Live and let Drood

CHAPTER FOUR

And so we drove down to the coast in the Rolls Royce Phantom V, heading for that famous seaside place called Brighton, and its famous pier. The Phantom was another of the Armourer s lovingly restored classics, made over into death on four wheels for family use. A very smooth ride, very quiet. There used to be an old story about the Rolls Royce range, that when you were driving one of their cars the loudest noise you d hear would be the clock on the dashboard. To which a Rolls Royce engineer is supposed to have said,

Yeah, we re going to have to do something about that clock. This being one of the Armourer s cars, the dashboard clock was probably a timer for something explosive. I drove the Phantom in my usual fashion, everything forward and trust in the Lord.

I knew for a fact that the Armourer had built in more than enough shields to ensure no one would be able to detect our presence, let alone track our journey, and to give any speed camera that tried to lock on to us a nervous breakdown. Droods go unseen in the world. It s the only way we can get things done. Let Crow Lee look in vain for my torc or my new armour, and let him worry about where Molly and I were going and what we were up to. I needed him off balance until I had some kind of plan to throw at him.

I sent the Phantom V charging down the motorway, speeding past the slower-moving vehicles and weaving in and out of the rest, leaving shocked and startled drivers in my wake and intimidating the hell out of everyone who didn t get out of my way fast enough. I wasn t concerned about police cars. Let them try to chase us. After what the Armourer had done to the Phantom s engine, it could probably hit Mach 2 without straining. While going sideways.

I thought we didn t want to attract attention, said Molly, amused.

They don t start none, there won t be none, I said wisely. We re a lot safer doing the Brighton run the hard way than by popping through the Merlin Glass. That much power in one place really would call all the eyes of the hidden world down upon us.

And you don t trust it, said Molly.

That, too, I said. Besides, I can use the time it ll take us to get to the coast to do some thinking. There s a lot that needs thinking about.

I ll put in some music, said Molly, producing a CD out of thin air.

And she put in Trans-Siberian Orchestra s Night Castle. Which may or may not have contributed to my mental processes. Those guys crank it up to eleven just to shake off the cobwebs. I was still working on how best to attend to Crow Lee when Molly abruptly shut off the music to raise a pertinent question.

There s no telling how long this is going to take, is there? she said. I mean, to track down your missing family and locate a mechanism strong enough to take us there and bring us back. It could take weeks, months maybe even years.

Yes, it could, I said, staring straight ahead and concentrating on putting the wind up everything in my way. It ll take as long as it takes.

And we have to face the possibility, Molly said carefully, that we might never find them. There s no telling just how far Alpha Red Alpha might have thrown the Hall, across the worlds beyond the worlds. We might never find another mechanism as powerful as Alpha Red Alpha to take us after them.

It s a big world, I said steadily.

Bound to be something out there. I hear what you re saying, Molly, but I don t believe it. I can t believe it. My family isn t dead, just lost, and I will find them if it takes me the rest of my life.

I understand, Eddie. I really do. I d feel the same if someone had taken my sisters. And I love Isabella and Louisa a lot more than you love your family.

Well, I said. Love s a complicated word. And the Droods are a complicated family. I glanced across at her. You never talk about your family, Molly. Apart from your sisters. I know your parents were killed in the field, like mine. But what about your other relatives?

There is no one else, said Molly. Her voice was calm enough, even matter-of-fact, but she wouldn t turn her head to look at me. My family have always been rogues, outlaws, troublemakers supernatural freedom fighters or terrorists, depending on who you talk to. And a tradition like that comes with a built-in high mortality rate. You don t die in bed in my family. Or at least not in any acceptable way. And the world has been very hard on us, in recent times. The world and the Droods. So now there are just the three infamous Metcalf sisters to keep the world on its toes. The only survivors of a once-thriving line, because we have learned to be very hard to kill.

There s a chance my parents are still alive, I said. So maybe

No, said Molly. Beyond a certain point, hope is more than self-indulgence. It s self-harm.

You still have me, I said. Forever and a day. And through me you have my family. Please take them.

We looked at each other and managed a small smile.

I m still thinking about that, to be honest, said Molly. I want you, but I m not sure about them.

A perfectly reasonable attitude, I said, slamming the gear stick through its paces with the palm of my hand and sending a poncy-looking Porsche swerving uncontrollably in my slipstream.

I m not sure I d belong to my family if I had any say in the matter. The Droods do good work. They re necessary. But

Yeah, said Molly. But.

I shrugged. They re still my family. Good and bad and in between and the Librarian. After all the changes I ve put them through recently, I feel responsible for them. And, anyway, we have to get them back. The world needs them.

That s sort of what I was getting at, said Molly. Someone is going to have to look after business, protecting the world and all that, until you can find the Droods again. Someone s going to have to take up the slack and do all the heavy lifting in the Droods absence. And who is there? I mean, really?

The London Knights, I said.

All right, yes. Ten out of ten for Mr. Obvious here. But really? The last defenders of Camelot, noble knights and true, under the returned King Arthur; fair enough. No one doubts they re the good guys, in a very martial and smiting-the-ungodly way, but they re hardly ever here! They mostly involve themselves with otherworldly and even other-dimensional threats. And since they believe very firmly in taking the fight to the enemy and making a mess where they live, they just aren t around much of the time.

I did do some work with the Carnacki Institute back when I was just a London field agent, I said. But the Ghost Finders are just too limited, both in their scope of activity and in terms of manpower. And far too closely linked to the establishment, for my liking.

You see? said Molly. I suppose we could always approach the new authorities in the Nightside, with their new Walker, John Taylor.

Absolutely not, I said. I wouldn t trust any of that crowd farther than I could throw a wet camel into the wind. There s a reason why we keep them locked up in the Nightside, and I m not going to be the one to let them out on an unsuspecting world. The Nightside always has its own agenda. I mean, have you met Dead Boy?

Yes, said Molly. Louisa went out with him for a while.

There used to be MI-13, I said, more because I was still thinking out loud than because I had any faith in them.

They ve done good work in their time, but after the Great Satanic Conspiracy revealed how infiltrated and compromised they were, it ll be a long time before anyone trusts them with anything that matters. In fact, the more I think about it part of what makes the Droods so important is that there just isn t anyone else like us.

There are a great many other perhaps not as reputable groups and individuals, Molly said carefully.

Certain known names whom I may or may not have done certain things with in the past, probably best not discussed in present company And it could be that I might know how to get in touch with them. Eddie, somebody s got to do it!

Who did you have in mind? I said, equally carefully. The Soulhunters, perhaps?

You have got to be joking! Molly made a seriously disgusted and appalled noise. I wouldn t touch them with an exorcised barge pole! Those people are seriously weird. I worked alongside one of their agents. Just the once. Called himself Demonsbane. Because it turned out we were working the same case from different ends. Something had been snatching foetuses, teleporting them right out of the womb and leaving only simulacra behind. The two of us ended up chasing Hagges through the sewers under Liverpool. We got the poor things back eventually, but Demonsbane freaked me out big-time. That s not even a code name, you know. That s what he calls himself! Hate to think what the other choices were The point is, he was seriously spooky, like all the Soulhunters.

And you know spooky, I said.

Damn right I do. Trust me, Eddie. There is something seriously wrong about the Soulhunters. Every damned one of them.

You know how sometimes this job can drive you crazy? I said. The Soulhunters have always dealt with the darkest, nastiest and freakiest areas of the hidden world. Word is, when you re too weird, too disturbed or just too broken for any of the other supernatural organisations, that s when you re ready for your Soulhunters interview. In fact, I think this is how it goes: Are you crazy? Yes, I am! Welcome to the Soulhunters! If we let them take over from the Droods, the world won t know what s hit it. Certainly the hidden world wouldn t remain hidden for very long.

I love how you mention things and then immediately talk yourself out of it, said Molly.

Years of practice.

There s always the lone guns, said Molly.

The heroes and adventurers, the rogues and the headbangers. Maybe we could put together our own version of the Magnificent Seven.

Have bad attitude; will travel that sort of thing. We could start with the Walking Man.

No, we couldn t, I said immediately.

Him? The wrath of God in the world of men? He s not exactly subtle, is he? Never met a scorched-earth policy he didn t like. No. I suppose there s always Augusta Moon, the monster hunter.

She s getting on a bit, Molly said doubtfully. There s the English Assassin.

No, there isn t, I said. He s dead again. Look. There s never been any shortage of adventurers in the supernatural, the heroes and the differently sane, but there s nearly always a reason why they work alone. I m sure we could round up any number of reputable names and maybe even get them to play nice together as long as we were there to crack the whip, but none of them could carry the weight of the world on their backs for long. They don t have the training, the organisation or even the big guns to get the job done. That s why the Droods are so important and why it s so vital we get them back as soon as possible. Come on, Molly. There s only one place we can go, and that s to the Regent of Shadows.

Molly scowled fiercely, considering the matter. The Shadows are a secretive bunch, she said finally. Even for the usual secret organisations. I mean, yes, I ve heard of them everyone has. But that s it. They deal in information. I can t say I ve ever heard of them wading in and getting their hands dirty. I always thought they were part of the Establishment, like the Carnacki crowd.

Not as such, I said. They tend more towards working with the Establishment, rather than for them. An important distinction in this day and age. Sufficiently independent for our purposes, and not likely to spread around the information we ll be giving them. And once they ve told me what I need to know, hopefully I can persuade the Regent to jump in and become far more active than he s used to.

Why would he want to? Molly said bluntly.

Because he s still a Drood, even if he is a rogue, I said. He s still family, which means he understands duty and responsibility. If they re dropped onto him from a great enough height.

But you ve never even met the man! said Molly. Your family wouldn t even talk about him!

That is a point in his favour, I said.

We reached Brighton late in the day, with the afternoon already heading into evening, though the sun still shone brightly as it sank down the perfect blue sky. Not a cloud to be seen or a breath of breeze anywhere. The Phantom s speed dropped abruptly as we hit the city traffic, and I bullied my way as best I could through the narrowing streets of the city centre. There was quite a lot of traffic, this being the height of the tourist season, with whole families packed into cars and pointed at the seaside. There wasn t the room for my usual driving tactics, so I just hunched down in my seat and cruised along, resisting the impulse to open up with the front-mounted machine guns.

The slow progress made me uneasy. Made me feel more and more as though there were targets painted all over the bodywork. I trusted the Armourer s shields to do their job, but, on the other hand, Crow Lee didn t get to be number one in the Bastard Business without being able to locate his enemies. I checked the surrounding cars and their drivers carefully, but I didn t see anything or anyone I could honestly identify as showing inappropriate interest.

Molly was just pleased to be back in Brighton. She bounced up and down excitedly in her seat, peering happily out of all the windows, pointing out the sights and interrupting herself to beat a fast paradiddle on the dashboard with both hands.

I love Brighton! she said loudly. Good food, good bars and bad company! If you re a girl who likes to drink, dance and debauch, and wallow in everything that s bad for you, Brighton is the place to be! Used to be Blackpool, but that s gone very down-market of late.

I never knew you to be such a happy camper, Molly, I said solemnly.

My glass may be half-empty, but I am half-full! Can t we get a move on?

Not without actually driving right over the cars in front of us, no.

Molly looked like she was seriously considering it. We need the Pier. That s where we ll find my old acquaintance. Brighton Pier. You know, one time I

Never mind your disreputable past, I said.

How do we get there?

Molly shifted uneasily in her seat, looking around for signposts and landmarks. I don t know! Give me a chance it s been a few years. Honestly, Eddie, all the extras your uncle Jack built into this car, and he didn t think to include a sat nav? And don t ask me to check the maps. I do not do the map thing. Look. Just head for the seafront. Listen for the sound of the waves, and if that doesn t work, stick your head out the side window and sniff out the tang of the sea!

World s worst navigator, I said, and she punched me in the shoulder.

I have other talents, she said, grinning.

So you do.

After some back-and-forthing and a certain amount of going round and round in circles, we finally found our way to the seafront and Brighton Pier. A large and impressive structure stretching away from the beach and out into the sea, so people could go walking across the ocean and get a sense of the sea without actually having to go in it. The Pier looked to just go on and on, but then I supposed it had to be that long to fit in all the overpriced souvenirs, games and tourist traps that paid for its continued existence. Hell of a lot of seagulls flying around, making a lot of noise. Molly lowered her window and stuck her head right out, the better to savour the sea air.

I looked around for a parking place, which was naive of me. Of course there wasn t one. All the parking places in Brighton are probably full by dawn s earliest light, or inherited and passed on within the family. So I just brought the Phantom V to a halt directly in front of the Pier s main entrance, right next to a NO PARKING sign. One of life s little pleasures. I turned off the engine and powered up the car s defences, while Molly conjured up an official DISABLED sticker and slapped it on the inside of the windscreen. I looked at her reproachfully.

You are very definitely not in any way disabled, I said. Not as long as you can still get your ankles behind your ears like you did last night

Anyone messes with this car while we re away, they will find themselves suddenly and violently disabled, said Molly. It s the thought that counts.

Can t take you anywhere, I said sadly.

You know you love it, really.

We left the Phantom V to fend for itself and strolled towards the Pier s main entrance. Molly surprised me by taking my hand in hers. She s not usually one for public displays of affection. Presumably she was just trying to blend in. A seagull dive-bombed us, and Molly shot it out of the air with her free hand. When she makes a gun with her hand, she s not kidding. The seagull plummeted from the sky with feathers flying off it and crashed into the sea. Molly smiled happily. I hurried her through the main entrance and onto the Pier proper.

I hope Madame O is still doing business here, said Molly. Because if she isn t, I haven t a clue where to find her.

We came all this way and you re not even sure she s here? I said.

I m sure! She s here! Unless she isn t

An old friend of yours, this Madame O? I said, as we promenaded along the Pier, doing our best to look like two more tourists. I was more successful at this than Molly, but then I ve had training in how to look like nobody in particular. Molly s never been much of a one for blending in.

A friend? said Molly. Not as such.

Oh, I said. It s going to be like that, is it?

Almost certainly. You just keep quiet and let me do all the talking, said Molly. And everything will be fine. Just fine. Be ready to dodge and duck, as necessary.

Would it perhaps go better if I was to introduce myself as Shaman Bond?

Wouldn t work, Molly said immediately.

She d spot your torc the moment she set eyes on you and know you for a Drood. She s the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, which is a lot rarer now in these days of family planning.

So she has the Sight?

Madame O can See things that no one else can See, that aren t necessarily even there, and have conversations with them, said Molly.

Is she a witch?

Worse, said Molly, grimacing. She s a fortune-teller.

We took our time, strolling along the bare wooden boards of the Pier, taking in the sights. I was actually enjoying myself. I d never been on a pier before. I walked over to the solid steel railings and peered over the side, looking out over the waters and the pebbled beach and the heavy swell of the waves coming in below. The afternoon was definitely over now, with evening settling in, but the sun was still bright and the air was pleasantly warm, interrupted now and then by sharp cool breezes gusting in off the sea. There were still quite a few tourists out and about, families enjoying the remains of the day and getting sucked into all the amenities the Pier had to offer. There were even a handful of retired senior citizens who looked like fixtures, happily reclining in their own personal deck chairs, just sitting back and watching the world go by. If there d been anywhere to hire a deck chair, I might have joined them. I surprised myself by getting into the whole experience and enjoying it. Molly grinned broadly, enjoying seeing me enjoying myself.

You ve never been on a pier before. Have you, Eddie?

Never been to the seaside before, I said.

It wasn t allowed.

You ve never done this before? Not even when you were a child?

Especially not then. The likes of this wasn t for young Droods. We were never allowed out of the Hall s grounds. You have to remember, Molly: Drood children out in the world, beyond the Hall s protections, were seen as nothing more than kidnap victims waiting to happen. We would be targets for any number of people desperate to get their hands on a Drood torc and Drood secrets. And, of course, a kidnapped child could be used as leverage against us. Besides the family has always believed in keeping its children close; the better to indoctrinate and control them. So holidays were out. Except on television, and all those Enid Blyton books I read as a kid. This all this, is good. This is fun. I like this!

Molly laughed aloud, squeezed my hand and led me down the full length of the Pier, over the dark sea waters, making sure I saw everything there was to see. The gift shops were of course packed wall to wall with overpriced tat, loud and gaudy and tacky with it, the kind of thing tourists buy because they think it s expected of them. And then when they get it home, they look at it and say, What was I thinking? Some nice watches, though. Along with a whole bunch of miniature clocks shoehorned into every kind of objet d art and objet trouv you could think of.

What really caught my eye was the line of cans containing Brighton air. Really. Large and colourful containers full of fresh air from the seaside, sealed shut. Enjoy the breezy Brighton Air! Breathe in that ozone! And then take it home with you! said the sign on the front of every can. Molly got the giggles.

They re actually selling air to the tourists!

Reminds me of something I once saw on eBay, I said. Genuine Transylvanian Grave Dirt! Each in its own sealed container, of course. For vampire fanatics who only think they ve got absolutely everything My first thought was that the Eastern Europeans had finally figured out a way to sell dirt to foreigners, but it turned out to be more complicated than that. An old vampire count was shipping his ancestral estate to England, one bit at a time. We soon put a stop to that. I tracked down the location in London, got a few friends together, we all drank a lot of holy water and then pissed all over the new earthen plot. And that took care of that.

You ve lived, haven t you, Eddie? Molly said admiringly.

You want me to buy you a can of air or not?

I ll pass. She frowned. Am I remembering correctly someone once tried to sell his soul on eBay?

Yeah, but they made him take it down. He couldn t provide proof of ownership.

We went through the games arcade next. All the usual noisy video stuff, of course, along with a surprising number of old-fashioned traditional games of no chance whatsoever. Clearly designed to painlessly separate a punter from whatever spare change he happened to have about his person. Whilst at the same time fooling said punter into believing he was having a good time.

You miserable old scrote, said Molly, when I explained my insights to her. You don t come here to win money. You come here to enjoy yourself! You really don t understand being on holiday, do you?

Apparently not, I said.

Molly squealed excitedly as she recognised an old favourite from her childhood, and then nothing would do except for her to drag me over to show it off to me. The game was a simple mechanical affair called The Claw. A tall plastic cylinder with toys piled up at its base and a claw that descended from the top. You paid your money, which gave you a measure of control over the claw and a limited amount of time for you to use the claw to grab the toy of your choice. Skill was apparently involved. What could be simpler? Except somehow the claw never did get a secure grip on any of the toys before the time ran out. Funny, that.

Molly jumped up and down excitedly before the clear plastic cylinder, regaling me with tall tales of the ones that got away and then she went all quiet as she realised one of the toys she remembered was still on offer. She pointed it out to me: an overbearingly cute little stuffed pony in an unnatural shade of sky blue. With a purple mane. Molly slammed both hands against the cylinder, making it shiver, while growling, I want it, I want it, I want it. Several parents hustled their children away. I produced a handful of small change; Molly snatched it off my palm and the game was on. Molly took control of the claw, and several times got hold of her prey with it, but somehow it always came loose just as the time ran out. Funny, that.

I may not know much about holidays, but I know a con when I see one.

Molly scowled at the cylinder. I sensed trouble coming, and moved forward to block people s view of her. She ghosted her hand through the clear plastic, grabbed the stuffed pony, took it out and hugged it to her. The greasy-haired teenager in charge of the game started to say something. I gave him one of my looks, and he didn t. Molly cradled the pony to her bosom and looked at me defiantly.

I ve always wanted one! It s mine!

Of course it is, I said. Anyone can see you two belong together. Can we please move along now?

I thought there d be alarms, Molly said vaguely. Really rubbish security here. They didn t deserve to keep it.

She moved on through the games arcade, cuddling the stuffed pony to her chest and babbling cheerful nonsense to it. I followed behind. She wasn t interested in holding my hand anymore. The pony was more important. I had to wonder if there was anything I wanted as much as Molly wanted that particular stuffed toy. I didn t think so. My family gave us weapons to play with, not toys. And the only things I got to cuddle as a kid were the gryphons on the lawns. And they liked to roll in dead things. Childhoods; they really do mess you up. I hurried to catch up with the only thing I d ever really wanted, and then we walked together through the arcade.

We wandered from game to game, indulging ourselves occasionally, and I looked them all over with great interest, fascinated by the loud noises and flashing lights. Reminded me of the Armoury. Eventually we passed through the games arcade and out the other side. The fresh sea air came as a relief after so much compressed body odour, and we strolled on, all the way to the end of the Pier. Where I was somewhat surprised to find a slouching, two-story wooden edifice passing itself off as a haunted house. There were a slumping doorway, gloomily backlit windows, and a general ambience of cheap and cheerful. It looked like a stiff breeze would knock it over.

Okay, I said. That is never haunted. Not even a little bit.

It s not meant to be, Molly said patiently. It s just another game, Eddie. For the children. Like a ghost train.

Even the Scooby-Doo gang would turn up their noses at this, I said firmly. And no, Molly, we are not going in. I have my dignity. And I just know that if I walk through that door and someone in a sheet jumps out and shouts, Boo! at me, I will not be responsible for my actions.

I suppose the Droods had the real thing!

Not as such, I said. You met Jacob, the family ghost, awful old reprobate that he was. And there s the Headless Nun, of course. When I was a kid, they were usually more fun to hang around with than the rest of my family.

It s a wonder you grew up as normal as you did, Molly said sweetly.

Well, quite, I said.

At the very end of the Pier, some distance from the beach and way out over the ocean, I leaned on the reinforced railings and breathed deeply. Seagulls keened loudly overhead but maintained a respectful distance. Molly hugged her stuffed pony one last time, opened an invisible pocket in her dress, stuffed the thing in and forgot about it. (If it looked to be turning up on our bed at any future time, I planned on being very firm about it.) I peered out across the ocean. Various ships were passing by, out on the horizon, going about the business apparently without a care in the world. Though it s hard to be sure with ships.

I do like this pier, I said. Thanks for bringing me here, Molly. Even if your friend isn t here. It does me good to be reminded that there are things in this world worth saving.

We could always go on one of the rides, said Molly. She indicated the various roller coasters and Tilt-A-Whirls, most of which swung too far out over the waters for my liking. I shook my head firmly.

I ve never understood the appeal of those things. My world is dangerous enough as it is without putting myself at risk on purpose. I wouldn t go on one of those things if you paid me. And I ve got Drood armour.

I can t believe I m saying this, said Molly. But you have no sense of adventure.

That isn t adventure, I said. That is one mechanical malfunction away from a major local news story just waiting to happen. Can we please go see this old friend of yours now? That is what we came here for, after all.

I thought you were enjoying yourself.

I was! I am. But part of being a Drood is knowing when to get down to business.

Look to your right, said Molly, and there you will behold Madame O s Palace of Mysteries. Look upon her wonders and marvel.

I looked. There, tucked away to one side, was an old-fashioned fortune-teller s tent. A droopy-looking thing, presumably surrounding the stall within, its rough canvas covered with all the usual symbols that the general public has been conditioned to accept as representing the mystical and the occult: moons and stars, witches on broomsticks and black cats. It couldn t have looked more fake if it tried.

That s the point! said Molly, when I expressed this view to her. No one would ever think to find the real thing here, looking like that. Would they?

I looked the tent over carefully. Who s she hiding from?

Pretty much everybody, said Molly. Madame O has conned, double-crossed, and done dirt to practically everyone in our game you can think of at one time or another. And, yes, very definitely including your family. During her long, involved and decidedly underhanded career, Madame O has been run out of every major city you can name, and some that aren t even there anymore. Her trouble is, she s got no self-control. She sees something she wants and she goes for it. Just grabs it and runs, and to hell with the consequences. Why are you looking at me like that?

Thought you were describing someone else for a moment, I said smoothly. Do carry on.

Madame O was my mentor, for a time, said Molly.

Taught me everything I know about taking advantage of the world. Well, not everything, but you d be surprised.

The hand-painted sign set up on an easel at the entrance to the tent read MADAME OSIRIS. KNOWS ALL, SEES ALL, TELLS ALL.

For the right price, said Molly. Madame O never gave away anything in her life.

I looked at the sign. Tell me that s not her real name.

Of course not! said Molly. To start with, Osiris is a man s name. One of the old male Egyptian gods. You see, you can learn things from watching old mummy movies. I don t think anyone knows Madame O s real name. According to old magical tradition, to know the true name of a person or an object is to have power over it. As long as I ve known her, it s always been Madame O-something. When I first met her in Vienna all those years ago, she was passing herself off as Madame Olivia, Daughter of the Night and Disciple of Darkness. She was a bit old for the badger game even then, but she still had a certain glamour. She could make grown men give up their credit card details and pin numbers just by looking at them in a certain way. She taught me all I know about deviousness and debauchery. Including that thing I do with my fingertips that you really like

Far too much information, I said. Can we trust her?

Of course not.

Then why are we here?

Because she knows things, sweetie.

Can we trust her to tell us the truth?

If we lean on her hard enough. We don t have enough money to bribe her.

I shrugged. She s your friend.

There are friends and there are friends, said Molly. And Madame O is neither.

She slapped aside the tent flap and strode in. I followed, carefully pulling the tent flaps closed behind me. I didn t want us being interrupted. Inside there was hardly any room to move, the lighting was kept deliberately gloomy so you couldn t tell how cheap the place was, and there was nothing in any way mystical about the atmosphere. The only light came from half a dozen candles in a cheap candelabra, illuminating the table and two chairs set up. The crystal ball on the table looked impressive enough at first glance; but I ve spent enough time around the real thing to know a fake when I see one.

Madame Osiris sat on the far side of the table, carefully positioned to be half-hidden in the shadows. A lady of a certain age, solidly built and wrapped in traditional gypsy robes, she looked like she could punch her weight. Her bare muscular arms were covered in cheap and tacky multicoloured bangles that clattered loudly against one another with every movement, while her long-fingered hands caressed the crystal ball in a disturbingly sensuous way. She had a handsome enough face with a good bone structure, under industrial strength makeup, topped with a silk turban. She bestowed on Molly and me a wide professional smile and launched into what was clearly a well-practiced routine, addressing us both in a rich smoky voice.

Enter, dear friends, into the Mysteries of the Hereafter! Learn what the future has in store for you! And together we shall Oh, bloody hell. It s you, Molly Metcalf.

Madame Osiris pushed her chair back from the table, allowing the candlelight to illuminate her fully, the better to glower fiercely at Molly.

Nice to see you again too, Madame O, Molly said cheerfully. Don t get up. We re not staying. And we re definitely not tourists, so lay off the purple prose.

Madame Osiris sniffed loudly. All the stalls on all the piers and you had to come walking into mine. I should have seen this coming. She looked me over in an impersonal sort of way.

So this is the new boyfriend, is it? You always did like them big and dumb, Molly. Whatever happened to Oh, you know, Big and Blond and Ethereal? I always liked him.

He couldn t stand the pace, said Molly. She smiled at me. This one can.

Nicest thing you ve ever said about me, I said.

Madame Osiris was still giving me the once-over, in a considering sort of way that was probably designed to make me feel uncomfortable. So when in doubt, attack. I struck a deliberately casual pose and gave her my best intimidating smile.

We re not here to have our futures told. We have questions we want answered.

You and the whole world, dearie. Oh, sit down, sit down. You make the place look untidy.

I glanced at Molly, who nodded to the only empty chair. I sat down facing Madame Osiris, and she smiled briefly like she d just won a point. Molly made a point of standing beside me with her arms folded impatiently.

Cross my palm with silver, dearie, Madame Osiris said briskly, and I shall reveal all.

You ll catch your death in this weather, said Molly.

How about I cross your palm with gold? I said. I sent my armour shooting down my arm to cover my hand in a golden gauntlet and slammed it down on the table. Madame Osiris didn t even jump. Just looked at it like I d dropped a fresh turd on the table before her.

Stone me, it s a Drood. She looked at my throat. Yes, there it is: the golden dog collar. Should have spotted it the moment you walked in I must be getting old. Looks a bit odd, though; a bit off-colour She raised an eyebrow, but I just smiled and said nothing, and pulled the armour back off my hand. Madame Osiris shrugged briefly. None of my business, dearie. See if I care. She looked reproachfully at Molly. Dating a Drood? That really the best you can do? I thought you had better taste. All right. What do you want to know? And, no, I don t do lottery numbers.

Where can we find the Regent of Shadows? I said.

She surprised me then by laughing in my face. Don t need a crystal ball for that one, dearie. You don t find him. He finds you.

Forget the clever dialogue, I said. I m not a tourist. Where, exactly?

You need the Department of the Uncanny, in London, Madame Osiris said resignedly. Go to Big Ben and then ask again. And, no, I m not even a little bit kidding. Word is the Regent s going up in the world. Probably because he knows all kinds of things he isn t supposed to He s been making a lot of people nervous. Anything else you want from me before I invite you to go to hell by the express route? The last thing I need around here is your kind, lowering the tone and attracting the kind of attention I can well do without. You re bad news, Molly Metcalf, and you always were.

How can you say that, Madame O, after all we ve been through together? said Molly.

Madame Osiris glared at me. Run, boy, while you still can. She ll get you killed. Just like everyone else who gets close to her. The Metcalf sisters have never cared for anyone but themselves. There s a reason why they re still alive and the rest of their family isn t.

Never meet up again with old friends, Molly said to me. They ll always let you down.

And I can t believe you re stepping out with a Drood! snapped Madame Osiris. You have better reason than most to know what they really are! But then, you never did listen to me. I could have made you big!

This from someone hiding out in a fortune-teller s stall on Brighton Pier, said Molly. How have the mighty fallen

You little cow

That s enough! I said. I didn t come here for this!

And something in my voice snapped both their heads round to look at me. Madame Osiris actually looked startled for a moment, and Molly looked at me as though she didn t know me at all. And then they looked at each other.

Is he? said Madame Osiris.

Just a bit, said Molly.

You always did know how to pick them, dearie. Whatever happened to Roger Morningstar?

Dead, finally, said Molly.

Then we can all sleep a little more safely in our beds, at last. Are you in trouble, Molly?

Perhaps a little more than usual.

I always did have a soft spot for you, much against my better judgement. Like the daughter I never wanted. Lose the Drood, Molly, while you still can.

I can t, said Molly. He s the only one who ever really mattered to me.

Madame Osiris sighed. And love makes fools of us all. One more question, dearie, on the house, and I ll see what I can do.

Where are my sisters? said Molly. Right now.

Madame Osiris raised a heavily painted eyebrow. Don t you know?

Obviously not, or I wouldn t be asking! They ve got their auras turned off, and that isn t like them. So where are they?

Madame Osiris sat thoughtfully for a long moment, her dark eyes staring off into the distance and then she sat up straight and shrugged quickly. Sorry, dearie. Outside my range. But then, they always were. Come on, Molly. You know as well as I do that no one finds Isabella and Louisa if they don t want to be found. And wherever they are right now, they clearly don t want anyone else knowing.

But I m not anyone else! I m their sister!

Then the question you should be asking yourself, said Madame Osiris, is, What could they be up to that they know you wouldn t approve of? Maybe you should go talk to the Regent of Shadows. He knows everything about everyone. That s his job description. In fact, it s probably engraved on his business cards.

Molly nodded brusquely and turned to leave. You do know Osiris is a man s name, right?

Madame O laughed in a good-natured way. It s all Egyptian to me, dearie.

Molly and I made our way back down the Pier. Neither of us was in a hurry to get anywhere. We both had a lot to think about.

Well, I said finally. That was pretty much a waste of time.

Did you know the Regent of Shadows was now in charge of the Department of the Uncanny?

I d heard rumours.

Did you know he was hiding out at Big Ben?

Nice to have the rumours confirmed, I suppose, I said. Your Madame O gave me the impression of being just a bit rattled by our sudden appearance. She wasn t pleased to see you, and she definitely didn t like having me around.

Of course not, said Molly, smiling briefly.

You re a Drood.

The point I m making is, Do you think someone else might have got to her first? Crossed her palm with a hell of a lot of silver to point us in the wrong direction?

She didn t know we were coming to see her, said Molly. She couldn t. Hell, we didn t know until I made the decision just a few hours ago.

But if she can see the Future

Grow up, Eddie. Of course she can t! You are so gullible sometimes. That whole Madame Osiris thing is just for show! Just another con for the unwary It takes a hell of a lot of power to look into all the future timetracks ahead of us.

Someone with real power like Crow Lee? I said. My old tutors always said no one understood the Theory of Magick like Unholy Crow Lee. Molly, is it just me, or is it getting dark in a hurry?

We both stopped and looked around us and then up at the sky. Grim, overbearing clouds were forming out over the ocean, filling the sky and cutting off the sunshine. The temperature dropped perceptibly as something leached all the summer s warmth out of the day. A great grim fog was forming, rising up off the sea and heading straight for the Pier.

Okay, said Molly. That is not natural.

The fog surged forward, racing across the ocean, and fell upon the end of the Pier like a beast on its prey. It consumed the whole end of the Pier in a moment and then moved slowly, purposefully forward, enveloping the Pier foot by foot. I lost sight of the huge rides and then everything else at the rear of the Pier, unable to see more than a few feet into the thick pearlescent fog. Molly was right: There was nothing natural about this. We both backed carefully away from the fog, sticking close together. We couldn t risk being separated.

People farther down the Pier began to cry out as even the everyday tourists sensed something was wrong. Panic moved quickly through the crowds as they felt what Molly and I already knew: that there was something in the fog. Something bad. In ones and twos and then in groups, they headed for the exit. Walking quickly and then hurrying, and finally breaking into an undignified run as the fog struck a chill into their hearts. Young lovers held on to each other tightly, running hard and not looking back, while parents dragged screaming and protesting children along with them by brute force. The retired senior citizens abandoned their deck chairs, and hurried after the departing crowds as best they could. White-faced staff abandoned the stalls and shops and the games arcade, and ran for their lives. Even the fake ghosts came running out of the fake haunted house, throwing aside their sheets and costumes so they could run faster.

None of them wanted any part of the advancing fog and what was moving inside it.

I looked round just in time to see Madame Osiris s tent disappear abruptly, just before the fog reached it. She may not have seen the fog coming, but she knew enough to get the hell out of Dodge. Molly and I looked at each other and smiled briefly. It would take a lot more than some sudden bad-tempered weather to scare us. We stood our ground, facing the fog as it crept towards us. I peered into the thick fog as it ate up foot after foot of the Pier, but though I could sense something moving along with it, I still couldn t see a damned thing. And suddenly I had a very bad feeling about this fog.

We could depart, I said carefully to Molly. If you like. To a better position I m just mentioning the possibility.

No, said Molly, just as carefully. We don t back down, ever. Might give other people ideas Besides, aren t you curious to see what s inside it?

Well, yes and no, I said. There s curious, and then there s curious.

The temperature plummeted. My breath was suddenly steaming on the air before me, along with Molly s. All the hairs were standing up on my arms and the back of my neck. I shuddered briefly despite myself, and it wasn t because of the cold. I had a sudden sharp feeling of my own mortality. The fog advanced deliberately towards us, thick and swirling and pearly grey, with strange lights coming and going deep within it and something that might have been shadowy shapes deep in the heart of it. The air was damp, beading on my face, and I could taste sea salt on my lips.

What is this cold I m feeling? I said to Molly. The cold of the grave?

I don t think so, said Molly. She wouldn t take her gaze off the fog for a moment, even to glance at me. More like the cold of the sea. The kind of cold you only feel in the deepest, darkest part of the ocean. At the very bottom of the sea, where everything falls when it s dead. There s something in the fog and it s coming for us, Eddie. I can feel it.

I nodded quickly. I could feel it, too. A growing sense of presence, of something else here on the Pier with us. Even though the crowds and the tourists were long gone. Something new, or perhaps something very old, had come to Brighton Pier, in the fog, out of the sea. Looking for me and Molly.

My fingers are tingling, I said. And not in a good way.

That s nothing, said Molly. My nipples are hard as rocks.

Oh, great, I said. Distract me. That s all I need.

Molly laughed. Not everything is about you, Eddie.

This time, I think it is, I said. I think this is all about me. About getting rid of the Last Drood.

I can see things moving in the fog, said Molly.

Human shapes heading straight for us.

You ve got better eyes than me, I said, glaring helplessly into the grey fog churning before me. Close, now. Just a few more feet and I d be able to reach out and touch it.

Madame O sold us out, Molly said flatly. She told someone we were here. I shall have words with her later.

Not necessarily, I said. I told you we were being watched. Crow Lee is a power in his own right, as well as being the Most Evil, et cetera, and this is well within his capabilities. He wants to stop me from rescuing my family. He wants to take me down while I m vulnerable. I smiled, and somehow I just knew it wasn t a very nice smile. Poor old Crow Lee. He thinks I m naked. He doesn t know about my new armour.

Right, said Molly. We ll show him.

We could still run, I said.

Too late, said Molly.

The fog swelled towards us like the waves of a silent pearl grey sea. The whole end of the Pier was gone now, swallowed up by the fog. I could just make out the dark shape of the fake haunted house to my right. New lights were showing in the windows: dark green glows, like the phosphorescent light you find on shipwrecks at the bottom of the sea. Dark silhouettes, distorted human shapes, moved slowly past the windows. Something bad peered at me from the illuminated doorway.

Dark shadows, slow-moving human forms, stumbling forward on dragging feet, scraping across the wooden floorboards, appeared in the fog before Molly and me. They were almost upon us now. Not ghosts, not any form of projected image or any kind of illusion. These were solid, physical things. Dead men emerging slowly out of the fog. Dead men walking.

Once I got a good look at them, I knew immediately what they were. Not ghosts or even zombies, but spirits of the dead called up out of the sea and given their old shape and form to do their master s will. Or what was left of them after so long in the depths. Disturbed from their rest and animated by some terrible outside will. Crow Lee. Had to be. There were dozens of the things, maybe hundreds, shuffling and stumbling forward to confront Molly and me. Grey and bloated, flesh eaten away by fishes and all the other things that live at the bottom of the sea that we don t like to think about. Some bodies had clearly been down there longer than others; just bare bones, held together with strips of ancient flesh and tatters of decayed clothing. The faces were the worst: rotten, eaten away, eyes and ears and nose and lips just gone but they could still see Molly and me. Every dead body oriented on us as they pressed forward. They could see us. They knew where we were.

Can you tell what they want? I said to Molly.

No. But I could probably make a really good guess.

We could be mistaken, I said. Let s ask them.

You do it, said Molly. You re the polite one.

I took an ostentatiously confident step forward to face the army of the dead emerging from the fog, and immediately every dead body slammed to a halt. Not one of them moved. All their dead faces, their decaying heads, turned in my direction. I took a moment to make sure my voice would sound calm and confident. I doubted very much I d be fooling anyone, but it s the principle of the thing.

Who are you? I said. Why have you come here? What do you want? Is there anything I can do to help you? To put you back to rest again?

One of the nearest bodies stepped forward. Its bare feet made wet slapping sounds on the bare floorboards. With its bleached flesh and eaten-away face, its ragged clothes in rags, it could have been anyone. Only the manner of its clothes allowed me to identify it as male. It raised one half-skeletal hand to point at me, and water dripped steadily from the revealed bones.

We re all that s left of those who died in the waters here, said the dead man in a disturbingly normal voice. The sea is giving up its dead against its will. None of us want to be here. But then, none of us wanted to die. Accidents, mistakes, murder; we all ended up at the bottom of the sea. In the cold, in the dark and the silence. Raised and sent here by someone who had a use for us. One last crime against us. And all the rage we have for dying, for dying badly, for not being allowed to rest in peace all that rage has been stirred up in us, so we can take it out on you and your woman. We don t know who you are or why someone wants you to die so badly, and we don t care. We can t care. We re dead.

You can t hurt me, I said. I m a Drood.

Means nothing to me, said the dead man. Means nothing to any of us. We are here to hurt you and break you and make you die badly. And then we ll take you back with us, drag you down into the depths of the sea, to the cold and the dark and the silence. Forever.

Nothing worse than a chatty dead man, Molly said briskly. I don t think that s his voice, Eddie. I think that s someone else speaking through him.

Is that you, Crow Lee? I said. I ll be coming for you soon. And all the armies of the world, living or dead, won t be enough to stop me.

Let us rest, said a soft, wet chorus of voices.

We didn t want to die. But this is worse.

You wouldn t think someone with the power to raise an army of the dead would feel the need for psychological warfare, said Molly. This is just meant to disturb us by appealing to our better nature. Lot he knows. I don t have one. I had it surgically removed long ago, when it got in the way of having serious fun.

We didn t ask to be called up into the light again, said the dead man, looking straight at me with his eyeless face. The dark will be that much harder to bear now that we ve been made to remember what light is like. The cold will be that much worse now that we ve been made to know warmth again. And since we can t take our anger out on the one who raised us, we ll take it out on you.

Listen, I said. I don t know whether there s really any of you left in there or not. Whether these are your voices are not. But if you re really here, if you ve been made to suffer, I give you my word: I will avenge you. You hear that, Crow Lee? I will make you pay for this!

The moment I stopped talking, they all surged forward, stumbling over their broken and decayed feet, reaching out to Molly and me with rotting hands. Grasping hands, full of all the awful strength of the raised dead. I armoured up immediately, the golden armour encasing me from head to toe in a moment. It seemed to me the dead hesitated, as though they hadn t expected that, and then the will behind them drove them on. I went to meet them, my hands clenched into golden fists. Because if they wanted a fight, I was just in the mood to give them one. After what had been done to my family, all their anger was nothing compared to mine. They threatened me and Molly and the rescue of my family. To hell with that, and to hell with them all.

The nearest dead man grabbed on to my golden arm with both of his bony hands, and to my shock I could feel his cold wet grasp, right through the armour. It couldn t get through, couldn t get at me, but I could still feel it. And that wasn t supposed to be possible. I d never felt anything like it before. What the hell had Crow Lee raised here, and what had he put into them?

I ripped the dead man s arm off and threw it away. Water ran like blood from the empty socket, but the dead man barely staggered. I punched him full in the face with my golden fist and knocked his head right off. The body didn t fall, so I kicked its feet out from under it and walked right over the thrashing body on the deck to get to the next. I waded into the army of the risen dead, striking about me with vicious strength. I showed them no mercy because they had none in them for Molly or me. I ripped them apart with my armoured strength, tearing them limb from limb, knocking them down and trampling them underfoot, because they were dead and beyond any pain. And because I didn t care. They were just in the way.

They swarmed around me, packing in close, trying to slow me down so they could pull me down. They clung on to me with their dead hands, beat against my armour with their bony fists, and scrabbled at my neck and face with clawed hands. And I just hit them until they fell apart and fell away. They were actually quite fragile after so long in the sea, and all of Crow Lee s power wasn t enough to make them a match for Drood armour. Anyone else might have found the dead men terrifying, even dangerous but for me, in my armour, they were just targets. I hit them and broke them and it felt good, so good. I smashed through their ranks, ripped them apart, tore off their heads and threw them aside. I picked some up bodily and threw them off the edge of the Pier and back into the sea. Where they belonged.

I fought my way into the heart of them, striking out through the curling mists, the dead pressing so close around me now I couldn t have missed them if I d tried. My golden fists made wet squelching sounds as they sank deep into rotting flesh and collapsed chests. I struck them down and walked right over them, hearing brittle bones crack and break under my heavy golden feet. They beat at me with their dead fists but they couldn t reach me inside my armour. Crow Lee thought he could frighten me, thought he could drag me down, because I didn t have my armour anymore without my family, because he thought I was just a man. He should have known better. On the worst day I ever had, I was still a Drood.

Dead hands slipped away from me as fists broke and shattered harmlessly against my armour. I didn t feel their attacks. Sometimes they threw their arms around me, several of them at once, trying to pull me down through accumulated weight and numbers; but I d just break their arms and throw them away again. Sometimes, several of them at once would hang on to my arms, and I could feel their squirming hands through the armour like bloated wet spiders. And then I d throw them off me so violently they left their hands behind and I had to scrape them off me. Torn off heads rolled back and forth on the bare floorboards and I kicked them around like footballs. Sometimes the mouths still moved, jaws opening and closing as though trying to say something. I didn t listen. It wasn t going to be anything I wanted to hear.

I struck them down, I tore them apart, picked them up and threw them away. And laughed while I did it.

Inevitably, some of the dead got past me, ignoring me to head straight for Molly. Probably seeing her as an easier target. More fools, them. I caught glimpses of Molly through the fog as I fought, her standing her ground, her face calm and thoughtful as she lashed out at them with all the magics at her command. She called lightning and it stabbed down through the fog, blasting bodies into pieces and setting others on fire. But some of them were so damp, so saturated with water from their time in the sea, the flames couldn t get a hold. Steam boiled off them, but they kept going. She gestured sharply, and some of the dead just exploded, chunks of rotting flesh flying through the air like soft shrapnel. The explosive spells worked well, but I knew how much that kind of magic took out of Molly. She could only target one dead man at a time. And there were so very many of them.

They pressed forward, reaching out to her with cold implacable hands, and she had no choice but to back away. She threw up a shimmering protective screen between them and her, and the dead men hesitated. Molly forced out a series of powerful Words, and the base of her screen dug deep into the floorboards, securing it in place. It had been powerful enough to hold off the shades in Egypt, but the raised dead were more solid. They pressed right up against the protective screen, throwing all their weight against it, and as more and more joined in, they slowly forced the shimmering screen back inch by inch. The screen s energies burnt dead flesh where it touched, but they didn t care. They couldn t feel it. They forced the screen back through sheer weight of numbers, and Molly had no choice but to back away before it.

The dead shouldn t have been able to do that. They were just bodies. But Crow Lee had put a power in them that would not be denied.

And it happened that I looked back just at the moment when the screen collapsed and the dead surged forward, reaching out for Molly. The fog seemed to hold back just so I could see it. And just like that, my cold and vicious rage fell away from me. Molly was in danger, and that was all that mattered. I turned round immediately and fought my way back through the army of the dead, desperate to get to Molly before the dead could get to her. The dead between us immediately closed together, blocking my way with their bodies, soaking up my increasingly desperate blows with their yielding flesh. And even though I struck them down and threw them aside, there were just so many of them. I d allowed myself to be drawn away, separated from Molly. I surged forward with all my strength, smashing through bodies like they were made of paper, and cried out to Molly.

Hold on, love! I m on my way! Hold on till I can get to you!

She heard me; I know she did. She looked right at me. But I was so far away and there were so many of them almost upon her. Both of us knew there was no way I could get to her in time. I screamed so hard it hurt my throat, fighting desperately to throw off the dead as they clung to me, grabbing at my legs to bring me down. I fought on, knowing it was useless. Knowing they were going to hurt her and kill her and drag her off with them down into the depths of the sea. I knew there was nothing I could do and I thought I d lose my mind.

But fortunately she was Molly Metcalf.

She yelled out to me to brace myself, and immediately I stopped fighting and grabbed on to the safety railings looming up out of the fog before me. I grabbed on with both hands, ignoring the dead men as they hammered at me, trying to pry me loose. They swarmed all over me and I ignored them and just hung on. Praying for a miracle.

And Molly came through. She carefully pronounced one really powerful Word, and a roaring wind came hammering down the Pier and swept the whole damned fog away. The wind blasted the fog right off the Pier and sent it back out across the sea and without its support the dead couldn t stay. They just faded away as the last of the fog dispersed and the raging wind swept the whole Pier clean.

The dead man who d spoken to me first was the last to go. He hung on somehow, intact, looking right at me with his eyeless face.

He ll never let us go, he said. He ll hold on to us, down in the depths, until he needs us again.

I ll get him for you, I said. I slowly let go of the railings and moved forward to face him. I remembered the vicious joy I d felt in fighting and destroying him and his kind, and I felt suddenly ashamed. If they really were just victims of Crow Lee s will, I d done them a terrible wrong. They were just innocent bystanders, caught up in the middle of a war.

I ll set you free, I said. Whatever it takes.

Why would you do that for us? said the dead man.

After everything we ve done, and would have done and will do again?

Because that s what I do, I said firmly.

Because I m a Drood.

Sorry, said the dead man, already fading away, with something that might have been a smile on his rotting mouth.

Never heard of you

The fog was gone, and the last of the day s sunlight washed from end to end of Brighton Pier. I looked out to sea, but there was no sign of fog anywhere. I armoured down and hurried back to join my Molly. I took her in my arms and held her tight, and she held me back just as strongly. And for a long moment we just stood there together. It was all very calm and very quiet. Eventually we let go of each other and looked around. Brighton Pier was back to normal. No trace left to show that anything had happened, except for a few wet footprints on the floorboards, already evaporating.

I am never letting us get separated again, I said. For a moment there, I really thought I d lost you.

For a moment there, you forgot that I can look after myself, Molly said sternly.

My head was all messed up, I said. All I could think of was fighting, and striking down my hated enemy. I was enjoying myself. I forgot all about you. Until I looked back and saw you in danger.

Molly looked at me steadily. Is it the rogue armour, Eddie? Is it affecting you?

I don t know, I said. I want to blame the new armour, but maybe this is what I m really like without my family.

Bullshit, Molly said briskly. That is not what you are, and I should know. Proof in point: You said yourself the spell broke the moment you looked back at me.

What if I hadn t?

But you did.

I had to smile. You always were a good influence on me.

Not if I can help it, said Molly, and kissed me firmly on the mouth.

Time to be going, I said after a while. Unless we want to hang around and be asked a whole bunch of questions we don t have any good answers for.

I ve got just enough magic left in me for one short-range teleport, said Molly. Enough to drop us off right next to the Phantom V. But, Eddie, that s all I ve got left. I need time out to recharge my batteries.

And I doubt we re going to be left in peace that long, I said. I won t leave you alone again, Molly, I promise.

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

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

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

And if it wasn t?

Why do you keep asking questions when you know I don t have the answers? Let s get to Crow Lee and then we can beat the answers out of him.

Sounds like a plan to me, I said.