Daemons Are Forever

by Simon R. Green

  A whole bunch of energy beams hit the protective screen all at once, and Molly cried out in pain, her eyes squeezed shut with the strain of maintaining the field. A trickle of blood burst out from under her left eyelid. Tony slammed the fuel chamber door shut, and then threw the throttle all the way open, muttering a mixture of prayers, obscenities, and encouragements to Ivor under his breath. Ivor lurched forward, sending us all staggering, and then headed for the Merlin Glass, which was once again hovering in the air before us. One of the airships shot at it, and the energy beam rebounded straight back to blow the airship out of the sky. It figured that anything built by Merlin Satanspawn would be able to defend itself.

  The other airships increased their fire on Ivor as he began to move, chugging unevenly through the thick snow, but none of the attacks got through, even as Molly’s face ran with sweat, and more blood ran from her clenched shut eyes. Ivor slowly built up speed, the snowy waste slipping away behind us, until the Merlin Glass seemed to sweep forward and swallow us up; and just like that we left the alien world behind us, plunging back through the other side of space and time, heading for home.

  Molly relaxed with a great shuddering sigh and leaned exhausted against the inner cab wall. Her eyes were still closed, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. I sat down beside her, and gently cleaned the sweat and blood from her face with my handkerchief. She smiled slightly, just to let me know she was glad I was there.

  Ivor was clearly straining. His speed seemed to rise and fall, and his insides made strange and worrying noises. Tony fussed endlessly over the various gauges, making constant small adjustments to his levers, while keeping up a monologue of encouraging, soothing words to his beloved engine. Giles stood patiently on his own, his arms folded across his chest, looking interestedly out at the oceans of stars around us. After a while, Molly was able to open her eyes again, and once I was sure they weren’t damaged after all, I got up to talk with Giles. I thought I ought to try and make him feel welcome . . . but it wasn’t easy. Although our translation was still working well enough, there was a hell of a lot of history between us, and it was sometimes hard to find words, or even concepts, we had in common. We couldn’t even be sure how many centuries separated us.

  “I’m taking you back to Earth,” I said. “At the beginning of the twenty-first century AD.”

  Giles just shrugged. “Sorry, means nothing to me. I’m from the centre of the empire, Heartworld, in the thirty-second century of the New Age. And before that, from a small colony world out on the rim.”

  “And you used to work for the emperor?” I said carefully.

  “Well, still do, officially. I am Warrior Prime, by popular acclaim leader of the Emperor’s Host in battle. The emperor will take me back, once we’ve put this little . . . misunderstanding behind us.”

  “Won’t he miss you?”

  “Ethur? He’ll be glad to see the back of me, for a time. Give him a chance to cool down, let my supporters make reparations behind the scenes . . . and then he can summon me back to court without losing face. Some emergency will arise that only the Warrior Prime can deal with; something always does. And then he’ll welcome me back with open arms. He’ll have to. He needs me. He might rule the empire, but I’m the one who keeps the peace.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “You can get me back again, can’t you?”

  “Oh sure,” I said immediately, trying hard to sound confident. “That’s the joy of time travel. We can return you to your exact departure point in space and time, give or take a few seconds.”

  “I’d rather you allowed a few months,” said Giles.

  “No problem,” I said. “Right, Tony?”

  But he wasn’t listening to me, still crooning to his engine. I searched for something else to say, to change the subject.

  “So . . . why a sword, Giles?”

  “Because it’s an honourable weapon,” said Giles, as though the answer should have been obvious.

  “Oh wonderful,” said Molly. “We’ve picked up a looney.”

  After various incidents and adventures, we all came home again. The Time Train came roaring out of Merlin’s Glass and screeched to a halt back inside the hangar at the rear of the Hall. Home again, in a cloud of something very like steam. The engine shut itself down, shaking and shuddering, and was finally still, the black steel ticking loudly as the metal slowly cooled. The Merlin Glass shrank down to its usual size and tucked itself almost coyly back into my jacket pocket. I had to wonder which of us was making the decisions these days. I really needed to read the instruction manual, once I had a minute to myself. I helped Molly descend from the cab, and she leant tiredly against me. Tony was already down, worriedly studying the long rent in Ivor’s side. The engine was making sad little parp parp noises from his funnel. Giles jumped down from the cab and looked interestedly about him. I started to explain what the hangar was, and then stopped as I realised the place was even more quiet and deserted than usual. No enthusiasts working on their projects, no one fussing around a particular device; no trace of anyone, anywhere.

  Which strongly suggested we hadn’t returned to the hangar just a few seconds after we left, after all.

  Two men appeared in the hangar door and headed straight for us. They both looked very familiar, and then a chill ran through me as I realised they both had the same face. It was the living Jacob and the ghost of Jacob, walking side by side. Someone had clearly taken the living Jacob in hand and introduced him to modern clothes. He was now wearing faded drainpipe jeans, a T-shirt bearing the legend I’m Not Dead Yet, and a black leather motorcycle jacket. It seemed to suit him. The ghost of Jacob had given up on his suit, and was back to baggy shorts and a T-shirt saying Ghosts Do It With Spirit. He looked pretty solid, but bits and pieces of him seemed to fade in and out, and his flyaway hair still drifted as though he were underwater. Both the living and the dead Jacob looked very serious. They came to a halt before me, and I looked from one to the other.

  “Okay,” I said. “This is seriously creeping me out.”

  “What?” said the living Jacob, scowling. “Oh, us. Turns out I’m the only one I can trust around here.”

  “Right,” growled the ghost of Jacob. “Things have seriously deteriorated in your absence, boy.”

  “Where the hell have you been all this time?” said the living Jacob.

  “How long have we been gone?” I said.

  “Eighteen months,” said the ghost.

  “What?” I spun around and glared at Tony. “You swore you could get us back only a few seconds after we left!”

  “It’s not Ivor’s fault!” Tony yelled right back at me. “He was injured by the energy beam! It’s a wonder he got us back safely at all!”

  “I’ll talk to you later,” I said. I turned reluctantly back to the two Jacobs. “Eighteen months? Really? Jesus wept . . . All right, fill me in on what’s been happening. No, wait a minute; what do I call you both? You can’t both be Jacob.”

  “We worked that out ages ago,” said the ghost. “I’m Jacob. He’s Jay. And since you left, everything has gone to hell in a handcart. The Loathly Ones have worked with Truman’s new and invigorated Manifest Destiny organisation to build nests and towers all across the world. There are thousands of them now. The family, under Harry’s leadership, has been working hard to stamp them out, but for every one we destroy a dozen more spring up to take its place. Soon the Loathly Ones will begin their mass summoning and bring the Hungry Gods through into our reality.”

  “And then we’re screwed,” said Jay.

  “Hold it, hold it,” I said. “What was that about . . . under Harry’s leadership?”

  “With you gone, he took control of the family,” said Jay. “With the backing of the Matriarch. They dismissed the Inner Circle, and Harry’s been running things pretty much single-handed ever since. Him and his friend, the hellspawn.”

  “And the family is losing the war,” Jacob said grimly. “Tell me at least you brought back powerful new weapons from t
he future.”

  “I’ve got an energy gun,” I said, just a bit defensively. “The Armourer should be able to reverse engineer something useful from it . . . And I have brought back this gentleman, to advise us; the Warrior Prime Giles Deathstalker. He knows a lot about fighting wars.”

  “Never lost one yet,” Giles said cheerfully. He nodded to Jacob. “Pretty good hologram, that. Though I think your focus needs fixing.”

  “Don’t tell him,” I said quickly. “I think we need to introduce him slowly and carefully to the stranger parts of our family. Now, how bad are things, really?”

  “Really bad,” said Jay. “The family is scattered all over the world, stamping out nests as fast as we can locate them, but there are just too many of them. Even with our new armour, it’s a hopeless task. We had no idea just how many Loathly Ones there were, or how many underground nests. They’ve been planning this for decades.”

  “How long before they can begin their summoning?” said Molly.

  “Three, four days, tops,” said Jacob. “You got back just in time for the end.”

  “Well . . . couldn’t we use the Time Train again, go back in time another eighteen months?” said Molly. “Stop all this happening?”

  “Ivor’s not going anywhere,” Tony said flatly. “I’ve got months of work ahead of me before he’ll be fit to go out again.”

  “So,” I said. “I am left with just a few days to stop the bad guys from destroying the world and save the family from itself. If I hadn’t already done this once before, I might be seriously worried.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A Circle Full of Secrets

  "Sorry, Giles,” I said. “But it looks like you’re going to have to hit the ground running. I don’t have the time to give you a proper briefing and a guided tour of the Hall. So just do your best to pick it up as we go along.” He smiled coldly, a tall, dark, and dangerous presence in his futuristic armour. "I’ve experienced enough alien worlds and cultures in my time; I think I can cope with anything you have here. Do people still drink wine? Do they still have sex? Are there still braggarts and villains and people who need killing? Then I believe I’ll fit in just fine.”

  “The man has a point,” said Molly.

  “Well, I’m going to have to love you and leave you,” Jay said briskly. “I have work that must be attended to, with Rafe and William in the old library. When it comes to the Loathly Ones, information is ammunition, and we’re pitifully short on both.”

  He bobbed a quick bow to Giles and left the hangar at something approaching a dead run.

  “And you have work to be about too,” said the ghost Jacob, scowling ominously at me. “Harry, bad cess to the man, and the useless bunch of toadies and yes-men he appointed to replace your Inner Circle, are currently deciding important matters in the Sanctity, and making a right dog’s breakfast of it. You need to be there, boy, before Harry drops this family in it any deeper.”

  “You seem a lot more . . . together,” I said. “More focused, in body and soul.”

  The ghost shrugged quickly, little blue balls of ectoplasm bobbing up off his shoulders. “Having my living counterpart around certainly helped remind me of who I used to be, and there’s nothing like a major emergency and the almost certain death of the whole damned world to concentrate the mind wonderfully. On the other hand . . . my memories of this shared time are still almost nonexistent. I think . . . I may have done this to myself deliberately. Perhaps so I wouldn’t have to tell my living self how he’s going to die.”

  “You still think he’s going to die here, in this time, helping us?” I said.

  “Oh yes. A glorious death . . . but still no peace for the wicked. He will die and become me, and I . . . will linger on for centuries to reach this place, this point in time. And all I can say is, there had better be a bloody good reason for it.”

  “You still don’t know why you’re here?” said Molly.

  Jacob favoured her with his usual nasty smile. “Hell, does anybody? ”

  “You’re not a hologram, are you?” said Giles.

  “Wouldn’t lower myself,” said Jacob. “I am one hundred percent ectoplasm, and proud of it. I can walk through walls on a good day, though mostly I don’t because it’s very disconcerting. What’s the matter, warrior; don’t they have ghosts in the future?”

  “No,” said Giles. “We’re civilised.”

  “Let’s get to the Sanctity,” I said. “If only because this conversation is starting to make my head hurt. Molly, Giles, stick close to me, and don’t kill anyone unless you feel you absolutely have to. Jacob, you coming?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the netherworld,” said the old ghost, grinning unpleasantly.

  I used the Merlin Glass to transport us to the corridor right outside the Sanctity. It seemed even a glass made by Merlin couldn’t break through Strange’s other-dimensional protective barriers. So we all stepped through the enlarged mirror into the corridor, and immediately found ourselves facing half a dozen men standing guard outside the doors. They were all big muscular types, who might as well have had the word thug tattooed on their low foreheads. There’s always a few, in every family. I blame bad toilet training. The guards moved quickly to block our way, scowling in their best intimidating manner. One actually flexed his muscles at us.

  “No admittance,” the head thug said coldly. “The Patriarch is not to be disturbed.”

  “What a pity,” I said. “Because I really feel like disturbing him. You don’t recognise me, do you?”

  “No,” said the head thug flatly.

  “How soon they forget,” murmured Molly.

  “Don’t care, neither,” said the thug. “Doesn’t matter who you are. No admittance, no exceptions. Now piss off, or we’ll hurt you.”

  “No one does decent threats anymore,” said Molly. “They just can’t be bothered to make the effort to be decent henchmen.”

  “I really don’t have the patience for this,” I said. “Jacob, do you think you could . . .”

  The ghost thrust his ancient grinning face forward, his eyes blazing, and all the thugs took one involuntary step back. Jacob drew his awful aspect around him, and the corridor was suddenly full of the presence of death and horror, and the cold, inescapable embrace of the grave. It was like waking up and finding a corpse in bed with you, like suddenly knowing when everyone you loved was going to die.

  It was sometimes all too easy to forget what James really was: a dead man walking, only held together by an inhuman effort of will.

  Jacob took a step forward, and the thugs just broke and ran, departing screaming down the corridor. Jacob laughed softly, and I winced. There was nothing human in the horrid sound. And then suddenly he was just Jacob again, my old friend and support. But after seeing what he really was, or could be, I had to wonder if I’d ever be able to look at him the same way again.

  He must have sensed something, because he turned and looked at me uncertainly. He tried to smile, but it wasn’t very convincing.

  “Sometimes . . . I feel like I’m just the tip of an iceberg, Eddie, and that if I ever found out just how much more of me there really is, I wouldn’t be me at all. That’s why I need to keep my living self close; he reminds me of what it is to be human. To be only human.”

  “Wonderful,” I said, deliberately keeping my voice light. “Something else to worry about.”

  Jacob managed something like his old grin. “It’s not easy being a ghost. Or everybody would be doing it.”

  “Fascinating,” said Giles. “You people have taken psychological warfare in a whole new direction.”

  “Can we please burst in on Harry and ruin his day?” said Molly. “I’m feeling an increasing need to hit someone.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s been that kind of a day.”

  I kicked in the Sanctity doors, and we all stormed into the great open chamber. Strange’s rich crimson glow had expanded to fill almost half of the massive hall, but it no longer projected the old comf
ort and reassurance. Harry broke off from shouting at his advisors and spun around to face us. He recognised me immediately, but instead of the surprise I expected, after eighteen months away and no guarantee I was ever coming back, all I saw in his face was a cold, calculating anger. Behind him, his advisors’ jaws dropped in a quite satisfactory manner, though I didn’t think much of Harry’s choices. The Sarjeant-at-Arms was there, of course, and Roger Morningstar, and Sebastian and Freddie Drood. The latter pair doing their best to hide behind the first two. Still, to give Harry his due, he recovered quickly. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, as though to see me more clearly, and glared haughtily at me.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. “Typical of you, Eddie, not to be around when you’re needed. And where are my guards? They’re supposed to keep out . . . unnecessary people when I’m working.”

  “Your guards will be back,” I said. “Eventually. There’s only so far they can run before they run out of grounds. One of them called you Patriarch. When did that happen, Harry?”

  He sniffed loudly. “Someone had to take charge, after you abandoned us to go play with your Time Train.” He looked disparagingly at Giles. “It took you eighteen months to find . . . him? A barbarian with a sword?”

  “I am Giles Deathstalker,” said the future warrior, and there was something cold and very dangerous in his voice that shut Harry up immediately. “I am Warrior Prime to the emperor Ethur, commander of his armies, and conqueror of worlds. Do but say the word, Edwin, and I will make him kneel to you. Or I could cut off his head. I’m really quite good at that, and it just might stop him yapping.”

  “A nice thought,” I said, “but leave it for later. You can forget that Patriarch crap, Harry; I’m back, and you can return to the substitutes’ bench.”

  “You really think it’s going to be that easy?” said Roger, stepping forward to stand at Harry’s side. “Harry’s been running this family for over a year. The family has accepted him. What makes you think anyone wants you back in charge?”