Daemons Are Forever

EPILOGUE

Arriving back in our own world was like coming home again, after long years away. Everything felt so right, so normal and so welcoming. Truman’s underground base slammed into place around us, and Molly and I hit the ground hard, rolling along in a flail of limbs, leaves blown on the wind of an other-dimensional storm. We skidded to a halt right at the edge of the great pit Truman had dug to hide his tower, and for a time we just lay there together, battered and bruised and breathing hard. Molly was herself again, and she clung to me like she’d never let me go. We were home again, back where we belonged, and I felt so good I would have laughed out loud if I’d only had the energy.

Molly and I slowly got to our feet, helping each other, and only looked round vaguely at the sound of approaching footsteps. Harry Drood and Roger Morningstar were running up the corridor. They both looked happy to see us, which was a first. They crashed to a halt before us, and Harry grabbed my hand and shook it hard in both of his. “You’re back! Finally! Where the hell have you been?” said Harry, still pumping my hand. “We’ve been waiting here for you for ages!”

“We were beginning to wonder if you’d ever show up,” said Roger. “Oh hell,” I said. “Not another time lapse. I should have expected it, if Ivor was involved… All right, how long have we been away this time?”

“Almost twelve hours!” said Harry.

“We were becoming quite concerned,” said Roger. “Well, I say we, but…”

“Twelve hours?” I said. “That’s not bad, for Ivor. Twelve hours I can live with. Harry, I’d quite like that hand back now, please. Thank you. I take it from that sloppy grin on your face that we succeeded. What’s been happening while we were away?”

“Every Loathly One in the world is dead,” said Harry. “All gone, from every nest in every country. It was clear you must have succeeded in your mission, and we were safe now from the Hungry Gods, so we set up a detail here to wait for your return. I volunteered to take first shot. The Matriarch said someone would be waiting here for you to come back, no matter how long it took.”

“Forever, if necessary,” said Roger. “The Matriarch was most firm on the matter. Sentimental old thing.”

“Grandmother always did have a taste for the big gesture,” I said. I looked at the tower, in its pit. The thing was obviously dead. It was slowly melting, its steel and technology and living parts all slipping and sliding away, rotting and falling apart. Slumping slowly back into the pit Truman had dug for it, and I couldn’t think of a better place to bury it.

“I feel like hell,” Molly said abruptly. She shook her head, as though to clean out the cobwebs, and then winced. “Damn! It feels like someone took a dump in my head… Did I hear you right? We killed the Hungry Gods? I can’t seem to remember much about what happened on the other side…”

“Probably just the stress of dimensional travel,” I said quickly. “Bound to play hell with the memory.”

“At least you aren’t infected anymore,” said Roger. “The Loathly One that was growing inside you is completely gone.”

We all looked at him. “Molly was infected?” said Harry.

“How long have you known?” I said.

“Almost from the beginning,” said Roger. “You can’t hide something like that from my superior half-demon senses.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” said Molly.

“None of my business,” Roger said easily. “Your magics were doing a perfectly good job of suppressing it, and it was clear Eddie knew about it… Besides, I was interested to see what would happen.”

“And just when were you planning on tell me?” said Harry. “No one ever tells me anything…”

“So I’m just me again?” said Molly. She grinned suddenly. “Any more of this, and I’ll start believing in happy endings.”

“Where’s Giles?” said Roger. “Didn’t he make it?”

“Giles has gone home,” I said. “I hope. Where is Mr. Stab?”

“Here,” said the calm, cold voice of the immortal serial killer. He appeared from behind the decaying tower, and nodded briefly to Molly and me. “I’ve been studying the tower as it dies. Most fascinating. I’ve cut out a few particularly interesting bits for souvenirs. The odd eyeball and so on. I hope no one objects.”

“You’ve been doing that for twelve hours?” said Molly.

“Just filling in time,” said Mr. Stab. “I knew you’d be back. And I wanted to say good-bye, before I left. I won’t be going back to the Hall. There’s nothing there for me now, with Penny dead, and I’m sure most of the family will bear a grudge. Present company included.”

“I trusted you!” said Molly. “I vouched for you!”

“You really should have known better,” said Mr. Stab. “The damned, above all, must be true to their nature. If I thought anyone could actually kill me, I might go back with you, but as it is… I will go back into the world again, and walk up and down in it, and do terrible things… because I must. Until finally I do something so awful, you’ll have to find a way to destroy me. Good-bye, everyone. Until we meet again…”

He bowed briefly, turned, and walked away. We let him go. What else could we do?

“At least Manifest Destiny is finished now,” said Harry after a while. “Truman’s dead, along with all his people here, and the base is destroyed. One less evil in the world to worry about.”

“Don’t be naïve, Harry,” Molly said tiredly. “Manifest Destiny is an idea, a philosophy. It’ll always be around, in some form or another. There’ll always be small, bitter people ready to follow some charismatic leader who promises them peace and happiness through justified violence and the killing of scapegoats.”

“But that’s a matter for another day,” I said firmly. “Come on; let’s go home.”

The Merlin Glass appeared abruptly before us, opening out onto the War Room. We filed through, and everyone there burst into applause, cheering my name and Molly’s. The Armourer was waiting to greet us.

“Knew you’d be back,” he said gruffly. “Never doubted it. What was the higher dimension like? What did the Hungry Gods look like? Did you bring me back any interesting souvenirs?”

“Hello, Uncle Jack,” I said. “Good to be back.”

There had to be a great celebration, of course. The family has always been big on ceremonies and celebrations. So after Molly and I had gone straight to bed and slept the clock round, word was sent that we were expected in the ballroom. We dressed up in our best and went along to find pretty much the whole damned family gathered in one place, dancing and drinking and feasting, in jubilant celebration that the world wasn’t going to end after all. They looked as though they’d been at it for some time, too. The noise was deafening. Strange had manifested his rosy glow up by the high ceiling, and was broadcasting dance music out of nowhere. People were dancing wildly, drinking freely, and chattering loudly together as they devoured the wide array of food laid out on buffet tables lining all four walls.

And then everything stopped as we entered, and everyone turned to cheer us, clapping their hands and stamping their feet, and basically going out of their minds just at the sight of us. The sheer volume and sentiment was so overwhelming, I practically blushed. I nodded stiffly, smiled, and waved tentatively. Molly smiled sweetly and basked in it all. Molly had never been bashful in her entire life.

We made our way into the ballroom, and everyone went straight back to dancing and drinking and eating. We’ve always been a very pragmatic family. The Matriarch had wanted Molly and me to be the guests of honour, with speeches and presentations and the like, but I had put my foot down. This was a celebration by the family, of the family. We all did our part. We all did our duty.

Molly and I wandered along a buffet table, trying a little of this and a little of that. Most of the food on display was the usual party nibbles, family style. Molly loved the pate-stuffed baby mice on cocktail sticks, and I was quite taken with the baby octopus stuffed with caviar. Then there was lemming mousse, deviled brains in a brimstone sauce, and any amount of roast swan. We don’t like the lake to get overcrowded. Her Majesty the Queen had given us special dispensation to eat swan. As if we cared.

I was still bone tired, despite many hours of deep and dreamless sleep, and even Molly lacked some of her usual sparkle. So we just strolled around, saying hi to people and shaking hands, and allowing ourselves to be clapped on the shoulder, which actually gets quite painful after a while, and just generally let everyone tell us how marvellous we were. Familiar faces popped up here and there. The librarians William and Rafe nodded briefly to us in passing, intent on devouring everything on the buffet tables that didn’t actually get up from its plate and run away. Harry and Roger sailed past, dancing together to the strains of a Strauss waltz, and very dashing they looked too. Young Freddie Drood was dancing with the Matriarch, the pair of them sailing smoothly and gracefully across the floor, and for just for a moment I caught a glimpse of the magnificent woman Martha must have been in her prime.

Callan came limping over to join us, with a large drink in one hand and an even larger drumstick in the other. “Hi there! Welcome back! What the hell did you think you were doing, going off to save the world without me? I woke up in a hospital bed and had to fight my way out with a steel bedpan and a walking stick. Only to find you were already gone! I always miss out on the good stuff…”

“Maybe next time,” Molly said kindly. “Did you see Janissary Jane in the infirmary?”

“Oh, sure. She’s recovering. Slowly. Tough old bird.” Callan took a deep breath and looked suddenly subdued. “Lot of others didn’t make it. The funerals alone will take weeks to get through. The family will be a long time getting over this.”

“All the more need for good people to step forward, and take up the strain,” I said. “I’ve already talked to the Matriarch about making you a full field agent.”

Callan grinned. “About time. I’ll show you all how it’s done.”

And off he went, to inflict his personality on someone else.

The Armourer wandered over, holding one of his special long-stemmed glasses, which he swore were specially designed to never spill a drop, no matter what you did with them. Judging by the wine stains all down the front of his lab coat, the mark fifteen was no more successful than any of the previous models. The Armourer smiled vaguely at Molly and me, and then remembered why he’d come over to us, and launched into a briefing update. He never was much of a one for small talk.

“We knew the Hungry Gods were dead the moment it must have happened, because every drone in every nest and all over the world died or disappeared at the exact same moment. They even vanished from inside the poor possessed souls we were holding in the isolation tanks. All trace of infection gone, just like that. Most of the poor bastards are still suffering from internal changes, and even some brain damage, but there’s a lot the medical people can do. If not… well, the family will care for them till the day they die, if need be… The important thing is, there’s not a single Loathly One left in the whole wide world! Hell of an achievement, the pair of you!”

“Thank you, Uncle Jack,” I said. “You know, we wouldn’t have made it out if it wasn’t for you. Your teleport bracelet came in handy after all.”

“I knew it!” he said happily. “I’m glad you finally got around to testing it for me. I was almost sure it would work.”

He wandered off again, before I could hit him. Almost sure? Molly shuddered suddenly beside me.

“I don’t remember much about how it felt to be infected. To have that thing inside me, eating away at my mind and my soul. Probably just as well.”

“Yes,” I said. I hadn’t told her about the drone taking control of her body and using it to kill her old friend Subway Sue. What good would it do? Sometimes love is in the things we don’t tell each other.

“Did they ever find out who killed Sebastian?” she said suddenly.

“Apparently not,” I said. “Odds are he was killed by the original traitor, the Drood who first brought the Loathly Ones through into our world. Presumably Sebastian knew something, or the traitor thought he did…”

“And you’re not worried the bastard is still here?”

I had to smile. “If I could believe there was only one traitor left in this family, I’d be a happy man. Sooner or later, he or she will give him-or herself away. Traitors always do. But that… is a matter for another day.”

The Matriarch came over to join us, stiff-backed and regal as always, and everyone else hurried to get out of her way.

“Well-done,” she said, brisk as ever. “One crisis averted, so many more to go.”

“Business as usual, for the family,” I said.

“Quite.” She considered me thoughtfully. “If you’re willing, I’m quite prepared to continue running the day-to-day business of the family, while leaving you to set policy and make operational decisions. You would still be in charge…but there’s a lot I could do for the family.”

“Of course there is,” I said. “I can use your experience. But I don’t plan to run things forever. I have no wish to be Patriarch. The sooner I can set up some kind of democratic system in the family, to choose our leaders, the sooner I can get back to being a field agent, where I belong.”

The Matriarch shrugged. “The family has tried pretty much every way there is of running things, at one time or another, but we always come back to a Matriarch. Because that’s what works. But you’ve earned the right to your little experiment with democracy.”

“Thank you, Grandmother,” I said dryly. “You do realise I’ll have people watching you like a hawk all the time, just in case?”

“Of course,” she said. “I’d expect nothing less.” She paused, looking out over the great throng of dancing couples filling the ballroom floor. “I do miss Cyril. He was always such a good dancer, as a boy.”

“Him?” I said. “The Sarjeant-at-Arms? The man was a thug and a bully!”

“That was just his job,” said the Matriarch. “Cyril was always so much more than that. He was such a promising student… Tell me he died well, Edwin.”

“Yes,” I said. “He died well. He stood his ground against overwhelming odds, so that the rest of us could get away. He was a credit to the family.”

“Of course,” said the Matriarch. “I’d expect nothing less. We’ll have to appoint a new Sarjeant-at-Arms as soon as possible. He represents discipline, and dedication to the family.” She looked at me sternly. “But what in the good God’s name were you thinking of, Edwin, in bringing a half-elf into the Hall? Now the Fae Court have their very own golden torc! You have to get it back, Edwin!”

“It’s right at the top of my list of things to do,” I said.

“Good,” said the Matriarch. She allowed herself a small smile. “You have done well, grandson. You’ve achieved what you set out to do, reestablishing the Droods as a power in the world, by stamping out the Loathly Ones once and for all, and saved the whole world at the same time. You have redeemed the family’s honour, and proved our worth in the eyes of those who matter. Keep it up.”

And off she went, to circulate among the family, and make sure no one was having too much fun.

Harry and Roger came by, talking quietly but animatedly together. Molly and I trailed along behind, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“What do you mean, you were sent to seduce me?” said Harry.

“Just what I said,” Roger said patiently. “I was set in place in that Parisian nightclub specially to bump into you and ensnare you with my charms. The idea was that if we became a couple, I’d get you to bring me here to meet the family, and then Hell would have its own agent and informer, right at the heart of the Droods. The sheer amount of information I could have passed on, down the years… Hell always takes the long view.”

“But… you risked your life to save mine, warding off the Soul Gun!” said Harry.

“Yes…” said Roger. “Well, it would appear even hellspawn can have their off days… Relax, sweetie. I’m only telling you this now to prove how much I trust you. Things have changed between us. A fake relationship has become the real thing, much to my surprise. Who knew a half-demon could be capable of love?”

“Yes,” said Harry. “Who knew?”

They walked on, arm in arm, and Molly and I let them go.

“I think I’m insulted,” said Molly. “He and I were a couple for months, and he never fell in love with me.”

“He was never worthy of you,” I said.

“Well, of course,” said Molly. “That goes without saying.”

We looked out over the assembled family, filling the huge ballroom from wall to wall, full of good cheer and celebration.

“At least it’s all over now,” said Molly.

“You know better than that,” I said. “It’s never over. That’s why the Droods are so necessary. Men are mortal, but demons are forever.”

“Let’s get out of here,” said Molly. “Go back to bed.”

“Feeling tired?” I said. “No,” said Molly, grinning.

“All right,” I said. “I think they can manage here without us. Let’s go. I’ve got something to show you.”

“Well, I should hope so,” said Molly.

Back in my room at the top of the Hall, I had my surprise already installed: the Merlin Glass, standing upright and fixed firmly in place, at the back of the room. I said the Words, and our reflections disappeared, replaced by a gateway into the wild wood that was Molly’s home. She gasped and clapped her hands delightedly, and hugged me hard.

“A permanent doorway,” I said. “A direct link between my room and your beloved wood, so you can come and go as you please, and never be more than a door away from me. The best of both worlds. If this is what you want…”

“Oh, I want,” said Molly, pushing me onto the bed. “I want.”