Important people, movers and shakers. We can be anybody we want to be. We’ve been a lot of famous people, down the centuries. Kings and kingmakers, philosophers and generals, heroes and villains, great artists and celebrities. Sometimes for power and glory, sometimes to protect ourselves, but mostly just for the fun of it. We do so hate to be bored. The Immortals are everywhere, ensuring that the world goes the way we want it to go. We’re on both sides of every argument, every conflict, every war. Sometimes for profit, mostly just to watch you dance to our tune.
“Of the twenty-three original Immortals, only nine remain. We can die. We were made Immortal, not invulnerable. But we are a large family, larger by far than you Droods. Thousands of offspring to serve the Elders, who serve the Leader, the man originally touched by the Heart. Oh yes; he’s still with us. And even more serve us throughout the world, knowingly and unknowingly. We own the world. We own you. We’re your worst nightmare; an organised extended family of Anti-Droods. The real secret rulers of Humanity. You Droods only thought you ran the world. We just let you handle all the dull, boring bits. You worked for us, and never knew it.”
“All right,” I said steadily. “What’s changed? Why are you ready to reveal yourselves, over the Apocalypse Door?”
“I told you, it’s complicated,” Rafe said sullenly. “The Elders now believe that immortality isn’t necessarily all it’s cracked up to be. Are they, in fact, missing out on something? As in, the greater experiences and possibilities of an afterlife? Don’t look at me like that. Don’t be so limited in your thinking. They’ve lived for centuries. They’ve exhausted all the pleasures of this world, and now they lust after new adventures in the next world. Heaven. Paradise.
Why settle for anything less? But, they’re afraid of Hell. After all the things they’ve done. They believe the Apocalypse Door can be . . . turned. Reversed. Made over, into a Paradise Door. So they can open it and go straight through into Heaven. After Doctor Delirium and Tiger Tim have served their purposes, we’ll take the Door away from them, turn it around, and then all the Elders will go through into Paradise, and explore all the pleasures that may be found there.”
He smiled at the Armourer, in a silly sort of way. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You slipped me a dose of your truth drug, didn’t you?”
“Right into the main feed tube,” said the Armourer. “You were so busy boasting you never even noticed.”
“Bastard.”
“Keep talking,” I said. “What happens to the Immortals, after the Elders pass on?”
“Well, to start with, everyone else moves up one place. Promotions all round! The eldest remaining offspring will take control, and the Immortals go on. Forever and ever and ever. We may not be technically immortal, like the Leader and the Elders, but we still live many lifetimes. Some of us are quite keen for the Elders to go through the Door, so we can take over and run things the way we think they ought to be run. It’s our time now, and we’ll make the world jump . . .”
“Don’t you want to go to Paradise?” I said.
Rafe sniffed loudly. “The Elders might believe in the Door; the rest of us have more sense. They’re old and tired, they’ve lost their appetite for life. We want to make the world dance to our tune, and eat it all up with spoons. Oh, the plans we have . . . You’re really not going to like them.”
He giggled happily.
The Armourer and I moved away from the Immortal in his chair, so we could talk quietly together. As a Drood, you learn to believe ten impossible things before breakfast, and have a plan ready to deal with them by lunchtime. But this . . . was a bit much.
“Is this even
possible
?” I said to the Armourer.
“Storming Heaven, and forcing your way in?” said the Armourer.
“I doubt it. Theologically flawed, at best. But who knows what living for thousands of years has done to these people’s minds? The point is, if they believe it, they could open the Apocalypse Door and let loose all the hordes of Hell, while thinking they were doing something else entirely.”
“I can still hear you, you know,” said Rafe. “The Elders dictate policy, and leave us poor bastards to carry it out. The Door is a supremely powerful artefact, and that’s all that really matters. We will master it, as we have mastered everything else that has come into our possession. We will uncover its true nature and capabilities, and use it to make us even more powerful. Because that’s what we do. If the Elders disappear through it—fine. After they’ve gone, we’ll use the Door to blackmail everyone. The governments of the world will do anything, give us anything, as long as we promise not to open the Door.”
“I thought you already ran the world,” I said.
“Indirectly,” said Rafe. “The Elders always believed in keeping to the shadows, lest the world discover just how few of them there were. They ruled by pulling strings; a lot of us youngsters yearn to be more hands on. And get our hands
dirty.
”
He giggled again, while I looked at the Armourer.
“How much more do you think we can get out of him?”
“Don’t look at me,” said the Armourer. “I haven’t used this truth stuff since nineteen sixty-two. I’m surprised it still works. I was just bluffing, to put him in the right frame of mind. It’ll take me a couple of days to whip up another batch. And I’ve no idea what repeated use might do to him. He could tell us everything he knows, from his childhood on, or his brains could start leaking out his ears. Not that I care, after everything he’s done. Arrogant little shit. But, I’d ask your questions now, if I were you. While he’s still feeling talkative.”
I turned back to Rafe. “What other traitors are there, inside the Droods?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” said Rafe, grinning widely. “Lots and lots . . . Probably. Not just Immortals, either. We’re not the only ones who understood the advantages of having a man on the inside . . .”
“That could be merely an opinion,” murmured the Armourer.
“Just because he believes it’s true, doesn’t mean it is. I can’t believed we’re riddled with traitors and informers. I’m sure we’d have noticed . . .”
“How many Immortals are there, posing as Droods!” I said to Rafe. “I want names!”
“I don’t know! None of us know! We’re all only ever told what we need to know, just like your field agents.” He studied the Armourer, with something of his old cold arrogance back in his face. “Basic security measure. You can’t be made to tell what you really don’t know.”
“Did you kill my mother?” said the Armourer. “Are you responsible, for the murder of the Matriarch?”
“Were you responsible for the death of my Molly?” I said. “Or Sebastian, back during the Hungry Gods War?”
He tried to shrug, inside the restraint of the straps. “Not me personally, but yes . . . that was all down to us. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. Not my mission. I was just told to take advantage of the chaos, grab as much as possible, and then get the hell out of Dodge before my cover was blown.”
“Molly,” I said. “Tell me about what happened, to Molly.”
“Ah yes,” said Rafe, smiling unpleasantly. “They did tell me about that. We wanted to see what Doctor Delirium’s addition to the Acceleration Drug would do to the Droods, on its own. So one of us dropped a little into the air-conditioning system. It’s amaz ing what people will do, what they’re capable of, if you give them just a little push in the right direction. Even goody little two-shoes Droods can be made to run wild, if you push the right chemical buttons in their brains. Shame it didn’t last longer . . . but then, you can’t have everything.”
“You killed my Molly,” I said, leaning in close. “You Immortals. I will kill you all, for that. I will cut you down and trample you underfoot, and make you extinct.”
Rafe looked at me, but though he met my gaze steadily enough, he had nothing to say. The Armourer took me by the elbow, and pulled me gently away so he could talk to the Immortal.
“How were you able to masquerade as Droods?” he said bluntly. “How could you pretend to have torcs, and armour?”
“Because we did, for a long time,” said Rafe. “The Heart remembered the Immortals, and indulged us. I think we amused it. We’ve been inside the Droods, working both for and against you, for centuries now. Of course, that all changed after the Heart was destroyed. A definite setback there, thanks to you, Eddie. Who knew one man could make so much trouble for everyone?”
“It’s a gift,” I said. “But flattery will get you nowhere. What did you do, after Ethel gave the family new torcs and new armour?”
“We learned to fake it,” Rafe said easily. “We’ve had centuries to learn how to hide in plain sight. Our scientists produced new torcs, good enough to hide us from Ethel, unless she looked really closely, and why should she? We made it easier on ourselves by only substituting Droods who would probably never be called on to armour up.”
“But we’re a family,” I said. “We’re all so close, living on top of each other in the Hall. How could you fool everybody? How could we not notice?”
“Because we’ve been doing this forever, and we’re really good at it. We can fool anyone, because deep down you want to be fooled. You don’t want to believe that the high and mighty Droods could ever be infiltrated, and played for fools. It’s not difficult to replace a Drood. Just catch one on their own, pose as someone they trust, then abduct and kill them, and replace them before anyone even knows they’re missing. And taking on a new face, even a whole new body, is never a problem. We’re flesh dancers. Shape-changers. Just one of the many arcane abilities we’ve acquired down the centuries. We can look like anyone . . . and we do! We can be your friend, your mother, your child . . . you’ll trust us right up to the point we stick the knife in, and twist it. Look around you. Anyone could be an Immortal. And if we live a little too long, and people start noticing, we can always fake our own death and come back as our own bastard offspring. Always lots of Drood bastards turning up . . .”

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