Daemons Are Forever sh-2

by Simon R. Green

  “Could we use the Soul to stop the Invaders coming through?”

  “I don’t know,” said Strange. “Its full capabilities have never been tested. It might protect England, if it was replaced in time.”

  “All right,” I said. “How about you, Strange? Could you stop them? There’s some evidence in the old library to suggest that the Heart intervened to stop them, back in Roman times.”

  “No,” said Strange. “You must understand, Eddie; there is so little of me here, relatively speaking. Even with all the extra strange matter I brought through to make your armour. In order to put up a barrier that could keep out the Many-Angled Ones, I’d have to manifest my whole self in this reality, and that would be just as disastrous as the Invaders coming through. Strange matter doesn’t belong here; it upsets the natural balance. You have no idea how far removed I am from what you think of as life.”

  “How long do you think it will be before the Loathly Ones are ready to summon the Invaders?” said Molly, just to show she wasn’t being left out of the discussions.

  “Three, four days,” said Strange. “I can feel the strain the completed towers are putting on the natural dimensional barriers. I can feel the Hungry Gods, gathering around this little universe and making their terrible plans.”

  “I’m beginning to wish I’d never asked you,” I said. I looked at Giles. “How about it, Warrior Prime? Can you put together an army in three, four days?”

  “Normally, no,” said Giles. “But this clearly isn’t a normal family, or a normal world. I like it. It’s so … extreme. If the rest of your family are anything like you, I might just manage something interesting in a few days.”

  “Actually, you don’t even have that long,” said Sebastian.

  We all looked round. Sebastian was no longer cringing in his corner. He stood alone, smiling at us, and there was something in his smile and in his eyes that closed a cold hand around my heart. He didn’t look like Sebastian anymore.

  “Seb?” said Freddie, still in his corner. “What are you doing, darling? This is no time to stand up and be noticed. This really isn’t like you, Seb.”

  “You don’t know me,” said Sebastian. “None of you really know me. But then, Sebastian was such an easy part to play. Unfortunately, now his time is up. And so is yours.”

  “My God,” said Harry. “He’s infected. He’s a Loathly One. How did we miss that? He’s the traitor in the family!”

  “Not the only one,” said Sebastian, still smiling his inhuman smile. “I’m afraid you’ve all been very naïve. Now it’s time for you all to die.”

  He shook and shuddered, his whole body convulsing and twisting in sudden spurts of growth. He rose up to be eight feet tall, broad at the shoulders and barrel-chested, his torso packed with thick cables of muscle, his angry red skin stretched almost to bursting point. Two more arms burst out of his sides, and all four hands now boasted heavy curving claws. His face was broad and monstrous, with no trace of humanity left in it.

  “The Hungry Gods condemn you to death, Edwin Drood,” he said in a horribly normal voice.

  “Hit him,” I said.

  Harry and the Sarjeant-at-Arms and I all armoured up and threw ourselves at what used to be Sebastian. We hit him with our golden fists, and he just stood there and took it. Harry and I extruded long blades from our golden hands and hacked at him, but the cuts closed up as fast as we made them. The thing that used to be Sebastian laughed at us and struck out with his four heavy fists, and even with all the speed our armour gave us, we were hard put to avoid them. It was the torc, you see. Sebastian still had his torc. He couldn’t wear the armour over this monstrous form, but it still protected him. Why hadn’t it protected him from infection by the Loathly Ones? Why had it hidden the infection from the rest of us?

  “Don’t kill him!” I yelled to the others. “We need him alive, to answer questions!”

  “Don’t kill him?” said Harry. “I can’t even hurt the bastard!”

  Giles stepped forward out of nowhere, swinging his sword. The long blade came sweeping round in a long arc and slammed into Sebastian’s thick, muscular neck. The steel blade rebounded helplessly, leaving the neck undamaged, and the vibrations almost jarred the sword out of Giles’s hands. He shrugged, sheathed the sword, drew his energy gun, and shot Sebastian in the head at point-blank range. There was a bright flare of discharging energies, and when we could see again, half of Sebastian’s head had been blown away. Sebastian lurched sideways, and almost fell. Bits of charred brains fell out of his head. The Sarjeant and Harry and I grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground, using all our armoured strength to restrain him and pin him to the floor. He still bucked and heaved under us, even with half his head gone. Molly and Roger stepped forward, bathing him in soothing spells and stupefying enchantments. Sebastian relaxed with a great sigh and lay still.

  And only I saw what happened next.

  Molly got in too close, concentrating on her magics, and one clawed hand swept out, just touching Molly’s side in passing. It didn’t cut her, or damage her, but through my golden mask I saw something pass between them. Something came out of Sebastian and entered into Molly, all done in just a moment. Molly cried out, in shock more than pain, and fell back clutching her side. I cried out something too, because I knew what had just happened, even though I didn’t want to admit it. I leant over and punched Sebastian right in his exposed brain. Blood and charred materials flew out of his head, and he howled miserably in pain. I drew back my spiked golden fist to hit him again, and the Sarjeant grabbed my arm with his armoured hand.

  “Easy, boy,” he said. “I understand, but you wanted him alive, remember?”

  I nodded briefly, not trusting my voice. Sebastian was quiet now, and the Sarjeant and Harry held him easily to the floor. He’d shrunk back down to human size and form, and his damaged head was already slowly healing. Giles stood by, gun in hand, ready to fire again if necessary. I yelled at Strange to summon some security people, and then I went to see Molly. She was standing a little apart, hugging herself tightly with both arms, as though trying to hold something in, or hold herself together. I spoke to her, but she didn’t seem to hear me.

  Sebastian laughed, and I turned to look at him. He wasn’t struggling, but he’d raised his damaged face to look at me.

  “My torc is real, Eddie,” he said in a high, taunting voice. “It couldn’t protect Sebastian, and yours won’t protect you, or your people. I passed unnoticed among you, and no one hid anything from me. Oh, the secrets I know! The secrets I’ve told! The Droods who went to their deaths, because of me!” Harry punched him in the face, breaking his nose with a flat crack. Sebastian paused to spit out blood, but he was still grinning at me. “The Hungry Gods are coming, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us!”

  “Get him out of here,” I said. “Put him in a cage, somewhere secure, and get the truth out of him. Take him apart if you have to, right down to the genetic level if need be, but find out what makes him tick. I want to know everything there is to know about him.”

  “You’re authorising extreme measures?” said the Sarjeant. “Not that I’m arguing, but…this isn’t like you, Eddie.”

  “Just do it,” I said.

  Sebastian had infected Molly. Something alien and awful was growing within her, gestating in her mind and soul to make her into a Loathly One too. I knew it, but I couldn’t tell anyone else. I daren’t. They’d want to put her in a cage, and take her apart, and I couldn’t allow that. Not Molly. So I didn’t tell anyone. Interestingly, neither did Sebastian. Perhaps he thought no one had noticed.

  The extra security men came rushing in, already armoured, and the Sarjeant and Harry handed Sebastian over to them. He didn’t fight them, but even as they dragged him away he shouted back at us, his voice full of a terrible laughter.

  “When we come in all our glory, you will love us! We will make you love us! And worship us, and work for us, even as we consume you and all your world! You’ll l
ove us and adore us, and walk willingly into the slaughterhouse! Everything that lives will become us!”

  “Who infected you?” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “You know we’ll get it out of you eventually. Was it someone in the family?”

  But Sebastian just laughed and laughed until the doors slammed behind him.

  For a while, none of us in the Sanctity said anything. We were all shocked, for our various reasons. Freddie came out of his corner, his face pale and drawn, looking at us as though we might have some answers for him.

  “He was my friend,” he said. “We worked together. How could he be infected, and I couldn’t see it? How could he pretend to be Sebastian so closely that I couldn’t tell?”

  “The touch of the Loathly One corrupts,” said the Sarjeant. “Part of him was still Sebastian, and wanted to collaborate. But by the end there, Sebastian was probably just a coat the drone could put on and take off.”

  I looked at Molly. I still didn’t say anything.

  “We need to know exactly when he was infected,” said Harry. “So we can figure out just how long he’s been spying for the enemy. How much he might have told them. How much of our plans and intelligence are compromised.”

  I glared at him. “I ordered the Armourer to work out a test, to determine who among us might be infected!”

  “So you did,” said Harry. “The Armourer came up with a test; we all went through it and we all passed. So either Sebastian was infected after he was tested…”

  “Or the test is no damn good,” I said. “The Armourer’s worked so many miracles for us down the years that we tend to forget he does fail, from time to time. Sebastian suggested there were others like him in the family. Maybe right here in the Hall. Maybe even the original traitor, who arranged for us to bring the Loathly Ones through in the first place. And … he said his torc worked for him, protecting and hiding him once he was infected… Strange?”

  “Don’t look at me,” said Strange. “It shouldn’t have been possible. I designed your new torcs and armour to exactly duplicate the properties of those provided by the Heart. I can only assume he was already infected before I handed out the new torcs, and that it was…affected by his infection. Remember, the Loathly Ones are just the intrusions into our reality of the Hungry Gods themselves. And they are vast and powerful and terrible enough to frighten even me.”

  “We need to test everyone again,” I said. “I’ll talk to the Armourer, see if we can boost the test some.”

  “Test everyone?” said Harry. “Including you?”

  “Everyone,” I said. I didn’t look at Molly. “We need to know who’s who.”

  “Sebastian said they were many of his kind among us,” said Freddie. “Hiding behind familiar faces, watching us…”

  “The Devil always lies,” I said.

  “Except when a truth can hurt you more,” said Molly.

  “Are you all right, Molly?” said Strange. “You seem…”

  “She’s fine,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Molly. “I’m fine.”

  “So,” I said. “Truman has the Soul of Albion. For that, he must have had the active cooperation of someone in the family. Any ideas, Sarjeant?”

  “There are still members of the Zero Tolerance faction working openly within the family,” the Sarjeant said slowly. “Some could still be maintaining ties with Truman. There are those within the faction who see him as a means of reclaiming power and position within the family.”

  “Including the Matriarch?” I said, and he nodded reluctantly.

  “And where do you stand on the matter, Sarjeant?” said Harry.

  He drew himself up to his full height, his scarred, disfigured face cold and forbidding. “I protect the family, against anything that threatens it.”

  “The Matriarch…” I said thoughtfully. “Dear Grandmother Martha… she could have provided Truman with the necessary Words to unlock the protections around the Soul.”

  “She could have,” said the Sarjeant. “But I have no evidence to that effect, or I would have done something. In my opinion, Truman sees the Soul as his ace in the hole, to protect him from the Invaders should they turn against him.”

  “I’m getting more from Callan,” Strange said abruptly. “I really think you need to hear this, Eddie.”

  “Okay, patch him through,” I said. “Callan, this had better be good.”

  “Depends on your definition of good,” said Callan. “Truman’s found out we’re here. And rather then destroy us immediately, he wants me to pass on a message to you. Namely, that he is ready to destroy the Soul of Albion, unless the Drood family puts itself under his control. Specifically, he wants access to and control of the forbidden weapons held in the Armageddon Codex. Apparently he believes he can use them to force the Invaders out of our reality, once he’s used them to take control of the world. The idiot… I really would like permission to withdraw now, please. I don’t like him knowing exactly where we are. I can practically feel the vultures gathering.”

  “You stay right where you are,” I said. “Talk to Truman, promise him anything; stall him. As long as he thinks there’s still a chance, he won’t do anything. I’ll get back to you as soon as we’ve made a decision. Strange, cut him off.”

  “He’s still talking to the War Room,” said Strange. “Though shouting is probably more accurate. Dear me, such language…”

  “First things first,” I said. “We have to find out who the traitors are in the family.”

  “We don’t have time for a witch hunt,” said Harry. “Not when we have so many more important decisions to make.”

  “Well, you would say that, Harry,” I said. “I think I’ll start by having a nice little chat with the Matriarch. I think she’ll talk to me, once I tell her about Sebastian.”

  “You can’t see her,” said Harry. “She’s ill. She’s not seeing anybody.”

  “She’ll see me,” I said. “Now, Strange, show me what the family’s been doing to fight the Invaders during my unintended absence. Just the highlights, for now. I’ll catch up on the details as we go along. Just show me what I need to know.”

  Visions appeared, emerging from Strange’s crimson glow. Shifting scenes of golden-armoured family in running fights with Loathly One drones, in the nightmarish streets of ghoulvilles. I saw dozens of armoured forms taking on hundreds of drones and killing everything that moved that wasn’t family. The drones were often horribly misshapen, monsters with only the barest touch of humanity left in them. The Droods beat them down with golden fists and tore the drones limb from limb. A quick death was the only mercy they had left to offer. They stormed through the narrow streets, their golden armour shining bright in the sharp, painful light of the ghoulville. They destroyed buildings, tearing them apart and pulling them down through brute strength, to be sure they hadn’t missed anyone hiding inside, and afterwards they set fire to the ruins.

  Whole towns went up in flames. They say fire purifies.

  Sometimes the drones were already dead and decaying, only kept moving by the unnatural energies within them. Sometimes they looked just like you or me. They came out into the streets, pleading and crying and protesting their innocence. But they were so far gone they’d forgotten how to sound and act as people do. Especially the children. The armoured Droods killed them all. They had to be Loathly Ones, or they wouldn’t be in a ghoulville.

  Sometimes family members dropped their armour, to vomit, or cry, or just sit on a pavement, holding themselves and rocking back and forth.

  We’ve never seen ourselves as killers. That’s not the Drood way. We’ve always preferred to operate behind the scenes, making small changes here and there … to prevent the family as a whole having to do things like this. Secret wars are one thing; mass slaughter quite another. But we’re Droods, and we’ve always been able to do the hard, necessary things. To protect humanity.

  I just hoped we didn’t get a taste for it.

  I saw my family destroy towers in the ghoulvil
les; huge, unnatural alien structures, part technological and part organic. Sometimes the towers screamed as they fell. They fell and they fell, and yet somehow there were always more of them…

  The visions stopped. I stood silently, thinking. The Sarjeant cleared his throat in a meaningful way.

  “We are further handicapped by our need to keep all of this secret from the general populace. They can’t be allowed to know what’s happening. We’re keeping politicians and governments informed, to a point, and they’re all cooperating. To one extent or another. Worldwide panic and chaos is in no one’s best interests.”

  “Now you’ve seen how bad it is,” said Harry. “The odds we’ve been facing. Maybe Truman’s right. Maybe we should open the Armageddon Codex.”

  “No,” I said. “Not yet.”

  “Tell me you’ve got a really good plan,” said the Sarjeant.

  “Well,” I said. “I’ve got a plan.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Truth, and Other Things, Will Out

  I threw everyone out, as fast as I could without being too obvious about it. I sent Giles Deathstalker away with the Sarjeant-at-Arms, to discuss new training programs for the family. Between the two of them, I’d bet on our army against anyone else’s. Harry and Roger stalked off all on their own, no doubt to stir up new mischief somewhere else. Neither of them even looked back at me as they left. And after a discreet pause, Molly and I said good-bye to Freddie, and to Strange, and we went looking for some empty place where we could talk safely together, in private.

  People looked at us as we walked through the corridors. No one actually cheered or booed, they just watched us and kept their thoughts to themselves. Most just looked like they were waiting for someone to tell them what to do for the best. I knew exactly how they felt.