Property of a Lady Faire

CHAPTER THREE

The Merlin Glass dropped me off by the family’s very own artificial lake, where I found Molly Metcalf keeping herself busy by tormenting the swans.

I took my time walking over to the edge of the lake. I didn’t want to startle Molly, or the swans. The lawns stretched away in every direction, broad and gently undulating, like a dark green sea under a brilliant blue sky. The waters of the lake were deep and dark, with mad ripples spreading in every direction. The surface was disturbed by Molly running across it, waving her arms wildly at the retreating swans, and shouting obscenities after them.

I paused, to look down at the Merlin Glass in my hand. Such a small and innocent-looking thing, in its hand-mirror guise. I wasn’t sure why I was so determined to hang on to it. The Glass was a useful enough item, but I’d managed perfectly well without it for years. It had never even occurred to me that I wasn’t going to give it back until the Sarjeant demanded that I hand it over. But now I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was going to need it. And I also couldn’t help feeling . . . that the Glass wanted to stay with me. Which was just a bit worrying. I put the hand mirror away in my pocket, and stood on the bank of the lake, looking out across the waters.

It’s not an everyday sight, even in the weird and wondrous grounds of Drood Hall, to see a witch charging across the surface of a lake with her dress rucked up to her waist, in hot pursuit of a dozen panicked swans. Their great white bodies shot this way and that, wings flapping energetically, never able to build up enough speed to get into the air, because they kept having to change direction when Molly got too close. She went sprinting up and down the length of the lake, her toes digging just below the surface of the waters to give her more traction. I stayed where I was, if only to avoid the energetic splashing from all concerned. My armour has many fine and useful qualities, but walking on water isn’t one of them.

“Molly?” I said, after a while. “Please stop doing that, and come over here and talk to me. I’m sure whatever the swans did, they’re really very sorry now.”

“Snotty, arrogant, entitled birdy things!” said Molly. Loudly. “They were looking down their noses at me!”

She stopped running, quite abruptly, and glared about her. The swans glided to a somewhat ruffled halt a safe distance away. Molly sniffed scornfully, and stomped across the water to join me. I reached down, and pulled her up onto the bank beside me. She was still scowling, which is never a good sign.

“Swans don’t have noses,” I said mildly.

“Well, whatever they have, they were looking down them at me! They don’t like me. I could tell. Yes, I’m talking about you, you fluffy white bastards! You’d better stay at that end of the lake, or it’s sandwich time for the lot of you!”

“You wouldn’t like them, Molly,” I said. “Swan meat is actually pretty bland and greasy. We have to supplement their feed with a special kind of corn just to make them palatable. Like the Royal swan-keepers do.”

Molly looked at me. “Didn’t I read somewhere that only the Royal family are allowed to eat swan?”

“We have a special dispensation,” I said.

“The Queen told you that you could eat swan?”

“No, we told her that we could eat swan.”

“I’ve had enough of this lake,” said Molly. “And the swans. Let’s go somewhere else, Eddie.”

• • •

We strolled through the grounds together, heading for a pleasantly shady copse of elm trees. It all seemed very calm and peaceful, but long experience had taught me that you can’t trust anything at Drood Hall to be what it appears to be.

“You should be more careful,” I said. “Antagonising swans is never a good idea. Powerful creatures, you know. A swan can break your arm. If it’s got a crowbar.”

Molly laughed, despite herself. “I couldn’t stay in the Hall,” she said. “Far too dark and gloomy. And claustrophobic. And far too many people looking at me.”

“Looking down their noses, perhaps?” I said. “Like the swans?”

“So,” Molly said brightly, in her best I am changing the subject now and you’d better go along voice. “How was the family?”

“Much as usual,” I said.

“Bad as that, eh?” said Molly.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been banished again. Go, and never darken our doorstop-the whole bit.”

“They should know by now,” said Molly. “That never works. So, what did your grandmother leave you in her will? Was it money?”

“No,” I said. “She just left me a keepsake. Something to remind me of the kind of person she was.”

Molly waited until she was sure I had nothing more to say, and then she said, almost casually, “Have you finished your business here?”

“Yes,” I said. “Nothing to hold me here now. It’s time for us to go visit the Department of Uncanny, and have our long-delayed little chat with the Regent of Shadows. My grandfather, Arthur Drood.”

“Good,” said Molly. “I could use cheering up. I am just in the mood for some serious violence and extreme property damage.”

“Never knew you when you weren’t,” I said.

“Flatterer,” said Molly.

“We are going to try talking first,” I said firmly. “If communications break down, then we move on to more distressing measures of persuasion.”

“Wimp,” said Molly.

“The Regent didn’t just decide to kill your parents on his own,” I said carefully. “Someone ordered him to do it. Some specific person, inside my family, condemned your parents to death, for reasons of their own.”

“The Matriarch,” said Molly.

“Not necessarily,” I said. “There have always been advisers and Councils and powers behind the throne, in the Droods. Not to mention wheels within wheels, and departments that don’t officially exist. In a family as big as mine there’s room for pretty much everything. And the Droods have a long history of using outside agents to do the really dirty and deniable stuff.”

Molly shot me a look. “So whoever made the decision, and gave the Regent his orders, might still be a person of importance in your family? And not necessarily one of the obvious ones?”

“Could be,” I said.

“I will have my revenge on someone,” said Molly.

“It could be any number of people!” I said. “That’s the point! That’s why we need to talk to the Regent, to get the full story. He was just the weapon; someone else pointed him at your parents.”

“They’re just as guilty,” said Molly.

“I know,” I said. “I’m just trying to say . . . it’s complicated.”

“You want it to be complicated, so I won’t kill your grandfather,” said Molly. “I’ll listen, if he’s ready to talk. I want to know everything. But what if he doesn’t want to talk?”

“I won’t let you kill him,” I said carefully. “I can’t let you do that. But I think we are quite definitely entitled to intimidate the hell out of him, should it prove necessary.”

“You think it won’t?” said Molly.

“He sent us to Trammell Island, expecting the truth to come out,” I said. “He wanted us to know. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell us in person. Now we know . . . I think he’ll tell us the rest. I think he wants to.”

“But if he doesn’t?” insisted Molly.

“Look, we can’t hurt him anyway!” I said. “He’s got Kayleigh’s Eye, remember? As long as he’s wearing that amulet he’s invulnerable to all forms of attack. And that very definitely includes your magic, and my armour.”

Molly started to say something, and then stopped, and looked at me. “What, or who, is Kayleigh? Do you know?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” I said. “I’ve heard of it, because . . . well, I’ve at least heard of most things. Comes with the job, and the territory. But I haven’t a clue where the Eye comes from.”

“God, demon, alien?” said Molly.

“Almost certainly in there somewhere,” I said.

“I can always threaten to blow up the whole building,” said Molly.

I looked at her. “For you, restraint is just something other people do, isn’t it?”

She smiled at me dazzlingly. “I have always believed in extremes and excesses. Why settle for less?”

I took the Merlin Glass out again, and muttered the proper activating words to establish communication with the Department of Uncanny. Molly clapped a hand on my arm.

“Hold it! Are you really going to tell them we’re coming? And throw away the whole element-of-surprise bit?”

“We need to be sure he’s at home,” I said. “I don’t want to turn up there and find him gone. I don’t think he’d make us chase him, but . . . I think his first reactions will tell us a lot about how this is going to go.”

“Good point,” said Molly. “Go on, then. Get on with it.”

But when I looked into the hand mirror, no one was there. No reflection, no contact; the Glass was just full of an endless, buzzing static. Which was . . . unusual. I lowered the Glass, and looked at Molly.

“That’s never happened before.”

“Could they be blocking us?” said Molly. “If the Regent has decided he’s not going to talk to us, and that as far as he’s concerned we’re now both persona non grata . . . the whole Department could be hiding behind heavy-duty security shields.”

“The Regent wouldn’t hide behind his own people,” I said. “At the very least, he’d have left us a message. Some kind of explanation. No . . . Something’s wrong at Uncanny. Get ready. We’re going through.”

I had the Merlin Glass lock onto the Department’s coordinates, and it jumped out of my hand, growing rapidly in size to make a door big enough to walk through. I led the way, with Molly treading close on my heels, leaving Drood Hall and its grounds behind.

• • •

I expected to arrive in London, in the shadow of Big Ben, overlooking the Department of Uncanny’s hidden entrance. Instead, Molly and I arrived inside the Department itself, in the waiting room, which shouldn’t have been possible. Normally you have to pass through all kinds of shields and protections.

The smell hit me first. The unpleasant coppery smell of freshly spilled blood. The Merlin Glass shrank back down without having to be told, diving back into my pocket. I barely noticed. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

The last time Molly and I had been here, the waiting room had been a cheerful, cosy place. Flowers in vases, pleasant paintings on brightly painted walls, even a deep shag pile carpet. But now, the whole place had been trashed. The flower vases had been smashed, the paintings ripped from the walls and reduced to shreds and tatters, and all the furniture torn to pieces. And there was blood everywhere, splashed across the walls and soaked into the carpet. No bodies, just blood. It looked like a bomb had gone off in an abattoir.

I armoured up, the golden strange matter flowing over me in a moment, encasing me from head to toe. Molly gestured sharply, and scintillating magics swirled around her, protecting her from all the dangers in the world. I studied the waiting room through my golden mask, using the expanded senses it provided, everything from infrared to ultraviolet. But whoever was responsible for all this madness didn’t leave a single clue behind. Everything was still, and quiet. I looked at Molly, and she shook her head quickly.

“I’m not picking up a damned thing,” she said. “No magical workings, no sorcerous radiations . . . Could it have been a bomb?”

“No chemical traces on the air,” I said. “This looks more like . . . brute force. So much blood, but no bodies . . .”

“Someone got here before us,” said Molly. “And it looks like they were even angrier than me. What do you think, Eddie?”

“We go on,” I said. “Search the place, top to bottom. There may still be survivors who need our help.”

“And if whoever did this is still here?”

“Then so much the worse for them,” I said.

• • •

I led the way out of the blood-soaked waiting room. Molly came quickly forward to walk at my side. She didn’t believe in being protected by other people. We moved cautiously through the silent corridors of Uncanny. The whole place had been smashed up, torn apart, in an almost inhuman display of sheer destruction. Almost immediately, we began to find bodies. Men and women lying twisted and broken, alone and in piles. Some had weapons still in their hands; none of them had died easily. They’d been butchered, slaughtered. Broken limbs and smashed-in heads. Bent in two until their spines snapped. Guts torn out, and thrown away. Violence and viciousness, almost for its own sake.

Whoever did this had to have superhuman strength.

We moved on, stepping over and around the scattered bodies, carefully checking every open doorway and corridor end, but there was never any sign of whoever was responsible. Just more and more bodies. So many good men and women left to lie where they fell, where they died, often with hands outstretched for help that never came. And blood, so much blood everywhere. The heavy coppery stench was almost overwhelming, so thick on the air I could taste it.

More and more of the dead were armed, for all the good it had done them. They died defending their territory, and each other.

“Do you recognise anyone?” said Molly quietly.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “We met a whole bunch of people, the last time we were here, but . . . I wasn’t really paying attention. I thought I had time . . . to get to know everyone. I can’t say anyone so far looks familiar. I don’t see my parents, or the Regent. Or his personal aide-you remember, the Indian woman, Ankani.”

“Maybe they got away,” said Molly.

“I’d like to think so,” I said. “But whoever did this was very thorough.”

“Look,” said Molly, pointing at a huge, burly figure that had been smashed half through a wall and left hanging out of it. “Is that . . . I think they called him the Phantom Berserker, didn’t they?”

“It’s what’s left of him,” I said.

I moved in, for a closer look. A massive Viking figure, complete with horned helmet and bear-skin cape, his whole body was broken and bloodied. He looked like he’d gone down fighting. There was blood dripping from his hands. But one side of his head had been completely caved in, and there was a great gaping wound in his chest where his heart used to be.

“I thought he was supposed to be dead,” said Molly.

“He is now,” I said, more harshly than I’d meant.

Molly stopped abruptly, and looked about her. “Shouldn’t there be alarms going off?”

“Yes,” I said. “There should. There should be all kinds of protections and defences in place, and my armour isn’t picking up any of them. Which suggests . . . someone must have shut all the systems down, to allow this to happen. I’d put my money on an inside job. A traitor, inside the Department.”

“I never wanted this,” said Molly. “I was mad, I was angry, but I never wanted this . . .”

“Of course you didn’t,” I said.

We moved on, through a silent world of blood and bodies and senseless destruction. Doors had been smashed off their hinges, or hung lopsided from splintered frames. Every room and office we looked into had been thoroughly searched, and then trashed.

“Maybe they were angry from not finding what they were looking for,” said Molly.

“Could be,” I said. “A lot of the Department people were armed, but I’m not seeing any bullet holes, or scorch marks from energy weapons. As though the invaders just soaked up all the firepower and kept on coming . . .”

“I’m not picking up even the smallest traces of offensive magics,” said Molly. “Everything we’re seeing here is the result of brute force. As though a whole army went rampaging through the corridors, killing with their bare hands.”

We moved on, very cautiously now. Looking and listening, and checking for booby-traps, or any other nasty surprise left behind by our unknown enemy. But there wasn’t anything. As though the invaders didn’t care what happened after they left. They were just here to do a job, and kill anyone who got in the way. Unless killing everybody was the job.

“They can’t all have been killed, can they?” said Molly, as much to break the awful silence as anything. “Some might have got away . . .”

“It looks like they all stood their ground, defending their positions, and died doing it,” I said. “Brave and honourable, to the last. My grandfather chose good people. But they had weapons! They must have taken down a hell of a lot of their attackers! So where are the enemy bodies?”

“Presumably the enemy picked up their dead and wounded and took them with them when they left,” said Molly. “To make sure no one could identify who they were. But . . . who could be powerful enough to do something like this, Eddie? Who is there left that’s got an army big enough to massacre everyone in Uncanny? I mean . . . we’ve wiped out most of the major bad guys, and their organisations, in the past few years. Who is there left, who could do this?”

“Good question,” I said. “Makes me wonder . . . did we miss someone?”

I stopped, and looked at her seriously.

“You can never tell where an attack will come from . . . I was at the Wulfshead Club earlier, remember? I’d been called in to help, because they were under attack from MI 13.”

“What?” said Molly. “Those useless X-Files wannabes? I’m amazed they had the nerve. No, hold on, wait a minute . . . MI 13 couldn’t have done this. They’re an officially sanctioned Government organisation, just like the Department of Uncanny. Unless some kind of departmental civil war has broken out.”

“No,” I said. “That doesn’t feel right. MI 13 lost most of its higher-ups, and its direction, during the Satanic Conspiracy. It’s just a ghost of its former self. They were only spying on the Wulfshead Club to pick up gossip they could use as leverage, to get back in the game.”

“All right,” said Molly, “How about this? Maybe some part of your grandfather’s murderous past finally came back to haunt him. Who knows how many other people he killed on your family’s orders?”

I wanted to say executed, not murdered, but it wasn’t the time.

• • •

We moved on, climbing over piled-up bodies, splashing through thick pools of blood. Most of it wasn’t even tacky yet. Whatever had happened here, we hadn’t missed it by much. I checked every room we passed, peering in through smashed-in doors. Computers had been ripped apart, safes torn right out of walls, their doors yanked clean off, and papers scattered everywhere. Someone had been looking for something . . . The entire Department of Uncanny had been systematically gutted. Everyone killed, everything destroyed, nothing spared. It was like walking through the ruins of a good man’s dream.

It reminded me of how I’d felt when I walked through the devastated ruins of the Other Hall, home to the other-dimensional Droods, slaughtered by some unknown enemy. I never did find out who. But this was different. I could do something about this.

“Where are we going?” Molly said abruptly. “I mean, are we heading anywhere in particular?”

“We’re going to the Regent’s office,” I said.

“You think there’s a chance he might still be alive?” Molly said carefully.

“There’s always a chance,” I said. “He could have barricaded himself in, and as long as he had Kayleigh’s Eye . . . But no, I don’t really expect to find him alive. Not when everyone else is dead. He wouldn’t have run away, hidden away, and abandoned his people. Even though that would have been the sensible thing to do. He was the Regent of Shadows, and a legend in his own right. But he might have left us a message, something to tell us what the hell happened here.”

Molly looked quickly around her. “Are you sure this is the right way? All these corridors look the same to me.”

“I remember the way,” I said. “Drood field agents are trained to remember things like that.”

“Smugness is very unattractive in a man,” said Molly.

We looked at each other, and tried to smile, but in this stinking abattoir it was hard to feel anything but horror and loss. The need to lash out at someone, anyone, was almost overpowering. I needed a name, an identity, for the bastards that had done this. So I could track them down and punish every damned one of them. And the bloodbath they had made here would be nothing compared to what I would do to them.

When I wore the golden armour, I felt stronger, faster, smarter. More alive . . . But it also meant my emotions were bigger, and ran deeper, for good and bad. Right then, I didn’t care. I would do what I would do, and worry about the morality of it later.

“This wasn’t an attack, or even an invasion,” I said. “This was a massacre. These people weren’t killed because they got in the way; their deaths were an end in themselves.”

“How can you be sure of that?” said Molly.

“Because there aren’t any wounded,” I said. “Every single man and woman here was finished off before the killers moved on. And the sheer ferocity of the attack . . . No bullet holes, no explosions, no high tech or magics, not even any knife marks . . . This was all brute strength and savagery. I can’t even tell whether this was an attack force or just one wildly powerful individual.”

“Judging from the state of the bodies, I’d say animal,” said Molly. “Or people acting like animals . . . Werewolf pack, perhaps?”

“The Department would have been prepared for something as obvious as that,” I said. “They’d have had silver bullets, shaped curses . . . they could have fought off something that straight forward. No, this is different. This is something new.”

• • •

Finally we came to the Regent’s office. The door had been torn right out of its frame, and lay face down on the corridor floor. I made Molly stay back and wait while I checked out the surroundings through my mask. I couldn’t See or hear anything. No booby-traps, no hidden devices . . . as though whoever had done this didn’t care what happened afterwards, or who came looking. More fool them.

I stepped warily into the office, with Molly crowding my back. It looked much as I remembered, more like a retired gentleman’s study than an office where important decisions were made every day. A comfortable setting, cosy and cheerful, with richly polished wood-panelled walls. Bookshelves full of well-thumbed paperbacks, rather than leather-clad first editions. But now . . . most of the wood panels were cracked, or smashed in. Shelves broken, books thrown everywhere. The tall grandfather clock that had stood by the door had been overturned, its clockwork guts spilled across the carpet. The single virtual window had been smashed, and now showed nothing at all. And all the drawers in the Regent’s desk had been pulled out, the contents scattered everywhere.

The Regent of Shadows was still sitting behind his desk. My grandfather, Arthur Drood. Sitting upright, with his head tilted back, staring up at the ceiling with sightless eyes. And only a massive hole in his chest to show where his heart should have been.

It wasn’t just his heart they’d taken. I could still remember the Regent showing me the ancient amulet known as Kayleigh’s Eye, grafted onto his chest, apparently fused to the skin. The amulet had contained a huge golden eye that seemed to stare at me knowingly. A very potent device, from Somewhere Else, that should have been able to defend the Regent from any attack. Except it hadn’t.

My grandfather looked . . . almost like himself. A man of average height, a little on the skinny side, well-preserved for a man of his age. Wearing a scruffy old tweed suit with leather patches on the elbows. He had iron grey hair, a military moustache, and pale blue eyes. His face was slack, and empty, the whole front of his clothes soaked in blood. His shirtfront had been ripped open, to get at his chest, and the Eye. I moved slowly forward to stand over him, and then I armoured down. The stench of death and freshly spilled blood was almost overwhelming without the armour to shield me. But I needed to see this with my own eyes, not just as an armoured Drood. Molly looked quickly around her.

“Are you sure that’s wise, Eddie? Really?”

“We’re alone here,” I said, not looking at her. “No one else left in the building.”

Molly stood facing the Regent’s body. It was hard to tell from her face what she was thinking. “How is this even possible?” she said finally. “No one could touch the Regent of Shadows while he had Kayleigh’s Eye. I put a lot of thought into how I was going to get past the Eye’s protection so I could get to him.”

“The Eye isn’t in the building any more,” I said. “My armour would have picked up its emanations.”

“Do you think that . . . is what they came here looking for?”

“No,” I said. “They tore this place apart in their search, when everyone knew the Regent had the Eye. I think taking the amulet was just a bonus.”

I stood looking at the dead man, not knowing what to do. I’d only just found my grandfather, after so many years of believing him dead, and now I’d lost him again. Someone had taken him away from me. Molly came over to stand beside me, trying to comfort me with her presence.

“This isn’t the revenge I wanted,” she said.

“I would never have let you hurt him,” I said.

“I know. I just wanted answers, that’s all. And now it looks like I’ll never get them.”

I dropped a hand on the Regent’s shoulder, just to say good-bye. And then I stepped quickly back, startled, as the corpse sat up straight and turned its head to look at me. The dead, staring eyes fixed on me, holding me in place.

“This is a last message for you, Eddie,” said the corpse, in a soft, breathy voice. Little more than air disturbing dead vocal cords. Just a warning, left in a dead man’s throat. “I know you and Molly have no reason to trust me after all I’ve kept from you, but I had no choice. I was trying to protect you. From the sins of the past, and the enemies of the future. You see, I didn’t just kill for the Droods. I did other things for them too, trying to earn my way back into the family. Now it’s too late for me to make a full explanation, or an atonement.

“My Department is under attack. Someone, or something, has got in. Which can only mean some traitor has betrayed us all. Shut down the security protections, and left us defenceless. There’s a whole army inside this building. My people are doing what they can to hold them off, but they don’t have enough weapons. Never thought they’d be needed, here. I wanted to go out and fight them, but Ankani locked me in. For my own protection, she said. I can hear my people screaming, hear them dying. I can hear the killers drawing nearer, heading my way.

“So, this is good-bye, Eddie. I wish I’d had more time, to get to know you better. Time to just . . . sit down together, and talk. But you always think there’ll be more time, for things like that, until suddenly there isn’t. I would have liked to tell you and Molly . . . everything. But a lot of it wasn’t mine to tell.”

The corpse turned its dead gaze away from me, and looked at the gap where the door had been.

“This isn’t the end I saw for myself, but I can’t say it comes as any surprise. Agents rarely die in their sleep. Be sure your sins will find you out . . . I hope they don’t think I’m going to beg for my life. I will sit here, with my faithful old gun, and see how many of them I can take with me. Before they drag me down. I wonder if I’ll know them, when they break down my door. Whether I’ll recognise the face of my killer . . .

“I don’t know where Charles and Emily are, Eddie. They’re not here. They never made contact again, after they left Casino Infernale. Find them, Eddie. Find the traitor inside Uncanny. Find the people who did this. Avenge all these . . . good people.”

And then the corpse gave up its ghost, and was still and silent again. The last words my grandfather would ever say to me had reached their end.

“He only spoke to you,” said Molly.

“He knew I’d come,” I said. “He knew I’d want to avenge him.”

“Why should I help the man who murdered my parents?” said Molly.

“Because this isn’t all about you,” I said. “It’s about my parents, and avenging all the people who died here. Men and women who just wanted to do good in the world. I can’t do this without you, Molly.”

She nodded, slowly. “Where do we start?”

“Damned if I know,” I said.

And then we both stood very still, as the phone started ringing. The sudden sound was almost unbearably loud in the quiet. I checked the Regent’s desk, but the phone wasn’t there. In the end I had to get down on my hands and knees, and I found it on the floor. It had been smashed to pieces. The ringing wasn’t coming from the phone. So I got up again and addressed the office at large.

“Hello? Eddie Drood speaking. Who is this?”

The ringing stopped, and a Voice spoke out of nowhere. Something in that Voice was enough to make both Molly and me wince. Like fingernails scraping down the blackboards of our souls.

“I destroyed the Department of Uncanny,” said the Voice. “And everyone in it. Because they got in my way. They didn’t have what I was looking for, so you’re going to find it for me.”

“And why would I do that?” I said.

“Because I have your parents,” said the Voice. “Dear Charles and Emily. Your father and mother are in my keeping. Quite safe, for the moment, but I will kill them slowly and horribly if you don’t do what I want you to do. I knew you’d come here, Eddie. Good little Drood that you are. And the wild witch herself, Molly Metcalf! I couldn’t hope for better helpers.”

“What do you want?” I said. “And who are you?”

“I want the Lazarus Stone,” said the Voice. “You’re going to find it for me, and bring it to me. Without alerting anyone else in the Drood family. If you talk to anyone, I’ll know, and I’ll kill Charles and Emily. I will know when you have the Stone, and then I’ll contact you and tell you where and how to make the delivery. Let’s hope you’re as good as your reputations, Eddie Drood and Molly Metcalf.”

The Voice fell silent. Molly and I looked at each other.

“What the hell is the Lazarus Stone?” I said. “I’ve never even heard of it, and I’ve at least heard of most things.”

“Same here,” said Molly. “Especially if they’re valuable. But that name doesn’t mean a thing to me.”

“There’s bound to be a reference to it somewhere in the Drood Library,” I said. “But we can’t talk to the Librarian . . . Can’t talk to any of the family. I may be on the outs with them just now, but they’d still insist on getting involved. And I won’t put my parents’ lives at risk.”

“Eddie,” Molly said carefully, “they gambled away your soul at Casino Infernale!”

“I know!” I said. “But I can’t let them down too.”

I didn’t look at the body of my grandfather. I didn’t have to.

“All right,” said Molly. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going back to Drood Hall,” I said. “We’re going to break in, without anyone knowing that we’re there, and then we’re going to talk to the one Drood that no one outside the family even knows exists. The Drood in Cell 13.”