Live and Let Drood: A Secret Histories Novel (34 page)

“High and mighty Drood with his cheating armour, never underestimate the value of planning and preparation. Of checking out the scene in advance and setting a few booby traps before the enemy shows his face. I knew you were coming here. Crow Lee told me. And unlike those stuck-up devil boys of his, I think ahead. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking on how best to take down a Drood. Now, I’m sure that impressive armour of yours will break free eventually, but by then, it’ll be far too late. I’ve got something special here just for you. Supernatural Can Opener, Part Two. Try not to take what happens next personally, Drood. It’s just what I do.”

He walked unhurriedly up to me, the wooden hand lowering me slowly until I was face-to-face with him. I still couldn’t move. He lifted his hands and placed them on either side of my face mask. The bones within his hands glowed fiercely, blazing right through the flesh, and then the glow seemed to seep slowly through the flesh to encase both his hands in the same brightly glowing light. Hollis set both hands carefully on either side of my head, and up close the glare almost blinded me.

The shining fingers clamped onto the golden metal. It didn’t even occur to me to flinch. I trusted my armour to protect me, as it always had. The fingertips dug deep into my armour. I couldn’t move; paralysed, helpless. The glowing fingers sank in deep and then pulled back, stretching and distorting the face armour. I screamed despite myself as an agonising pain swept through me. I was bonded to the rogue armour as a living thing, and its pain was my pain. Hollis pulled his glowing
hands this way and that, tugging at the face mask, and the armour stretched and deformed but wouldn’t break. I screamed again as the armour screamed, as Hollis struggled to pull the mask off me.

I could hear Molly screaming at Hollis. “Leave him alone, you bastard! Stop it! I’ll kill you for this!”

“Shut it, girlie,” said Hollis, not even looking at her. “I’ll get to you when I’m finished with him.”

He moved in close, concentrating on me as he fought to break the face mask. I was screaming so hard now, it hurt my throat. And while Hollis was concentrating on me, Molly pulled her wits together and concentrated on a simple teleport spell. She jumped herself out of the wooden hand and reappeared right behind Hollis. He started to turn, but Molly had already picked up one of the heavy potted plants and broke it over his head. The sheer weight of the thing clubbed Hollis to the floor and tore his glowing hands away from my mask. I cried out one last time and hung limply in the wooden hand, while the golden metal of my face mask slowly reformed itself. I watched numbly as Molly kicked Hollis good and hard in the ribs, to make sure he was unconscious, and then she hurried over to stand before me. She grabbed hold of the Twilight Teardrop hanging from her throat and spat out a single powerful Word. The wooden fingers holding me rotted and fell apart, and I fell through them to collapse on the floor. I forced myself up onto my knees. Molly was quickly there beside me.

“Eddie, are you all right? I never heard you scream like that before.…”

“I’m fine,” I said. I had to say it again before it sounded like I meant it. “I’m fine, Molly. It was the armour that was hurt, not me.”

I armoured down, and the golden metal retreated into my torc with something like relief. I think both of us were surprised to discover just how close a relationship we’d entered into. I stayed on my knees for a while, Molly crouching beside me, until I was sure I was back in control, and then I got to my feet. Molly got up with me, hovering at my side, but didn’t try to help me. I moved across to stand over Hollis. There was blood on his face from where the plant pot had cracked his scalp as it
shattered, but he was breathing easily enough. His hands weren’t glowing anymore.

“Why a potted plant?” I said to Molly.

She shrugged. “Because it was there. What do we do with him now?”

I kicked Hollis in the ribs, hard enough to pick him up and send his body skidding across the floor and slam into the opposite wall. I went after him again, but immediately Molly was blocking my way, staring intently into my face.

“Don’t, Eddie.”

“He tried to kill me. He would have killed you. He doesn’t deserve to live.”

“You can’t just kill him in cold blood.”

“Why not? You didn’t have any problems exploding the Eton Irregulars while they were running away.”

“That’s different, and you know it. They weren’t human anymore.”

“I’m not leaving this dangerous an enemy at our back. He dies.”

“Eddie, this isn’t like you.”

“Get out of my way!”

“No!”

I raised a hand to hit her, and then stopped it in midair. Molly didn’t move, still staring intently into my eyes. The golden gauntlet hung on the air between us, shining brightly. One blow would have been enough to crush her skull. I hadn’t called the armour. I hadn’t. I glared at it, willing it back into my torc. It didn’t want to go. The rogue armour had unfinished business with Hollis. I could feel it. The armour wasn’t talking to me, but I could feel its presence at the back of my mind. I overrode it through sheer force of will, and the golden gauntlet disappeared. I lowered my hand, my whole arm shaking with the effort. Molly moved in close, laying her hands on my chest, looking into my face, making sure it was just me.

“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?”