“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m back.”
“Eddie…”
“You do know I would never hurt you, right?” I said. “That I would die before I ever let anyone hurt you.”
“Yes, Eddie. I know. That wasn’t you, was it? That was the rogue armour.”
“Yes. It appears…we’re more closely linked than I anticipated. More than I ever intended.”
“You promised me you could control it.”
“I can!”
“You could still get rid of it,” said Molly. “Force it back out of your torc.”
“And leave Moxton’s Mistake running loose in London with no one inside to control it?” I said. “I can’t risk that. And besides, I still need it.”
I looked across at Hollis. There was fresh blood at his mouth from where I’d kicked him into the wall.
“Did I do that?” I said.
“I don’t know,” said Molly. “Did you?”
“He hurt the armour,” I said. “I didn’t think that was possible. He made the armour angry.”
“So he brought it on himself?”
“No…I just lost control there for a moment. I won’t let that happen again. I keep forgetting Moxton’s Mistake is a living thing, not just the armour I usually wear. So now when I get angry, I’m never sure whose emotions I’m feeling.…”
“This isn’t the first time that’s happened,” said Molly.
I just looked at her. There was nothing else I could say. For good or bad, I needed the armour. Not for me; for my family.
I reached into my pocket and took out the portable hole I’d found in the other Hall’s wrecked Armoury. I dropped the black blob onto the floor, spread it out, and it immediately became an open door, revealing the level some distance below. I rolled Hollis across the floor and over the edge, and he dropped through into the floor below, landing with a satisfyingly hard thump. I peeled the portable door back off the floor, rolled it into a ball, and put it away again.
“Why didn’t you do that before?” said Molly.
“Because I didn’t think of it. All right?” I said. “You can’t think of everything. Did you remember I had it on me? Well, then…”
“Don’t you get snotty with me, Eddie Drood!”
Some conversations you just know aren’t going to go anywhere good. I turned away and started up the hallway.
“Let’s get going,” I said. “We’ve got a club to search.”
We pressed deeper into the Establishment Club, and most of the members we passed along the way took one look at us and immediately took pains to make themselves scarce. Middle-aged and old men, mostly, no one even remotely young or youthful. This was a club for people who’d made it, not those on the way up. There were apparently no women members, either. The Establishment Club had been around a long time, and clung to its ancient privileges and prejudices. Members disappeared through open doorways or hurried into other rooms or just pressed themselves back against the walls as Molly and I passed, before heading for the exit at speed. They knew terrible and imminent danger when they saw it.
The various servants just moved briskly to get out of our way and carried on about their business, watching Molly and me with unmoved faces and unblinking eyes. They were all of them dressed in the same old-fashioned formal uniform, with a bloodred waistcoat over a starched white shirt, knee-britches and highly polished shoes. They looked like something out of the last century, or possibly even the one before that. They all had the same very pale aspect, as though they didn’t get out often enough.
Molly and I took turns to peer into various rooms along the way, looking for Crow Lee, but they were all very much the same. Every comfort and luxury, but in a determinedly old-fashioned and traditional way. No televisions, no computers, nothing electronic. This was an old-school gentlemen’s club, whose main attraction was that it had absolutely no intention of moving with the times. Rich and successful-looking businessmen were everywhere, reclining in huge oversized leather chairs, or sleeping with their mouths open, like satisfied cats. Some read broadsheets or upmarket magazines or the better kind of book and made loud shushing sounds at the slightest unexpected noise. Until they looked up and saw Molly and me, at which point they hid behind whatever they were reading until we were safely past.
Finally the club’s steward came forward to meet us. Presumably because our reputation had preceded us. He was tall and painfully slender, in the same formal outfit, and with the same disturbingly pale face and steady gaze. In fact, his face was entirely expressionless as he came to an abrupt halt before us. He bowed stiffly and addressed us in a dry and dusty voice.
“Might I enquire your names, sir and madam, and what I might best do to assist you? On the grounds that the sooner we get that done and get you out of here, the sooner we can get back to normal around here.”
“Eddie Drood and Molly Metcalf,” I said grandly. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Oh no, sir,” said the Steward, just a bit surprisingly. “You are a member in good standing, Mr. Edwin. Everyone in your family is, and has been for centuries. Mr. Matthew used to come in all the time to avail himself of the club’s wine cellars. The young lady is, of course, entirely welcome as your guest. How may I assist you?”
“Matthew always did like a free drink,” I said. “And I think I could murder something tall and frosty, too. How about you, Molly?”
“I could drink,” said Molly. “In fact, after the day I’ve had, I think I could drink quite a lot.”
The steward issued the very faintest of sighs, and I looked interestedly to see if dust would come out of his mouth. It didn’t. He led us down a corridor or two and into the club bar. Everyone else in the bar immediately decided they were needed urgently elsewhere. In fact, there was a bit of a rush and a definite crush in the door, for a moment. Molly and I lined up at the bar, and the barman came forward to serve us. A tall, grey-faced figure in the same old-fashioned outfit, with deep-set eyes, a cadaverous face and a professional smile. He gave the impression he’d been serving behind that bar for quite some time.
“How long have you been here, barman?” said Molly, her thoughts clearly running the same way as mine.
“I have always been here, madam,” said the barman, in a cool if distant voice. “What is your pleasure, sir and madam?”
I had an ice-cold bottle of Becks. Molly had a bottle of Beefeater gin. The barman served them both immediately from under the bar counter, as though he’d had them there prepared and waiting all along. And then he just stood there, waiting for his next instructions. I took a slow reflective drink from my nice cold bottle of Becks, while Molly made serious inroads into her bottle of gin. Nothing like fighting delinquent demon schoolboys and an ex-SAS combat sorcerer to work up a serious thirst. The steward stood to one side, waiting patiently. And giving every indication of being prepared to wait there for as long as was necessary. I looked him over thoughtfully, and only then realised that he wasn’t blinking. Or breathing.
“Excuse me, steward,” I said. “But…you are dead, aren’t you?”
“Indeed, sir,” said the steward. “All the staff here are. Though we prefer to think of ourselves as mortally challenged. We served the club in life and continue to serve it in death. Not a lot of difference, really. We are here because we choose to be, because none of us wishes to leave the club. We think of it as ours. The members are just passing through, but we are always here.”
“I have always been the barman,” said the barman, without being asked.
“Do the members know?” said Molly.
“They prefer it, madam,” said the steward. “It means they don’t have to remember our names or bother with gratuities. Now that you are both suitably refreshed, might I again enquire as to your purpose here at the Establishment Club? Can I assist you in any way?”
“We’re looking for Crow Lee,” I said.
“Nothing simpler, sir. He’s just this way, in the club library. He’s been waiting
for you.”
I looked at Molly and then back at the steward. “He has?”
“Oh, indeed, sir. He’s been waiting here for you for quite some time. He came in especially early for him, just to be sure of meeting you.”
I emptied my bottle of Becks, slammed it down on the bar counter, and nodded briskly to the steward. “Then take us to him. Right now.”
“Of course, sir. If you and the young lady would like to follow me…”
He led us out of the emptied bar and set off at a steady pace. Molly and I strolled along behind him, refusing to be hurried, on general principle. Molly was still clinging determinedly to her bottle of gin. I knew better than to comment. She leaned in close beside me to murmur in my ear.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Plan?” I said.
“We’re about to go up against the Most Evil Man in the World! On his own territory! I think at least one of us ought to have a plan of action. Don’t you?”
“Well, we can’t just walk in there and kill him,” I said.
“We can’t?” said Molly. “Are you sure about that, because I’m certainly willing to give it a good try.”
“What was it you said just now about not killing in cold blood?”
“That was a person! Just an old pro, like us! This is the Most Evil, et cetera, who will almost certainly kill us if we don’t get our retaliation in first!”
“He sent my family away,” I said. “It’s always possible he might be able to bring them back again.”
“Ah,” said Molly. “Yes. All right. So we talk first, see if we can strike some kind of deal, and as soon as it becomes clear we can’t, then we kill him. Any ideas on how?”
“We improvise,” I said. “Suddenly and violently and all over the place. And try very hard not to get ourselves killed in the process.”
“How powerful do you think he is, really?” said Molly.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I think we’re about to find out the hard way.”
The steward took us straight to the club library, opened the door and stood well back, allowing Molly and me to enter entirely at our own risk. Even the mortally challenged know better than to get involved in some things. Or to get caught in the crossfire. He announced us as we strode in.
“Mr. Crow Lee, may I present to you Mr. Edwin Drood, and his associate, Miss Molly Metcalf. Should you require me or any other member of staff, I should point out that we will all be hiding in the cloakroom until the forthcoming unpleasantness is over. At which point we will emerge, as there will no doubt be a great deal of cleaning up to do. Gratuities will be appreciated on this occasion, for the extra work.”
The closing door cut off his last few words as he absented himself. No one was paying him much attention. Molly and I stood side by side in the club library, facing Crow Lee and his bodyguard. The library wasn’t much, in my opinion. I was used to the massive, extensive libraries of Drood Hall. Repositories of secret and hidden knowledge amassed over centuries; forbidden books laid down to mature like fine wines. This was just a big room with bookshelves on all four walls. I leaned over for a quick look; not even leather bound. Just standard hardback editions, the kind you can order by the yard.
There were no other members in the club library, presumably because Crow Lee was there. He sat in a large comfortable armchair, entirely at his ease, smiling in a smug and satisfied way. As though he’d been sitting there for ages, just waiting for us to come in. And maybe he had. Crow Lee was a large, broad-faced, powerful-looking man, wearing a long Egyptian gown so spotlessly white it seemed to shine and shimmer in the restricted light of the library. He had a great shaven head and piercing dark eyes under bushy black eyebrows. So large a man, he seemed to fill his chair to overflowing. His hands, emerging from the narrow pure white sleeves, were particularly big and powerful. He had an almost hypnotic gaze, with eyes that seemed to look deep into me. So I deliberately looked away. At meetings like this it’s always important to establish the ground rules early on.
Crow Lee reclined in his chair and made no move to rise to greet Molly and me. He didn’t even offer to shake hands. Instead he smiled easily at me, ignoring Molly, like an important personage indulging some pushy interloper. So completely confident in manner that he passed right through arrogance and out the other side into confident again. We didn’t worry him, because nothing worried him. Because he’d killed everyone who might have worried him. He fixed me with his cold, dark gaze, giving me his full attention. So I refused to look at him, giving all my attention to the bodyguard standing silently at his side.
I took my time looking him over. I knew him. Molly and I both knew Mr. Stab, and he knew us. The notorious uncaught serial killer of Old London Town. He’d operated under many names down the years, and I don’t think even he knew just how many women he’d butchered and killed in his time. Since he made himself deathless through the ritual slaughter of six unfortunate women in Whitechapel during that unseasonably warm autumn of 1888. When everyone knew the name the papers had given him. Mr. Stab was tall and solemn, dressed in the formal clothes of his own time, right down to the opera cape and top hat. He could blend into a crowd when he had to, could look just like everyone else when he was out on the streets after dark, pursuing his prey. But when acting in his professional capacity, he preferred the look of his legendary past.
His ominous presence dominated the whole room, but he was still the second-most-dangerous person there, and everyone knew it. Because Crow Lee really was the Most Evil Man in the World. You had only to look at him to know it.
He should have been stroking a white cat in his lap. Or pulling its legs off.
I stepped forward, still deliberately not looking at Crow Lee, giving all my attention to the man in black, Mr. Stab. He nodded thoughtfully to me and to Molly.
“It’s been a while,” I said, “since I invited you into my home, and you repaid my kindness by murdering my cousin Penny.”
“I told her not to love me,” said Mr. Stab, in his cold, calm voice. “I told her it could only end badly.”
“She was my friend!” said Molly. “And you killed her!”
“Yes,” said Mr. Stab. “It’s what I do. It’s all I can do with a woman now. Not quite the immortality I thought I was buying, with my celebration of slaughter. But then, Hell has always had its own sly sense of humour. You know who and what I am, Molly. I’ve never made any secret of what kind of monster I am.”
“And I’m a Drood,” I said. “That’s who and what I am. I protect the innocent, and when I can’t, I avenge their murders.”
I looked at him steadily, and he stirred uncomfortably for a moment. Crow Lee laughed out loud and clapped his huge hands together.
“Bravo, young Drood! I’m impressed! Really. There aren’t many in this world who can make the notorious Mr. Stab shiver in his shoes.”
He spoke directly to me, still ignoring Molly. I could feel her containing herself at my side. She knew he was trying to get to her. Crow Lee’s voice was rich and cultured, soft and self-indulgent and oh, so self-satisfied. The voice of a man with nothing to fear.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone disturb dear Mr. Stab before.…So welcome to the Establishment Club, Edwin Drood. You belong here, with your own kind. You really are everything I hoped you’d be.”
I looked him up and down and then dismissed him to glare at Mr. Stab again. “How did he hire you? What could he possibly promise you?”
“An end to my curse,” said Mr. Stab.
“There is only one end for something like you,” I said. “And that’s to kill you. And I’ll do that for free, for what you did to Penny.”
“And for so many others,” said Mr. Stab. “Funny how it’s always easier for you to care about the ones you knew. And, anyway, you already tried, and failed.”
“But this time I’ll hold you down while he does it,” said Molly. “You promised me I could trust you.…”
“Promises are made to be
broken,” said Mr. Stab. “Who should know that better than I?”
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t you dare try and make us feel sorry for you. Not after everything you’ve done.”
“I stood beside you,” said Mr. Stab. “Stood with the Droods when you went to war with the Hungry Gods. Helped you save the world. Shouldn’t that count for something?”
“What do you want?” I said. “A thank-you?”
“I tried! I tried because I didn’t want to be a monster anymore!”
“Then what are you doing here with Crow Lee?” said Molly.
“Because sometimes it takes one monster to destroy another,” said Mr. Stab.
“Well,” Crow Lee said brightly. “Isn’t this nice? Old friends talking together. Thank you for joining me here in the Club Library, Eddie.”
“Call this a library?” I said. “A collected Dickens and a few Trollopes?”
“If you’ve quite finished chatting with the hired help,” said Crow Lee, determined to draw everyone’s attention back to himself, “we do have matters of importance to discuss.”
Molly and I both looked at him, and he wriggled delightedly in his chair, enjoying himself; a disturbing movement in one so large. He looked me over, taking his time. Still ignoring Molly.
“I never thought I’d have to look at a Drood again,” said Crow Lee. “But then, you’re like cockroaches, aren’t you? So many of you, and so hard to kill. But worth the effort.”
“So you admit you’re responsible for the attack on Drood Hall?” I said.
Live and Let Drood: A Secret Histories Novel Page 27