Daemons Are Forever

CHAPTER THREE Good and Evil; It’s All Relatives

In the old days, when a general alarm sounded the whole family would run to defend the Hall, but we were warriors then. Now everyone ran to the designated shelters, to hide till it was all over. All my fault, of course, for taking away their golden torcs. The Droods weren’t used to feeling human, and vulnerable. So the Sanctity and its adjoining rooms had become the new panic room for the Droods, though of course no one would ever dream of using such a term. But as I came out of the Sanctity, followed by the rest of the Inner Circle, so many of my family were running down the corridor towards me with fear and desperation written clearly in their faces, it disturbed me to realise how easily the spirit of my family could be broken. I was going to have to do something about that, and soon. Strange guarded the Sanctity and the other rooms, its other-dimensional shields protecting the family from any outside attack. The family would be safe there, while I investigated whatever it was that dared attack us. Strange was also responsible for powering all our science- and magic-based defences, and it worried me how quickly we’d become dependent on this new replacement for the destroyed Heart. I didn’t free us from one other-dimensional master just to hand us over to another. No matter how seemingly benevolent. Just one more thing for me to worry about…

Strange had said he could do even more for us, but that would mean bringing more of his substance through into this dimension, and even he had to admit he had no idea exactly what effect so much strange matter might have on the physical laws of our reality. Strange matter wasn’t natural here, and our world didn’t like having it around. Besides, Strange was powerful enough as he was. Trust has always been a difficult thing for me, even before I found out what the Heart really was. So, on behalf of the family, I politely declined Strange’s offer.

Which was why it was now up to me to defend the whole damned family from attack.

The Droods came pouring through the corridors towards the Sanctity, their faces pale and strained. The alarm bells were maddeningly loud, but the Sarjeant-at-Arms still made himself heard over the din, haranguing and bullying the crowds into some kind of order as they filed quickly into the Sanctity. He didn’t need to use much of his trademarked brutality; most of the family were glad to hear an authoritative voice telling them what to do. But then, that’s always been their problem. The Sarjeant scowled at the nervous faces streaming past him and seemed actually ashamed to see the family reduced to such a state. He didn’t look at me, but then, he didn’t have to. I already knew who he blamed.

“I’m going to the War Room,” said Penny, shouting to be heard over the general din. “Someone needs to keep an eye on the big picture. Always the chance this attack was designed to distract us from something really big happening somewhere else.”

“Right!” I said. “Go! Report back when you get a chance.”

But she was already off and running, forcing her way through the tide of approaching Droods by sheer assurance. I’d done well in choosing her. I looked around for Jacob, but he’d disappeared. I turned to the Sarjeant.

“You stay here and keep a lid on things. Molly, Uncle Jack, we need to get to the Ops Room. Find out who or what we’re up against, before we have to go out and face them. Sarjeant, if they should get past us, and get in here…improvise.”

I set off at a steady pace, ploughing through the increasingly packed corridors, and Molly and the Armourer stuck close behind me. There was a growing sense of panic on the air. My first instinct was to armour up, but I couldn’t do that. It would just have upset all the other Droods who didn’t have their armour anymore, because of me.

I felt like shouting, Look, it seemed like a good idea at the time, okay?

“Who do you think is behind this?” said Molly, squeezing in close beside me. “Manifest Destiny, maybe? Could Truman have finally got his act together?”

“Unlikely,” I said. “We’d have heard something.”

“Could be the prime minister,” said the Armourer. “Expressing his displeasure at having his best secret agents sent back to him in boxes.”

“If they’d been able to capture me, then the Hall might have been next,” I said. “But after what I did to his best bright-eyed boys, he’s probably still hiding under his desk and whimpering. No, this could be any of the groups we were just discussing, keen to get their pre-emptive strikes in first. Look, save your breath for running, people. We need to know what we’re getting into before we show our faces outside.”

The Operations Room was way over in the south wing, so we were all seriously short of breath by the time we got there. The halls and passageways were increasingly deserted and abandoned, eerily silent. It was a relief to get to Operations, and hear voices talking in a calm, professional way. The Ops Room is a high-tech centre designed to oversee all the Hall’s defences, from sensors to shields to all our various weapons systems. It took the three of us a few minutes to get through the strict security protocols, and then Molly and the Armourer and I hurried into Operations and the great steel door hissed shut behind us, cutting off the clamour of the alarms. The quiet was a blessed relief, and I took a long, deep breath to steady myself.

I’d never been to Operations before; it was mostly put together after I left home. Unlike the War Room, Operations is a much more modest affair. Just a reasonably sized room packed full of computers and other assorted baffling high tech, tended by a dozen or so technicians, under the head of Operations. There was no hurry or bustle or sense of urgency here; men and women sat calmly at their workstations, doing their jobs efficiently and professionally. These people hadn’t forgotten what it was to be a Drood. They kept their heads in an emergency because that was what had been drilled into them; because decisions made in this Room could affect the safety of the whole family.

Holographic displays snapped on and off in midair, showing rapidly shifting images of the Hall, inside and out, and sweeping views of the grounds and all possible approaches to the Hall. I moved quickly from screen to screen, but I was damned if I could see any sign of an invading force anywhere. The skies were empty, the grounds were uninhabited, and all shields were intact and in place. Something must have set off the alarms, but what? I headed for the centre of Operations, and Molly and the Armourer fell naturally in on either side of me. I was glad to have them there. I was starting to feel well out of my depth. I listened carefully to the murmur of voices all around me as the technicians spoke quietly to each other in calm, professional, and utterly baffled voices.

I have rising power levels. All boards are green, all weapons systems on line.

Can anybody see anything? My sensors are clear, right across the board.

Hold it; I’m getting something. A definite Infernal presence.

Infernal? Are you sure?

Hey, it’s not something you can easily confuse with anything else. There’s something from the Pit, right here in our backyard.

Get ready to switch the lawn sprinklers to holy water. And somebody put in a call to all our clerics.

Code Red. I repeat, we have Code Red. Shutting down all unnecessary systems for the duration.

Why weren’t we warned? What happened to those wonderful and very expensive new sensors I spent all last week installing?

Silent as the grave, the lot of them. Whatever’s out there, the sensors can’t see it. Even the gryphons didn’t see this coming.

Who’s got my Jaffa Cakes? You know I can’t function without Jaffa Cakes.

All weapons systems on line and available. Just find me a target and I’ll blow big meaty chunks out of it.

“Over there,” the Armourer said quietly in my ear. “See that large, intense type in the button-down suit? That’s Howard, the new head of Operations. I used to have him down in the Armoury with me, but he didn’t have the patience. But he was a hell of a lot smarter than the average Drood, so we put him here, and within a year he was running the place. Oh look; he’s finally deigned to notice us, and he’s coming over. This should be fun.”

“Didn’t this use to be the old laundry?” I said.

“We contracted that out,” said the Armourer, “to make room for the new up-to-date Operations centre. The old one was constantly having to be upgraded, and was only held together with spit and sealing wax anyway. We’ve spent the last ten years installing the most sophisticated weapon systems this family has ever seen, along with the computers to run them. We could hold off a whole army from here.”

“If we could see them,” I murmured.

The Armourer scowled. “I don’t understand it. The grounds are jam-packed with all kinds of surveillance. A mole couldn’t fart without us knowing all about it. Ah, Howard! Good to see you.”

“Good?” he snapped, slamming to a halt right in front of us. “What’s bloody good about it? I blame you for this, Edwin.”

“Somehow, I had a feeling you might,” I said. “Hello, Howard.”

He sniffed loudly. He was large and blocky, with a red face and a prematurely receding hairline. His hands were clenched into frustrated fists at his sides.

“Hall security has been an utter shambles, ever since you and your girlfriend walked straight through all our best defences,” he said bitterly. “They’re very sensitive. You upset them. Took us weeks to get them calmed down and operating properly again, and now this! Are those more of your friends out there?”

“I very much doubt it,” I said. “And Howard, keep it down to a roar when you speak to me, there’s a good chap. Or I will have Molly turn you into something small and wet and squishy, which I shall then step on.”

“What am I?” said Molly. “Your attack dog?”

“You know you love it,” I said.

“Grrr,” said Molly.

I looked back at Howard. “Let us all keep very calm and professional about this, while we figure out what the hell’s going on.”

Howard sniffed loudly again. “Yes. Well…We’re doing the best with the equipment available to us. You try running a twenty-first-century defence system on a nineteenth-century budget. I told the Matriarch to her face; you get what you pay for.”

I began to like him a little better. “I’ll bet that went down well,” I said.

He smiled slightly for the first time. “I was escorted out of the War Room so fast my feet didn’t even touch the ground. All right, everybody, let’s try the sensors again. Boost the power and plug in all the options; see if we can scare up a useful image or two for our illustrious guests. As long as you understand this is all your fault, Edwin. Whatever happens.”

“Story of my life,” I said.

The head of Operations moved quickly back and forth among his people, encouraging here, cajoling there, getting the best out of them with quiet efficiency. The Hall’s defence systems sprang into life, searching for a target; enough firepower to blow a hole through the moon or blast it right out of orbit. I watched, fascinated, as the holographic displays showed hundreds of guns rising up out of the wide lawns, their long barrels sweeping back and forth as the fire computers struggled to lock on. Sonic weapons, particle beams, nerve gasses, stroboscopic lights, and hallucinogenic mists…And no, we don’t give a damn about the Geneva Conventions. If I’d known about all of this, I’d never have dared to break in Of course, I’d had the Confusulum then, to back me up. Hopefully our mysterious new intruders didn’t.

Howard came back to join us. His face looked even more flushed, and he’d actually unbuttoned his tie. “We’re still having problems getting a clear image of our intruders. We’ve narrowed down the location to somewhere near the lake, not far from the boating sheds, but something in their basic nature is confusing the hell out of the sensors.”

“I heard someone use the word Infernal,” said Molly.

“Yes, well,” said Howard. “That’s always a worrying word to hear, isn’t it? Most of our defences are scientific these days, rather than magical or mystical.”

“Then let me help,” said Molly. “I know a lot about things Infernal.”

She moved over to the nearest workstation, muttering certain unpleasant Words under her breath, and then leant past a startled technician and thrust her left hand and arm through his monitor screen. Her arm ghosted through the screen right up to the elbow, and suddenly the whole Operations Room was full of a bright otherworldly light as Molly’s magic manifested in all the systems at once. Discharging energies sputtered around her like ethereal fireworks. A great surge of power swept through all the workstations as her magic melded with and boosted all the Operations Room systems. And just like that an image appeared on the air before us, showing a crystal clear view of two men standing together beside the lake, right in the middle of the Hall’s extensive grounds. The image zoomed in to give us a close look at their faces.

“You’re welcome,” said Molly.

Two ordinary-looking men, one my age, in his early thirties. Tall, pleasant enough, wire-rimmed glasses. The other was pale, dark-haired, disturbingly handsome. He looked young enough, until you looked into his very dark eyes, and then he seemed a hell of a lot older. Just two men, standing together. No army. No obvious threat. Except they couldn’t have got this far unless they were quite extraordinary people.

Howard leant forward sharply. “That’s it! We’re locked on! Stand by, people, we’re going to hit them with everything we’ve got!”

“No you’re not,” said the Armourer. “We need to talk to them. And besides, it wouldn’t do any good.”

“What?” Howard looked at the Armourer, baffled.

“I know who they are,” said the Armourer. “Or at least, I recognise who one of them is, and what the other one is. The one with the glasses is family.”

“Ah,” said Howard bitterly. “I might have known. Only family could get past family defences.” He peered dubiously at the image. “Can’t say I recognise him.”

“You wouldn’t,” said the Armourer. “He hardly ever comes home. That’s Harry Drood. James’s only legitimate son.”

“And, unfortunately, I recognise the other guy,” I said. “I met him once before, briefly, in the prison cells under Manifest Destiny’s old headquarters. They’d imprisoned him inside a pentacle, and cut out his tongue, just in case. And he was still the most dangerous thing there. He’s a half-breed demon, offspring of a succubus. I left him there to die when I brought Truman’s operation crashing down around his head…I should have killed the unnatural thing when I had the chance.”

“You never had the chance,” said Molly. “Half-breeds like that are very hard to kill. They may look like us, but they all have one foot in the Pit. But what’s he doing here, side by side with a Drood?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But it’s not going to be anything good. Harry Drood…I’ve heard stories about him.”

“Most of them are true,” said the Armourer. “Harry’s always been one of our best field agents, if a little too independent. Not unlike you, Eddie, in many ways.”

“But why appear out of nowhere like this?” I said. “In the company of a demon?”

“You killed his father,” said the Armourer.

“Yes,” I said. “That’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life, isn’t it?”

“At least now we know how they got in,” said Howard, sounding a little more cheerful. “No mystery anymore. Our defence systems were never designed to recognise something as rare or unnatural as a half-breed hellspawn.”

“All right, Howard,” I said. “Put the Ops Room on standby, but keep all weapons on line. Just in case Harry’s invited some more friends to drop in later. But don’t start anything without express instructions from me. Molly, Uncle Jack, let’s go welcome Harry home.”

“Is it okay if I take my arm out of the computer first?” said Molly.

Molly offered to teleport us right to the lake, but I thought it better we take our time and walk. I didn’t want Harry to think he could panic us into acting precipitously. No, let him wait. The three of us left the Hall and strolled unhurriedly across the wide expanse of open lawns towards the lake. It was a nice summer’s day, warm sunshine and a pleasant breeze. Bright blue sky, with hardly any clouds. And it would have been a pleasant enough walk if I hadn’t had such a bad feeling about the coming encounter.

A Drood and a hellspawn, together? Not that long ago I would have said such a thing was impossible. But I’d learned a lot about what the family was capable of since then. Little of it good.

Molly linked her arm through mine as we walked along. She was always happier when she was out in the grounds. She was, after all, a witch of the wild woods, and the old gray stone of the Hall imposed on her free and easy nature. She chattered happily as we walked, and I did my best to go along, but both of us could tell my heart wasn’t in it. My mind was ahead of us, at the lake.

“Harry Drood,” I said finally to the Armourer. “There was a scandal about him, wasn’t there?”

“Oh yes,” said the Armourer. “Though it was never discussed outside the Matriarch’s Council. You see, James only married once, and then expressly against the Matriarch’s wishes. Only he could have got away with something like that. He married the infamous adventurer and freelance spy, Melanie Blaze. A very successful operative, in her own sneaky, Machiavellian, and underhanded way. She and James made a great team, important players back in the sixties. Whenever you heard of a secret base being blown up, or an untouchable villain being assassinated, you knew it had to be James and Melanie. Everyone admired them, even their enemies, and every Drood wanted to be them.

“James only brought Melanie home a few times. The Matriarch was very cold.

“And then Melanie disappeared into the subtle realms, on some secret mission or other, and never resurfaced. That was…fifteen years ago now. James went in after her several times, with and without family approval, but he never found her. He was never the same, after that.”

“James was like a second father to me,” I said. “He brought me up after my parents were killed. But I don’t think I ever even met Harry.”

“Harry…was always very much his mother’s son,” said the Armourer. “She raised him outside the Hall. Away from the Matriarch. James visited him as much as he could, but… I don’t know, Eddie. James and I were close, but there were some things he just wouldn’t talk about. There was something going on… with Melanie, or Harry, but… Anyway, after Melanie disappeared, James insisted we find work for Harry as a field agent, and the Matriarch kept him busy with missions in foreign climes. And just like you, Eddie, Harry lived for his work and never came home.”

“I was never allowed out of the country,” I said wistfully.

“But Harry was James’s son,” said the Armourer. “And James was always Mother’s favourite. Still, Harry proved to be an excellent field agent; very resourceful, always got the job done.”

“But what kind of a man is he?” said Molly.

“I have no idea,” said the Armourer. “Harry was always…distant.”

“Is he James’s only son?” said Molly.

“Hell no,” said the Armourer, chuckling. “Harry was James’s only legitimate son, but he has any number of stepbrothers and stepsisters, scattered across every country in the world, from all the women James had…relationships with, down the years.”

“He never could keep it in his trousers,” I said. “Got him into trouble more often than I care to think about.”

“James was just very romantic,” the Armourer said firmly. “Always falling in love with a pretty face, and usually living to regret it. The family has never officially recognised any of these…offspring, but to keep James happy we usually made arrangements to keep them gainfully employed, doing useful work for the family. On occasions when we needed more than usual distance, or deniability.”

“I thought your family didn’t approve of half-breeds?” said Molly.

“We don’t,” I said. “They’re never invited home, and we never send them Christmas cards. The Droods are a very old-fashioned family in some ways, but that’s what happens when you’ve been around for centuries.”

“But it’s still okay to make use of them, for dangerous jobs?” said Molly.

“The family can be very pragmatic, when it wants,” said the Armourer. “That’s how we’ve survived for centuries.”

We finally got to the lake. The dark blue-green waters stretched away before us, serene and undisturbed, the far shore so distant we couldn’t even see it from where we were. There’s an undine in it somewhere, but she keeps herself to herself. The first thing I noticed was that all the swans were gone, presumably fled to the other end of the lake. And when I saw the two men standing on the lakeshore before us, I understood why.

Harry Drood smiled briefly at the Armourer, gazed coolly at me, and nodded briskly to Molly. He looked tall and well built in his sharply cut gray suit, and behind his wire-rimmed glasses his face had that unremarkable look that made the Droods such natural secret agents. No one looks twice at us in the street, and we like it that way. Harry was holding a dead swan by its broken neck, as though it was just something he’d happened to pick up. For an intruder and a swan killer, he looked remarkably casual and at ease.

The half-breed demon beside him had all the calm and poise of a predator crouched and ready to launch an attack. He looked human enough, until you took in the details. He was a good six feet six tall, slender but powerfully built, with an unnaturally pale face, night black hair and eyes, and a mouth so thin he hardly had any lips at all. He wore an Armani suit and wore it well, along with an Old School tie I couldn’t believe he’d come by honestly. Both his hands were thrust deep in his pockets and he grinned at us all impartially. There was no humour in the smile, just a predator showing its teeth. Up close, he reeked of the Pit, a sour and sickening stench of sulphur and blood. The grass beneath his feet was blackened and smouldering. “Hello Uncle Jack,” said Harry in a light, pleasant voice. “I’ve come home. No need to prepare a fattened calf for the prodigal son, I think I’ll have swan. I was always very fond of swan.”

“You might have asked first,” said the Armourer.

“But then you might have said no,” said Harry reasonably. “And I really think I’m entitled to something special for my homecoming feast, after so long away.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce your unnerving companion?” I said.

Harry smiled briefly at me. “Oh yes. How very rude of me. This is my good friend and companion, Roger Morningstar.”

“I know who you are, you son of a bitch,” said Molly, and her voice was very cold. “I told you what I’d do to you if I ever saw you again.”

She threw up her arms in the stance of summoning. Dark clouds boiled in the sky overhead. Lightning bolts stabbed down, blasting the ground all around Roger, but they couldn’t touch him. He just stood there, smiling easily at Molly, while the rest of us dove for cover. Molly howled with fury and unleashed all the elements at once against the hellspawn.

Harry and the Armourer crouched down and scurried hurriedly out of range, while I armoured up. Hail hammered down, thick shards of ice with razor-sharp edges. I stood between Harry and the Armourer and the worst of it, protecting them as best I could. Roger wasn’t harmed at all. Gale winds blew, lightning struck, hail slammed down, and Roger Morningstar stood his ground, untouched and unmoved, smiling his maddening smile.

Molly quickly exhausted herself, and was soon reduced to throwing sputtering fireballs at Roger, none of which came close to hitting him. The dark clouds drifted away, and the elements settled themselves. I moved quickly over to Molly before she could move on to more dangerous methods, armoured down, and murmured calming, soothing words into her ear from a safe distance until she stopped glaring at Roger and turned sharply away, hugging herself tightly. I knew better than to bother her while she was in such a mood.

Harry and the Armourer came back to join us. “Would anyone care to explain to me what that was all about?” said the Armourer, just a bit testily.

“We used to date,” said Roger, in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

“It was a long time ago!” said Molly, still deliberately not looking at him.

“You never thought to mention this before?” I said.

She glared at me. “Do I quiz you about your old girlfriends?”

“Yes.”

She sniffed. “It’s different for a girl.”

“But he’s a hellspawn!” I said. “A half-breed demon!”

She shrugged. “It’s always the bad boy who makes a girl’s heart beat that little bit faster.”

Some conversations you just know aren’t going to go anywhere good, so I turned my attention back to Roger. “The last time I saw you, Truman had you trapped inside one of his holding pens. With your tongue cut out.”

“And you left me there to die,” Roger said easily. “How very Drood of you. But I escaped amid the general chaos. No one tried to stop me. No one dared. And I grew back my tongue. We hellspawn are very hard to kill.”

“Then how was Truman able to capture and mutilate you in the first place?” I said, perhaps a little pointedly.

Roger showed his teeth again in the smile that wasn’t a smile. “Oh please, like I’d be foolish enough to tell you.”

“All right,” I said. “Why are you here?”

“Revenge,” said Roger, and for just a moment bright crimson flames flared in his dark eyes. “Truman must pay for what he did to me…but even I can’t hope to take down an organisation the size of Manifest Destiny on my own. Which means I need allies, and your family seems the best bet. You want them destroyed almost as much as I do, and the enemy of my enemy can be my ally, if not my friend.”

“You expect us to trust you?” said the Armourer.

“Of course not. But as long as we have a cause in common, it’s in my best interests to be useful to you.”

“And he’s with me,” said Harry, very firmly. He was standing beside Roger again, as though he belonged there. “Roger and I go way back: old friends, old allies.”

“Dear Jesus,” said the Armourer. He sounded honestly shocked. “What have you been doing, Harry, what depths have you sunk to, that you could even consider befriending a thing of the Pit?”

“When your family turns its back on you, you have to find your friends where you can,” said Harry. “Right, Eddie? Now, no welcome home for me, Uncle Jack? After all these long years away, serving the family faithfully and well in foreign climes, with never even a thank you in return?”

“You could have come home any time,” said the Armourer. “The Matriarch might not have been too happy about it, but your father and I would have stood by you. We told you; we both told you, often enough. But you always had some excuse or another.”

“I’m here now, Uncle Jack. Because of my father.”

“You heard,” I said.

“Of course I heard. The whole world knows you murdered my father, dear Cousin Eddie. So here I am, representing all the Gray Fox’s old friends, allies, lovers, and enemies, all of us very upset that the legendary James Drood is dead. We want to know why. We demand answers.”

“It was a duel,” I said simply. “Armour to armour. He fought well, and died honourably.”

I didn’t even glance at Molly. Her part in James’s death was no one’s business but our own.

Harry looked at me, his head cocked slightly on one side. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“That’s all there is,” I said. “I was at war with my family, and he just got in the way.”

“Then…you didn’t just murder my father, and take away everyone’s torcs … so you could take over the family and run it unopposed?”

“No,” I said calmly. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It really wasn’t,” said the Armourer. “He’s telling the truth, Harry. Don’t you think I would have avenged my brother by now, if I thought he needed avenging?”

“Well, well,” said Harry. “How very intriguing. I can see I shall have to investigate further. Either way, I have come home at last, with my good friend Roger, to serve the family in its hour of need. Tell me how grateful you all are.”

“We can always use another experienced field agent,” I said. “But the hellspawn…”

“Please, call me Roger.”

“Don’t trust him, Eddie,” said Molly, back at my side again. “You can’t trust anything he says. Hell always lies, except when a truth can hurt you more.”

“I’ll say it again, for the benefit of the hard of thinking at the back,” said Harry. “Roger is with me. I vouch for him, and guarantee his behaviour while he’s here at the Hall. And he does have a right to be here. He’s family, just like me.”

“What?” said the Armourer. “Have you lost your mind, Harry? How can a thing of the Pit be family?”

“Because we share the same father,” said Harry.

Roger smiled widely. “Mother was a succubus, my father the illustrious James Drood. How about a big family hug?”

The Armourer shook his head slowly, dully, as though he’d been slapped hard. He looked suddenly older, and frailer. I have to say, it took my breath away. I looked at Molly, but she just shrugged, to show it was news to her too.

“That’s right,” Harry said brightly. “Roger is my stepbrother. And your nephew, Uncle Jack.”

“The old Gray Fox really did put it about,” said Molly. “But even so, a succubus? That’s just…tacky.”

“Lust demons are aristocrats in Hell,” said Roger. “Gathered souls are currency in the Pit.”

“Shut up,” said the Armourer. “Just shut up.”

“Yes, Uncle,” said Roger.

“It’s funny how Roger and I first met,” said Harry. “That was down to the family. Father and I were working together on a mission, as we often did when we ended up in the same part of the world at the same time. We were in Paris, tracking down that legendary thief and assassin, the Fantom, and father took me to a certain little out-of-the-way nightclub on the West Bank, where information of all sorts could be found, with a little effort. Grimy little place, called the Plus Ca Change…And that’s where I met Roger. We got to chatting, while father beat the necessary information out of a bunch of biker loups garou, and the two of us got on famously. Father and I never did catch up with the Fantom, but Roger and I kept in touch.”

“Then welcome home, Harry,” I said. “And you too, Roger. Come back to the Hall with us and we’ll get you settled in. But get out of hand even once, either of you, and I will knock you down and riverdance on your head.”

“It’s just tough love,” Harry said to Roger. “You’ll get used to it. It’s the Drood way. How is the dear old Sarjeant-at-Arms, Eddie?”

“Still running things with an iron fist in an iron glove,” I said, not rising to the bait. “Come along, and bring your swan with you, Harry. Waste not, want not.”

“Good to be home, Eddie,” said Harry. “Can’t say I’ve ever felt this welcome before. I suppose you and I have that in common, at least. We never were our family’s favourite sons.”

There were snorting, coughing sounds, and we both looked around. The gryphons had tracked us down at last, and ambled over to check out the newcomers with a good sniffing. Harry tolerated it in a resigned sort of way, and then the gryphons turned to Roger. They didn’t like his smell at all, and growled at him in deep, rumbling voices. One actually snapped at him, and Roger kicked it in the ribs, sending it flying a dozen feet away. I moved quickly to stand between him and the gryphons.

“Don’t,” I said.

“Or?” he said.

It was a blatant challenge, and one I had to meet if I were to have any authority at the Hall. I subvocalised the Words and armoured up in a moment, the silver strange matter flowing over me like a second skin. I made a silver fist, and held it up before Roger’s face. And as he watched, I grew thick silver spikes out of the knuckles. Roger surged forward inhumanly quickly, his fingers like claws, his impossibly wide smile full of teeth like a shark’s. I stood my ground and punched him in the face with all my armoured strength behind it. The blow stopped him dead in his tracks, the sheer force of the impact slamming his head back so hard it would have broken an ordinary man’s neck. Roger staggered backwards, and then quickly recovered his balance. He shook his head slowly and put a hand up to his face. His nose was broken, though no blood flowed. Roger gripped the broken nose with his left hand and snapped it back into place with a painful-sounding click. I winced at the sound, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one.

“Show-off,” Harry said easily to Roger. “Now behave yourself. I guaranteed your behaviour, remember? You want to make me look bad?”

“Of course. I’m sorry, Harry.” Roger smiled briefly at me. “It won’t happen again. No hard feelings, I trust?”

I armoured down and looked at him, and then at Harry. It occurred to me that the two of them might have set this up in advance, just to see what the new armour could do… Tricky, underhanded, and just a little paranoid. They were Droods, after all.

“Let’s go back to the Hall,” said the Armourer. “It’s getting cold out here.”