Daemons Are Forever

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Journeys End in Enemies Meeting

And it was all going so well… relatively speaking. Now it looked like all our previous successes had been for nothing, and I was going to have to pull off one of my last-minute, odds-defying, race-against-time-and-save-the-bloody-day miracles. I don’t think people appreciate just how much those things take out of me. On the big main display screen, Harry Drood was helping a dazed and shaken Roger Morningstar to his feet. Roger had just saved Harry’s life at the risk of his own, and it was hard to tell which of them looked the most surprised or shocked. They leaned on each other tiredly and spoke for a while, but we couldn’t hear what they were saying. The communications people worked frantically to try to restore sound, urged on by the Matriarch’s unwavering glare, but without success. Apparently when the Soul Gun went off it supersaturated the aether with other-dimensional energies. We were lucky we were still getting a picture, though the communications officer had enough sense to imply that rather than state it openly to the Matriarch. On the display screen, Roger and Harry headed uncertainly across the grassy field towards Stonehenge, presumably in search of an entrance to Truman’s underground bunker.

Just the two of them, against Truman and all his armies. I suppose people can always surprise you, especially if one of them is a half demon.

I did try to call them back, tell them reinforcements were on their way, but they couldn’t hear me. I even tried contacting them through Strange, but he couldn’t help either.

“It’s the tower,” he said, sounding strangely subdued. “It’s complete, Eddie, and almost ready to activate. It’s alive and aware, though not in any way you would recognise, and I can hear it thinking. It knows I’m watching. It comes from a stranger place than I do, an even higher dimension… The sheer power locked up in this thing is frightening. The Invaders, the Many-Angled Ones, the Hungry Gods are coming… and I’m scared, Eddie.”

“You could leave,” I said. “Get out of our world, withdraw to your own dimension.”

“And leave you and your family defenceless? No. That’s not the kind of other-dimensional presence I am. I like this world, and you people, and your weird way of doing things. You’re fun. The Hungry Gods would just eat you all up, and never even know what it was they were destroying. They’re vicious, evil, and basically quite stupid gods, when you get right down to it. I won’t desert you and your family, Eddie. Some things deserve to be fought, just on general principles.”

“Thank you, Ethel,” I said.

“Ah hell,” said Strange. “What are friends for?”

And that was when Subway Sue scurried into the War Room. She’d made an effort to clean herself up, including a new set of clothes that had clearly been intended for a rather larger person, but she still looked like she’d come to steal something, and stress and strain had put twenty years into her furtive face. To her credit, she was also trying hard not to look too smug at being proved right and necessary after all.

“Got the feeling you were looking for me,” she said, “So here I am. Would I be right in assuming that all your plans have gone tits up, and using the Damnation Way has become the only viable option?”

“Got it in one,” said Molly.

“Damn,” said Subway Sue. “Then we really are in deep shit.”

Molly took Sue over to one side to bring her up to date on what had been happening, and just how deep in it we really were, and I took the moment to think about exactly who I was going to take with us. Molly, of course, for a whole bunch of reasons. Not the Armourer; Uncle Jack would be needed here if we screwed this up. Giles Deathstalker, because he was the most impressive fighting man I’d ever met. And Mr. Stab, because he was…what he was, and because he was so bloody hard to kill. I would have liked Callan, but he was still out of it. So the final member of this little death-or-glory team would have to be the Sarjeant-at-Arms. Partly because I wanted someone with me I could trust to follow orders, and partly because I needed someone I could depend on to fight to the last drop of his blood, for the family. Someone…expendable.

I never used to think things like that, before I became head of the family.

I looked over at Molly and Subway Sue, chatting and giggling together like the old girlfriends they were, and it was a nice touch of normality in a severely strained world. It gave my heart a bit of a lift, to see that such small happinesses were still possible. But I still wasn’t too sure what to make of Sue’s Damnation Way. The name really didn’t inspire confidence. But, if it could drop us off right inside Truman’s bunker…one forceful pre-emptive strike could still take out the tower and put an end to all this. No more nests, no more towers, no more Loathly Ones.

Except for the one remaining inside Molly. Still eating into her body, her mind, her soul. What good to save the world, if I couldn’t save the woman I loved? With Molly gone, all I would have left would be the family, and a lifetime’s cold duties and responsibilities. There had to be a way to save her. There had to be. Because I didn’t want to live in a world without Molly.

She looked around, saw me looking at her, and smiled brightly. I smiled back. She hugged Sue quickly and came back to join me. She hugged me, and I held her close. I didn’t want to ever let her go, but I did. I couldn’t have her suspecting what I’d been thinking.

“You looked like you needed a hug,” Molly said briskly. “Hell, practically everyone here does. But I’m not that sort of girl. These days. I’ve been talking to Sue; she says she can summon up an entrance point to the Damnation Way any time you’re ready, but…she’s exhausted, Eddie. I mean, really out on her feet. It’s only guts and determination that’s holding her up. I don’t know where she went, or who she had to deal with, to obtain the secrets of the Damnation Way, but she paid a high price.”

“Then we need to get this moving as soon as possible,” I said. “Molly, I need Subway Sue to go with us. Is she up to that?”

“She says she is.” Molly scowled and shrugged. “I can’t tell her no. And you wouldn’t, would you, Eddie?”

“We need her,” I said steadily. “The world needs her.”

“Funny,” said Molly. “It never needed her before.” She looked at me thoughtfully. “And what about me? Do you need me with you, on this? Can you trust me so close to a tower, given my…condition?”

I smiled at her. “I’ll always need you, Molly. Do you really think I’d go anywhere without you?”

“You always were a big softy, Eddie Drood.” And she kissed me hard, right there in front of everyone. Some clapped, a few cheered. Molly finally let go of me and smiled sweetly around her.

Luckily Mr. Stab arrived at that point, strolling casually into the War Room like an unexploded bomb, with the Sarjeant-at-Arms marching right beside him. The Sarjeant had a gun in one hand and his gaze fixed firmly on Mr. Stab, who politely pretended not to notice. After his many exertions in the field, the Sarjeant looked battered and bruised, and somewhat bulkily bandaged here and there, but his back was still straight and his head erect. For him, weakness would always be something that happened to other people. And to be fair, he still looked like he could take on a whole army single-handed and send the survivors running home crying to their mothers. Mr. Stab, it should be said, looked…exactly as he always had. Calm, cold, and completely unruffled. Not a spot of blood on him, or the slightest tear in his Victorian evening wear. Even his top hat gleamed with a smug and civilised air.

I felt like throwing something at it, on general principles.

Instead, I beckoned them both over and explained the situation to them. Mr. Stab frowned slightly at mention of the Damnation Way, as though the name rang a bell with him, but he had nothing to say. The Sarjeant-at-Arms all but crashed to attention before me, his eyes brightening at the prospect of further mayhem.

“Anything, for the family!” he said. “And I have to say, the family’s been so much more fun since you got back, boy.”

He may be a psychopath, I thought, but he’s our psychopath.

“This new mission,” said Mr. Stab. “Will I get to kill more people?”

“Almost certainly,” I said.

“And is there a good chance that I might be killed?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Even better,” said Mr. Stab. “Count me in.”

“Incoming!”

The shout cut across all the War Room chatter, and we all looked around sharply to see where it was coming from. One of the communication staff was standing over his workstation and pointing at it with a trembling finger. The communications officer was quickly at his side, slamming him back into his seat, and then scowling over the man’s shoulder at the information flashing across his screen. All the other communications staff were frantically checking their computers, crystal balls, and scrying pools, and chattering excitedly to each other. A wailing alarm suddenly went off, and the Matriarch immediately ordered it shut down.

“Can’t hear myself think,” she said sharply. “Ah, that’s better. Now, what’s happening? Talk to me, people! What exactly is it that’s incoming?”

“Is the Hall under threat?” I said.

“Looks like it,” said the communications officer. It was Howard Drood, efficient as always, come over from Operations to head the War Room during the attacks on the nests. “Something is trying to force its way into our reality, right here, pushing past all the Hall’s defensive shields. Which I would have said was impossible except for the fact that something is doing it.”

“Could it be Truman, or the Invaders?” I said. “Launching a pre-emptive strike against us?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know! The screens can’t make head or tail of what’s happening.” Howard’s habitual scowl deepened as he studied the monitor screens. “I’ve never seen readings like these… Whatever this is, it’s coming at us like a bat out of hell. It’s already punched through the outer defences, and it’s heading straight for us.”

I flashed back to the old attacks on the Hall, when the Heart was still in residence. We never did find out for sure who was behind them. Had they chosen this moment to attack us again, while we were at our weakest and most vulnerable?

“Strange,” I said. “Talk to me. Do you know who or what this is?”

“No, Eddie.” His voice in my head was surprisingly tentative. “It’s coming from a direction I don’t recognise. From outside everything I understand as reality. It’s not very large, but it does seem to be very determined. And no, Eddie, I can’t keep it out.”

Giles Deathstalker had his long sword out, and was looking around for an enemy. Not to be outdone, the Sarjeant called up a gun in each hand.

“Put those away!” the Matriarch snapped immediately. “You can’t have weapons in the War Room! You might damage the equipment.”

Giles sheathed his sword and bowed. The Sarjeant-at-Arms made his guns disappear again, and folded his arms tightly with a definite Look at me I’m not sulking even though I have cause expression on his face. The Matriarch sighed audibly.

“Don’t just stand there, Sarjeant! Armour up! Everyone, armour up!”

She had a point. We all subvocalised the activating Words, and just like that the War Room was full of gleaming golden figures. It felt good to be back in the gold again, to feel strong and fast and sharp. Sometimes putting on the armour is like snapping fully awake from a long doze. Everyone not preoccupied at a workstation peered suspiciously about them, ready for action, golden blades and other weapons extruding silently from golden fists. There was a rising tension in the War Room, a strong feeling of something coming, pressing inexorably closer. We could all feel it, pressing in on us from all sides at once. Molly stood close beside me, her arms lifted in the stance of summoning, ready to throw seriously nasty magics at anything even remotely threatening. Mr. Stab looked…politely interested. And the Armourer, not surprisingly, had pulled a really powerful-looking weapon out of nowhere and was swivelling it back and forth in search of a target, while everyone else hurried to get out of his way.

Heaven help anyone who dares to face the Droods on their own territory.

A rising babble of voices filled the War Room as the various technicians struggled to understand what was happening. Whatever was coming slammed through layer after layer of protections, and the tension in the air was almost physically painful. Martha Drood, back in armour for the first time I could remember, moved from station to station, peering over shoulders and dispensing a cautionary word or a bracing murmur, as required. If she was reduced to rallying the troops, we really were in trouble. A rising tone rang out on the air, sharp and distinct, as though approaching from somewhere inconceivably far away. “It’s here!” Howard shouted. “It’s materialising!”

“Where?” said Martha. “Where exactly in the Hall?”

“Here!” screamed Howard. “Right here in the bloody War Room!” The rising note peaked, a shuddering vibration that reverberated inside all our heads, despite the shielding armour. We all clapped useless hands over our ears and staggered back and forth, and then we all flinched back as the world itself split apart in the very centre of the War Room… and Janissary Jane came through. She threw herself through the gap, her combat fatigues blackened and scorched and actually on fire in places. Explosions and brilliant lights and raised angry voices spilled out of the split in the air, and then all of it was cut off as the split slammed together again. The tension in the air was gone in a moment, and we all armoured down just a little sheepishly as Janissary Jane stood shaking and breathless before us. She was weeping violently, and looked like she’d fought her way through Hell itself to get back to us. She raised a bruised face, sniffed back tears, and glared at me triumphantly, and then she sat down suddenly on the floor, as though the last of the strength had just gone out of her legs.

“All right!” I yelled, glaring about me. “Everyone calm down! The emergency is over. I know who this is. Concentrate all your attention on reinstating our defences, and making sure no one followed her from… wherever the hell that was.” I moved forward and knelt down beside Janissary Jane. She was shuddering violently now, and breathing hard. Her eyes weren’t tracking properly. “Jane?” I said. “It’s me, Eddie. Are you all right?”

She did look pretty bad, up close. Her army fatigues had been burned away in places, and were soaked with blood from a dozen nasty-looking wounds. Parts of her battle armour looked to be half melted. Her face kept going slack, as pain and stress and exhaustion caught up with her. When the last of the adrenaline coursing through her ran out, she was going to crash, and hard. I needed to get answers out of her now, while I still could. I grabbed her by the shoulders, made her look at me, and said her name again, and her head jerked up as though I’d pulled her out of a deep sleep.

“Eddie. I made it back. Damn…”

“I saw the note you left pinned to your door with a knife,” I said, trying for a light touch. “So, did you find us some really big guns?”

“The biggest,” said Janissary Jane, trying for a smile and not quite bringing it off. “Remember, Eddie, I told you about the last demon war I fought in? The one where some damned fools accidentally opened a hellgate, and an army of demons came flooding out?”

“Yes,” I said, my heart suddenly sinking. I really didn’t like where this was going. “In the end, things got so bad you had to use a superweapon to destroy the whole universe, so the demons couldn’t use it as a base to invade other universes. I remember. I still have nightmares.”

“This is it,” said Janissary Jane. “The superweapon. The last resort. The Deplorable End.”

She held it out to me on the palm of a surprisingly steady hand. The weapon didn’t actually look like much, but then, the really nasty ones often don’t. The Deplorable End was just a flat silver box, dull and lifeless, with a red button on top. It barely filled Jane’s palm, but there was still… something about it. The more I looked at it, the more uneasy I felt, as though a large and dangerous animal had just entered the room. I studied the box carefully, and had enough sense not to try to touch it. The Armourer had come forward and was peering over my shoulder at it, breathing hard in his excitement.

“Now that is impressive,” he said. “You don’t see craft and workmanship like that often, these days. How many spatial dimensions has it got? I keep losing count. And the energy signatures are off the scale… You have got to let me get that down to the Armoury and take it apart.”

“No, Uncle Jack,” I said firmly.

“Oh come on, I’ve got this really cool hyper-hammer I’ve being dying to try out…”

“No, Uncle Jack! Have you stopped taking your medication again? Jane, what is that, exactly? What does it do?”

“Simple to operate,” she said, her voice dull and lifeless. Her eyes were drooping shut again as the last of her strength went out of her. “Just press the button, and…Boom.”

“No more tower?” I said hopefully.

“No more anything,” said Jane, blinking owlishly. “No more universe. And no, you don’t get a timer. The Deplorable End is a one-time-only deal. What I’ve got here is the original device, the prototype. We used a somewhat improved version to put an end to the demon war. What I’ve brought you is, therefore, technically speaking, untested. But it should work. No reason I know of why it shouldn’t.” She slowly lowered her hand, as though the awful thing squatting on her palm were getting heavier. “I stole this, from the Multiversal Mercenaries’ Black Museum. I had to kill a lot of people to get this to you, Eddie. Some of them were friends, once. But now I have closed the book and burned all my boats … I can never go back. So don’t you ever give me cause to regret this, Drood.”

“How does it work?” I said, because you have to say something.

“Like you’d understand, even if I could explain it,” said Janissary Jane, with some of her old force in her voice. “I don’t need to know how weapons work. I’m a mercenary, not a mechanic. But I’m told it’s a largely conceptual weapon. What we’ve got here is a hyperspatial key, activating the real weapon, which is hidden away in some other dimensional fold, just waiting to be unleashed. When pressed, the button on the box gives the weapon the target coordinates and…Boom! There you have it. Or rather, there you suddenly don’t. One less universe to trouble the gaze of God. The Deplorable End, for everyone and everything.”

“But, basically, it’s just an untested prototype,” I said carefully. “So there is a small but nonetheless definite chance that it might not, actually, work? As such?”

“It’s a last resort,” Janissary Jane said tiredly. “When you’ve tried absolutely everything, and the Hungry Gods are coming through to eat all there is that lives…then the Deplorable End is your last chance for revenge. Away to take the bastards down with you, and to make sure no other universes will have to face the horrors we did.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as exhaustion finally took her. I gingerly took the gleaming metal box from her hand and had her taken away to the infirmary to get some rest. By the time she woke up, I hoped, it would all be over, one way or another. Though, if things went really bad, it might be a mercy if she never woke up …

I held the end of the world on my palm. It hardly weighed a thing. The Armourer peered closely at it, but didn’t attempt to touch it.

“I wonder who made it?” he said, almost wistfully.

“Armourer!” said the Matriarch, and the sharp authority in her voice snapped his head around immediately. He moved quickly over to join her and she fixed him with a cold, implacable stare. “Armourer, I hereby authorise you to open the Armageddon Codex. We have need of the forbidden weapons. Bring out Sunwrack, the Time Hammer, the Juggernaut Jumpsuit, and Winter’s Sorrow, and ready them for use.”

“No!” I said immediately, and my voice cracked so sharply across the Matriarch’s that everyone in the War Room stopped what they were doing to look at both of us. I went over to join the Armourer and the Matriarch, carefully not hurrying. I stared directly into Martha’s cold eyes, not flinching one little bit. “Not yet, Grandmother. We can’t use any of the forbidden weapons against the Invaders until they’re actually in our reality, and a clash of such powerful forces would almost certainly tear our world apart. With no guarantee the weapons would destroy the Hungry Gods anyway. We save the Armageddon Codex for when all our plans have failed. And I’m not out of plans yet.”

“The Deplorable End would destroy the whole universe, not just this world,” said the Matriarch, not giving an inch.

“Trust me,” I said. “I have no intention of blowing up the universe. I’ve got a much better idea. If I should fail in my mission…then it’s up to you. But for now, trust me… Grandmother.”

“Well,” said the Matriarch after a moment. “Just this once, Edwin.”

She actually managed a small smile for me, and I smiled back. And then, as if things weren’t already complicated enough, the ghost of Jacob Drood and the living Jay Drood decided it was time they made their appearance. All the time I was talking with the Matriarch I had the feeling someone was watching me. I finally looked around, and my gaze fell on the Merlin Glass, currently showing a reflection of the War Room. But there was something wrong with the image in the mirror, and when I strode over to study it, I realised there were too many people in it. In the mirror’s reflection, Jacob and Jay were standing behind me, grinning at me over my shoulder. I looked behind me, but there was no one there. I looked back at the mirror, and there they were. It gave me the shivers. Especially when the two of them shouldered past my reflected image, strode forward, and stepped out of the mirror into the War Room. I had to backpedal fast to get out of their way. People jumped and yelled and even screamed, and Jacob and Jay grinned and sniggered and elbowed each other as though they’d just pulled off a particularly clever and childish trick. I had to take a deep breath just to get my heartbeat back to something like normal.

Jacob was now wearing an old-fashioned bottle green engine driver’s uniform, complete with peaked cap, with the front of his silver-buttoned jacket hanging open to reveal a T-shirt bearing the legend Engineers Get You There Quicker. He looked very sharp and focused, with hardly any blue-gray trails of ectoplasm following him when he moved. Jay was back in the full finery of his original period and looked almost as excited as his future ghostly self, but there was something in his eyes … I folded my arms across my chest and gave them both my best hard stare.

“Nice trick,” I said coldly. “I’ll bear it in mind for if we ever need to give someone a coronary. I didn’t know you could do that, Jacob.”

“You’d be surprised at what you can do when you’re dead, boy,” Jacob said cheerfully. “It’s really very liberating.”

Jay looked severely at his future self. “I’m boasting again and I do wish I wouldn’t. We have a plan to save the day, Eddie.”

“Of course,” I said. “Doesn’t everyone? Does your plan by any chance involve blowing up the whole damned universe?”

“Well, no,” said Jay. “Not as such.”

“I like it already,” I said.

“Oh, you tell him, Jacob,” said Jay. “You know you’re dying to, and you’ll only butt in and interrupt if I try. I apparently become very grumpy after my death.”

“Try hanging around this family for centuries,” Jacob growled. “They could make a pope swear and throw things. Listen, Eddie, we have a way to stop the Invaders in their tracks. We’re going to use the Time Train.”

“You’ve only just started describing your plan, and already I hate it,” I said. “Going back in time to undo present events never works. Never never never. It always ends up causing more problems than it solves.”

“Do calm down, Eddie,” said Jay. “Your face has gone a very funny colour, and it really can’t be good for you.”

“We are not going back in time to stop the Invaders before they start their plans against us,” Jacob said patiently. “I know enough about time travel to know that wouldn’t work. I watch television. No, we’ve got a much better idea. We’re going to use the Time Train to sneak up on the Invaders’ home dimension, and attack them from the one direction they won’t be expecting: the past!”

“Run that by me again,” I said. “I think I fell off at the corner.”

“It’s really very simple,” said Jay.

“No it isn’t,” I said. “No explanation that begins that way ever is.”

“Look,” said Jacob, prodding me firmly in the chest with a surprisingly solid finger. “The Invaders come from a higher dimension than ours, right? That means to them, time is just another direction to move in. We can use the Time Train to access their dimension and attack their homeworld from the past! They’ll never see us coming!”

“They’re bound to have hidden their homeworld,” said Jay, “inside some pocket universe or dimensional fold, confident no lesser beings from some lower dimension could ever find it. But Jacob is dead, while I’m still alive, and together we can see things no one else can.”

“Only we could hope to survive the stresses of a time journey like this,” said Jacob. “Because we’re the same person in two different states of existence. It has to be us, Eddie. Tony’s already reworked the engine so it will soak up time energies as it travels. So that when we finally get to the Invaders’ homeworld… we can drive the Train into it at full speed and release all the time energies at once, blowing the whole nasty place apart like a firecracker in a rotten apple!”

“End of homeworld, end of Invaders!” said Jay.

“An interesting plan,” I had to admit. “Even if my mind does seem to just slide off the edges when I try to grasp it. But are you sure you can find the Hungry Gods’ homeworld?”

“You can’t hide things from the dead,” said Jacob. He looked at Molly and then at me, and didn’t say anything.

“You have to let us try,” said Jay. “This… is how I die. Jacob finally remembered. I don’t mind, really. It’s… a good death. Spitting in the face of the enemy, saving the innocent; for the family. A Drood’s death.”

“And this is what I’ve waited for, all this time,” said Jacob. “This is my end, at last. None of you here could hope to do this. Only me, and me. Jay dies striking down our enemies, and somehow ends up here, in the past, as the family ghost, waiting to do it again. And I… finally get to go on, to whatever’s next. I’m quite looking forward to it. I’ve grown awfully thin, down the centuries, and I’m really very tired.”

“Go for it,” I said. “The Time Train is all yours.”

“You still have to keep the Invaders occupied, distracted, so they won’t think to look for us coming,” said Jay.

“I think we can do that,” I said.

Martha surprised me then, by stepping forward to face Jacob. “Go with God, Jacob,” she said. “I shall miss you.”

He grinned crookedly. “Then you should aim better. Good-bye, great-great-great-great-granddaughter.” He looked around the War Room. “You are all my children, my descendents, and I have always been so very proud of you.”

He and Jay turned as one and strode back into the reflection in the Merlin Glass. For a moment they moved eerily among our watching reflections, and then the image in the Glass changed to show them walking through the old hangar at the back of the Hall. They climbed up into the gleaming black cab of the Time Engine and waved good-bye to Tony, who waved back with tears in his eyes, knowing he’d never see his beloved Ivor again. Jacob manipulated the controls with professional skill, while Jay shovelled crystallised tachyons into the boiler with fierce nervous energy. He was going to his death, and he knew it; and knowing he was coming back as Jacob probably didn’t help.

Ivor lurched suddenly forward. The time pressure peaked and Jacob put the hammer down. The Time Train accelerated forward, disappearing at speed in a direction no human eye could follow; and just like that, they were gone.

I waited for a moment, looking around me, but nothing changed. So I just got on with my own plan. What else could I do?

Molly and Subway Sue took my small group off to a relatively quiet corner of the War Room so they could explain the Damnation Way to us. There was a certain amount of disagreement between them over details, the two of them almost coming to blows over certain obscure references and sources until I separated them, but they seemed firm enough on the main outline. They started at the beginning, which turned out not to be the Damnation Way itself.

“You see,” said Subway Sue, “in order to understand that, you have to understand the Rainbow Run.”

“The Rainbow Run is an expression, or manifestation, of the old Wild Magic,” said Molly. “A race against time and destiny, to save the day. It’s not given to many to attempt it, and even fewer survive to see it through successfully to the end. I don’t know anyone who’s even tried since Arthurian times. But it is said…that anyone who can run the hidden way, follow the Rainbow to its End, will find their heart’s desire. If they’re strong enough, in heart and soul and will.”

“It’s not how fast you run,” said Subway Sue. “It’s how badly you need it. How much you’re prepared to endure … to run down the Rainbow is not given to everyone. And there are those who say that what you find at the Rainbow’s End isn’t necessarily what you want, but what you need.”

“The Rainbow Run is an ancient ritual,” said Molly. “Older than history.”

“Older than the family?” I said.

“Older than humanity, probably,” said Molly. “It’s … an archetype, a primal thing, spanning realities. A thing of dreams and glories, grail quests and honour satisfied. One last chance to defy the Dark, and snatch victory for the Light. Or so they say.”

“Who created it?” I said.

“Who knows?” said Subway Sue. “This is the old Wild Magic we’re talking about. Some things… just are. Because they’re needed.”

“So…why can’t we use the Rainbow Run, instead of the Damnation Way?” I said.

Molly and Subway Sue looked at each other. “Because we don’t know how to find it,” Molly said quietly. “We’re not…good enough, pure enough.”

“The Damnation Way is the underside, the dark reflection of the Rainbow Run,” said Subway Sue. “The other face of some unimaginable coin.”

“Look,” said Molly. “Forget the spiritual crap, and keep it simple. The Many-Angled Ones, the Hungry Gods, come from a higher dimension, right? Well, if there are higher dimensions than ours, then it stands to reason that there must also be lesser, lower dimensions. The broken universes, where natural laws never really got their act together. The Damnation Way can take us through one such world. And you don’t run there, you walk. For as long as it takes. This isn’t about speed, it’s about stamina.”

I could feel myself scowling. No one else was saying anything. They were all looking at me. “We really don’t have a lot of time,” I said. “Truman’s tower is pretty much complete, and probably activating even as we speak. The Hungry Gods could come through any time now.”

“And you have no other means of getting into Truman’s base,” said Molly. “His defences will keep out anything, except the Damnation Way.”

“Time means something different in the lower universes,” said Subway Sue. “Theoretically, we should emerge inside Truman’s base at exactly the same moment as we leave here.”

I could feel my scowl deepening. “Yeah, that worked out really well with the Time Train…”

“That was science; this is magic,” Molly said quickly. “The Damnation Way follows ancient laws, written into the bedrock of reality itself.”

“Oh…what the hell,” I said. I had to stop scowling because it was making my head hurt. “We have to get to the tower, and I don’t see any other way.” I looked at the others: Mr. Stab and the Sarjeant-at-Arms and Giles Deathstalker. “Given the… uncertain nature of what we’re about to do, I don’t feel right about ordering you to join me. I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t think I had to. So this is strictly volunteers only. Anyone wants to say no, or even Hell no, I quite understand.” I looked from face to face, but they all stared calmly back. Giles looked ready for action, as always, the Sarjeant looked ready for a fight, and Mr. Stab…looked like he always looked.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Time to save the world, again.”

To enter the Damnation Way, it turned out, you have to go down. All the way down. Molly and Subway Sue worked old magic together, swaying and chanting in tongues inside a chalked circle. The Armourer watched closely, fascinated. Giles Deathstalker watched with a curled lip, as though he didn’t really expect anything to happen. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but even so I was startled when a standard, very ordinary elevator rose calmly up out of the floor in front of Sue and Molly. The thing pinged importantly to announce its arrival, and then the doors slid open, revealing a standard elevator interior. I walked around the door a few times. From the front; a waiting elevator. From the back; it wasn’t there. Giles walked around it a few times too, muttering about subspace engineering and pocket dimensions. Whatever kept him happy.

Martha glared at the elevator that had just appeared inside her nice normal War Room. “Why didn’t that…thing set off any of our alarms?”

“Because it’s not really here, as such,” said Molly. “I mean, it’s a magical construct that just looks like an elevator because that’s a concept our limited minds can cope with.”

“Your senses aren’t equipped to recognise things like this,” said Subway Sue. “So they show you…the nearest equivalent.”

“Right!” said Molly. “This is really old magic, remember, Wild Magic, from when we all lived in the forest.”

“I still don’t see why it has to look like an elevator,” I said, just a bit sulkily, feeling way out of my depth.

“Group mind consensus,” Molly said briskly. “Be grateful. It could have come as an escalator. Hate those things.”

I sighed, deeply and meaningfully, and stepped cautiously inside the elevator. The steel floor was firm under my feet, and the mirrored walls showed I was scowling again. I tried hard not to, in case it upset the troops. They followed me in, with various amounts of confidence, and when we were all in we filled the damn thing from wall to wall, with hardly any room to move, unless one of us breathed in to make a bit of space. Molly made a point of pressing her breasts against my chest, for which I was quietly grateful. The doors closed unhurriedly, and without any instruction or warning, the elevator started down.

We seemed to descend for a long, long time. I could feel the movement, sense it in my bones and in my water, even though the elevator made no sound and had no controls or indicators. It grew slowly hotter inside the elevator, until we were all sweating profusely and trying unsuccessfully to back away from each other. And then the heat just vanished, gone in a moment, and the temperature in the confined space plummeted, growing colder and colder, until our breath steamed on the air and we all huddled together to share our body warmth. And then that was gone too, and I felt neither hot nor cold, as though we had left such things behind us.

Then, the sounds. From outside the steel walls came noises, from far away at first, then drawing inexorably closer. Roars of rage, howls and screams, and something very like laughter, but not quite. Basic, primal emotions given voice, without the burden or restraint of conscious thought. The horrid empty voices we hear in childhood nightmares, from things we know would hurt us, if they could only find us… The voices sank into words, and that was worse, as though plague or fate or evil had learned to talk. They circled the descending elevator, coming at us from this side and that, rushing in and falling back, threatening and pleading, mocking and begging, trying to persuade us to open the elevator doors and let them in. I can’t remember exactly what they said, and I’m glad.

Some of us tried putting our hands over our ears, to keep the voices out, but it didn’t work. We weren’t hearing them with our ears.

We left the voices behind, their cheated screams receding into the distance, and after that there was only silence, and the descent, and the feeling of something really bad drawing slowly closer. At the end, there was no sensation of stopping. The elevator doors just slid open, without cause or warning, and the standard colourless light spilled out onto a terrible darkling plain. None of us moved. It didn’t feel safe. What we could see of the world outside was dark and dismal, the only light a deep dull purple, like a bruise. I moved reluctantly forward, stepping out of the elevator, and one by one the others followed me. A terrible, grinding oppression fell across me the moment I left the comfortingly normal light of the elevator, as though I was suddenly carrying all the troubles of the world on my shoulders. There was no sound anywhere, as such, but something like an unending roll of thunder growled in the air, like a long bass note you could only hear with your soul, like a threatened storm you somehow knew had been on its way forever.

We all stood together, keeping close just for the comfort of living company in the face of this dead or dying world. We didn’t belong in a place like this, and we all knew it. And then the elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the bright, healthy light, and we all spun around just in time to see the elevator disappearing down into the cracked stone ground; leaving us alone in the awful place it had brought us to. A purple stained plain that seemed to stretch away forever in whatever direction I looked.

It felt…like the end of the world. A darkling plain under an endless night. Up above, a bloodred moon hung low in the sky, where one by one the stars were going out. Already there were great dark gaps in the unfamiliar constellations. The endless plain was bare stone, marked here and there with huge craters, long jagged cracks, and deep crevices. Like the bottom of the ocean, after all the seas have boiled away. There was a crevice nearby, a long jagged line with crumbling edges. I moved over to it and stared down into the gap. It seemed to just fall away forever. I made some kind of sound, and Molly was quickly there to take my arm and pull me back from the edge. As though the sound of my voice had triggered something, strange twisting vegetation, rough creepers with huge dark leaves covered with pulsing red veins, curled slowly up out of the crevice. Molly and I backed away, and the twitching plants tried to follow us, but already they were rotting and falling apart. Alive and dying at the same time, as though they hadn’t developed enough to hold a form properly.

Other cracks and crevices held crimson magma, seething sluggishly, but even though they weren’t that deep, the magma’s heat didn’t rise up to the surface, as though the heat lacked the strength to travel that far. The air itself was thin, and disturbingly lacking in any smell. I clapped my hands sharply, and there was no echo. I was pretty sure the sound wouldn’t travel far either. We all stuck close together, looking around us, because we were the only living things in this running-down world.

“This is the place where quests fail,” Subway Sue said quietly. “Where love is always unrequited, promises are broken, and only bad dreams come true.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to succeed in our mission?” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. He sounded like he wanted to be angry, but it was just too much of an effort.

“We brought something of our own universe with us,” said Molly. “Enough to give us a fighting chance. But the longer we stay here, the sooner that insulation will wear away. We really need to get moving.”

“This is the broken world,” said Subway Sue, almost hypnotised. “The shoddy lands, the abandoned territory…”

“All right,” I said. “You’re starting to get on my nerves now, Sue. This is a bad place; got it. Now get over it, and tell me where the hell we’re supposed to head for.”

She looked at me with big, unfocused eyes. “Say the name, Eddie Drood. Say the name of where you want to get to.”

“Just do it, Eddie,” Molly murmured in my ear. “She’s more in tune with this place than I am. She understands the hidden ways; they talk to her.”

“We need to get inside Truman’s base under Stonehenge,” I announced, speaking clearly and distinctly into the silence, and feeling just a bit silly. My words didn’t echo. They seemed to fall flat and lifeless on the still air.

“There!” said Subway Sue, pointing off to one side with a sharp finger. “There is our destination.”

Far off in the distance, a beam of light stabbed up into the dying sky like a beacon. It was bright and clear and glorious, very definitely not a natural part of this world. It shone like hope, like a promise…like a way out.

“This is a dying world,” Giles Deathstalker said unexpectedly. “Where entropy is king.”

“Don’t you start,” I said firmly.

I have no idea how long we walked, under that bloody moon and the disappearing stars, across that sere and blasted plain. The night never ended, landmarks were few and far between, and we soon discovered none of our watches worked. But it felt like forever. I did my best to set a steady pace, leading from the front, circling around the deep craters and jumping across the cracks and crevices. The ground was hard-packed and unyielding under my feet, but strangely there was hardly any impact, no matter how hard I stamped. We made no sound as we walked, and our few conversations seemed to just trail away to nothing, until even the impulse to talk faded away, set against such an overwhelming silence. So we trudged on across the endless plain, while the grinding silence wore away at our thoughts and emotions and plans. Until only slow, dogged determination kept me moving, a simple refusal to be beaten by this awful place.

At some point, we passed a long row of overpoweringly huge stone structures that might have been buildings. Tall as skyscrapers, fashioned from some faintly shimmering, unfamiliar stone. They towered over us like brooding giants, strange, disturbing shapes with deep-set caverns up the sides like so many dark, watchful eyes. The lower reaches were covered with long curling displays of unreadable glyphs. Threats, or warnings, or perhaps just Do not forget us. We lived here and built these things, despite the nature of our world.

And yet somehow these solid signs of life gave no comfort; there was in the end a feeling of cold malice about them, as though whatever ugly things had lived in these ugly shapes would have resented our presence, our purpose, our life. We kept walking, and eventually we left the stone structures behind us.

“Is this what Hell is like?” I said to Molly at some point.

“No,” she said. “Hell is more alive than this.”

As though encouraged by the sound of voices, Mr. Stab abruptly announced, “Something is watching us.”

I stopped, and the others stopped with me. We looked around. Just cracks and crevices and craters.

“Are you sure?” said Molly, frowning.

“No, he’s right,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. The more we all talked, the less of an effort it was. “I’ve been feeling watching eyes on us for ages. Haven’t seen anything, though.”

“We are definitely being observed,” said Mr. Stab. His voice was entirely calm and easy, as though proposing tea on the lawn.

“Yes,” said Subway Sue. “There’s something here with us. I can feel it… I told you something had come to live here, and prey on travellers. That’s why people stopped using the Damnation Way.”

“Maybe you should have just changed the name,” I said. “Advertising is everything these days.”

“Not now, Eddie,” said Molly.

Giles Deathstalker drew his long sword and turned slowly around in a full circle. “They’re here. Close. Close and deadly.”

“But who the hell would want to live in a place like this?” said Molly.

We moved to form a circle, shoulder to shoulder, facing outwards. I felt suddenly more awake and alert, as though shaking off a long doze. I glared out across the endless plain, the dull and sullen purple stone, but nothing moved anywhere. Whatever was here had to be pretty powerful, and decidedly dangerous. From what Subway Sue had said, some fairly major players had used this route, and never showed up at the other end. I was looking for something big and impressive and obviously deadly; I should have known better.

This was a dying world, after all. And what do dead and dying bodies attract? Scavengers, parasites, carrion eaters.

They came up out of the cracks and craters, crawling and creeping, on two legs and four, swarming across the dead ground towards us. They were all around us, running and leaping, wave after wave of them, seething like maggots in an open wound. I didn’t know if they originated in this place, or came here from somewhere else, but the nature of this place had got to them. They looked like they were aspiring to be human, but falling short. They looked rough, unfinished, the details of their bodies blurred or corrupted or missing. They didn’t even have faces, just phosphorescent, rotting eyes and sharp-toothed circular mouths, like lampreys.

They surged forward from every side, and there seemed no end to their numbers. I subvocalised my activating Words, but nothing happened. I tried them again, but my armour didn’t respond. I looked at the Sarjeant-at-Arms, and the shock in his face told me all I needed to know. He made grasping motions with his hands, trying to summon the guns that came to him by right, and nothing happened. Molly raised her arms in the stance of summoning, and then looked at me blankly as nothing happened.

“It’s this place,” said Subway Sue. “Complicated magics can’t work here. Or complicated sciences. The disintegrating laws of reality can’t support them. That’s why so many major players never made it out of here. We’re helpless. Defenceless.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Giles Deathstalker. He swept his long sword back and forth before him. “A strong right arm, a good blade, and a forthright heart always work.”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Stab, his long blade suddenly in his hand.

Molly reached down into the tops of her boots and pulled out two slender silver blades. “Arthames,” she said crisply. “Witch daggers. I mostly use them for ceremonial work, but they’re no less sharp and nasty for that.”

She handed one to me. It felt surprisingly heavy for such a delicate-looking thing. The Sarjeant-at-Arms pulled a long blade with jagged edges out of his sleeve.

“Albanian punch dagger,” he said. “Always a good idea to have a little surprise in reserve. For when you absolutely have to kill every living thing that annoys you.”

“Knives won’t work,” said Subway Sue hollowly. “Swords won’t work. There’s just too many of them. We’re all going to die here. Like everybody else.”

“I think this place is getting to you,” said Molly. “Stay behind me and you’ll be fine.”

“Numbers are never any guarantee of success,” said Giles. “Any trained soldier knows that. Stand your ground, make every blow count, remember your training, and you’ll be fine. A trained soldier with a blade is a match for any number of unarmed rabble.”

We stood shoulder to shoulder, our weapons held out before us. Subway Sue sat down suddenly inside the circle and covered her face with her hands. The scavengers were running towards us, bounding across the broken ground, driving forward from every side at once. Wave upon wave, in numbers too great to count. If there’d been anywhere to run, I’d have run. But the bright pillar of light seemed as far away as ever, and we were surrounded. So all that was left was to stand and fight, and, if need be, die well.

Hopefully, someone else would find a way to get to the tower in time, and stop it. I wished…well. There were so many things I wished I’d done, or said. So many things I meant to do … but I suppose that’s always true, no matter when you die. I glanced at Molly, and we shared one last sweet, savage smile. And then the scavengers hit us.

They reached Giles first, and he cut them down with effortless ease. His long blade swept back and forth as though it was weightless, the incredibly keen edge slicing through flesh and bone alike. Dark blood spurted and the scavengers fell, but they never made a sound. Giles laughed happily, doing what he did best, and glorying in it. Mr. Stab reached out casually with his blade, cutting throats, piercing bellies, stabbing eyes with graceful skill. He smiled too, but there was no human emotion in his eyes, only a dark, desperate need forever unsatisfied. The Sarjeant-at-Arms stamped and thrust with brutal efficiency, killing everything that came within reach. He was frowning, as though engaged in necessary, distasteful work.

Molly and I fought side by side, hacking and stabbing at the horribly unfinished creatures that kept looming up before us. The scavengers had no sense of tactics, or even self-preservation. They just came at us with clawed hands brittle as dead twigs, their rotting eyes glowing, dark saliva dripping from their circular mouths. There was nothing in them but the need to kill and feed. To drag us down and tear us apart, and never know or care who it was they were destroying.

The dead piled up around us, the flesh already decaying, the dark blood eagerly soaked up by the parched stone ground. My whole body ached from the strain of wielding the silver blade without pause or rest, of hacking and cutting through flesh like mud, that seemed to suck and catch at the blade. I was bruised and cut, my clothes torn, sweat and blood running down my face. I could hear Molly breathing harshly beside me, and Giles singing some obscure battle song to my other side. There was something almost inhuman about his cheerful refusal to be stopped or even slowed by the impossible numbers set before him. He killed and killed, and was always ready for more, like a starving man at a feast. It crossed my mind then that, in some ways, Giles Deathstalker was even scarier than Mr. Stab.

And then suddenly, as though some unheard cry had been given, the scavengers retreated. One moment they were attacking with all their silent fury, and the next they were scrabbling away across the dried-up plain, falling back like a retreating tide. Giles flicked drops of black blood off his long blade, and then leaned on it. He looked around him, smiling at the piled-up bodies littered around us, and then nodded briefly, as though contemplating a good day’s work. Molly and I leaned on each other, breathing hard.

“They’ll be back,” Subway Sue said from behind us. I turned and glared at her.

“We have to get out of here. There must be a way. Find it!”

“Yes,” Sue said slowly. “I have been communing with this place. It speaks to me. One of us must make a stand here, so the others can get to the light.”

“What?” said Molly. “Where did that come from?”

Subway Sue looked at her tiredly. “I know the ways of hidden paths. I can see the rules here, written into the dying world. If we all stay, we all die. One of us must make a stand, sacrifice themselves for the sake of the others. So they can go.”

“We should draw lots,” said Giles.

“No,” Sue said immediately. “It has to be a willing sacrifice. A positive act, set against the entropy of this place. It’s not how far you walk, here. You could walk all the days of your life, and never reach the light. But you can draw it to you by a noble act. So which of us is ready to die, so the others can live?”

“There has to be another way,” said Molly. “We don’t abandon our own people. Tell them, Eddie!”

“I’ll stay,” I said.

“What?” Molly looked at me numbly.

“I’ll stay,” I said. “This was my mission, my idea. My responsibility.”

“No it isn’t!” Molly glared round at the others. “Tell him!”

“You can’t stay, Edwin,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms calmly. “The family needs you to take down Truman and destroy the tower. You’re the man, these days. So I’ll stay. I said anything for the family, and the world, and I meant it. You’re all going to be needed, where you’re going. You’re special. I’m not.”

“Sarjeant,” I said, but he cut me off with a look.

“Eddie, I want this. I want what I do to matter, for once. To be the hero, not just the one who trains them and sends them out. I always dreamed of a last stand like this, defying impossible odds for a noble cause. To save the family, and the world. So, get them out of here, Eddie. Take down Truman and the tower. Make the family proud.”

He walked off without waiting for an answer, heading straight for the nearest group of scavengers. They watched him coming from their craters and crevices, and stirred uneasily. I gathered up the others and we left him behind as we headed for the shining pillar of light, already speeding towards us. I heard the scavengers scrabbling up out of their hiding places behind us, but I didn’t look back. The pillar of light swept through the surrounding scavengers, summoned by the price of a willing sacrifice. It flared up before us, promising hope and life and a way out. But not for the Sarjeant-at-Arms. Molly and Subway Sue plunged forward into the brilliant light and disappeared, followed by Giles and Mr. Stab. And only I paused to look back and see the Sarjeant standing firm against a living tide of flailing, clawing scavengers. He cut savagely about him, throwing bodies to every side with the force of his blows. He stood firm right up to the moment when they swarmed all over him and dragged him down, and he disappeared from sight. He never cried out once. And only then did I step into the light.

And that was how Cyril Drood died, fighting his enemies to the end, dying as a Drood should. For the family. And the whole, damned, uncaring world.

When the light died away, I was back in my own world. It was night, but the moon was bright and full, and the sky was packed full of stars that might last for millennia yet. My wounds were healed, and I felt strong again. The air was bracingly cool, rich with scents, a pleasure to breath. I stamped my feet on the dewy grass, delighting in its solid presence beneath me. The whole night felt alive, and so did I.

I looked around, and realised for the first time that the others weren’t even looking at me. They were gathered around a body lying on the ground. I hurried over to them. Molly was kneeling on the grass beside Subway Sue, who was dead. No mark on her; the scavengers didn’t get her. But dead, just the same. Molly looked up at me.

“Sue didn’t make it,” she said dully. “Too much strain, too much magic; she never was strong.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Not your fault,” said Molly. “She volunteered.” She rose awkwardly to her feet. “We’ll come back for you, Sue. Later. We have work to do.”

“She’ll be fine here,” I said, because you have to say something.

Molly looked at me sharply. “Sue was my friend. She wasn’t always like this. You never saw her in her prime, rich and glamorous and a name to be reckoned with.”

“I know,” I said.

“She was my friend,” said Molly. “She only got involved in this because I asked her to.”

“Yes,” I said. “Lot of that going around.”

“The Sarjeant was a good man,” said Giles Deathstalker. “He knew his duty, and he stood his ground.”

“Of course,” I said. “He was a Drood.”

I looked around again. We were in a great grassy field looking out over Stonehenge, about half a mile away. There was no sign of Harry or Roger, or any of Truman’s Accelerated Men.

“We have arrived only a moment after we departed,” said Giles.

“How can you tell?” said Molly. “Even I can’t read the night sky that accurately.”

“I can tell because the clock implanted in my head just started working again,” said Giles.

“Smart arse,” said Molly. She looked at me. “I wonder how Jacob and Jay are getting on?”

“I doubt we’ll ever know,” I said. “It was one hell of a long shot. Either way, we can’t depend on them to save the day; we’re here, so it’s up to us.”

“There’s an entrance to an underground bunker, not far away,” Mr. Stab announced suddenly. He pointed confidently out into the gloom. He realised we were all staring at him and smiled briefly. “I have many abilities,” he said calmly. “I just don’t choose to display them unnecessarily. Shall we go?”

“By all means,” I said. “Lead the way.”

He nodded and strode off across the great open field, and we all followed. I was quite happy to have him lead. With the Sarjeant gone, I didn’t want Mr. Stab behind me. He might be a part of this mission, but I was never going to trust him. Not after Penny. He stopped abruptly, staring down at a part of the field that appeared no different than any other. And then he stamped twice, hard, and a large section of grass lifted slowly upwards as he stepped back, revealing a dark tunnel leading down. Mr. Stab started forward, but I stopped him and took back the lead, while giving Molly a significant look. If this really was a way into Truman’s bunker, I didn’t want Mr. Stab up front, making decisions for the rest of us. Molly could keep an eye on him.

Electric lights came on as we entered the tunnel, triggered by some hidden sensor. The walls were curving beaten steel, gleaming dully. Truman had a thing about steel. Personally, I figured he’d just seen too many James Bond movies. But then, so had I. We walked down the steel corridor, which gave way to another, equally stark and bare and unadorned. Our feet clattered loudly on the grilled floor, and I half expected armed guards to appear at any moment, but no one came to investigate. No alarms, no raised voices… nothing. The whole place was unnaturally quiet. Molly pushed in beside me, glaring about her, so close I could feel the tension in her too.

“This isn’t right,” she said quietly. “Truman’s last base was crawling with people. Where is everyone?”

“Good question,” I said. “Bear in mind, this isn’t just a Manifest Destiny base; it’s also a Loathly Ones nest.”

She didn’t look at me. She had to know what I was thinking. There was a Loathly One inside her, growing and developing. Who knew what it might do, now it was among its own kind at last.

I hoped we’d come across some armed guards soon. I really felt like taking out my frustrations on a whole bunch of poor helpless armed guards.

But as we rounded the last steel corner, and glimpsed at last the first open space of the bunker, a huge metal slab slammed down from the ceiling, shutting off the corridor and blocking our way with two tons of solid steel. It hit the floor with a hell of a bang, so loud I actually winced, but still no alarms sounded, and still there was no clamour of raised voices demanding to know what the hell was going on. Where had everyone gone? What was Truman doing down here?

I subvocalised my activating Words, and then punched the air with joy as the golden armour flowed smoothly over me. It was good to have it back. Good to feel fast and strong and fully alive again. I hit the steel slab, putting all my armoured strength into it. My golden fist sank a good three inches into the steel, but that was all. I had to jerk my hand back out, an inch at a time. I crouched down and slammed both hands into the bottom edge of the slab, forcing my golden fingers deep into the metal, and then strained with all my strength to lift the massive slab. It shook and groaned but hardly raised an inch off the floor. I just didn’t have the leverage. My golden fingers slipped slowly through the solid steel like thick mud, unable to find a purchase. I pulled my hands out and stepped back to glare at the slab, baffled and frustrated.

“I do have an energy gun,” Giles Deathstalker said diffidently.

“No,” I said immediately. “There’s no telling what kind of defences or booby traps Truman might have set up here. Let’s not make things worse than they already are.”

Molly sniffed and elbowed me aside. “Men,” she said scathingly. “If you can’t hit it or shoot it, you’re lost for an alternative.”

She stabbed an imperious finger at the steel slab, said two very old and potent Words of Power, and the slab actually shook all over before reluctantly rising back up into its slot in the ceiling. Molly smiled condescendingly back at me and Giles, no doubt ready to say something extremely cutting, and that was when the machine guns opened up. Giles grabbed Molly and threw her to the floor, covering her body with his own, ignoring her startled curses. I moved quickly to block the way, shielding everyone with my armoured form. Bullets sprayed the corridor, but my armour absorbed everything that hit it. I didn’t even feel the impact. I strode slowly forward into the hail of bullets, and almost immediately realised there weren’t any guards. Just two automated machine guns, set to cover the end of the corridor with suppressing fire, swivelling slowly back and forth on their gimbals. It looked like they were almost out of bullets, but I was in the mood to hit something, so I ripped them both off their supports and crumpled them in my golden hands. They both made satisfying squealing noises, and I threw them aside. A blessed silence fell across the corridor, apart from Molly cussing out Giles Deathstalker as he tried to help her to her feet.

“I can protect myself, thank you very much,” she snarled. “I do not need to be slammed into the floor by an overanxious, overmuscled drama queen!”

“Fine by me,” said Giles. “I’ll just leave you to die, next time.”

“I should,” I said. “It’s less trouble, in the long run.”

“I’m fine, by the way,” said Mr. Stab. “Never doubted it,” I said, not looking around. We made our way slowly and cautiously through the guts of Truman’s underground base. Everything was a mess: furniture overturned, papers scattered, doors left open to secure areas. There were no people anywhere. Just empty rooms and abandoned corridors. Half the lights weren’t working, and strange shadows loomed up everywhere. As we got deeper in, we found workstations where computers and other technology had been ripped apart and gutted. Great rents began appearing in the steel walls, long and jagged as though made by claws, with wiring and cables hanging out like entrails from open wounds. And the only sounds we heard in the whole base were the ones we brought with us.

Finally, as we neared the centre of operations, we started finding bodies piled up in careless heaps, as though they’d just been dragged there and dumped, out of the way. The were signs of struggle now, to show they hadn’t gone quietly to their deaths. Bullet holes in the walls, scorch marks from grenades, the remains of improvised barricades. They’d put up a fight, only to end up like their computers, torn apart, gutted; harvested. Broken open for their parts. Whole organs were missing, and hands, and eyes. Blood and discarded offal lay all around, still steaming and stinking on the cool, still air.

Mr. Stab checked the bodies for details. No one else wanted to get close enough.

“They did this to complete their tower,” I said, because someone had to put it into words. “Technology and…organic components, to finish the job. Because they were in a hurry. Because they knew we were coming.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” Molly said immediately. “None of this is your fault. Manifest Destiny brought this on itself by allying with the Loathly Ones. Come on, let’s find Truman.”

“How do you know he’s still alive?” said Giles.

“Because rats like him always find a hole to hide in,” said Molly.

It didn’t take long to track him down. We just followed the signs on the walls to his private office, and sure enough there were more dead men piled up outside the locked and no doubt barricaded door. A green light showed above the door, indicating that the leader was IN. And a single security camera swivelled back and forth, looking us over with its little red light. I pounded on the door with my fist.

“You know who this is, Truman. Surprisingly enough, I’m not here to kill you. In fact, I’m probably your best chance of getting out of this mess alive. Open up, so we can talk about the Loathly Ones.”

“Go away!” screamed a voice from inside, shrill and cracked. “You can’t fool me! You’re not people! Not anymore!”

“This is Edwin Drood, Truman. Now let me in, or I’ll rip the door clean off its hinges.”

There was a long pause, followed by something that might have been a chuckle. “A Drood has come to save me. That it should come to this…”

There was the sound of furniture being dragged away from the door, and then after a bit the door unlocked itself. I pushed it open, and we all filed into Truman’s office. Once it might have been luxurious, even impressive, but now it looked like a bolt hole. The place was a mess, and it stank of sweat and fear. Truman was sitting stiffly behind his desk, half a dozen guns set out before him, though he had the sense to keep his hands well away from them. He held his head erect, no doubt braced by implants, to support what he’d done to himself, to his head and his brain. Truman believed in the gains to be made from extensive trepanation, or the making of holes in the skull to allow the brain to expand. So he’d drilled a dozen holes in his skull and then inserted long steel rods deep into his brain. The great steel spikes protruded from his head, radiating in a wide circle connected by a steel hoop, like a metal halo. This was supposed to make him smarter than the average human, but I couldn’t say I’d ever seen any evidence of it. Truman looked pale and drawn, with eyes like a hunted animal. He managed a shaky smile for me and Molly.

“Just when I think things couldn’t possibly get any worse, you two turn up.”

“Tell us what happened,” Molly said flatly. “And then we’ll decide whether your miserable arse is worth saving. What have you done here, Truman?”

“I never wanted to ally Manifest Destiny with the Loathly Ones,” he said, looking at his hands so he wouldn’t have to look at us. “They are everything I hate and despise. But after you destroyed my old organisation, I had to go underground, and my advisors insisted that we needed powerful support if we were to protect ourselves while we rebuilt. And they came to me, the Loathly Ones, and said all the right things, and promised me the world and everything in it, if I would just let them build one of their damned towers here. I knew the risks, can’t say I didn’t, but I was so sure I could control them, use them, and then destroy the tower before they could do anything with it… I was a fool. They infected my people one by one, starting with my advisors, so I only heard what they wanted me to hear. The first I knew something was wrong was when the infected drones suddenly attacked the rest of my people, right here in my own base.” He smiled suddenly, an odd, crooked smile. “They even infected me. Oh yes. One of my oldest friends did it, putting their filthy presence inside me. But I killed him, and then I killed it. Killed it dead. My augmented brain was more than a match for the small, weak thing they put in my head. I ate it, and savoured its dying screams in my mind.”

He actually laughed out loud then, enjoying the memory, and only sobered as he took in the expressions on our faces. “Of course, by then it was too late. My people had been taken over or butchered, my base had been torn apart to provide the final material for their stinking tower. But I shall still have the last laugh! Oh yes! I have a secret weapon, secretly prepared for the day they might rise up against me. The Soul Gun…Only I have the access codes. No one else can get to it, or fire it. Let them activate their tower! I shall activate my Soul Gun, drain all the power out of the Soul of Albion, and use it to banish the Loathly Ones from this world forever!”

He glared around at us triumphantly, but Molly and I were already shaking our heads.

“Won’t work,” I said. “Your trouble is, you never did take the trouble to work out what the Soul of Albion really is. It’s not just a thing, an object you can use. The Soul fell to earth from a higher dimension, just like the Drood Heart. It might even be a splinter that broke off from the Heart during its descent. Strictly speaking, the Soul is a baby crystal intelligence, only centuries old, too young to have developed a full personality. It protects England, because this is what it thinks of as home. You try and drain its power, suck all the life out of it, and it’ll just destroy you and your base, and go back to sleep again.”

“And even if you could make it work,” said Molly, “do you really think one baby crystal could hope to hold back the Invaders, the Many-Angled Ones, the Hungry Gods? You do know that’s what the tower is designed to bring here?”

“No,” said Truman. “No, no… You’re just trying to frighten me…”

“Trust me,” I said. “We’re already scared enough. We have to destroy the tower before the Invaders come through. Where is it?”

An alarm went off, deafeningly loud in the small office. We all jumped. Truman stabbed at the controls on his desktop, and a monitor screen flared into life on the wall, showing Harry Drood and Roger Morningstar moving cautiously through the underground base. They’d finally got here. I had to smile. Harry would so hate coming second.

“Damn,” said Molly. “In all the excitement I’d forgotten about them.”

“I haven’t forgotten about all the Droods they brought with them,” I said. I fixed Truman with a cold stare. “Your Accelerated Men, and your damned Soul Gun, killed hundreds of my family.”

He smiled spitefully at me. “I only wish it could have been more. You brought me to this, brought me so low I had to ally myself with alien scum! Everything that’s happened here is your fault, Drood!”

“Oh, shut up, you wimp,” said Molly, and the sheer distaste in her voice stopped him like a slap in the face. She moved around beside the desk, found the general address, and called Harry and Roger by name. They both looked up, startled, and Molly grinned as she gave them directions to join us in Truman’s office.

“Excuse me,” Giles Deathstalker said quietly, “but what is that thing on his head?”

“Cutting-edge technology,” I said solemnly.

Giles raised an eyebrow. “In my day we find it more useful to put the technology inside the head. Mind you, we also find it useful to shoot overambitious idiots like this on sight.”

Harry and Roger finally found their way to Truman’s office and barged right in without knocking. Harry looked at me and sniffed loudly.

“Might have known you’d find a way to be here for the end, and grab all the glory for yourself.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Because I’m so like you, Harry.”

“Boys, boys,” said Molly. “Put them away or I’ll cut them off. We are on something of a deadline here… Truman’s going to take us to the tower.”

“You do know he’s infected?” said Roger.

“I used to be,” Truman said haughtily. “I destroyed it with my augmented brain.”

“Actually, no,” said Roger, looking thoughtfully at Truman. “With my amazing demon X-ray vision, I can See it’s still in there. Hell, I can practically smell it, it’s so advanced. It just let you think you’d destroyed it, so it could grow and influence you undetected. Sorry. There’s never any cure, once you’re infected.”

“Never?” said Molly.

“Not a chance in Hell,” said Roger, still looking at Truman.

Truman started to say something, and then stopped. He looked distracted, as though listening to some inner voice. And then he looked at us, looking at him, and his face firmed.

“Kill me,” he said. “I will die a human being, and myself; not some damned alien thing. Kill me!”

“Glad to,” said Roger Morningstar.

He leaned over the desk, grabbed the steel halo connecting Truman’s implanted spikes, and ripped it away. Truman screamed piteously, in pain and shock. Roger grabbed the spikes and pulled them, out one by one. They came out in sudden jerks, inch by inch, under his demonic strength, accompanied by gouting blood and bits of brain, and the sound of cracking, splintering bone. Truman was screaming constantly by now, an almost animal-like sound, his arms flailing helplessly, but none of us moved forward to stop Roger. I wanted to look away, but I made myself watch it all as punishment. By the time it was over, Truman was slumped forward over his desk, his head torn apart, twitching slowly as the last of his life went out of him. Roger studied the last spike closely, as though it might hold secrets, then just shrugged and tossed it aside.

Harry glared at him. “There was no need for it to be that brutal!”

“Oh, no need,” said Roger. “But it was fun.” He smiled at me. “You can’t tell us you never dreamed of doing that, Eddie.”

“No,” I said. “I never dreamed of doing anything like that, hellspawn.”

“Oh well,” said Roger. “No point crying over spilled brains.”

“I could kill the hellspawn for you, if you like,” said Mr. Stab.

He might have been discussing the weather. Roger started to say something, looked at Mr. Stab, and thought better of it.

“Thanks for the thought,” I said. “But no.”

“We have to get to the tower,” said Molly, her voice cold and focused. “It’s not far. I can feel its presence with my magics.”

“Then lead the way,” I said.

We followed Molly through the maze of steel corridors, and down into the deepest part of the underground bunker, until we were in a great steel-walled chamber directly under the standing Stones of Stonehenge. And there it was, sunk deep into a pit hollowed out of the bare earth; tall and complex and unnaturally shaped, the last tower of the Loathly Ones. There wasn’t room to build it high, so they’d sunk it deep. We could only see the top twenty feet or so, a jagged structure of alien technology combined with flesh and blood. Metal and crystal seamlessly fused with living parts. We all circled slowly around the exposed top of the tower, our feet sinking into the wet earth. This close, there was no doubt the thing was alive, in its own awful way. It was alive and it was aware. It knew we were there…and it didn’t care. It was complete and it was activated, We’d arrived too late.

Already a gateway was forming, an opening to another place. I couldn’t see or hear it, but I could feel it on some deeper, primal level: like a great eye watching me, like a wound in the world, like a door into Hell. Like a great cold wind blowing right at me from a direction I couldn’t name, chilling me down to the soul. Slowly I became aware of sounds too. I don’t think I was hearing them with my ears. Voices; howling, screaming, laughing, coupled with the sounds of tearing flesh and great siege engines slamming together forever. All the sounds of Hell on earth.

Molly grabbed me by the arm and shook me fiercely, and I came to myself again. Harry and Roger and Giles and even Mr. Stab were still staring wide-eyed and entranced at the forming gateway, as strange energies swirled and coalesced around the tower.

“We’ve got to do something!” said Molly. “The gateway’s opening! They’re coming!”

“I guess Jacob and Jay never got through after all,” I said numbly.

“Eddie …!”

“I know,” I said. “I know.” I looked at her. “How do you feel, Molly?”

“I’m still me,” she said, meeting my gaze squarely. “But I don’t know for how much longer.”

“Then let’s do it,” I said. I reached into my jacket pocket and brought out Janissary Jane’s weapon of last resort, the Deplorable End. It still didn’t look like much.

“Do we have the right to destroy our whole universe, just to wipe out the Hungry Gods?” said Molly.

“Hell no,” said Roger unexpectedly. He’d torn his attention away from the tower and was now looking at the thing squatting on my palm. “Is that what I think it is? Eddie, you can’t use it. Not while there’s still a chance, any chance…”

I had to smile. “A demon who still believes in hope. Now I’ve seen everything.”

“I believe in him,” said Roger, looking at Harry. “I have to hope… that we can find a way to be together. Not even a half demon is automatically damned for all time. You have to save the world, Eddie, so we can have a place to grow old in.”

“If the Hungry Gods come through, they’ll destroy this world and everything in it,” said Molly. “And then move on, from world to world, until there isn’t a living thing left anywhere. That’s what they do. Cosmic locusts.”

“I have no intention of destroying this universe, or this world,” I said. “I never did. I think… I’ll wait till the gateway has opened enough, and then I’ll go through it into their universe, their world; and blow it all to shit before they can come through.”

“You’re not going in there alone,” Molly said immediately. “You’ll need my magics just to survive in their world long enough to press the button. I won’t let you die alone.”

“Molly…”

“What reason have I got to live without you?” said Molly. “What reason have I got to live, as I am?”

“And you’re going to need me,” said Giles Deathstalker. He had Harry and Mr. Stab by the arms, pulling them away from the tower. They were both shaking their heads, coming to themselves again. Giles looked at me calmly. “You’ll need me to help you survive and operate in an alien environment. You’re not used to that. I am.”

“Fine by me,” said Harry, blinking his eyes hard, careful not to look directly at the tower. “Roger and I and Mr. Stab will stay here, and…guard the situation.”

“Quite right,” said Mr. Stab. “I know my limitations.” He nodded briefly to me. “You, of course, are a Drood, and therefore have no limitations. Everyone knows that.”

I looked at Giles. “I didn’t bring you here, across thousands of years, just so you could die fighting for someone else’s cause.”

He shrugged easily. “I am a warrior. Fighting is what I do. And besides, this is about family as well as saving humanity. You took me in, made me feel like one of you. I never knew that before. Never really had a family, before. You taught me the worth of duty and honour and responsibility. You have shown me what it really is to be a man. To be a Drood, and a Deathstalker. So I will fight, and if need be die, for what you gave me. Anything, for the family.”

Roger looked around sharply, glaring at the tower. “It knows we’re planning something. It’s just put out some kind of call, or alarm…summoning something.”

We all looked around sharply as, from back inside the bunker, we heard something moving. The sound of bodies rising up, and slow dragging feet…and I just knew what it had to be. All the dead bodies in Truman’s base, raised up by the tower’s power, and summoned to defend it in its time of need. The dead, called to strike down the living. I grinned at Harry.

“Looks like you’re going to have to guard the situation after all. Hold your ground, keep those things back, for as long as you can. Just in case the three of us can find a way to come home. You never know.”

“I’ll hold this ground till you return, or Hell freezes over,” said Harry. “I may be a bit of a bastard, but I’m still a Drood. As long as there’s a fragment of hope left, I’ll wait here for you to return.”

The gateway opened around the tower, unfolding and unfolding like some monstrous alien flower. Its shape made no sense at all, but I could sense something behind and beyond it. Something becoming realer by the moment. I walked forward into the cascading energies, with Molly Metcalf on one side and Giles Deathstalker on the other, and the world fell away behind us.