In the end, she let go first and went to check the state of her makeup in the bedside hand mirror.
“So,” she said brightly. “What’s the story with the Time Train?”
“I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,” I said.
“Is it really a time machine?”
“Oh yes. Well, sort of. It started out as someone’s pet project. Sooner or later every Armourer gets a bee in his bonnet about something . . . some favourite theory, some great idea they’re convinced will make their name immortal within the family. If they can just convince their Matriarch to fund it. One guy was convinced he could build a bomb powerful enough to blow up the whole world.”
“What happened?” said Molly, fascinated.
“When the Matriarch couldn’t make him see what a really bad idea that was, she had him put in suspended animation.”
“Why not just kill him?”
“Because someday we might need a bomb powerful enough to destroy the whole world.”
Molly shuddered. “Your family can be downright scary sometimes, Eddie. So the Time Train is one of these obsessions, is it?”
“Pretty much. I don’t think we’ve used the thing a dozen times in the two centuries since it was constructed.”
“Why not?” said Molly. “I mean, I can think of a dozen really good uses for a time machine, any one of which could make us impossibly rich . . .”
“Thought you didn’t care about things?”
“It’s the principle of the thing.”
“It’s not that simple,” I said. “The possibilities for really appalling cock-ups, disasters, tragedies, and paradoxes are enough to give anyone nightmares. Don’t even ask me how the Time Train works, or I’ll start to whimper. Time travel, theory and practice, makes my head hurt. Do me a favour, Molly, and change the subject again.”
“All right . . . Let’s talk about the people we suggested bringing in as tutors. And don’t pull a face like that, Eddie Drood. The wind might change and then you’d be stuck that way. You know we have to discuss this.”
“Only because my choices were sane and practical, and you chose two monsters!”
“They are not monsters! Or at least, not all the time . . . And really, Eddie, sane and practical? Yeah, right . . . Janissary Jane has a good reputation as a fighter, especially when she’s got a few drinks in her, but let’s be real about this; she is way past her prime.”
“She’s a veteran demon fighter,” I said. “Do you have any idea how rare that is? She’s been killing demons for longer than most demon fighters live. There’s a lot she could teach us, if we can persuade her to come here.”
“All right, what about the Blue Fairy?” Molly pulled a sour face. “He’s weak, Eddie, and always will be. And he’s a risk. He’s half elf, and you can never trust an elf. They always have a hidden agenda. Trust me, I know.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you about to tell me of another old boyfriend?”
“An elf? Please!” Molly shuddered theatrically. “I’d sew it up first.”
“Pushing that unexpected mental image firmly to one side,” I said, “my choices are defendable. Yours are completely unacceptable. I mean, come on . . . a psycho killer and a luck vampire?”
“They’ve been good friends to me,” Molly said firmly. “And they can tell your family about a world they know nothing of. Weren’t you the one who said that there was more to this world than just good guys and bad guys? Subway Sue and Mr. Stab can open your family’s eyes to a whole new way of looking at things . . . That is what you wanted, isn’t it? To break wide open the Droods’ narrow worldview, and teach them new ways of thinking? Like I did with you?”
“Well, yes, but . . .”
“No buts. They’ll make excellent tutors. As long as they’re watched carefully. And maybe even excellent warriors in our upcoming war against the demons.”
“If Mr. Stab even looks at a girl in a way I don’t like, I will kill him,” I said.
“You can try,” said Molly. “And trust me, I’ll kill that Roger bloody Morningstar first chance I get. You should never have allowed him inside your home. I don’t care what he says, or who vouches for him; his first allegiance will always be to Hell.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “He won’t be here long. The family doesn’t allow outsiders to move into the Hall.”
“I’m an outsider,” said Molly.
“But you’re with me. We’re a couple, sharing a room. Such things are . . . accepted, if officially frowned upon. Provided you’re senior enough to get away with it.”
“The more I learn about your family, the less I like it,” said Molly.
“You see?” I said. “We have so much in common. Come on, let’s get out of the Hall for a while, and away from the bloody family and its demands.”
“Right,” said Molly. “Let’s go pick up the tutors. They’re all going to take some persuading to come here, and who can be more persuasive than us?”
“Exactly,” I said. “I just need to look in on Harry first, before we leave. I want to make it very clear what will happen to him if he tries to stir up trouble for me with the family while I’m away.”
“You really think a few harsh words are going to stop him?” said Molly.
“No, but hopefully it will make him think twice, and by then we should be back again. Especially if I remind him that I have a torc, and he doesn’t.”
Molly considered me thoughtfully. “Are you planning on giving him one of the new torcs?”
“Of course,” I said. “He’s James’s son, and an excellent field agent in his own right. The family needs experienced men like him. But I don’t think I’ll tell him that, just yet.”
“And what if, after he gets his torc, he challenges you to a duel for the leadership of the family? What if he doesn’t even bother with a challenge, and just ambushes you?”
“Oh, I don’t think he’d do that.”
“Why not? He hangs around with a hellspawn!”
“Yes, but he’s a Drood. The family would never accept a backstabber as leader, and he knows it.”
Molly sighed. “You have such faith in your family, Eddie. Even after all the things they’ve done to you.”
“The Droods are good people, at heart. We’re all trained from childhood to fight the good fight. We just . . . lost our way, that’s all. And Harry does have an excellent reputation. If he can do a better job than me as leader, let him. I’d be quite happy to stand down and go back to my old job as field agent, with no responsibilities to anyone save myself.”
“You really think he’d let you go?”
I grinned. “He will if he knows what’s good for him.”
Molly laughed and hugged me hard. “That’s my Eddie! You could be the most powerful man in the world running the most powerful organisation in the world, and you really would give it all up, wouldn’t you?”
“First chance I got,” I said. “I never wanted any of this. I’ve always had issues with authority figures. I certainly never wanted to be one. All I want is you, and a life for us together.”
She kissed me, and then pushed me away. “Go and talk to Harry. I’ll go for a wander round the grounds. Where shall we meet up?”
“At the Armoury, in an hour,” I said. “If we’re going after Janissary Jane, the Blue Fairy, Subway Sue, and Mr. Stab . . . I want to be really well armed.”
I checked with the Sarjeant-at-Arms, just to make sure Harry had ended up where he was supposed to be, in Uncle James’s old room. The Sarjeant always knows where everyone is. That’s part of his job. The Sarjeant allowed that the new arrival was indeed in the Gray Fox’s old room. He seemed to find that appropriate, but I could tell something was bothering him.
“Something’s bothering you, Sarjeant,” I said. “Don’t you approve of Harry returning home at last?”
“He seems a pleasant enough gentleman,” the Sarjeant said slowly. “But his . . . companion; that’s something else. Never thought I’d live t
o see the day when we allowed a hellspawn under our roof.”
“Harry vouches for him,” I said. “As is his right. But feel free to keep a very watchful eye on anything Roger Morningstar gets up to while he’s here.”
The Sarjeant nodded. “Like I needed you to tell me that, boy.”
“Don’t push your luck, Cyril. What can you tell me about Harry?”
“Nothing you don’t already know.”
“My Uncle James never spoke about him to you?”
“No. He never did. The Gray Fox never discussed his relationships outside the family.”
“Did you ever know James’s wife, Melanie Blaze?”
The Sarjeant’s mouth twitched briefly in something that might almost have been a smile. “I had the honour of meeting that lady on a few occasions. A most remarkable personage.”
I waited, but that was all he had to say. I nodded to the Sarjeant, and he turned and walked briskly away. I shrugged and made my way through the winding corridors of the west wing to what used to be Uncle James’s room. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger, enjoying his company when he was resting at home, in between assignments. In many ways, he was the father I never had. I was like a son to him, so why did he never talk to me about his real son, Harry?
I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I didn’t think to knock, just opened the door and barged right in, like I used to when it was Uncle James’s room. And then I crashed to a halt as I saw Harry Drood and Roger Morningstar. They were together, in each other’s arms. They were kissing. They broke apart immediately and stared coldly at me, standing shoulder to shoulder. I turned unhurriedly and closed the door carefully behind me.
“You really should learn to lock your door around here,” I said.
“You saw,” said Harry.
“Yes,” I said. “I saw.”
“Are you going to tell everyone?”
“Why should I?” I said. “It’s no one’s business but your own.”
“If you were to inform the Matriarch,” Harry said slowly, “and the family . . . You know they’d never accept me as their leader. The family is still very old-fashioned about some things.”
“That’s their problem,” I said. “I don’t give a damn. Is this . . . why you never came home?”
Harry and Roger looked at each other, and relaxed slightly. Harry took Roger’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
“This . . . is why my father never spoke to you about me,” said Harry. “Though he often spoke to me about you. He had great faith in you, Eddie. Said you had it in you to be as great a field agent as him. He never said that about me, even though I tried so hard to impress him. He was everything I ever wanted to be . . . But he could never come to terms with the fact that his only legitimate son was gay. It meant so much to him, you see, to continue his line within the family. And for that he needed a legitimate child . . . The Droods have always been very big on bloodlines. The Matriarch gave him hell for marrying my mother; you can image what she would have said if she’d ever found out about me . . .
“To be fair, he could have disowned me, but he didn’t. But it meant we were never as close as we might have been. And it meant . . . he could never allow me to come home. No one from the family could ever know that the famous womaniser James Drood had sired a bum boy. He had his reputation to think of.”
“He protected you,” I said.
“Yes,” said Harry. “But he never accepted me.”
“Look,” I said. “I don’t give a wet slap whether you’re gay or not. But I have to ask. How can Roger be your . . . partner, when he’s also your stepbrother?”
Harry smiled crookedly. “If his being a hellspawn doesn’t bother me, why should anything else? We knew we were meant for each other, the moment we met in that awful little nightclub in Paris.”
“Even hellspawn have hearts,” said Roger.
“You still stink of the Pit,” I said bluntly. “He’s a demon, Harry. You can’t trust him or anything he says. Demons don’t love anyone. They can’t.”
“I’m only half demon,” said Roger. “I’m half human, and very bothersome that can be, at times. I have all the usual run of human emotions, though I never let them get in the way before. I was there in that nightclub on purpose, sent to seduce Harry as a way of getting at James, and through him the Droods . . . but instead, our eyes met, and that was that. I was in love, much to my alarm. We fell for each other right then and there, and we’ve never been apart since.”
“Are you complaining?” Harry said fondly.
“No,” said Roger. “Never. But it does mean I can never go home again. They’d never understand . . .”
“I know the feeling,” said Harry, and squeezed Roger’s hand.
“You can’t trust him, Harry,” I said, trying my best to get through to him. “He’s a hellspawn! They lie like they breathe; it’s natural to them!”
“I don’t trust anyone,” Harry said flatly. “Not this family, and least of all the man who murdered my father.”
“It wasn’t murder,” I said. “It was a fair fight. Neither of us wanted it, but . . .”
“Yes,” said Harry. “It always comes down to the family, doesn’t it, and the awful things we do because of it. Tell me this much, at least—tell me my father died well.”
“Of course he did,” I said. “He went down fighting to the last.”
Harry looked at me thoughtfully, his head cocked slightly to one side. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Cousin Eddie.”
“There’s a lot of things I’m not telling you,” I said easily. “I keep my secrets to myself. So should you. I won’t tell the family you’re gay . . .”
“How very noble of you,” said Roger.
“But the longer you two stick around, together, the sooner someone will realise. And the holding hands is a dead giveaway.”
Harry glanced down at the hand holding Roger’s, but didn’t let go.
“Thank you for the kind advice, Cousin Eddie. And your reticence on our behalf. More than I had any right to expect from you, I’m sure. But don’t make the mistake of thinking that we’re ever going to be friends.”
“I’ll settle for allies,” I said. “We’re going to have to find a way to work together in the bad times that are coming. For the good of the family, and the world.”
“Oh, of course,” said Harry. “Anything, for the family.”
CHAPTER FIVE
These Two Baby Seals Walk into a Club . . .
Visiting the family Armourer is always an interesting experience, and often an excellent chance to test how good your reflexes are. There’s always something loud and noisy going on, usually of an explosive nature, and how productive a visit you have can depend on your ability to duck and cover at speed. So when went to visit the Armoury, set deep in the bedrock under the Hall, so that when things inevitably go wrong at least the rest of the family will be protected from the awful consequences, my first surprise was how quiet and peaceful everything seemed. The Armoury is basically a long series of connected stone chambers, packed to bursting with equipment, workbenches, and testing areas. And its own adjoining infirmary, just in case.
The place seemed busy enough. Interns in stained lab coats clustered around computers and chalked pentacles, chattering animatedly with each other as they designed new, terrible things to unleash on the enemies of humanity. One young man with recent scorch marks on his coat was working industriously on a portable lightning generator, while another was cautiously testing an aerosol that could spray plague in any chosen direction. Judging by the look of him, he was still having problems with blowbacks. Giving him plenty of room, I moved on, and then looked up to see an intern walking upside down across the high stone ceiling, using boots that stuck to the stone. He waved cheerfully to those watching from below, and then one foot slipped right out of the boot, and he was left dangling precariously from the one boot still stuck to the ceiling. He called piteously for help, and another intern, w
ith what I fervently hoped were only temporary bat wings sprouting from her back, fluttered up to assist him.
Meanwhile, half a dozen interns with the same face stood together in a tight circle, arguing fiercely over who was the original and who were the clones. And one guy sat giggling inside a glass pyramid while an endless stream of butterflies flew out of his nose. Just another day in the Armoury, basically.
So why did the whole place seem so . . . subdued? No sudden bangs or fires or clouds of poisonous gas drifting on the air . . . I strode through the Armoury, stepping carefully over clumps of colour-coded wires and the occasional exploded test animal, and finally spotted the Armourer himself, sitting hunched over a workbench, as usual. He was tinkering with some new gadget, trying to make it do what it was supposed to do through a combination of craft, genius, bullying, and bad language. He looked around as I sat down beside him and sniffed loudly.
“This is all your fault, you know. All this unnatural peace and quiet. It’s the lack of torcs; makes my interns far too cautious. I’m not getting any real work out of them since they started worrying about consequences. We need those new torcs down here, Eddie.”
“Then make sure the list is ready for me when I get back,” I said patiently. “I’ll see that everyone who needs one, gets one.”
The Armourer looked at me sharply. “Get back? What do you mean, get back? You’re not off again, are you? You haven’t been home ten minutes!”
“I find my family is best appreciated in small doses,” I said solemnly.
“Yes, well, there is that,” said the Armourer. “But while the cat’s away, you may find the rats getting damned uppity. It’s only your presence and example that’s holding this family together in these troubled times. And now that Harry’s back . . .”
“Don’t worry about Harry,” I said. “I can handle him, if I have to.”
“Oh good,” said Molly, strolling over to join us and kicking a wandering dodo out of the way. “Does that mean we don’t need to be nice to Roger anymore, and I’m free to kill him in slow, horrible, and innovative ways?”
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