Daemons Are Forever

CHAPTER FIVE These Two Baby Seals Walk into a Club…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have no idea,” said Molly.

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

“Of course. Are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

The Armourer put a large, comforting hand on my shoulder. “And not everything bad that happens here is your fault, Eddie. Jacob will turn up. He always does…unfortunately. You couldn’t get rid of him with bell, book, and candle. Now, the Glass…I’ve got some of my people working their way through the old library, looking for mentions of the Glass, or Merlin, but without an overall index…It’s a slow process. And the current librarian isn’t much use. He didn’t even know the old library existed until you rediscovered it. Now all he does is roam the stacks going Oooh! and Aaah! and trying to keep my people from reading the older texts in case they damage them. Idiot. Those old books can look after themselves. You could probably pour boiling napalm on them and not even mark their covers. Some of them would probably fight back…”

“Then you’ll probably be pleased to know that one of the rogues I’m planning to bring back is our long lost William Dominic Drood,” I said. “He always was the best librarian we ever had.”

“Damn right!” said the Armourer, brightening again. “You found William? Well done, Eddie! I never did believe that nonsense about him going rogue when he disappeared. I knew him well, back in the day; a first-class mind. Where has he been all these years?”

I shot a look at Molly before answering, but there was no easy way to say it. “William…isn’t the man he used to be, Uncle Jack. He had some kind of confrontation with the Heart, before he left…and something bad happened to him. He held himself together long enough to go to ground, but then … he had a breakdown. He’s currently residing in a sanatorium.”

“A lunatic asylum?” the Armourer said incredulously. “You mean he’s crazy?”

“It’s not such a bad place,” Molly said quickly. “They’re looking after him properly there. Eddie and I visited him just recently. He was…distracted, but he was also quite sharp, for a while. I think the Heart did something to his mind. Now that it’s gone, perhaps the effects will disappear too…”

“I’m sure he’ll feel a lot better, once he’s back in the Hall,” I said just a bit weakly.

“Hell,” the Armourer said gruffly. “This whole place is a madhouse at the best of times. He’ll fit right in.”

“New weapons?” I said, figuring that was the best way to take the Armourer’s mind off things.

He sniffed loudly again. “I don’t know if I want to trust you with any of my good stuff. The Bentley came back covered in scratches, and I still haven’t forgiven you for breaking my one and only reverse watch. And you lost that special directional compass I made for you!”

“Let us take it for granted that I am careless and ungrateful, and never appreciate anything you do for me, and move on, shall we?” I said patiently. “I still have the Colt Repeater, but I could use something more…dramatic.”

“I’ve still got that nuclear grenade…”

“No,” I said, very firmly.

“All right, how about a portable sonic generator that can make your enemies’ testicles swell up and explode in slow motion?”

“Oh, please!” said Molly.

“Tempting, but no,” I said. “I’d prefer something a little less…conspicuous.”

“You were always fussy with your food, too.”

“Moving on, please…”

“I’ve got a short-range teleporter I’ve been riddling with,” said the Armourer, scrabbling through the junk piled up before him on the workbench. “Jumps you instantaneously half a mile, in any direction. Just think of a place, say the Words, and go. Completely untraceable. And unlike Merlin’s Glass, completely undetectable.”

“That sounds more like it,” I said. “Why only half a mile?”

“Because any farther than that, and you tend to arrive in an arbitrary number of separate pieces,” the Armourer admitted reluctantly.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Molly.

“You are not alone,” I said.

“Oh, go on,” said the Armourer. “Give it a try. Ah! Here it is.” He held up a simple copper bracelet, breathed on it, polished it on his grubby coat sleeve, and then handed it to me. It looked very much like one of those bracelets people wear to ward off rheumatism. The Armourer grinned. “I’ve been trying to find someone to test it in the field for me. And given your current circumstances, being able to be suddenly somewhere else can only be an advantage.”

“He may be scary, but he has a point,” said Molly.

Reluctantly, I slipped the copper band round my wrist. “With my luck, it’ll probably turn my skin green. And you still haven’t offered me a decent weapon…”

“You don’t need a weapon,” said Molly. “You’ve got me.”

“She’s got a point,” said the Armourer.

Molly and I used the Merlin Glass to transport us to our first destination, that notorious drinking dive, neutral ground, and den of iniquity, the Wulfshead Club. All I had to do was tug at the Glass’s silver frame while muttering the right Words, and the mirror stretched like a piece of Silly Putty, until it was the size of a door. Our reflections vanished, replaced by a dim and gloomy view of our destination. Molly and I stepped through, and just like that we were standing in a familiar deserted back alley, deep in the heart of London’s Soho. The Glass snapped back to its usual size, and I put it away.

The Wulfshead Club is a well-known watering hole for all the strange and unusual people in the world. And for those just passing through…No one’s quite sure exactly where the club itself is located, and the very anonymous management likes to keep it that way, but there are authorised access points at locations all around the world, if you know where to look. And if your name’s on the approved list. This isn’t the kind of club where you can get in by bribing the doorman. Either you’re a member in good standing, or you’re dead.

I took a quick look around to make sure we were unobserved. The alley was empty, apart from general assorted garbage and a handful of rats with very strong stomachs. The only sound was the distant roar of passing traffic. It was barely early evening, but already the alley was heavy with shadows, dark and impenetrable. The stained brick walls were covered with the usual graffiti: dagon shall rise again!, vampires suck!, and the somewhat more worrying supersexuals of the world unite.

I moved over to the wall, said the right Words, and a massive silver door appeared in the wall, as though the door were shouldering the lesser reality of the wall aside. The solid silver was deeply etched with threats and warnings, in angelic and demonic scripts. There was no door handle. I placed my left hand flat against the disturbingly warm and sweaty silver, and after a moment the door recognised me and swung slowly open. I always find the wait just a tad worrying. Because if your name isn’t on the approved list, the door will bite your hand right off.

I looked at Molly. “Remember, my name here is Shaman Bond. Slip up and you could get us both killed.”

She smiled sweetly at me. “You know, it’s almost charming, this need you have to hold my hand and explain everything to me. But if you don’t cut it out sharpish, I will slap you halfway into next week.”

“After you,” I said, and followed her into the Wulfshead.

We walked into a savage blaze of light and a righteous blare of noise. Music was playing, people were drinking and dancing and making deals in corners, and the whole damned joint was rocking. Harsh lighting bathed the packed crowd in constantly changing primal colours, and the music never stopped. Molly and I made our way through the surging mass of bodies with a combination of smiles, charm, and a complete willingness to use our elbows in violent and unprovoked ways. We were heading for the high-tech bar at the far end of the club; a nightmarish art deco structure of steel and glass, complete with computerised access to more kinds of booze than most people even know exist. You want a strontium 90 mineral water with an iodine chaser? Or a wolfsbane cocktail with a silver umbrella in it? Or maybe angel’s urine with extra holy water? Then no wonder you’ve come to the Wulfshead.

Rumour has it the management keeps the bar stock in a different dimension, because they’re afraid of it.

The Wulfshead Club prides itself on always being totally up to the minute, if not a little beyond. The great plasma screens on the walls show constantly shifting glimpses of the bedroom secrets of the rich and famous, interspersed with tomorrow’s stock exchange figures, while go-go girls dance in golden cages suspended from the ceiling, wearing only wisps of feathers. For the more traditionally minded, lap dancers in black leather strips gyrate on raised stages and hump their steel poles into submission. Tonight, a group of Satan’s Harlots out on a hen’s night were line dancing up and down the long steel bar top.

You can find all sorts at the Wulfshead, if they don’t find you first, preparing for a caper or a war, or recovering afterwards. Janissary Jane drank here, in between her regular shifts as an interdimensional mercenary, because she found the place restful. Which tells you a lot about the kind of places she works in. I didn’t see her anywhere yet, or hear the telltale sounds of screams and gunfire, so I bellied up to the bar with Molly at my side. The bartender wandered unhurriedly over to serve us. I’ve never bothered to remember his name. There’s a dozen of them behind the bar, all of them clones. Or homunculi. Or probably something even more disturbing.

He nodded familiarly to both of us. “Hello Molly, Shaman; been a while. The usual?”

I nodded, and he fussed over an impressive collection of nozzles and cables behind the bar, before handing over a Beck’s for me and a Buck’s Fizz for Molly. (She believes the orange juice makes it healthy.) I felt a little relieved that my use name was still good here. As far as the Wulfshead crowd was concerned, I was just Shaman Bond, a small-time operator and familiar face on the scene, nothing more. I’d put a lot of time and effort into establishing my cover identity, and not just because no one here had any love for the Droods. In the Wulfshead, I was no one important, no one special, and nothing was expected from me. Which was really very liberating. Especially now.

Back at the Hall, most of my family either worshipped me, feared me, or hated me. Or any combination of the three. Edwin Drood had become the most important person in the most important organisation in the world. But here, Shaman Bond was just another face in the crowd. It was as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I put my back against the bar and looked out over the milling throng, nodding easily to a few familiar friends and faces. Harry Fabulous was sliding unctuously through the mob, working the crowd with a wide smile and a hearty handshake, your special go-to man for everything that was bad for you. Last time I was in, he was offering pirate DVDs of Muppet films from another dimension: Citizen Kermit and Miss Piggy Does Dallas. Lined up along the great length of the bar I could see a ghost called Ash, a minor Norse godling, and the Indigo Spirit, complete with leather costume, cape, and cowl, taking a brief break from his crime-fighting.

And finally, there was Janissary Jane her own bad self, shouldering her way through the packed crowd to the bar, in search of a fresh whiskey bottle. One of the bartenders was waiting for her, and she snatched the refill out of his hand and drank the cheap whiskey straight from the bottle. She looked like the soldier she was; tall and blocky with muscular bare arms, a ramrod-straight back, and black hair cropped close to her head so an enemy couldn’t grab hold of it in a fight. She might have been pretty once, but all that was left now was scars and character. Her army fatigues were scorched and torn and stained with dried blood, and I knew up close she would smell of blood and smoke and brimstone. The whiskey was actually a good sign; gin made her maudlin, and then she tended to shoot people. Mostly people who needed shooting, but it did tend to put a damper on the party atmosphere.

The Wulfshead has never objected to her presence. Apparently they feel she gives the place character.

I called her name, from a safe distance, and her head came around quickly, one hand dropping to the gun at her side. I stood very still until I was sure she’d recognised me, and then gestured for her to come over and join Molly and me. She took her hand away from her gun, nodded stiffly, and made her way down the bar, shouldering people aside when they didn’t get out of her way fast enough. No one was dumb enough to object. This was Janissary Jane. Demon killer, seasoned warrior, and complete bloody psychopath. She stopped before Molly and me, studied us both just a little owlishly, and then toasted us both with her whiskey bottle.

“Hello, Jane,” I said easily.

“Hello, Shaman,” Janissary Jane said pointedly. She was perhaps the only other person here who knew I was a Drood. “What do you want with me?”

“I’m organising a major operation against some demons,” I said. “I could use your advise and expertise. You’ll get the going rate for the duration, plus a generous bonus if we pull the thing off successfully.”

“Hold it,” said Molly. “We’re paying her?”

“Of course,” I said. “She wouldn’t come otherwise. Would you, Jane?”

“I am a professional,” said Janissary Jane. “But who exactly would I be fighting for?”

“Does it matter?” I said.

“Of course it matters!” Janissary Jane said sharply. “There are worse things than demons. Like the Droods, for example…”

“Not this time,” I said. “We’re targeting the Loathly Ones, and we won’t stop till they’re either wiped out completely or banished forever.”

Janissary Jane whistled soundlessly and took another drink from her bottle. She considered me thoughtfully. “The Loathly Ones. That’s…ambitious. Hate demons. Bastards. But soul-eaters are the very worst…On the other hand, I’ve been hearing things. About the Droods. Word is something bad has happened to them. No one seems too sure what, but there are those going around saying they’ve lost their power.”

“There are always rumours,” I said easily. “All you need to know is that the money’s guaranteed. We’re serious about the Loathly Ones, Jane. And we could use your help.”

“Damn right you could. The Loathly Ones are hardcore demons. Soul-eaters don’t just kill you; they make you into them.” She smiled slowly. “There’s no way I’m missing out on this. If the Loathly Ones are finally going down, I want to be there to kick the last few heads in. You want me, you got me.”

“Great,” I said. “Just got to pick up a few more people, and then I’ll take you back home to meet the folks.”

Janissary Jane raised an eyebrow. “Home? As in … the Hall? Damn, never thought I’d see the inside of that place.”

“So, what have you been up to, Jane?” said Molly, just a little bit put out at being excluded from the conversation for so long.

“Oh, keeping busy,” said Janissary Jane. “Just got back from another Demon War. Truth be told, I’m getting a bit long in the tooth for these long runs, but the call went out and I signed up, just like always. Ended up in this alternate timeline where technology had become so advanced they’d forgotten all about magic. They thought they were just opening up a doorway into another dimension; turned out to be a gate to Hell. The demons just came pouring out, killing everything in sight, howling with joy at such easy prey…and all the technology in the world wasn’t enough to stop them.

“The sun turned black, the rivers ran with blood, and demons covered the earth in all their endless varieties of horror. Nowhere was safe. There were no churches, or holy places. And weapons only designed to kill people had little effect on demons. Humanity in that place had forgotten all the old protections. They learned fast, though. And somehow they got the call out to us. We opened up our own dimensional door and off we went again, to fight the good fight.

“And to kill demons. Hate demons.”

“How many wars have you fought in?” I said, honestly curious.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Too many. Won some, lost more, and lost too many good friends along the way. I’m a lot older than I look; serial regenerations will do that to you. Though they don’t stop you feeling old inside. Once I fought because I believed in my cause. Then because I hated demons. Now, just because…it’s what I do.”

“Still,” I said. “An actual hellgate, a direct link between a material plane and the Pit; that’s rare, isn’t it?”

“Very,” said Janissary Jane. “Or humanity would have been wiped out long ago. We had a whole army of seasoned demon fighters, heroes and warriors and soldiers, veterans of a hundred wars, and all we could do was die. We had the weapons and the tactics, but they had the numbers. I saw cities burning, mountains of severed heads, waded through blood and guts…The screaming never stopped. Eventually the very laws of reality started to change, warped by the presence of so many demons. We fought them for every inch, climbing over the bodies of our own fallen to throw ourselves at the enemy…and none of it did any good. We killed and killed, and still they came, laughing at us.”

She stopped speaking then. She started to raise the whiskey bottle to her mouth, and then lowered it again, as though she knew it wouldn’t help. Her cold gray eyes were far away, lost in memories she couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried.

“So, what happened?” Molly said finally.

“That dimension isn’t there anymore,” said Janissary Jane. “The demons were winning, so we blew it up, to prevent the demons from using it as a base to invade other dimensions.” She smiled sourly. “To save the universe, we had to destroy it. Some things never change. And only I am escaped to tell you the tale. Buy me another drink, Shaman. Something stronger.”

“You don’t have to join up with us,” said Molly.

“Yes I do,” said Janissary Jane. “I need a battle I can win.”

“Oh dear God, it’s you,” said a familiar voice. We all looked around, and there was the Blue Fairy. He was looking a lot better than the last time I’d seen him, but then, that wouldn’t have been difficult. That Blue Fairy had been on his last legs, physically and spiritually, and the figure before us was leaner, fitter, and dressed in the very smartest style. His face was still utterly dissolute, the few handsome traces remaining almost buried under lines of hard experience, but you had to expect that with the Blue Fairy. He had lived not wisely but too well, and it showed. He scowled at all of us, but me in particular.

“My half elf nature told me I’d be meeting someone important at the Wulfshead this evening, but if I’d known it was going to be you, I’d have stayed home and hidden under the covers until I stopped shaking.”

“You’re looking good, Blue,” I said kindly. “Especially considering, the last time I saw you, you were fighting for your life with some monstrosity you’d fished up from another dimension.”

The Blue Fairy shrugged. “Turned out it was just what I needed. Some kind of psychic vampire that ate all my addictions. I suppose it’s possible I subconsciously drew it to me.”

“Some people have all the luck,” said Molly.

“Hardly,” said the Blue Fairy. “Or I wouldn’t keep bumping into you people. Either way, I now have my health back, and my pride, and loath as I am to admit it, I am currently looking for some good works to get involved with, for the sake of my much abused karma. Since my nature brought me here, am I to take it you can help me out?”

“Got it in one,” I said. “I’m putting together an operation to take down the Loathly Ones, once and for all. A family outing, you might say. We could use your help, Blue.”

“Is the money good?”

“Of course.”

“Yes, well, it would have to be.” The Blue Fairy shook his head dolefully. “Never thought I’d see the day when I ended up aiding and abetting your notorious clan…”

“It’s Shaman Bond here,” I reminded him quickly. The Blue Fairy was another of those I’d been forced to reveal my true identity to when I was on the run. It seemed to me that there were far too many of them, but short of organising a cull, I didn’t see what I could do about it.

“Yes, yes, I hadn’t forgotten. I’m not entirely sure what I can contribute, apart from years of expertise in surviving appalling situations, but I’m in.”

Molly gave me a significant look over the rim of her glass, and I knew what she was thinking. You can’t trust him. He’s half elf, and you can never trust an elf. They always have a secret agenda, and another agenda hidden inside that.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” said a loud and cheerful voice behind us, in a strong Russian accent. “If it isn’t our dear old friend and customer, the Blue Fairy. Looking very prosperous, I would have to say. Fancy meeting you here, in this very expensive and upmarket establishment, when you have so many debts to be paying.”

We all turned to look, and there standing before us were two very large gentlemen in expensive long black leather coats, with shaven heads and nasty grins on their unpleasant faces. The Blue Fairy took one look at them and tried to hide behind me.

“Blue,” I said, “am I to take it you know these people?”

“Unfortunately yes,” said the Blue Fairy. “May I present to you the Vodyanoi brothers, Russian mafiosi who relocated to London after making Moscow too hot for them. I borrowed a hell of a lot of money from them, when I thought I was dying, and spent the lot on wine, drugs, and two very pretty rent boys. I honestly thought I’d be dead long before the time came to pay any of it back…Unfortunately, while all the money is gone, I am still here, and these gentlemen want their money back. Along with a quite extortionate amount of interest.”

“Indeed yes. We are Vodyanoi brothers!” said the thug on the left. “I am Gregor Vodyanoi, and this is being my baby brother Sergei Vodyanoi! We are being very dangerous people.”

“Very dangerous people indeed!” said Sergei, glaring at us all in turn. “Oh my word, yes.”

“Show them how dangerous we are, brother,” said Gregor.

Sergei produced a very large handgun from his coat pocket, put it to his left temple, grinned at us all with very large teeth, and then shot himself in the head. He rocked on his feet from the impact, but didn’t fall. There was no spurt of blood from the wound in his head, and the hole quickly closed. All around us, people were quietly backing away. Sergei gargled a few times, and then spat the deformed bullet out into his hand. He showed it to us, while Gregor slapped his brother proudly on the back.

“Unusually dangerous, I think you’ll agree,” said Gregor. “Now, there is a question of moneys owed to us. Substantial moneys, with much in the way of interest. Due right now, oh my word, yes.”

“Or very much else,” said Sergei. “We are Vodyanoi brothers, and no one is taking the advantage of us.”

The Blue Fairy looked at me. “Help?”

“I should have known you’d be more trouble than you were worth,” I said.

“I suppose an advance is out of the question?”

I smiled at the Vodyanoi brothers. “Any chance we can work this out in a civilised manner?”

“We do not do civilised,” said Gregor.

“Bad for business,” said Sergei.

“Either he pays up, or we eat him,” said Gregor, smiling widely to show off his very large teeth. “Setting an example is being very important, in our line of work.”

I turned to Molly. “Darling, could you take care of this?”

“Of course, darling,” said Molly. She snapped her fingers, and the Vodyanoi brothers vanished, replaced by two small and warty and very surprised-looking frogs sitting on the floor. I looked reproachfully at Molly.

“I meant, take care of the problem financially.”

“Then you should have said,” said Molly, sipping her drink.

I shook my head. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

“I hate to rain on your self-satisfied parade,” said Janissary Jane. “But I have a feeling things are about to get really unpleasant.”

We all looked back at the toads just in time to see them swell rapidly in size, throwing off their toad shapes and bursting out in all directions, until abruptly the Vodyanoi brothers were standing before us again, still in their black leather coats, and looking distinctly peeved. The Blue Fairy tried to hide behind me again.

“That was really not very nice,” said Gregor.

“Not in the least friendly, or businesslike,” said Sergei.

“Time to become dangerous, brother.”

“Extremely dangerous, brother.”

And they changed shape again, shooting up to become taller and broader, their faces lengthening into muzzles, their black coats replaced by the silver-gray fur of enormous wolves. Werewolves. They towered over us, all teeth and claws, with great muscles rippling under their thick pelts. They stank of blood and death and the joy of the kill. They snarled happily, showing huge teeth in their long jaws. I glared at the Blue Fairy.

“You couldn’t have told us in advance that they were shapeshifters?”

“You never gave me a chance!”

“Next time, talk faster!”

I couldn’t call up my armour without revealing my true identity to the whole damned club, so I drew my Colt Repeater and shot both werewolves repeatedly in the head. The impacts rocked them back on their wolf legs, but even as my bullets smashed their long skulls and ripped their wolf faces apart, the wounds were already healing. The Colt was incapable of missing, but it couldn’t provide silver bullets. I made a mental note to have a quiet word with the Armourer about that, when I got back. The Vodyanoi brothers howled fiercely as they pressed forward, into the face of my bullets. I’d hurt them, but that was all.

The Blue Fairy had already disappeared under the nearest table. Janissary Jane produced two long punch daggers from the tops of her boots. The jagged edges of the long blades gleamed with silver. Janissary Jane grinned nastily and waded into the two werewolves, hacking and stabbing at them with her very nasty blades. Blood flew on the air as the knives cut deep, and she dodged and ducked every blow the two huge werewolves could throw at her, doing what she did best and doing it magnificently.

Until one of the Vodyanoi brothers finally connected with a solid blow, and Janissary Jane went flying into the watching crowd. She hit the floor hard and didn’t rise again.

People were backing away in all directions now, but not so far they couldn’t get a good view of what was happening. Many were already laying bets, and cheering or booing as the mood took them. The Wulfshead’s security measures finally kicked in, spraying the Vodyanoi brothers with holy water from the sprinklers and targeting them with lasers from the light fittings, neither of which bothered the two huge werewolves in the least. The club did have more stringent measures, but presumably the management was reluctant to use them unless the fight escalated into something that could threaten the whole bar. Which meant…my friends and I were strictly on our own.

Molly had been tossing spells at the Vodyanoi brothers for some time now, but they just slid off, unable to get a grip on the werewolves’ slippery, unnatural nature. The toad spell had only worked because it caught the brothers by surprise. Molly had been reduced to throwing fireballs at them, but though the silver-gray fur burned fiercely and smelled appalling, it quickly repaired itself.

So I took out Merlin’s Glass, shook it out to full size, said the proper activating Words, and darted in between the two werewolves. Vicious claws slashed through the air, only just missing me, and then I reared up, clapped the Glass over the nearest werewolf, and transported it instantly to the Arctic Circle. The other brother stopped dead, astounded, and I clapped the Glass over him and sent him to the Antarctic. Good luck walking home from that one, boys…

The club’s security systems immediately shut down, and relative calm returned to the Wulfshead as everyone paid off their bets and went back to what they were doing. I put Merlin’s Glass away and went to see how Janissary Jane was doing. She was already sitting up and checking herself for injuries. Tough old broad. She slapped my proffered helping hand aside and got to her feet unaided.

“I’m fine. Don’t fuss, Shaman. Take more than a couple of imported werewolves to put me down. They’d never have tagged me at all if I hadn’t already been a bit tired from the last Demon War.”

“Of course,” I said soothingly, but I had to wonder…Was a time when no one could have tagged her, under any conditions. Maybe she was getting a little old…but then, I only really wanted her as a tutor, not a soldier. We went back to Molly, who was dragging the Blue Fairy out from under his table. One of the bartenders nodded his thanks to me.

“Nicely done, Shaman. Very handy little device you have there. Where did you find it?”

“eBay,” I said.

“Of course,” he said. “Where else?”