Secret Histories 10: Dr. DOA

by Simon R. Green

  “As long as he stuck to the usual targets, my family had no problem with that. He brought down a few Big Bads even my family had been having trouble with. But then he moved on, to radical politics. Fighting the system was one thing; deciding to kill everyone involved in it, no matter what side they were on, was never going to be acceptable.”

  “So Armin was a supernatural terrorist?” said Molly.

  “Nothing more terrifying than a good man who chose to embrace extreme solutions,” I said. “And then he met up with Angelica Wilde, and radicalized her.”

  “The Rage and the Fury,” said Molly. “They were made for each other.”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I said. “And they became far more dangerous together than they’d ever been on their own. Anyway; while she was away, massacring a group of slavers who specialized in abducting children left orphaned by natural disasters . . . the Rage decided to do something really big. His wedding present to her; something big enough to impress the whole world. He was going to destroy the city of London. The politicians, the businesspeople, all the Government apparatus . . . and everyone else along with them. His plan was to open up a new entry point into the Dreamtime, and drop the whole city into it. But it never occurred to him that a door opens both ways. And that the Dreamtime contains a lot of things that have no place in the waking world. My family received a warning from someone or something inside the Dreamtime. Six field agents were sent to shut Armin down, and of course he fought them, every inch of the way.”

  “Did they really have to kill him, to stop him?” said Molly.

  “They didn’t kill him!” I said. “I’m not entirely sure they could have. Whoever or whatever came back from the Dreamtime, looking like Armin del Santos, wasn’t exactly human any more.”

  “Human enough to love Angelica,” said Molly.

  “Yes . . . In the end, the field agents opened up their own entry point, with the help of our unknown friend on the other side, and pushed Armin back into the Dreamtime. To learn a better way.”

  “So he’s not dead?”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “Though he’s never come back out . . .”

  “If you told Angelica this . . .”

  “We have, many times! She refuses to believe anything that comes from a Drood.”

  “She might believe me,” said Molly.

  “If you can get her to listen,” I said. “You’re the one who betrayed the Cause, by loving a Drood.”

  “We have to try, Eddie. She was my friend.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s go find her. See if we can stop this madness from going any further.”

  “You’d do that?” said Molly. “After everything she’s done?”

  “She’s not entirely responsible,” I said. “I get that. And besides, she’s your friend.”

  Molly placed a gentle hand on my chest, and I put my hand on hers.

  “You’re a good man, Eddie,” Molly said quietly.

  “I can be,” I said. “For you.”

  * * *

  We made our way quietly and cautiously through the interconnecting tunnels of the Deep Down Pit, which were lit only by Molly’s magical light. She sent a ball of the stuff bobbing along on the air ahead of us, leaving her free to sweep one hand back and forth before her like a glowing metal detector. Searching out hidden traps and nasty surprises. But much to her surprise, she couldn’t find anything. Not because it was so well hidden, but because there wasn’t anything there to be found.

  “There really were some nasty things hidden away here,” she said, scowling so hard, it must have hurt her face. “I put some in place myself. And I discussed the merits of a lot of the others with my friends and colleagues. It was something to do, to pass the time. To see who could be the most extreme, and ingenious, and thoroughly unpleasant. You know what I can be like when I get competitive.”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s not a pretty sight. Don’t hit! What sort of things did you come up with?”

  “Oh . . . floating transformation curses, invisible trapdoors over infinite drops, concealed teleport pads to send the unwary somewhere unwelcoming. The usual . . .”

  “And you didn’t tell me about any of this before you brought me down here, because . . . ?”

  “Because I knew you’d whine like a little girl! And I never thought I’d be taking you on a guided tour.” She stopped suddenly and shook her head. “They’re all gone. No trace of a trap or an ambush anywhere. It’s like someone just . . . tidied up and removed them all.”

  “Who would do that?” I said.

  “I don’t know. They’d have to know where everything was, and the only proper ways to defuse them . . . and we were the only people who knew that.”

  “It’s clear someone else has been living here,” I said. “Given the working generator, and the food in the cupboard, maybe they did it so they could move around safely.”

  “But they’d still have to know how! And none of us ever intended to remove the traps, in case we might need them again!”

  “Things change,” I said.

  We headed deeper into the mine, through endlessly branching tunnels and passageways, walking in the pool of light provided by Molly’s floating sphere. With darkness ahead, and darkness behind. The air was starting to get really stale now, and worryingly cold. Now and again I patted my pocket to reassure myself that the Merlin Glass was still there, if we did ever need an emergency route to the surface.

  “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” I said finally.

  “It’s been a long time since I was last here,” said Molly. “But don’t worry; there are signs on the walls only those of us who put them there can see. No one’s messed with them. As far as I can tell.”

  And then she stopped, and looked around, frowning. I looked quickly up and down the tunnel, but couldn’t see anything.

  “I’ve been assuming Angelica would follow the old signs, like me,” said Molly. “But that side tunnel she appeared from; that was new. She made it. Maybe she doesn’t need the signs to navigate . . . Put on your mask, Eddie. Look for signs of Angelica’s work.”

  I set my golden mask in place, and boosted my Sight and hearing as much as I could stand. But the dark was just as dark, and there wasn’t a sound anywhere. As though the whole mine were holding its breath. I armoured down, and gave Molly the bad news.

  “If someone with Angelica’s power wants to stay hidden,” I said, “it’ll take more than Sight to find her. She could be hiding inside one of the walls, in her own personal tunnel. But to attack us, she’ll have to reveal herself.”

  “So what do you want to do?” said Molly. “Keep going?”

  I looked up and down the empty tunnel again. “Maybe we’d do better to set up a secure position, inside heavy-duty protections, and let her come to us. Meet her from a position of strength.”

  “She’s the Fury,” said Molly. “Powerful, and crazy. A bad combination. Do we really want to give her the advantage of surprise as well?”

  “Let’s keep going,” I said.

  * * *

  The tunnels seemed to stretch away ahead forever. My feet ached from slamming endlessly against the stone floor, and my back ached from always having to bend forward so I could avoid banging my head on the low roof. Worrying creaking and groaning came from every side, as though the tunnel supports were seriously considering throwing up their hands and saying, To hell with it. Stumbling around in the dark, in pursuit of a crazy woman endowed with godlike abilities, was starting to seem like an increasingly bad idea. There were definite limits on how far I was prepared to go for someone else’s friend.

  And then we both stopped, and crouched down to examine fresh footprints in the dust on the floor. Too big to be Angelica’s, they just started, walked away, and then stopped. As though whoever made them could appear and disappear at will. We straightened
up again, and looked carefully around us. Molly brightened her floating light to an almost painful intensity, but it still couldn’t illuminate the whole length of the tunnel. There was always a darkness where the light couldn’t go.

  And I was hearing things again, without needing the extra boost from my mask. Things were moving all around us. Growing louder, and more distinct, the deeper we went. As though they didn’t feel the need to stay hidden any longer. Sounds from ahead and behind, from tunnels on the far side of the stone walls, from above and below. Definitely not human sounds. I glanced at Molly, to make sure she was hearing them too, but all of her attention was fixed on the way ahead.

  “There’s something in this tunnel with us,” she said quietly. “I can’t see it, but I can feel it.”

  I actually felt a little relieved, to have it confirmed I wasn’t just hearing things. I made sure my voice was calm and steady when I answered her.

  “Any idea what it might be?”

  “There were always things down here with us,” Molly said reluctantly. “We never tried to find out what, working on the principle that if we didn’t bother them, they wouldn’t bother us.”

  “You must have some idea,” I said.

  “You dig deep enough,” said Molly, “you can find some really old things, sleeping in the earth.”

  “If it turns out to be a Balrog,” I said, “I shall be departing at speed. Try to keep up.”

  “That’s what I’m Tolkien about,” said Molly.

  We laughed briefly together, and then stopped. There was always the chance something might hear us, and come to see what was making all the noise. Some things you really don’t want to disturb, even if you are a Drood and Molly Metcalf.

  “It could be something Angelica’s called up,” said Molly.

  “Or something that’s been here all along,” I said. “What if we’ve just wandered into something’s living room?”

  “Do you want to turn back?” said Molly.

  “Do you?”

  “Definitely considering it,” said Molly. “But . . . Angelica was my friend. At a time when I really didn’t have many.”

  “Then we keep going,” I said.

  “After you,” said Molly.

  “Ladies first,” I said generously.

  * * *

  We didn’t get far before the tunnel floor slanted sharply down, plunging even deeper into the earth. The air was getting hard to breathe, and so cold, that both of us were shaking and shuddering. Molly called up an envelope of warm fresh air for us to move in, but almost immediately something really big started moving in a nearby tunnel. Its tread was heavy enough to shake the floor under our feet. Nearby tunnel supports made loud complaining noises, and long streams of dust fell from the ceiling.

  “Lose the heat,” I said quietly. “It’s attracting attention.”

  The whole tunnel trembled as painfully loud, utterly inhuman sounds burst out of the tunnel ahead. The sound of something hunting that had just caught a scent. The horrible noise went on and on, long after living lungs should have been incapable of sustaining it. And then it just stopped, leaving behind a silence that was somehow worse. Something was listening, to see what we would do.

  Molly dismissed the heat and air envelope, and the cold slammed down hard again, hitting me like a blow. Dust in the air scrabbled around inside my throat, but I wouldn’t let myself cough. The ominous quiet continued. Molly and I stood close together, not moving. She pulled her magical light back into her hand, so it only just covered the two of us. The dark in the tunnel surged forward, in front and behind, like a predator sensing a weakness. Molly glanced at me and then shut down the light completely. Rather than risk having it draw something to us. The darkness was close, almost suffocating. I reached out in the dark, and Molly’s hand clasped down tightly on mine. The silence went on and on, and after a while, Molly cautiously raised her light again.

  “Extend the light ahead of us, Molly,” I said quietly. “Slowly and carefully.”

  She nodded quickly, and the light inched forward, a cool, characterless glow that illuminated every inch of the old tunnel, not allowing even the smallest shadow for something to hide in. The light moved on and on, revealing nothing . . . and then stopped abruptly.

  “Sorry,” said Molly. “That’s as far as I go. I’m burning through my magical energies a lot quicker than I expected. And we really don’t want to still be here when the light goes out.”

  “Dim the light back to just us,” I said.

  She nodded, and the light returned in a series of quick jumps. The darkness ate up the tunnel again, almost hungrily.

  “Are there any more energies stored in the vampire jewel?” I said.

  “A few,” said Molly. “For real emergencies. I don’t think this qualifies, just yet. So, do we go on?”

  “We go on,” I said.

  And then Molly gestured urgently, to indicate she’d heard something up ahead. We both stood very still, listening hard, and I heard footsteps. Slow, cautious, entirely human. I murmured in Molly’s ear.

  “Angelica?”

  “Could be,” Molly said just as quietly. “It’s about bloody time. How do you want to handle this?”

  “Talk to her. Reason with her. Hope we don’t have to kill her.”

  “Works for me,” said Molly. And then she frowned. “We’re going to have to split up, Eddie.”

  “What?”

  “Will you hush!”

  “You want to go off on your own, without me?” I said.

  “This might not be Angelica,” Molly said patiently. “We don’t know who else might be down here. We need to come at whoever this is from two different directions, cut them off and trap them between us, with no way out.”

  “Can you maintain a light around me while you’re not here?” I said.

  “No.”

  “I’m really not happy about this.”

  “Oh come on!” said Molly. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

  “Down here?” I said. “Yes! With good reason! There really are bad things in the dark, just waiting for a chance to creep up on me!”

  “I won’t be far,” Molly said soothingly.

  “I am really not a happy bunny,” I growled. “But, for the purposes of this very cunning trap of yours, I am prepared to be a big brave Drood, and stand alone in the dark as bait in your trap. So you can get behind our prey and chase it to me. But you’d better not be long.”

  “Got it,” said Molly.

  She kissed me briefly on the forehead, and set off into the dark. Taking the light with her. The gloom closed in around me, like a great blanket intent on suffocating the life out of me. I armoured up and felt a bit better. I’d fought gods and monsters in my armour, and made them cry like babies. And I was just in the mood to do it again. Bring on your monstrosities from the lower depths, and I would make them rue the day they were spawned.

  After a while, I heard footsteps coming my way. Hushed, cautious, very human footsteps. And with them, a flicker of light. I turned on my infrared and braced myself, ready to face the Fury again. But when a glowing crimson figure appeared, it was quite definitely male. Another shape, which I recognised as Molly, moved behind it. She had trapped someone between us, in a tunnel with no side exits. The infrared image drew closer, like a crimson ghost stumbling through the dark. I waited till he was almost upon me, and then made my armour glow fiercely. Hitting him right in the face, like a spotlight. Revealing just an old man, in ragged clothes. He cried out and threw up an arm to shield his face. He turned to run and then stopped as he found Molly right behind him, blocking his way.

  He stood frozen in place for a long moment, and then turned reluctantly back to face me. He had unhealthily pale features, under dirty grey hair. His mouth trembled, and his eyes darted back and forth, looking for a way out that wasn’t there.
Molly raised her glowing hand and filled the tunnel with light. I armoured down, but the old man still looked just as scared. Molly took one look at the old man’s face and recoiled with something like shock.

  “Ben?” she said. “Is that you? What the hell are you doing down here, after all these years?”

  He looked at her, his face blank. His clothes were filthy dirty, and he wasn’t in much better shape. His hands were shaking, and not from the cold. His face was heavily lined, and his eyes were worryingly vague, but they slowly came alive as he looked at Molly. He seemed, finally, to know her.

  “Molly Metcalf . . .”

  “Yes, Ben. It’s me. You remember me . . .”

  “Care to introduce us?” I said. “Who, exactly, have we caught? And could we perhaps throw him back, because up close, the smell of him is bringing tears to my eyes.”

  “This is Ben Luger,” said Molly. “He used to be part of my old gang.” She patted the old man on the arm, as though comforting a nervous dog. “Back in the day, they called him the Ghostly Gunman.”

  I studied the old man with new interest. I’d heard that name before; knew some of his legend. But I still nodded for Molly to tell the tale, because her voice seemed to calm the old man.

  “One of the best-paid political assassins in the business,” said Molly. “Ben could teleport into anywhere, drop his target, and never be caught by even the best security. Until finally, inevitably, he was. You never should have gone after Hadleigh Oblivion, Ben. You should have known the Detective Inspectre was way out of your league.”

  Ben nodded slowly. He’d seemed to come back to himself as he heard Molly recount his life. When he spoke, his voice was harsh and strained, as though he hadn’t used it for some time.

  “I knew that, Molly. Of course I knew that. But the money was just so good, so tempting. I could have retired on it. I never stood a chance. Hadleigh Oblivion scared the crap out of me . . . and I ran. Ran for my life, and my sanity. And he saw to it that everybody knew. So much for my fearsome reputation . . .