From Hell With Love: A Secret Histories Novel

by Simon R. Green

  He didn’t say anything about being sorry for my loss, for Molly, and the Matriarch. He knew no one would have believed him.

  “I am down here because I don’t want to be found,” I said. “There’s important work to be done and I don’t wish to be . . . distracted.”

  “I know. Roger and I have been listening,” murmured Harry.

  “Fascinating stuff,” said Roger.

  I met his gaze squarely, just to show I could. “You’re one of Hell’s creatures, Roger. What do you know about the Apocalypse Door?”

  “Not a thing,” said Roger. “Can’t help you, Eddie.”

  “Are you, by any chance, getting ready to run out on the family again, Eddie?” said Harry.

  “And leave you in charge again?” I said. “I don’t think so. Not after the balls-up you made of things the last time I stepped out for a moment. I’m not abandoning my family; I’m just preparing to do my duty as a field agent. I have a history with Doctor Delirium, and that makes me the most suited agent to track him down and step on him hard, before he does something silly with the Apocalypse Door. How do you feel about the Door, Roger? Looking forward to seeing old friends again?”

  “Now who’s being silly?” said Roger. “I like the world just as it is. So many opportunities for pleasure . . . people are such easy prey. And I do so enjoy being better than everyone else. I don’t see the need for any competition.”

  “Droods have had dealings with the Inferno before,” said William, quite offhandedly. “And the Courts of the Holy, of course.”

  We all looked at him, struck silent. He blinked a few times, and smiled uncertainly.

  “We have pacts, with Heaven and Hell?” I said, trying to keep the shock out of my voice.

  “Of course,” said William. “You have to work with all sorts, in this job. And be prepared to talk to absolutely anybody. Goes with the territory. This family has long-standing pacts with the Nightside, Shadows Fall . . . aliens, elves, etc. . . .”

  “Etc.?” I said.

  “Oh yes,” said William, chuckling in a quiet, unnerving way.

  “Very definitely etc. This family is responsible for a lot more than most people realise, and contains secret departments within secret departments. Like those Russian dolls, you know . . . All to deal with the things that no one else wants to admit exist.”

  “First I’ve heard of this,” ˚ said Rafe. “You mean . . . there are special agents out there, apart from the regular field agents?”

  William sat down suddenly, as though all the strength had gone out of his legs. He looked older, and very tired. “The more I remember about this family, the less I like it. Discovering the true nature of the Heart, and the price we paid for our original armour, weren’t the only things that broke me. Yes, there are undercover agents, out there in the world . . . doing secret, necessary, unpleasant things, in the name of the family.”

  “Hold on,” I said. “I actually ran this family for a while, and no one ever told me about this!”

  “There was a war on,” said William. “You didn’t need to know. Only the Matriarch knows everything. The keeper of secrets. She carries the burden of knowledge, so the rest of us don’t have to, for the good of the family.”

  “And perhaps,” said Harry, “for plausible deniability, should any of this ever blow up in our face.”

  “Who are these other agents?” said Rafe.

  “If I ever knew, I’ve forgotten,” said William. “Perhaps . . . I made myself forget.”

  I looked at Harry. “I have to go after the Apocalypse Door. The whole world, all of Humanity, is in danger. I need you to do something while I’m gone.”

  “Do tell,” murmured Harry. “I live to serve.”

  I looked from him to Roger, and then back again. “The family needs to send someone down into the Pit, as an emissary, to negotiate on our behalf. So that if Doctor Delirium should try to open the Door, Hell will keep it shut from the other side. And there’s only one person here suited to that task.”

  “You want to send Roger down into the Inferno?” said Harry. “Are you crazy?”

  “Why would the fallen and the damned choose to remain in Hell?” said Roger.

  “Find something else they want, and ˚ offer them that,” I said. “Bargain. Hell does so love to make a deal.”

  “And the Enemy might not want to start an Apocalypse he isn’t sure he’s ready to win,” said Rafe. “If Hell rises up, Heaven will come down. In a full-out war, timing can be everything.”

  “Good point,” said Roger. “Very well, I’ll go. It’s been a while . . . but I do know a few people I can talk to.”

  “People?” said Rafe.

  Roger smiled unpleasantly. “You know I don’t like to name-drop.”

  “Hold it, hold it!” said Harry. “I don’t like the sound of any of this. What if they don’t let you out again? This is Hell we’re talking about, the afterlife, not some road trip to a holiday dimension!”

  “My body won’t be going anywhere, Harry,” Roger said patiently. “Just my spirit. My body will remain here, in the Hall, properly guarded. I have done this before, you know. In fact, I’m quite in the mood to pay a visit to the old homestead. I’ve done far too many . . . good things, since I joined up with this family. I feel the need to . . . rededicate myself. It’s not easy being a half-breed; you get drawn in so many directions . . .”

  “If you’re going, I’m going with you,” said Harry.

  “No you’re not,” Roger said immediately. He took both of Harry’s hands in his, and looked at his partner firmly. “You can’t go where I must go. You’re only human. You wouldn’t get out again. I need you here, to stand guard over my body while I’m gone. Protect me, from my enemies.” He didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to. “Listen to me, Harry. The Hall is a dangerous place, these days. Who else can I trust, but you?”

  Harry glared at me. “This is just your way of keeping me out of circulation, while you’re gone!”

  “No,” I said. “Just a useful side effect.” I paused, as a thought struck me. “Should we send an emissary Above, as well? To the Court of the Holy, on the shimmering plains? Just to let them know what’s going on?”

  “I think we can be pretty sure they already know,” said Rafe. “Comes with the territory . . .”

  “The last thing we need is for this to escalate,” said William. “Or we’ll be hip deep in angels and smiting. You know what they did in the Nightside; the poor bastards are still rebuilding. Angels are even more hardcore than Droods.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lord of the Flies

  If there’s one thing in life I can rely on, it’s that every time I go home to Drood Hall, just when you think things can’t get any worse, they do. We all looked around, as yet again there came the sound of approaching footsteps. They were slow and unhurried, not even trying to hide themselves. Rafe threw up his hands, and looked like he might actually stamp his foot. I’d never seen him this angry before. It was quite entertaining.I’d “I don’t believe it! Who the hell is it this time? Am I going to have to put up barbed wire and lay down some land mines, just to have to put up barbed wire and lay down some land mines, just to get a little privacy around here? This is not a lending library!”

  “I came down here to get away from the family,” said William, wistfully. “Now it seems they’re following me down here. Maybe we should lay in some more cots. And another chemical toilet. I’m not sharing.”

  “I don’t think they’re here for you,” I said.

  “How very typical,” murmured Harry. “You always assume it’s all about you, Edwin.”

  “To my continuing displeasure, mostly it is,” I said. “I think I recognise those arrogant, overbearing footsteps. Over here, Cedric.”

  The Sarjeant-at-Arms appeared at the end of the stacks, paused briefly to fix us all with a fierce glare, so we could all get a good look at him, and then he strode officiously forward, heading straight for me. I struck a casual pose,
just to annoy him. He crashed to a halt before me, sniffed loudly, and glared right into my face.

  “Edwin Drood,” he said, in his best formal voice, “I am here to arrest you, on behalf of the family.”

  “You see?” I said to Harry. “It is all about me. Aren’t you jealous? Don’t you wish he was here to arrest you?”

  “I told you I always know where everyone is,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms, as if I hadn’t spoken. “There’s nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide in the Hall, that I can’t find you.”

  “Hide from you?” I said. “Perish the thought. We always have such fun together. Are you here on your own, Sarjeant? No backup? You really think you can take me, without an army to drag me down?”

  “I don’t need an army. I’m the Sarjeant-at-Arms. You will come with me, Edwin, because to do otherwise would be to defy the will of the family. Are you really ready to be declared rogue again?”

  “Arrested,” I said thoughtfully. “For what, exactly?”

  “As a material witness,” the Sarjeant said calmly. “For suspected involvement in the murder of Martha Drood. As a suspected accomplice of the suspected murderer, the witch Molly Metcalf. I am sorry about what happened to her. You have my word that I will track down whoever it was that drove the mob to a killing madness, and I will see them punished. But it doesn’t change anything.”

  “No,” I said. “Nothing ever really changes, when it comes to me and the family. How many times do I have to prove myself?”

  “No one is bigger than the family,” said the Sarjeant. “Now come along with me. You’ll be kept safe and secure, until your trial.”

  “Like Sebastian was kept safe, inside the isolation ward?” I said. “No one even saw his killer come and go. Lock me up, and I won’t live long enough to stand trial.”

  “That will not be allowed to happen to you,” said the Sarjeant, his face and voice entirely unmoved. “You ˚ will be kept under twenty-four watch, for your own protection.”

  “This must feel like all your birthdays come at once, Sarjeant,” I said. “But what about the Apocalypse Door, and Doctor Delirium?”

  “The family does have other field agents, Edwin. Really quite competent ones. They will deal with the problem. You are not irreplaceable. Now come with me. The needs of the family must always come first.”

  “No,” I said. “Not always. Because the family doesn’t always know what’s best for it.”

  “And you do?”

  “Sometimes, yes.”

  “And you say I’m the arrogant one,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms.

  We were staring right into each other’s faces when William suddenly pushed himself between us.

  “You can’t fight here!” he said sharply. “What are you thinking of? This is the Old Library, repository of Drood knowledge! I will not risk these books being destroyed, and precious knowledge lost! You can’t fight here; I forbid it!”

  “Step aside please, Librarian,” said the Sarjeant. “I must do my duty. Some things are more important than books.”

  William suddenly threw his arms around the Sarjeant, pinning his arms to his sides and holding him in place. Since he was only half the Sarjeant’s size, this was impressive.

  “Go, Edwin!” William said loudly. “Do what you have to do! I’ll hold him!”

  The Sarjeant stood very still, though he could have thrown the Librarian off just by flexing his chest muscles. He looked rather embarrassed.

  “Please, Uncle William. Let me go. I have no intention of taking Edwin anywhere.”

  We all looked at him. William let go, just a bit shamefacedly, and stepped back. The Sarjeant cleared his throat, and looked at me.

  “As you said, Edwin, if I ˚ was going to take you away by force, I’d have brought reinforcements with me. A lot of them. But from what my CSI people have already told me, it’s clear neither you nor Molly were involved in Martha’s murder. However, there is still a large faction in the family who want you arrested, on general principles, and it will make my investigation easier if people don’t know I’ve already cleared you. Since I know where every member of the family is, at any given time, it wouldn’t be plausible for me to say I couldn’t find you. So I have tracked you down here, and arrested you, in front of these impeccable family witnesses. Not my fault that you got away afterwards, is it? I told you, Edwin. I’m the sneaky one.”

  “So you are,” I said. “But why are you letting me go?”

  “It is clear to me that Molly Metcalf was murdered because you were getting too close to the truth, over whatever is going on with Doctor Delirium and the Apocalypse Door,” said the Sarjeant. “So it is clearly in the best interests of the family to let you continue your investigations.”

  I looked at Harry, who shrugged. “Far be it for me to stand in the way of greatness. Off you go, and save the world again. I’ll do my best to hold the family together in your absence.”

  Roger Morningstar just smiled briefly. “Bye, Eddie. See you in Hell.”

  I nodded briefly to them all, and strode quickly away. And the moment I was out of sight behind the next stack, I called up the Merlin Glass and went travelling again.

  I stepped through the glass into the War Room. I wasn’t done with the Hall yet. There were things I needed to know, and the War Room always had the most up-to-date information. No alarms sounded when I appeared out of nowhere right in the middle of the most closely guarded part of the Hall, though they very definitely should have. The Merlin Glass was learning, and I had to wonder what its limits might be. Still, that was a problem for another day. I had enough on my plate as it was. The Glass took its time about disappearing, in a smug sort of way.

  The War Room is a vast auditorium carved out of the solid rock beneath Drood Hall. From here, we see everything—or at least, everything that matters. The whole world is our playing field, and we don’t miss a trick. The stone walls are covered in row upon row of state-of-the-art display screens, showing every country, place and individual of interest in the whole world. And not just the parts the official maps show. Lights blazed on all the screens, showing developing situations and all the places where the family was at work. A green light for every successfully completed mission; blue for persons of immediate interest, or those on our current hit list; amber for potential trouble sites; and red for a current threat. There was a hell of a lot of red on the screens, but that was just business as usual in the War Room.

  This is where the family makes the decisions that keep the world turning.

  Men and women sat in long rows, concentrating on their workstations. Farcasters peered into their crystal balls, while technicians worked their computers, and a whole crowd of people murmured constantly in the communications centre. Runners hurried quickly back and forth with urgent information. Chatter was kept to a minimum, and no one hung around the watercooler. The new head of the War Room ran a right ship. The only one allowed to have hissy fits and throw things was him.

  Callan Drood hadn’t been in charge long, but he applied himself to his new position with all his usual vim and vigour. He looked a lot thinner than the last time I’d seen him, and a hell of a lot more intense. If that was possible. He was dressed smartly, as befitted his new authority, but wore it awkwardly, as though he was wearing it only because he’d been told to. His thin blond hair had been cut raggedly, and was plastered to his head with sweat. He stood right in the middle of it all, glaring about him, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to see everything at once. His mouth was a flat compressed line, when he wasn’t shouting at someone.

  He just nodded distractedly when I made myself known to him, and gestured abruptly for me to wait until he was ready to talk to me. Everyone made a lot of allowances for Callan. Word was, he was still adjusting to the new torc he’d been given, after the Blue Fairy had ripped the last one from around his throat, during the Hungry Gods War. Mind you, a lot of us thought he was just putting it on, to let him get away with things. Callan was like that. When he
finally deigned to give me some of his attention, all the time he was talking one or other of his hands would sneak up to touch or play with the torc at his throat, as though to reassure himself it was still there.

  “Eddie. As if I didn’t have enough problems. Why aren’t you under arrest, and safely locked up, rather than coming here and bothering me? I have work to do. Important work. I’m in charge here, you know! It’s a mistake, but I’m not going to tell them. I have a room on the second floor now. With a view! Not much of a view, admittedly, but . . . Look, I could say I’m glad to see you, but we both know I don’t meant it, so what’s the point? Tell me what it is you need me to do, so I can do it and get you the hell out of my War Room.”

  “Hello, Callan,” I said. “I think we need to review your medication again.”

  “Oh, would you? I’d be ever so grateful. Look at the situation screens. Look at them! I haven’t seen this many flashing lights in one place since I was at a San Francisco disco. Everyone out there’s talking about the Apocalypse Door, even if most of them aren’t entirely sure what it is, yet. Some of the rumours are getting really extreme. Everyone’s going on a war footing, just in case, and a lot of them are already planning to get their retaliation in first. It’s a mess . . . I’ve got field agents reporting subterranean action and intrigue all over the world. Tell me you’ve got a plan to deal with all this, Eddie. Lie to me if you must. I won’t mind.”

  “Can you show me where Doctor Delirium’s secret base is located these days?” I said.

  “Oh sure! No problem. There’s not many people can hide from us for long, and Doctor Delirium wouldn’t even make the short list. He’s very predictable, and he never learns.”

  He had one of his people task an orbiting surveillance satellite to show us where Doctor Delirium had gone to ground, this time. We could launch our own satellites, but it’s always been more cost efficient to hitch a ride on the existing ones. Never any shortage of spy satellites.