“You just don’t know how to have a good time,” said Molly.
“You like to think of the Nightside as one big party,” said Eddie. “But people get hurt and killed there every day. They get robbed or cheated, or have the soul ripped right out of them, because there’s no one in the Nightside willing to do anything about it.”
“There’s Walker,” said Molly.
“One man,” said Eddie. “And I’m not sure I trust him farther than I could throw a wet camel.”
“The long night exists because no one has ever been dumb enough to take it on,” said Molly. “There are things in the Nightside even Droods should have enough sense to be wary of.”
“Hello!” said Ethel. “I am still here, you know.”
“You must know something!” said Eddie. “Is the Nightside actually bigger than it was? It’s not just a mistake or a rumour?”
“No,” said Ethel. “It’s true. And Eddie . . . Something bad has happened.”
Eddie and Molly looked at each other.
“What’s happened?” said Molly. “What could be so bad that we had to be dragged back here in such a hurry?”
“The Matriarch and her Council are waiting to talk to both of you in the Sanctity,” said Ethel. “They should be the ones to tell you.”
“Oh, it’s never good when they want to talk to both of us,” said Molly. “Given that they usually move Heaven and Earth to try and keep me out of their meetings.”
“That’s because you like to sit at the back and heckle, and throw things,” said Eddie. “And you never agree with anything they want me to do for them.”
“Exactly!” said Molly. “Someone’s got to stand up for you! Whatever they want, you can bet it’s never going to be in your best interests. You should know that by now.”
“Of course I know,” said Eddie. “But it’s not about me. The family exists to protect Humanity. They come first. That’s why the Drood motto has always been: Anything, for the family.”
“Shouldn’t that be Anything, for Humanity?” said Molly.
“Actually,” said Eddie, “now you come to mention it . . .”
“The Matriarch and her advisory Council are waiting for both of you to join them,” said Ethel. “Increasingly impatiently.”
“How can you be so sure?” said Molly.
“Because I’m there with them too,” said Ethel. “I am large and complicated, and I get around.”
Molly scowled. “What are the odds they’ll find some way to blame everything on me?”
“What do you expect?” said Eddie. “You’re Molly Metcalf.”
She grinned at him. “Damn right.”
“You go on without me,” said Scraps.2. “I don’t give a damn about the Matriarch or her Council. Never have. They keep looking at me, as though they think I should be wearing a leash. Or a muzzle.” His sudden bark of laughter was a harsh and frankly disturbing sound. “Like that’s ever going to happen. Think I’ll go down to the Armoury. If there is going to be some action, the lab rats could use my advice.”
He trotted off across the lawns, metal head held high. Eddie and Molly watched him go.
“I know my uncle Jack designed that dog,” said Eddie, “but it still spooks me that Scraps.2 sounds just like him.”
“His master’s voice,” Molly said vaguely.
“See you inside,” said Ethel.
And just like that she was gone. There’d never been anything to show she was there, but Eddie and Molly could feel the difference. They looked at each other, shrugged pretty much in unison, and set off towards Drood Hall.
* * *
• • •
As they drew closer, they could make out all kinds of activities concentrated around the landing pads on the roof. Flying saucers came hurtling in, bright plasma lights discharging around their edges, while short-range teleporters bounced in and out in puffs of smoke. Black helicopters landed and took off again in such thick flurries they were doing everything short of engaging in butting contests over precedence. There were people balanced on gravity sleds, teenage girls riding winged unicorns, and someone clinging desperately to a broomstick that had got caught in an updraught. When a family has been around as long as the Droods, they have a tendency to accumulate things, and to never throw away anything that works.
“What are they all doing up there?” said Molly.
“Bringing in fresh information,” said Eddie. “And probably doing regular fly-overs of the grounds, just in case. Something extraordinarily bad must have happened to cause this much excitement.”
“But it’s the Nightside!” said Molly. “Nothing that happens to the long night has any effect on the outside world. That’s the point!”
“Unless that’s changed,” said Eddie.
They looked at each other and walked a little faster.
* * *
• • •
They slammed through the front door, bracing themselves for more security confrontations, but one glance at the packed entrance-hall made it clear the family was far too busy to bother with them. A large and airy expanse, the entrance-hall was usually deserted, apart from the odd messenger hurrying through. Nothing to see but antique furniture, wood-panelled walls and waxed floor-boards, and a grandfather clock that ran backwards, courtesy of the last Time War. Along with a whole bunch of accumulated tributes from grateful governments or loot from intimidated politicians, depending on how you looked at it. Statues that should have been in museums, any number of Old Masters on the walls, and so much gold and silver and brass it had to be polished in relays.
But now the entrance-hall was packed with Droods rushing back and forth, faces tense with purpose and worry. Everyone had a job to do, so it was all eyes front, get a move on, and get out of the way.
Eddie tried several times to stop someone, so he could ask what was going on, but they kept avoiding his eyes, intent on their missions. Eddie tried being polite, and he tried shouting. He even tried standing directly in front of people, but they just darted around him and kept going. Molly finally picked one at random, snapped her fingers, and froze the poor Drood in his tracks. His eyes rolled wildly as he realised he couldn’t move. Eddie and Molly strolled over to confront him.
“Oh shit, it’s you,” said the Drood.
“Got it in one,” said Eddie.
“You’re not going anywhere till you talk to us,” said Molly. “Tell us what we want to know, or I’ll turn you into something squelchy.”
“What the hell is going on?” said Eddie.
“Speak,” said Molly.
“I don’t know!” the Drood said desperately. “No one’s telling us anything. All I know is the shit has hit the fan so hard it broke the fan and just kept going. The whole family’s under orders to gather information.”
“What kind of information?” said Eddie. “About what’s happening in the world?”
“Mostly about the family,” said the Drood. “How strong we are, how prepared we are for an attack, what resources we have, how ready we are to do . . . whatever the Matriarch decides is necessary. Everyone’s got their own assignments, but no one is telling us what it’s all for.”
Eddie looked to Molly. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“None of us do!” said the Drood. “But when the Sarjeant-at-Arms says jump, you ask how high while clinging to the ceiling. Can I go now? Only I’m pretty sure I can hear some clean underwear calling my name.”
Molly snapped her fingers. “Get out of here.”
“Gladly,” said the Drood. He hurried off and was quickly lost in the crowd. All of whom were now giving Eddie and Molly lots of room. And then the Sarjeant-at-Arms came striding through the crowd, which parted before him like a bow-wave. Eddie and Molly stood together, shoulder to shoulder, presenting a united front in the face of the enemy. The Sarjeant-at-Arms slam
med to a halt right in front of them and bowed briefly to Eddie. Large and muscular and openly threatening at all times, the Sarjeant was wearing his usual formal butler’s outfit, in stark black and white, a guise that fooled no one. The Sarjeant was in charge of Hall security and internal family discipline, and he looked what he was: a thug in uniform with a licence to commit violence.
“The Matriarch is waiting for you,” the Sarjeant said flatly. “I’ve been sent to escort you to the Sanctity.”
Eddie glared at him balefully. “One of the robot guns shot at me!”
“I know,” said the Sarjeant. “I wanted to be sure the grounds’ defences were on their toes.”
“Which part of shot at me are you having trouble grasping?”
“And me!” said Molly, adding her glare to Eddie’s.
The Sarjeant met Eddie’s gaze calmly. “I knew you’d armour up in time. You were never in any real danger.”
“Molly could have been hurt,” said Eddie.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said the Sarjeant. “Joke. The Matriarch is waiting for you.”
“We know,” said Eddie. “We’re on our way.”
And then he stopped and studied the Sarjeant-at-Arms thoughtfully. Behind the man’s usual poker face, the Sarjeant looked troubled. Which wasn’t something the Sarjeant usually did. He didn’t get worried; he worried other people. So if the Sarjeant-at-Arms was troubled, Eddie felt he should be too.
“You both need to come with me,” said the Sarjeant.
He turned on his heel and led Eddie and Molly through the entrance-hall and on into the depths of Drood Hall. People everywhere hurried to get out of the way. The crowd didn’t get any thinner; it seemed like the whole family had been mobilised and set to work. After a while, Eddie cleared his throat meaningfully.
“This isn’t the way to the Sanctity.”
“I know that,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms, not looking back.
“Then where are we going?” said Molly, not even trying to hide her suspicions.
“The Ops Room,” said the Sarjeant.
“Why are we going there?” said Eddie.
“The Matriarch is getting ready to commit the entire family to a singular course of action,” said the Sarjeant. “And I’m not sure she’s up to it. You need to understand the situation we’re in before you see her.”
“Nothing’s ever straightforward in this family, is it?” said Molly.
“Not if we can help it,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms.
The Operations Room was way over in the South Wing, a high-tech centre dedicated to overseeing all the Hall’s defences. Ops had control over short- and long-range scanners, scientific and magical protections, and all the interior and exterior weapons systems. And if anyone did get past all of that, Ops had even nastier surprises in store. The Sarjeant led Eddie and Molly right up to the great steel door that sealed off the Ops Room from the rest of the Hall. A huge circular plate some ten feet tall and six inches thick, it rolled silently aside as the Sarjeant approached. Eddie raised a mental eyebrow. Normally there would be a whole series of security protocols to get through before they’d be allowed anywhere near the door. It was turning out to be a day full of surprises, and Eddie was liking it less and less. The guards on duty stared straight ahead, as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. The Sarjeant strode straight past them, and Eddie and Molly followed after, sticking their noses in the air, as though they were used to such treatment.
The massive steel door closed itself the moment they were inside, and the general din from the rest of the Hall shut off abruptly. The Ops Room was calm and quiet, a reasonable-sized space packed full of computers and assorted high-tech, manned by a dozen technicians under Howard, the Head of Operations. There was no hurry or sense of urgency here, just experienced men and women sitting quietly at their workstations, carrying out their duties with calm efficiency. They kept their heads in a crisis because that was drilled into them long before they were allowed anywhere near the Ops Room. On the rare occasions when Drood Hall came under direct attack, Ops was responsible for organising the defences and protecting the family. They took their duties very seriously.
Holographic displays snapped on and off in mid air, showing shifting views of everything that was happening in and around the Hall, including all of the grounds and quite a bit of the surrounding country-side. Eddie looked quickly from screen to screen, but couldn’t see anything obviously worrying, let alone threatening. Molly studied everything with great interest. She wasn’t normally allowed in such a high-security area.
“Your family has the best toys, Eddie.”
“Perk of the job,” said the Sarjeant. “Please don’t touch anything, break anything, or slip something into your pocket.”
Molly looked at Eddie. “Why is he saying these things to me?”
“Because he knows you,” said Eddie.
“Howard,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “A moment of your time.”
There was the sound of a deep sigh, suggesting much-tried patience being stretched to the breaking-point. The Head of Operations was standing with his back to them, studying the displays with fierce concentration. It was clear he didn’t want to be interrupted, but no one says no to the Sarjeant-at-Arms. Apart from Eddie. And Molly. Howard turned around and fixed each of them in turn with a challenging stare. A large and blocky man in a button-down suit, his face was permanently flushed and deeply lined, partly from the strain of his responsibilities, mostly from a constant sense of outrage that anyone would dare threaten his family. Howard took such slights personally and punished all would-be home invaders with his own version of the wrath of God. Most of his hair was gone because he had a tendency to tug at it. He looked like he wished there was enough left to tug now, but he made himself nod respectfully to the Sarjeant-at-Arms.
“I brought Eddie and Molly here so you could tell them what’s happening, Howard,” said the Sarjeant. “Before they talk to the Matriarch.”
“Does she know about this?” said Howard.
“Of course not,” said the Sarjeant.
“You don’t approve of what she’s planning,” said Howard.
“It’s not my place to have an opinion,” said the Sarjeant.
“No,” said Howard. “That’s why you’re setting up Eddie to say it for you, so he can take the blame instead.”
“I’m used to that,” said Eddie. “It’s what I’m for.”
Howard gave Eddie his full attention, frowning as he chose his words carefully. And Eddie wondered just what the Matriarch could be planning, to upset so many experienced family members. He knew why they wanted him to be the one to raise objections. He was the only one in the family who’d butted heads with the Matriarch in the past and got away with it.
“The Matriarch has ordered a Code Red Ten,” said Howard. “Which is usually only issued when the family is in immediate danger of attack. I’ve had my people scanning the whole of the grounds, and most of the surrounding country-side, for some hours now . . . and we can’t see anything. We’ve even checked out adjoining dimensions and looked for signs of tachyon displays that would suggest approaching Time travellers. The boards are clear, nothing showing anywhere. The Matriarch wants everyone ready to react at a moment’s notice, but she hasn’t even hinted who our enemy might be.”
“So what is she afraid of?” said Eddie.
“You ask her,” said Howard. “She won’t talk to me. I’m just Head of Operations, with responsibility for the safety of the entire family. I need to know what she’s so worried about if I’m to serve her properly.” He gave Eddie a calculating look. “You’ve always been better informed than me when it comes to the big picture. Should we be anticipating an attack from anyone in particular?”
“Not as far as I know,” said Eddie.
“Who would dare?” said Molly.
“Exactly,” said Howard. “Who?”
He turned his back on them to give his full attention to the displays again.
“We should go,” said the Sarjeant. “Howard has work to do. And if he gets any more tense, he might start crushing his internal organs.”
He led the way back through the steel door, which almost seemed to hurry to get out of his way. Not one of the men and women at their workstations so much as lifted their heads to glance after them.
“That’s it?” Molly said to the Sarjeant, as the door rolled shut behind them. “You brought us all the way here, just for that?”
“Isn’t it enough?” said the Sarjeant. “I thought Howard made his point very succinctly.”
“Yes,” said Eddie. “He did. So, Sarjeant, what is the Matriarch planning to do, that you don’t approve of, that you want me to talk her out of?”
“I couldn’t ask you to do any such thing,” said the Sarjeant. “That would fall well outside my area of authority.”
“Are we going to see the Matriarch now?” said Molly.
“No,” said the Sarjeant.
“Imagine my surprise,” said Molly.
“We need to make another stop first,” said the Sarjeant. “The War Room.”
“I’m getting a really bad feeling about this,” said Eddie.
“You’re not alone,” said the Sarjeant.
He led them all the way through the Hall to the North Wing, home to the War Room. By now word had got out that the Sarjeant-at-Arms was on the prowl, and everyone hurried to get out of his way the moment they saw him coming. Some actually disappeared into adjoining rooms, just to be on the safe side. The Sarjeant took this as his due.
They reached the heavily reinforced steel doors at the back of what used to be an old ball-room, and the guards on duty snapped to attention the moment the Sarjeant appeared. It occurred to Eddie that they would never do such a thing for him, and wondered if he cared. He didn’t think he did. The heavy doors opened slowly on their own, and the Sarjeant led the way down a steep stairway that had been cut into the outer wall of a vast cavern. There was no railing, nothing at all to stand between anyone on the stairs and the intimidatingly deep drop on the other side. The Sarjeant strode down the rough stone steps without hesitation. Eddie pressed his shoulder against the cavern wall, just to make sure he didn’t wander too far from it. Molly tripped happily along behind him, humming tunelessly.
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