Daemons Are Forever sh-2

by Simon R. Green

  “I wish it was that simple, Penny.”

  “It is that simple! And part of being in love is being together. Like this. How long has it been since you allowed yourself to be … close, to a woman?”

  “A long time. I don’t want to hurt you, Penny.”

  “You won’t! This is love, two people together. Just…let yourself go. Do what you want to. I want you to. It’s all right, really.”

  “I love you, Penny,” said Mr. Stab. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

  Penny smiled and turned to take him in her arms, and then stiffened, and looked down at the long blade Mr. Stab had eased into her gut. There was hardly any blood yet. He turned the blade, and pulled it across, cutting deeper, and she cried out and grabbed his shoulders with both hands. The expression on her face was pure disbelief. She tried to push him away, but she didn’t have the strength, so she just hung onto his shoulders as he pulled the long blade out and stabbed her again. Blood spurted from the first wound, soaking the front of her sweater and splashing across the front of Mr. Stab’s jacket. His face was…quietly sad. Penny convulsed and cried out again. Blood flew from her mouth, spraying across Mr. Stab’s face.

  I grew the Merlin Glass to full size the moment I first saw the knife, and I was already through the Glass and heading for Mr. Stab by the second attack, but already I knew I was too late. Mr. Stab let go of Penny and backed away as I headed for the bed. I let him go, intent only on Penny. I was already screaming mentally to Strange for help, and he was telling me help was on the way, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I leant over Penny and tried to close the wounds with my hands. Blood quickly soaked my arms to the elbow. She looked at me, jerking and kicking, and tried to say something, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was more blood. The bed was soaked in it now. She died in my arms, still trying to say something. I let her go. I stood up and moved away from the bed. There was blood all over me. I looked at Mr. Stab, still standing silently by the door. He could have left, could have run, but he hadn’t.

  “I tried to tell her,” he said. “Tried to warn her. That… is all the pleasure I can know of a woman, now. Part of what I bought, along with my immortality…from my celebration of slaughter, when all of London knew my name. That… is all the love I can show. All that’s left to me. I tried so hard … to stay away from her. But I am…what I am.”

  “I told you,” I said, and I could hear the cold cold rage in my voice. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t control yourself.”

  I armoured up, grew a long golden blade from my hand, stepped forward, and cut off his head with one savage blow. He didn’t move, didn’t try to evade the blow. My golden blade sheared right through his neck, and the head fell to the floor and rolled away, the eyes still blinking and the mouth still working. I stood before the headless body, breathing harshly from the rage and grief still burning within me, and only slowly realised that the body hadn’t fallen. It just stood there, by the door. No blood spurted from the neck stump. And as I watched, the body stepped slowly forward, reaching out with its hands. I backed quickly away, but it wasn’t interested in me. One hand reached down and grabbed the severed head by its hair. I made some kind of sound. I don’t know what. The body lifted up the head and put it back on the stump, and the wound healed in a moment, leaving no trace behind.

  Mr. Stab looked at me expressionlessly. “You think no one ever tried that before? I’ve been beheaded, shot, poisoned, staked through the heart… I can’t die. That is what I bought with the deaths of five whores in 1888. Immortality, whether I want it or not. I’m Jack, Bloody Jack, Jack the Ripper, now and forever. And the only love I can ever know, the only pleasure I can ever have of a woman, is through the knife. Send me out into battle, Eddie. Maybe the Loathly Ones can find some way to kill me.”

  The door burst open as the medics arrived and rushed in, too late. Mr. Stab walked away as they clustered around the body, not looking back even once.

  There was nothing I could do, so I transported myself back to the Armoury. It wasn’t as though I had anywhere else to go. Molly cried out when she saw the blood soaking me and hurried forward, running her hands over me to see where I was hurt. Uncle Jack started to shout for the Armoury’s medical staff, until Molly assured him I was okay. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t say anything. I held Molly tightly to me, and she let me, even though the blood soaked her too. I buried my face in her hair, in her shoulder, and she murmured soft, soothing words to me. Until finally I was able to let her go and stand back.

  Molly took me by the hand and led me like a child to the nearest chair. I sat down heavily. I felt tired, drained. And finally, in a voice that didn’t sound like mine at all, I was able to tell them what had just happened. Uncle Jack found me some medicinal brandy and patted me awkwardly on the shoulder while I drank it. Then he moved away to call up the Sarjeant-at-Arms to get the details. Molly sat beside me, holding my hand.

  After a while, Uncle Jack came back with some lab coats for me and Molly to change into, so we could get out of our bloody clothes. Molly had to help me undress. My hands were still shaking. We left the clothes in a heap on the floor. The lab coats were fresh and clean, and smelled of disinfectant.

  “Talk to me,” I said. “Tell me something. Anything. I don’t care. I just need something to do, so I don’t have to think about Penny.”

  “Well,” said Molly, glancing at Uncle Jack. “There is a problem, with the Blue Fairy.”

  “When isn’t there?” I said. “What’s he done now?”

  “He’s been kept under constant but covert surveillance by the Sarjeant-at-Arms ever since he got here,” said the Armourer. “And don’t look at me like that, Eddie; I know you vouched for him, but his reputation went before him. And anyway, he’s a half elf; and elves always have their own agenda. So, it seems he spent a lot of time in the old library, having a series of what he thought were casual and unobserved conversations with Rafe and William concerning the origins, powers, and capabilities of the Drood torc. When he’d pumped those two dry of everything they knew, he went to the source, and continued his questions with Strange. Very detailed questions. In fact, he’s in the Sanctity right now, according to the Sarjeant-at-Arms.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s listen in.”

  I used the Merlin Glass again, and as my reflection disappeared from the mirror I thought for one moment it would show me Penny and Mr. Stab again, and my heart almost stopped; but then the Glass showed me the Blue Fairy, standing alone in the Sanctity, calmly addressing the crimson glow of Strange. Blue was doing his best to seem entirely relaxed and at his ease, and perhaps only someone who knew him as well as I would have detected how tense he really was. Molly and Uncle Jack crowded in behind me, watching the scene over my shoulders.

  “But what is it you want from me?” Strange was saying patiently. “We have had many fascinating conversations, Blue, and I have enjoyed them, but I really can’t keep going around in circles with you. Not when so much is happening. Just tell me what you want. I assure you, I have no human sensibilities to be offended.”

  “Very well,” said the Blue Fairy. “If straight-talking is to be the order of the day … I want a torc. A golden torc for my very own, just like everyone else.”

  “But you are not family,” said Strange. “You are not of the Drood bloodline. And it has been made very clear to me that only they can wear the torc. No exceptions. Why would you want a torc, Blue? You are half elf, with powers and abilities of your own.”

  “Yes,” said Blue. “I have. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but…” He moved his hands in a certain way, the long, elegant fingers tracing unnatural patterns on the crimson air. “An exception has been made in my case. Give me a torc.”

  “That was a very intriguing compulsion spell,” said Strange. “But of no avail against such as I.”

  The Blue Fairy moved his hands more urgently, this time muttering urgently in old elvish under his breath. The air seemed t
o shudder under the impact of the ancient Words, and shimmering trails followed the Blue Fairy’s gestures, spitting discharging magics. And then something unseen picked up the Blue Fairy and threw him the length of the Sanctity. He slammed into the far wall with enough impact to kill a simple human, and then he slid slowly down it, ending up in a crumpled heap on the floor. He was breathing harshly, his hands limp at his sides.

  “Oh dear,” said Strange. “And we were getting on so well, too… But no one compels me. What am I going to do with you? Something suitably unpleasant, I think, pour discourager les autres. Maybe I’ll turn you inside out, keeping you alive of course, and then put you on display. That should give you a whole new way of looking at things.”

  I decided I’d seen enough. I opened up the Merlin Glass and transported myself into the Sanctity. Molly followed me through quickly before the doorway closed itself down.

  “Ah, Eddie,” said Strange. “Eavesdropping again? And after all you had to say to me on the subject?”

  “I’m in charge,” I said. “I’m allowed to be contradictory. In fact, I think it’s a job requirement. What was all that about turning the Blue Fairy inside out? I’ve never heard you sound threatening before.”

  “He tried to compel me,” said Strange. “No one compels me. I help because I choose to. No other reason.”

  “Of course,” I said. “But in the future, if punishments are to be handed out, I’ll do it. Clear?”

  “You’re no fun any more,” said Strange.

  I walked over to the Blue Fairy, who was slowly and painfully rising to his feet. He looked briefly at the door, but Molly had already moved to put herself between him and it. He sighed briefly and tugged vaguely at his clothes to try to make himself look more presentable.

  “Hello, Eddie,” he said calmly. “Molly. Didn’t know you were back.”

  “Clearly,” I said. “Why were you trying to force Strange to give you a torc?”

  He shrugged, and tried his best charming smile. “Reverting to nature, I fear; my old self coming out again. You know how it is…”

  “I’m really not in the mood for civilised chitchat,” I said, and there must have been something in my voice because he stood a little straighten “Talk to me, Blue. Tell me the truth. Or I might just let Strange have you.”

  “Your time away has not mellowed you,” said the Blue Fairy. “Very well; I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely honest with you when I arrived. I only came here to help myself, not you. I wanted a torc. I wanted a golden Drood torc … so I could take it to the elves. Present it to the Fae Court and bargain its secrets for admittance to the elven realm. I’m tired of trying to live as a human, in the human world. I’ve never been very good at it. And after my near-death experience, I thought a lot more about the other side of my heritage. And it seemed to me that they might be kinder than you. In the end, it’s all about family, Eddie. The need to belong. You should understand that.”

  “Your very existence is an abomination to the elves,” said Molly. “Breeding outside the fae blood is their greatest taboo. They’d kill you on sight, torc or no torc.”

  “He knows that,” I said. “But hope springs eternal in the deluded heart. No torc, Blue, not for you. Not now, not ever.”

  He nodded slowly. “And you’re not going to kill me?”

  “I should. But I’ve already lost one friend today.”

  “I did try to warn you, Eddie. Even half elves always have an agenda.”

  “That’s right, you did. So here’s your choice. You can go, or you can stay.”

  “That’s it?” said the Blue Fairy after a moment.

  “Yes,” I said. “I don’t have the energy to be mad at you. But if you stay, and fight alongside us in the war that’s coming, you could win acceptance. And a place here. Friends can be a kind of family.”

  “You shame me with your generous spirit,” said the Blue Fairy. “I’ll stay, and I’ll fight. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  I nodded to Molly, and she stepped aside from the door to let him leave. She waited until the door was firmly closed behind him, and then looked at me.

  “Are you crazy? You can’t trust him! He’s half elf.”

  “I know,” I said. “That’s why I want to keep him close, where I can keep an eye on him.”

  “You humans, with your subtleties,” said Strange. “You’re far more frightening than I could ever be.”

  Next, Molly and I went to visit the isolation wards in the infirmary, in the north wing. Neither of us wanted to, but we had to see how the infected Loathly One drones were doing. Twenty-eight now, including Sebastian. Twenty-nine, including Molly. I was ready to go on my own, but Molly insisted on accompanying me, and I couldn’t say no. Not when she was fighting so hard to hang on to her humanity.

  The family has always trained its own doctors and nurses, to staff its own hospital. Partly because we don’t want the world to know that Droods can be hurt, even with their marvellous torcs, and partly because only we are equipped to deal with the kind of problems faced by Droods, in and out of the field. Our doctors have to be able to diagnose and treat all kinds of physical, spiritual, and unnatural accidents, everything from werewolf bites to long-distance curses to post-possession stress disorder.

  Our infirmary equipment is extremely up to date, and sometimes even a bit beyond, but the place itself is still the traditional pale, paste-coloured walls, snotty matrons, and the faint but pervasive smell of boiled vegetables. Molly and I strode quickly through the wards, nodding briskly to the staff on duty. A few looked like they would have liked to object to our presence, but we were come and gone before they could put their objections into words. Most of the ward beds were occupied, far more than normal. Some were clearly dying, despite all the doctors could do for them. A small, cold part of me was glad to see that Harry had been as bad a leader as me, but I pushed the thought aside.

  The isolation wards are tucked away in their own private annex. Essentially, they’re a series of heavily armoured, pressurised holding tanks with steelglass walls, designed to contain the more problematic patients, like field agents who’ve brought back a disease from some other dimension, or the seriously possessed. The only entry point to each tank is a closely guarded air lock, whose combination code is changed daily, just in case. There are only six tanks; we’ve never needed more. Now they were packed from wall to wall with the recently rounded up drones.

  Molly and I moved slowly down the row of isolation tanks, nodding to the armed guards at each air lock door. Some of the drones came forward to beat on the heavy steelglass with their fists. Their voices came clearly to us through the built-on speakers, saying they were innocent, uninfected, this was all wrong, there’d been a terrible mistake. They called me by name and pleaded for my help. Others shouted threats and curses. But most just sat or stood quietly, their faces expressionless, waiting to see what would happen next. Waiting for us to drop our guard, just for a moment.

  In the very last tank, Sebastian Drood came forward to stare mockingly at us as we stopped before the air lock. As the most dangerous, he had a cell all to himself. He looked normal enough now, though there was something wrong with his face, as though he’d forgotten how to look human. Or perhaps he just didn’t feel the need to bother any more. He nodded politely to me, and smiled at Molly. “Dear Molly,” he said. “How does it feel, to be one of us?”

  “I’ll never be one of you,” she said steadily. “Whatever it takes.”

  “Ah,” he said, shrugging easily. “You say that now…but we all start out feeling that way. We don’t turn ourselves in, like we know we should, because we’re different. We’re strong, we can beat this. We’ll never give in; no, not us. But after a time…you won’t want to fight it. In fact, you’ll embrace it. Because being human is such a small thing to leave behind.” He turned abruptly to look at me. “You haven’t told anybody about her, have you, Eddie? I counted on that. And by the time you realise how hopeless it is, it’ll be too late. Is th
at why you’re here, Eddie? To kill me before I can tell anyone what I did to dear Molly? Am I to be destroyed while trying to escape?”

  “Say what you like,” I said. “No one will believe you. A drone would say anything, tell any lie, to try and undermine the family.”

  “Then why are you here?” said Sebastian. “Hoping for a cure, perhaps? Don’t waste your time and mine. There isn’t one. Once someone is one of us, they’re one of us forever.”

  “You could do yourself some good,” I said. “Win yourself some better treatment by agreeing to answer a few questions.”

  “And don’t waste any time on lies,” said Molly. “I’d know.”

  “Yes,” said Sebastian. “You would. Very well, ask your questions.”

  “Who was the original traitor?” I said. “Who worked to persuade the family to bring the Loathly Ones back, in 1941?”

  “Haven’t a clue,” Sebastian said cheerfully, leaning on the steelglass with his arms folded. “And in case you were thinking of threatening me with truth spells or cattle prods or whatever we use for interrogation these days, yes, I know we’re a hive mind, but we’re kept strictly compartmentalised. Each drone only knows what it needs to know, when it needs to know it. Basic security. I might have known who the traitor was once, but I am currently cut off from that area of knowledge. Or indeed any area that might help you. Same with all the drones here.”

  “There are ways of digging out the truth,” I said. “Old ways. Of course, they can be very destructive, to the body and the mind…”

  “Dear me,” said Sebastian, smiling widely. “Threats of death and torture, to a helpless prisoner? What are the Droods coming to?”

  “The safety of the world has to come first,” I said.

  “Oh it does, it does. But can you save the world by damning yourselves? Can you fight monsters by becoming monsters?” Sebastian’s tone was openly mocking now, though his face was utterly expressionless, not even trying to seem human anymore. “The Hungry Gods are coming, Eddie, and there’s not a damned thing you can do to stop us. No one’s ever stopped us. Hello, Freddie.”