Live and Let Drood: A Secret Histories Novel (23 page)

“And I doubt we’re going to be left in peace that long,” I said. “I won’t leave you alone again, Molly, I promise.”

“Will you stop beating yourself up? I saw you; you were busy kicking the crap out of dead things. Doing your job.”

“I’m not so sure about that, either,” I said. “If there were spirits trapped inside those bodies, if they were just innocents…”

“Very unlikely,” said Molly. “That was just Crow Lee speaking through them, playing games with your head.”

“And if it wasn’t?”

“Why do you keep asking questions when you know I don’t have the answers? Let’s get to Crow Lee and then we can beat the answers out of him.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I said.

M
olly snapped her fingers and the air before us split obediently in two, forming into a shimmering portal that crackled with something very like static for a moment, like a television caught between stations, before finally condensing into a familiar silver tunnel. Molly had tried to explain to me that what I see when I look at her magic is largely symbolic; just my mind trying to make sense of something it can’t cope with. Personally, I think she has the same relationship with magic that I have with science; we just pretend we know what we’re doing and hope it all works out for the best. Molly strode into the silver tunnel and I hurried in after her, not wanting to be left behind or have important parts of myself sliced off by the portal closing after me.

Molly had clearly been refining her teleport spell on the quiet, because we didn’t just end up back at the car. Instead, we both materialised inside the Phantom V, sitting in the front seats. Only because it was her spell, Molly was sitting behind the wheel and I was in the passenger’s seat. She smiled at me triumphantly, running her hands over the steering wheel in a distressingly sensual way.

“I’ve always wanted to drive one of these! Give me the keys, Eddie. Then it’s atomic batteries to power, turbines to speed and everyone else get the hell out of the way!”

“Sorry,” I said. “There are no keys. This is a Drood car, programmed only to accept a Drood driver. Basic security measure.”

Molly glared at me. “You’re making that up!”

“Not even a little bit. There are no keys because the car knows who I am and does what I tell it to. So I’m afraid we’re going to have to switch seats if we’re going to go anywhere. Really.”

“Someone’s going to pay for this,” said Molly.

“It’s all down to torc envy, I’m sure,” I said.

Molly sniffed loudly, kicked the driver’s door open, and got out of the car. I got out my side, and we crossed in front of the car without speaking. The engine turned itself on as I sat down behind the wheel, and Molly banged her door shut with added violence. And that was when I heard sirens approaching. I looked in the rearview mirror, and sure enough several police cars were heading our way at speed—sirens, flashing blue lights, the works. The large crowd of tourists and others who’d been chased off the Pier by recent supernatural events waved excitedly at the approaching police. A few of the braver elements were hovering outside the Pier’s main entrance, though as yet none of them felt brave enough to go back in without some official presence to lead the way. And, if need be, hide behind.

“Let them look,” said Molly. “They won’t find anything. The fog wiped all its traces away as it retreated. A built-in clean-up factor is the mark of a real magician.”

“Crow Lee didn’t get where he is today by leaving evidence behind to reveal his presence,” I agreed. “Come back here in a few years and all of this will be just another urban legend. A story to tell visitors in an enjoyable and not-to-be believed way. They’ll probably be selling the tourists Fog in a Can.…”

“So,” said Molly. “Let us adjourn to pastures new before the boys in blue come knocking on our window, inviting us to answer some pointed questions. Which I have no intention of answering. Where are we going next?”

“Back to my old stomping grounds,” I said. “London. They call it the Smoke, and everyone knows there’s no smoke without fire. Street by
street and block by block, London’s still the most magical city in the world. And not always in a good way.”

“I suppose you intend to drive all the way there?” said Molly, just a bit sullenly.

“No,” I said. “We don’t have the time, and I don’t think I trust the car’s shields to hide us for much longer. Crow Lee found us here quickly enough. And don’t look at me like that, Molly. In situations like this, paranoia becomes a survival skill. No, I think we’d better use the Merlin Glass.”

“And risk attracting attention?”

“Crow Lee already knows where we are,” I pointed out.

“So we’re leaving the car here?” said Molly.

“Hardly,” I said. “I’d have to hit the self-destruct button to keep it out of official hands, and Uncle Jack would have my scalp if I lost another of his favourite cars.”

I already had the Merlin Glass in my hand, and I hefted the silver-backed hand mirror thoughtfully. Like its predecessor, the Glass always seemed so small and innocent in its dormant state, like a vampire hiding its sharp teeth behind a polite smile. I fed the Merlin Glass the correct coordinates through my torc, and the Glass shot out of my hand and passed right through the windscreen without affecting it in the least, to hover on the air in front of the car. It grew quickly in size, becoming a great doorway through which I could see a familiar London street. I sent the Phantom rolling smoothly forward and we left Brighton behind, in search of fresh prey.

The Glass shut itself down behind us, ghosted through the back window, and nestled into the hand I put up to catch it. I put the Glass away, and tried to concentrate on my driving. This new Merlin Glass seemed to take a delight in demonstrating all the many tricks at its disposal. It seemed to have a lot more…character than the one I was used to. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. We’d appeared on a deserted side street, as I’d requested, and the few people walking up and down paid us no attention. I eased the Phantom V down the street and out into the main flow of traffic.

“I know this is London,” said Molly, “but surely even the most blasé Londoner should have been a bit startled by a bloody big car appearing right in front of him.”

“It’s all down to the Armourer,” I said. “Uncle Jack built some serious
blending-in
tech into the car’s shields.”

“But the Phantom must have been identified by now,” said Molly. “And you can bet Crow Lee will have put out its description to everyone who answers to him. Or owes him favours, of which there are no doubt many. Why not just drop the car off somewhere safe and we’ll take the Tube? Who’s going to notice just another couple of tourists in London?”

“Because I’m not ready to give up the car just yet,” I said stubbornly. “It contains many useful items, courtesy of my uncle Jack. And a whole armoury of heavy-duty weapons that I want close at hand, ready for when I need them.”

“I’m not entirely helpless,” said Molly. “I still have a few charms left on my ankle bracelet.”

I glanced at her carefully. “Just how low are your magic levels at the moment?”

“Low,” said Molly. “I might be able to manage some impressive fireworks and whizbangs, but that’s about it.”

“Then we need the car,” I said.

“Don’t be smug,” said Molly. “Or I’ll hit you with my pony.”

We drove steadily on through the early-evening London traffic. Cars and taxis and bendy buses flowed past, and the pavements were packed with people hurrying about their everyday business. No one paid the Phantom any undue attention, thanks to Uncle Jack. Droods aren’t supposed to be noticed. At least half our job is to keep people from noticing the very threats we protect them from. Droods are trained from an early age to deal with all the wonders and horrors of the hidden world, but even we have problems dealing sometimes. Humanity isn’t ready to learn who and what they share this world with. Of course, if I couldn’t find a way to bring my family safely home, Humanity might start finding
out the hard way. There are all kinds of things out there who only play nice with everyone else because they know we’re watching.

It didn’t take long to get where we needed to be. The Merlin Glass had followed my instructions to the letter, and we were soon easing up the Mall, with Buckingham Palace straight ahead. I smiled complacently at all the other cars, obediently paying London’s exorbitant congestion charge. Droods are exempt. In fact, we’re exempt from all the annoying intrusions of the Establishment’s bean counters. Perk of the job.

“You do know where you’re going this time?” said Molly.

“London is my territory,” I said grandly. “I was a field agent here for years before I even met you. Now, admittedly, I don’t know the city as well as I once did. My old armour had the equivalent of a sat nav built in. Complete maps of London and all its environs programmed into the torc, ready to be downloaded directly into my mind, as and when required. The rogue armour…doesn’t have that. So I’m having to work from my own personal memories.”

“So, what happens when we get lost?” Molly said sweetly.

“You get to ask for directions. But I don’t think that’s going to be necessary. Look up ahead. See the big palacey thing at the end of the Mall? Buck House, in all her glory.”

“Yes, I can see the palace, Eddie; I’m just not sure why we need it. Madame O said we needed the Department of the Uncanny.”

“So she did. She also said we’d find it at Big Ben. And how likely is that? Something that obvious, that public? How much do you know about the D of U?”

“I know the name,” said Molly.

“Then you’re ahead of most people,” I said. “It’s one of those very old, very secret, secret organisations that the government won’t even admit exists. Originally founded by Dr. Dee, Queen Elizabeth I’s unofficial spymaster and magician general, alongside the more specialised Carnacki Institute. The Department of the Uncanny’s remit is to defend the Realm from supernatural attacks, from within as well as without. More by gathering information and organising other people than by getting involved themselves. Mostly. It is possible they were originally
put in place as an answer to the Droods, if we should ever get out of hand. On the grounds that the Department could always be relied on to put England’s interests first.”

“It strikes me that there’s so many of these secret organisations, it’s a wonder they don’t end up tripping all over each other,” said Molly.

“They have a lot of ground to cover,” I said. “And they’re all very jealous when it comes to guarding their own territory. The last thing anyone wants is a civil war in the hidden world over who’s in charge of what. The Department of the Uncanny exists to defend the nation. The Carnacki Institute deals with ghosts and other mortally challenged incursions. The London Knights deal with otherworldly and other-dimensional threats. And MI-13 used to deal with supernatural intelligence; our spies versus their spies. The Droods…deal with Major League Weird Shit. Worldwide threats.”

“Couldn’t all these supernatural agencies work together to cover the Droods’ workload until they return?” said Molly.

“All the organisations I’ve just mentioned are British based,” I said patiently. “They have British aims and responsibilities. The Droods may live in England, but we guard the whole world. We are Humanity’s shepherds, their shamans and protectors. All of this country’s departments working together couldn’t do what we do.”

“Fancy yourself much, do you?” said Molly, amused.

“This is why my family has always taken duty and responsibility so seriously.” I said. “You’ve never really thought this through, have you? Droods have field agents in every country and in every major city; there isn’t a country or a culture on this planet that doesn’t fall under our protection.”

“You used to run the world,” said Molly. “I remember. I was there when we put a stop to that.”

“We exist to protect all of Humanity.”

“Two World Wars and an extended Cold War. Good going…”

“We protect Humanity from outside threats,” I said carefully. “From things like the Hungry Gods and the Apocalypse Door. It’s our job to stand between Humanity and all the nonhuman things that threaten us. It’s not our job to get involved in tribal squabbles.”

Molly turned right round in her seat to look at me. “Is that really how you see it?”

“It’s how we have to see it,” I said. “We can’t take sides. We’re here to help, not meddle, and sometimes…that means standing back and letting things happen. Even when it breaks our hearts. Or we really would be the Secret Masters of Humanity. We may have…lost our way for a while, but we’re back on track now. The world needs my family, Molly.”

“Whether they want you or not?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“Tell me more about the Department of the Uncanny,” said Molly, staring straight ahead. “Suddenly that seems like a lot safer conversation.”

“Okay,” I said. “They’re basically an information-gathering organisation, evaluating all kinds of data gleaned from every corner of the hidden world to see if it poses any threat. They share information with a great many other organisations, and take occasional action on their own. They have an excellent reputation. I never had any direct dealings with them myself back when I was just the local field agent. As part of the Establishment, that made them part of Matthew’s territory. Back when he was very much the senior London agent. I never got a look in. He had his own circle of intimates and connections, inside men and informers, to which I was never granted access. If I needed to know such things, I had to go to him, and didn’t he just love that, lording it over me. I suppose those people are still on the files somewhere.…To be honest, I was happy enough to let him deal with that kind of stuff. I was never what you’d call diplomatic, in those days. I had issues with authority figures.”