Live and Let Drood: A Secret Histories Novel

by Simon R. Green

  “Even the Scooby-Doo gang would turn up their noses at this,” I said firmly. “And no, Molly, we are not going in. I have my dignity. And I just know that if I walk through that door and someone in a sheet jumps out and shouts, Boo! at me, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

  “I suppose the Droods had the real thing!”

  “Not as such,” I said. “You met Jacob, the family ghost, awful old reprobate that he was.…And there’s the Headless Nun, of course. When I was a kid, they were usually more fun to hang around with than the rest of my family.”

  “It’s a wonder you grew up as normal as you did,” Molly said sweetly.

  “Well, quite,” I said.

  At the very end of the Pier, some distance from the beach and way out over the ocean, I leaned on the reinforced railings and breathed deeply. Seagulls keened loudly overhead but maintained a respectful distance. Molly hugged her stuffed pony one last time, opened an invisible pocket in her dress, stuffed the thing in and forgot about it. (If it looked to be turning up on our bed at any future time, I planned on being very firm about it.) I peered out across the ocean. Various ships were passing by, out on the horizon, going about the business apparently without a care in the world. Though it’s hard to be sure with ships.

  “I do like this pier,” I said. “Thanks for bringing me here, Molly. Even if your friend isn’t here. It does me good to be reminded that there are things in this world worth saving.”

  “We could always go on one of the rides,” said Molly. She indicated the various roller coasters and Tilt-A-Whirls, most of which swung too far out over the waters for my liking. I shook my head firmly.

  “I’ve never understood the appeal of those things. My world is dangerous enough as it is without putting myself at risk on purpose. I wouldn’t go on one of those things if you paid me. And I’ve got Drood armour.”

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” said Molly. “But you have no sense of adventure.”

  “That isn’t adventure,” I said. “That is one mechanical malfunction away from a major local news story just waiting to happen. Can we please go see this old friend of yours now? That is what we came here for, after all.”

  “I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

  “I was! I am. But part of being a Drood is knowing when to get down to business.”

  “Look to your right,” said Molly, “and there you will behold Madame O’s Palace of Mysteries. Look upon her wonders and marvel.”

  I looked. There, tucked away to one side, was an old-fashioned fortune-teller’s tent. A droopy-looking thing, presumably surrounding the stall within, its rough canvas covered with all the usual symbols that the general public has been conditioned to accept as representing the mystical and the occult: moons and stars, witches on broomsticks and black cats. It couldn’t have looked more fake if it tried.

  “That’s the point!” said Molly, when I expressed this view to her. “No one would ever think to find the real thing here, looking like that.…Would they?”

  I looked the tent over carefully. “Who’s she hiding from?”

  “Pretty much everybody,” said Molly. “Madame O has conned, double-crossed, and done dirt to practically everyone in our game you can think of at one time or another. And, yes, very definitely including your family. During her long, involved and decidedly underhanded career, Madame O has been run out of every major city you can name, and some that aren’t even there anymore. Her trouble is, she’s got no self-control. She sees something she wants and she goes for it. Just grabs it and runs, and to hell with the consequences. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Thought you were describing someone else for a moment,” I said smoothly. “Do carry on.”

  “Madame O was my mentor, for a time,” said Molly. “Taught me everything I know about taking advantage of the world. Well, not everything, but you’d be surprised.…”

  The hand-painted sign set up on an easel at the entrance to the tent read MADAME OSIRIS. KNOWS ALL, SEES ALL, TELLS ALL.

  “For the right price,” said Molly. “Madame O never gave away anything in her life.”

  I looked at the sign. “Tell me that’s not her real name.”

  “Of course not!” said Molly. “To start with, Osiris is a man’s name. One of the old male Egyptian gods. You see, you can learn things from watching old mummy movies. I don’t think anyone knows Madame O’s real name. According to old magical tradition, to know the true name of a person or an object is to have power over it. As long as I’ve known her, it’s always been Madame O-something. When I first met her in Vienna all those years ago, she was passing herself off as Madame Olivia, Daughter of the Night and Disciple of Darkness. She was a bit old for the badger game even then, but she still had a certain glamour.…She could make grown men give up their credit card details and pin numbers just by looking at them in a certain way. She taught me all I know about deviousness and debauchery. Including that thing I do with my fingertips that you really like…”

  “Far too much information,” I said. “Can we trust her?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why are we here?”

  “Because she knows things, sweetie.”

  “Can we trust her to tell us the truth?”

  “If we lean on her hard enough. We don’t have enough money to bribe her.”

  I shrugged. “She’s your friend.”

  “There are friends…and there are friends,” said Molly. “And Madame O is neither.”

  She slapped aside the tent flap and strode in. I followed, carefully pulling the tent flaps closed behind me. I didn’t want us being interrupted. Inside there was hardly any room to move, the lighting was kept deliberately gloomy so you couldn’t tell how cheap the place was, and there was nothing in any way mystical about the atmosphere. The only light came from half a dozen candles in a cheap candelabra, illuminating the table and two chairs set up. The crystal ball on the table looked impressive enough at first glance; but I’ve spent enough time around the real thing to know a fake when I see one.

  Madame Osiris sat on the far side of the table, carefully positioned to be half-hidden in the shadows. A lady of a certain age, solidly built and wrapped in traditional gypsy robes, she looked like she could punch her weight. Her bare muscular arms were covered in cheap and tacky multicoloured bangles that clattered loudly against one another with every movement, while her long-fingered hands caressed the crystal ball in a disturbingly sensuous way. She had a handsome enough face with a good bone structure, under industrial strength makeup, topped with a silk turban. She bestowed on Molly and me a wide professional smile and launched into what was clearly a well-practiced routine, addressing us both in a rich smoky voice.

  “Enter, dear friends, into the Mysteries of the Hereafter! Learn what the future has in store for you! And together we shall—Oh, bloody hell. It’s you, Molly Metcalf.”

  Madame Osiris pushed her chair back from the table, allowing the candlelight to illuminate her fully, the better to glower fiercely at Molly.

  “Nice to see you again too, Madame O,” Molly said cheerfully. “Don’t get up. We’re not staying. And we’re definitely not tourists, so lay off the purple prose.”

  Madame Osiris sniffed loudly. “All the stalls on all the piers and you had to come walking into mine. I should have seen this coming.” She looked me over in an impersonal sort of way. “So this is the new boyfriend, is it? You always did like them big and dumb, Molly. Whatever happened to…Oh, you know, Big and Blond and Ethereal? I always liked him.”

  “He couldn’t stand the pace,” said Molly. She smiled at me. “This one can.”

  “Nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” I said.

  Madame Osiris was still giving me the once-over, in a considering sort of way that was probably designed to make me feel uncomfortable. So when in doubt, attack. I struck a deliberately casual pose and gave her my best intimidating smile.

  “We’re not here to have ou
r futures told. We have questions we want answered.”

  “You and the whole world, dearie. Oh, sit down, sit down. You make the place look untidy.”

  I glanced at Molly, who nodded to the only empty chair. I sat down facing Madame Osiris, and she smiled briefly like she’d just won a point. Molly made a point of standing beside me with her arms folded impatiently.

  “Cross my palm with silver, dearie,” Madame Osiris said briskly, “and I shall reveal all.”

  “You’ll catch your death in this weather,” said Molly.

  “How about I cross your palm with gold?” I said. I sent my armour shooting down my arm to cover my hand in a golden gauntlet and slammed it down on the table. Madame Osiris didn’t even jump. Just looked at it like I’d dropped a fresh turd on the table before her.

  “Stone me, it’s a Drood.” She looked at my throat. “Yes, there it is: the golden dog collar. Should have spotted it the moment you walked in…I must be getting old. Looks a bit odd, though; a bit off-colour…” She raised an eyebrow, but I just smiled and said nothing, and pulled the armour back off my hand. Madame Osiris shrugged briefly. “None of my business, dearie. See if I care.” She looked reproachfully at Molly. “Dating a Drood? That really the best you can do? I thought you had better taste. All right. What do you want to know? And, no, I don’t do lottery numbers.”

  “Where can we find the Regent of Shadows?” I said.

  She surprised me then by laughing in my face. “Don’t need a crystal ball for that one, dearie. You don’t find him. He finds you.”

  “Forget the clever dialogue,” I said. “I’m not a tourist. Where, exactly?”

  “You need the Department of the Uncanny, in London,” Madame Osiris said resignedly. “Go to Big Ben and then ask again. And, no, I’m not even a little bit kidding. Word is the Regent’s going up in the world. Probably because he knows all kinds of things he isn’t supposed to…He’s been making a lot of people nervous. Anything else you want from me before I invite you to go to hell by the express route? The last thing I need around here is your kind, lowering the tone and attracting the kind of attention I can well do without. You’re bad news, Molly Metcalf, and you always were.”

  “How can you say that, Madame O, after all we’ve been through together?” said Molly.

  Madame Osiris glared at me. “Run, boy, while you still can. She’ll get you killed. Just like everyone else who gets close to her. The Metcalf sisters have never cared for anyone but themselves. There’s a reason why they’re still alive and the rest of their family isn’t.”

  “Never meet up again with old friends,” Molly said to me. “They’ll always let you down.”

  “And I can’t believe you’re stepping out with a Drood!” snapped Madame Osiris. “You have better reason than most to know what they really are! But then, you never did listen to me. I could have made you big!”

  “This from someone hiding out in a fortune-teller’s stall on Brighton Pier,” said Molly. “How have the mighty fallen…”

  “You little cow…”

  “That’s enough!” I said. “I didn’t come here for this!”

  And something in my voice snapped both their heads round to look at me. Madame Osiris actually looked startled for a moment, and Molly looked at me as though she didn’t know me at all. And then they looked at each other.

  “Is he… ?” said Madame Osiris.

  “Just a bit,” said Molly.

  “You always did know how to pick them, dearie. Whatever happened to Roger Morningstar?”

  “Dead, finally,” said Molly.

  “Then we can all sleep a little more safely in our beds, at last. Are you in trouble, Molly?”

  “Perhaps a little more than usual.”

  “I always did have a soft spot for you, much against my better judgement. Like the daughter I never wanted. Lose the Drood, Molly, while you still can.”

  “I can’t,” said Molly. “He’s the only one who ever really mattered to me.”

  Madame Osiris sighed. “And love makes fools of us all. One more question, dearie, on the house, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Where are my sisters?” said Molly. “Right now.”

  Madame Osiris raised a heavily painted eyebrow. “Don’t you know?”

  “Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be asking! They’ve got their auras turned off, and that isn’t like them. So where are they?”

  Madame Osiris sat thoughtfully for a long moment, her dark eyes staring off into the distance…and then she sat up straight and shrugged quickly. “Sorry, dearie. Outside my range. But then, they always were. Come on, Molly. You know as well as I do that no one finds Isabella and Louisa if they don’t want to be found. And wherever they are right now, they clearly don’t want anyone else knowing.”

  “But I’m not anyone else! I’m their sister!”

  “Then the question you should be asking yourself,” said Madame Osiris, “is, What could they be up to that they know you wouldn’t approve of? Maybe you should go talk to the Regent of Shadows. He knows everything about everyone. That’s his job description. In fact, it’s probably engraved on his business cards.”

  Molly nodded brusquely and turned to leave. “You do know Osiris is a man’s name, right?”

  Madame O laughed in a good-natured way. “It’s all Egyptian to me, dearie.”

  Molly and I made our way back down the Pier. Neither of us was in a hurry to get anywhere. We both had a lot to think about.

  “Well,” I said finally. “That…was pretty much a waste of time.”

  “Did you know the Regent of Shadows was now in charge of the Department of the Uncanny?”

  “I’d heard rumours.…”

  “Did you know he was hiding out at Big Ben?”

  “Nice to have the rumours confirmed, I suppose,” I said. “Your Madame O gave me the impression of being just a bit rattled by our sudden appearance. She wasn’t pleased to see you, and she definitely didn’t like having me around.”

  “Of course not,” said Molly, smiling briefly. “You’re a Drood.”

  “The point I’m making is, Do you think someone else might have got to her first? Crossed her palm with a hell of a lot of silver to point us in the wrong direction?”

  “She didn’t know we were coming to see her,” said Molly. “She couldn’t. Hell, we didn’t know until I made the decision just a few hours ago.”

  “But if she can see the Future…”

  “Grow up, Eddie. Of course she can’t! You are so gullible sometimes. That whole Madame Osiris thing is just for show! Just another con for the unwary…It takes a hell of a lot of power to look into all the future timetracks ahead of us.”

  “Someone with real power…like Crow Lee?” I said. “My old tutors always said no one understood the Theory of Magick like Unholy Crow Lee. Molly, is it just me, or is it getting dark in a hurry?”

  We both stopped and looked around us and then up at the sky. Grim, overbearing clouds were forming out over the ocean, filling the sky and cutting off the sunshine. The temperature dropped perceptibly as something leached all the summer’s warmth out of the day. A great grim fog was forming, rising up off the sea and heading straight for the Pier.

  “Okay,” said Molly. “That…is not natural.”

  The fog surged forward, racing across the ocean, and fell upon the end of the Pier like a beast on its prey. It consumed the whole end of the Pier in a moment and then moved slowly, purposefully forward, enveloping the Pier foot by foot. I lost sight of the huge rides and then everything else at the rear of the Pier, unable to see more than a few feet into the thick pearlescent fog. Molly was right: There was nothing natural about this. We both backed carefully away from the fog, sticking close together. We couldn’t risk being separated.

  People farther down the Pier began to cry out as even the everyday tourists sensed something was wrong. Panic moved quickly through the crowds as they felt what Molly and I already knew: that there was something in the fog. So
mething bad. In ones and twos and then in groups, they headed for the exit. Walking quickly and then hurrying, and finally breaking into an undignified run as the fog struck a chill into their hearts. Young lovers held on to each other tightly, running hard and not looking back, while parents dragged screaming and protesting children along with them by brute force. The retired senior citizens abandoned their deck chairs, and hurried after the departing crowds as best they could. White-faced staff abandoned the stalls and shops and the games arcade, and ran for their lives. Even the fake ghosts came running out of the fake haunted house, throwing aside their sheets and costumes so they could run faster.

  None of them wanted any part of the advancing fog and what was moving inside it.

  I looked round just in time to see Madame Osiris’s tent disappear abruptly, just before the fog reached it. She may not have seen the fog coming, but she knew enough to get the hell out of Dodge. Molly and I looked at each other and smiled briefly. It would take a lot more than some sudden bad-tempered weather to scare us. We stood our ground, facing the fog as it crept towards us. I peered into the thick fog as it ate up foot after foot of the Pier, but though I could sense something moving along with it, I still couldn’t see a damned thing. And suddenly I had a very bad feeling about this fog.

  “We could…depart,” I said carefully to Molly. “If you like. To a better position…I’m just mentioning the possibility.”

  “No,” said Molly, just as carefully. “We don’t back down, ever. Might give other people ideas…Besides, aren’t you curious to see what’s inside it?”

  “Well, yes and no,” I said. “There’s curious, and then there’s…curious.”

  The temperature plummeted. My breath was suddenly steaming on the air before me, along with Molly’s. All the hairs were standing up on my arms and the back of my neck. I shuddered briefly despite myself, and it wasn’t because of the cold. I had a sudden sharp feeling of my own mortality. The fog advanced deliberately towards us, thick and swirling and pearly grey, with strange lights coming and going deep within it…and something that might have been shadowy shapes deep in the heart of it. The air was damp, beading on my face, and I could taste sea salt on my lips.