Daemons Are Forever

CHAPTER ONE A Day in the Life

The world isn’t what you think it is. Hell, even London isn’t what you think it is. There are monsters around every corner, creatures in every shadow, and more dark conspiracies and secret wars going on than you can shake a really big stick at. You never get to know about this because the Drood family has field agents everywhere, to keep the lid on things and make sure everyone plays nice. When they don’t, we kill them. We don’t believe in second chances; we believe in stamping out fires before they can spread.

My family has been keeping the world safe for almost two thousand years. We’re very good at it.

And then I found out the truth behind the lies, and nothing made sense anymore. The last time I visited my nice little flat in London, my home away from home, my life seemed to make some kind of sense. I was an experienced field agent, complete with use name and cover identity, and the marvellous golden armour that made me so much more than human. I went where the family told me to go, and did what I was told, and it never even occurred to me to ask any questions. It was my job to protect the world from whatever dark and nasty forces needed slapping down that week, and I had a good reputation for getting the job done, whatever the complications. I knew who were the good guys, and who were the bad.

I knew nothing.

My flat was in Knightsbridge, a comfortable first-floor apartment in a really nice area, where no one knew who I really was. I made enough money to live in style as well as comfort, and no one ever bothered me. That was my life, just a few months ago. Until one day, with no warning, my family declared me rogue for no reason, and I had to go on the run to save my life. Searching for answers, I discovered the terrible truth about my family and the world, and nothing has been the same since.

Now here I was back in London again, with the wild witch of the woods Molly Metcalf sitting at my side as I drove my new car through the mostly empty streets. It was the early hours of the morning, the sun only just up, the birds were singing their little hearts out, and the air had that expectant, anything-can-happen feel that all big cities have at the beginning of the day. Molly Metcalf, anarchist and terrorist and a whole bunch of other ists that involved making trouble for the powers that be, stretched happily and beat out a rhythm on the dashboard with both hands to accompany the Breed 77 album playing on the car’s sound system. A short and delicate china doll of a woman, with bobbed black hair, huge dark eyes, and big bosoms. She was wearing a black leather catsuit, with a witch knife hanging around her neck on a long silver chain. Molly used to be one of the bad guys; probably still was, depending on how you looked at it. We had a lot of history between us, even tried to kill each other several times, when we ended up on opposite sides of a mission. Now we were an item, and I’d be hard pressed to tell which of us was more surprised.

Me, I’m just another face in the crowd, trained to blend in without being noticed. And I’ve never ordered a vodka martini shaken not stirred in my life.

I sent my new car roaring through the streets with a complete disregard for traffic lights, traffic laws, and any and all forms of road etiquette. Though strictly speaking, it wasn’t a new car. I’d had to abandon and destroy my beloved Hirondel during my time on the run, so I prevailed on the family Armourer to provide me with a new set of wheels. I was now driving a lovingly restored 1933 open-topped four-and-a-half-litre Bentley, in racing green with red leather interiors, and an Amherst Villiers supercharger under the long gleaming bonnet. The wind slapped at my hair as we roared along, and I changed gears more than was strictly necessary, just to show off. It was a great green beast of a car, stylish as all hell, and calmly glamorous in that way that modern cars don’t even aspire to anymore. I slammed her into top gear and put my foot down, and the Bentley surged forward like a hunting dog let off the leash. Molly whooped with joy, exhilarating in the speed and acceleration.

“This is one hell of a car, Eddie! Where did you steal it?”

“It used to belong to my uncle Jack,” I yelled back over the roar of the engine. “Back when he was charging around East Europe in the fifties, at the height of the Cold War, stamping out bush fires with extreme prejudice. They say he personally prevented three world wars, and very nearly started one, when he was caught in bed with a politician’s wife. And his mistress. Uncle Jack moved on to faster and flashier cars, of course, but he always had a fondness for this one, and kept it going for years. He customised the hell out of it, of course. As family Armourer, he always had to have the best toys.”

“Such as?”

I grinned. I couldn’t help myself. “Bulletproof chassis and windows, silicon-gel-filled tyres so they’ll never go flat, machine guns fore and aft firing explosive flechettes at two thousand rounds a minute…EMP proof, spell proof, curse proof, plus all the usual hidden extras. The operating manual is the size of a phone book. All of us kids used to pore over it in the library, dreaming of the day when we’d be field agents and drive cars just like it. And by the way, don’t try and use the cigarette lighter. Flamethrowers.”

“Groovy! Let’s try them!”

“Let’s not. We aren’t supposed to draw attention to ourselves, remember? Wait till we see a traffic warden. Or a street mime.”

It felt strange to be back in London, driving down familiar streets, after so much had happened. The streets looked just the same, and no doubt the people went about their everyday lives as though nothing had changed; but everything had. The whole world was up for grabs with the family out of the picture, even if no one knew it yet. My family didn’t run the world anymore, and the only reason the world wasn’t tearing itself apart trying to fill the new power vacuum…was that all the other powers that be were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Why are we going back to your old flat?” said Molly.

“I already told you. And if you ask Are we there yet? one more time, I’ll hit the ejector button.”

“This car doesn’t have an ejector seat.”

“It might have. You don’t know.”

“Talk to me, Eddie. You never tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Hey, I’m not used to this whole being in a relationship bit, okay? When you work as a field agent, you learn pretty fast you can’t trust anyone.”

“Not even those close to you?” said Molly, studying me solemnly with her huge dark eyes.

“Especially those. You always know where you are with an enemy; it’s only friends and loved ones who can betray you.” I took a deep breath and stared out through the windshield. “If I’m going to lead the family, and it looks like I’m going to have to, because no one else is up to the job … I have to live at the Hall. If only because there are still far too many members of the family I can’t turn my back on safely. The truth might set you free, but there’s nothing that says you have to be grateful. I need to be on top of things…But if I do have to live in that draughty old pile again, I want some of my favourite things with me. Just a few little things that matter, to make the place at least feel like home.”

“Never get attached to possessions,” Molly said briskly. “They’re just things, and you can always get more things.”

“You don’t have a sentimental bone in your body, do you?”

“If I did, I’d have it surgically removed. I’m always moving on, and I never look back.”

“Well, yes,” I said. “But you live in a forest. What would you take back to the Hall? Your favourite tree?”

“You forget, Eddie, I’m a witch. I might decide to bring the whole forest with me.”

I decided to change the subject, before she set her heart on the idea. You never can tell with witches.

“So,” I said, as casually as I could manage. “How are you getting on with the family? Everyone treating you all right? What do you think of the mighty and mystical Droods, now that you’ve had a chance to see us up close and personal?”

“Hard to tell,” said Molly. The music had stopped, I’d slowed the car, and it suddenly seemed very quiet in the Bentley. Molly produced a small silver snuffbox out of midair, snorted a pinch of something green and glowing, sneezed messily, and made the box disappear again. “Most of your family aren’t talking to me. Either because they think I led you astray, or because I’ve thwarted so many of your family’s plans in the past…It’s not like I killed that many of your people…They need to get over it, and move on. That was then, this is now. All right, so I used to practice the black arts, spread insurrection, mutilate aliens, and abduct cattle; I was young! I needed to get things out of my system! That’s no reason to run screaming when I just try to talk to people.”

“They don’t know you like I do,” I said reassuringly. “Haven’t you made any friends?”

“Your uncle Jack’s okay,” Molly said reluctantly. “But he’s always busy in the Armoury. And Jacob’s good company. For a ghost. And a dirty old man. But apart from them, it’s all been cold shoulders and nasty, pointed comments just in range of my hearing. A few were really quite unpleasant.”

I took my eyes off the road just long enough to give her a really serious stare. “Please tell me you didn’t kill them.”

“Of course not! I turned them into things.”

“What sort of… things?”

Molly smiled sweetly. “Remember those pheasants we had last week, that you noted were out of season?”

I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles went white. “Oh my God. You didn’t…”

“Of course I didn’t! Lighten up, Eddie! You can be so gullible sometimes. I just turned them all into toads and dumped them in the rock gardens for a while, to let them think things over. They’re fine now. Except for a slight tendency to snap at passing flies.”

I sighed heavily. It seemed to me that I’d been doing that a lot more since Molly came into my life.

“If it helps, most of the family haven’t exactly warmed to me, either,” I admitted.

“They respect you,” said Molly.

“Only because they’re afraid of me. I destroyed their precious Heart, source of their wonderful golden armour. The one thing that made them better than everyone else. I proved the Heart was evil and the armour was an abomination, but they hate me even more for making them face the truth. That we’re not the good guys, and haven’t been for centuries. On top of which, they’re all feeling helpless and vulnerable without their armour, defenceless in the face of the family’s many enemies.”

“You promised them new silver torcs, new armour. Everyone applauded, and cheered you! They did. I was there.”

“The enthusiasm of the moment…No, if I’m going to lead the family, I have to do it from the front. I have to inspire them to be great again. Have to prove myself with action, not just words and good intentions. Prove myself worthy to lead the family.”

“Prove it to your family?” said Molly. “Or to yourself?”

My nice little flat was in Knightsbridge, a very calm and quiet and civilised area, where no one knew who I was, or what I did. They only knew me as Shaman Bond, a man of independent means who kept himself to himself, was never any trouble, and always remembered to put his garbage out on the proper day. So as I drew nearer to my quiet and secluded residential area, it came as something of a surprise to me to see so many people out and about in the streets who didn’t belong there. I spotted spies and agents from a dozen different countries and organisations, all busily pretending to be perfectly ordinary people going about their perfectly ordinary business. But you can’t fool a Drood.

I slowed the car and took a closer look. The signs were not good. Every approach to my flat had been covered by people who shouldn’t even have known where it was. Word does get around fast in the intelligence community. So I couldn’t just drive up to my flat and park. All kinds of unpleasantness might ensue. I needed to be able to slip into my old place, gather up a few belongings, and get the hell out again, without anyone even knowing I’d ever been there.

I pulled the car to the side of the road, some distance short of my flat, and stopped. Molly looked at me inquiringly. I quietly pointed out several of the enemy, prevented her from launching an immediate preemptive strike, and persuaded her to sit quietly while I examined the scene more fully, using the Sight. Just like my old collar, my new silver torc allowed me to See much more of the world as it really was, rather than through humanity’s limited senses. The world is a much bigger place than most people realise, full of the strange and the terrible, walking unseen and unsuspected alongside us.

There were a couple of elves, tall and proud and haughty. They live somewhere else now, and only ever turn up in our world when there’s a good chance to screw us over or kick us when we’re down. It’s all they’ve got left, these days. There were aliens; grays and lizardoids and a few things whose shapes made no sense at all. They really do walk among us. Tourists, mostly. If they look like getting out of hand, the family usually just spanks them and sends them home. Ghosts drifted here and there, trapped in repeating loops of time. And there were things walking through walls, or scrambling up them, or hovering in the skies overhead. Far too many of them for it all to be just a coincidence. Word does get around fast in the unnatural community.

I shut down my Sight. You can’t See the world as it really is for too long; the human mind just isn’t equipped to cope. Luckily, none of them could See me, as long as I wore the torc. They had to wait for me to reveal myself… I grinned. It was time to use one of the Bentley’s really special features.

“Eddie, what are you planning?” said Molly.

I smiled at her beatifically. “Brace yourself, sweetie. I’m taking this car up to eleven!”

I pushed the pedal to the floor, let go the clutch, and the Bentley surged forward, its engine howling like a wolf on the hunt. We shot past the hundred mark in a few seconds as I slammed through the gears, and then I hit the hidden switch and threw her into Overdrive. Molly and I were forced back into our seats by the terrible acceleration, and the world blurred around us as we left it behind. The Bentley punched through the walls of the world, and just like that we were somewhere else.

Freed from the everyday restrictions of time and space, the Bentley tore through the dimensions, day and night flickering on and off like a stroboscope. Stars blazed in somewhere else’s night skies, in constellations never seen from Earth. There were strange sounds and incandescent lights, and a city singing in a million inhuman voices. Visions and vistas flickered on and off as we shot through them like a bullet, intangible and unsubstantial, though whether they were the ghosts or we were is probably just a matter of opinion. Molly shrieked and howled with delight, and only the need to concentrate on the steering kept me from joining in. Drunk on speed, crazed on velocity, we hammered through the dimensions until I saw the sign I was looking for and took a sharp right turn back into our reality.

Different worlds Dopplered past us as I slammed on the brakes, and when the Bentley finally shuddered to a halt, we were sitting inside my garage, underneath my flat. I quickly shut down the engine and took my hands off the steering wheel. They were shaking, and not just from the exhilaration. Taking sideways journeys through adjoining dimensions is always dangerous. You can never tell what might notice you, and decide to follow you home. I got out of the car on only slightly unsteady legs and checked the car over carefully, to make sure we hadn’t picked up any unwanted hitchhikers. Paying special attention to the undercarriage.

Molly was already out of the car and dancing around it, punching the air with her fist. “That was fantastic! Let’s do it again! What was that?”

“A shortcut,” I said, peering suspiciously under a front bumper.

“You take me on the best rides, Eddie!”

I straightened up, and she threw her arms around me and hugged me. I let her.

“Welcome to my garage,” I said. “It’s small, but pokey. Now come on up and see my flat. Try not to be too underwhelmed. We can’t all live in a forest.”

I studied the door to my flat carefully. Everything seemed normal, nothing out of place, but the door wasn’t locked. I could tell. And I always lock the door behind me when I leave. Secret agents really can’t afford to forget things like that. So I stood a safe distance away from my door and looked at it thoughtfully, while Molly looked at me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s been here.”

“Your enemies?”

“More likely my family. As soon as I was declared rogue, the Matriarch would have sent a team here to turn my flat over, looking for evidence she could use against me. And my family is never subtle about such things.”

“You think they left a booby trap behind?”

“No. I’d See a trap. More likely they just trashed the place, to leave a message. It’s what I would have done, when I was a field agent.”

I took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and went in. They’d trashed my home, and been very thorough about it. All the furniture had been overturned, where it hadn’t been smashed. They’d torn up the carpeting to lever up the floorboards. My possessions had been tossed all over the place, all the drawers pulled out and emptied, their contents scattered everywhere. My computer had been torn apart to get at the hard drive, and the monitor had been smashed.

They’d even ripped the posters off the wall and torn them up.

Every room was the same. Nothing had been spared. They’d even dragged the covers off my bed and cut open the mattress, to search inside it. And on the bedroom wall, above the headboard, someone had spray-painted the word traitor. The word hit me like a punch in the gut. A cold fist closed around my heart, and it was all I could do to get my breath. Molly came in beside me and saw the word on the wall. She slipped an arm through mine and hugged it to her side.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so sorry. I’m sure this was a lovely place before…”

“I was never a traitor,” I said. I didn’t recognise my own voice. “I was the only one who stayed true to what the family was supposed to be.”

“I know, Eddie. Come away.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “It’s all right.”

It wasn’t, but I let her lead me away.

Back in the living room, I looked around me, trying to make some sense of the mess. They hadn’t actually broken much. Probably didn’t have the time.

“They really did a job on you,” said Molly. She was trying hard not to step on things, but it was impossible. I loved her for making the effort, though.

“It’s what I expected,” I said. “I did worse, in my time, when I was a field agent. Turning over some villain’s lair in the search for clues, or evidence. Or just because I could. It was all part of the game, then. But…cosmic payback’s a bitch. Do you believe in karma, Molly?”

“My karma ran over my dogma,” Molly said briskly. “Didn’t you think to put any protections around your home?”

I snorted. “Tons of the bloody things. You’d have a better chance of breaking into Bill Gates’s private porn stash. But nothing my family couldn’t get through. I never thought I’d need to protect myself against my own family.”

Molly frowned. “Wouldn’t the neighbours have heard something, and called the police?”

“No one ever hears a Drood at work,” I said. “Or if they do, we make them forget it.”

“For their own good, of course.”

“Mostly, yes. Oh, I see; you were being ironic. Sorry. I’m not always very good at picking up on that.”

“You and your whole family,” muttered Molly.

“What?”

“Nothing…What do you suppose they were looking for here?”

“The usual,” I said. “Objects of Power, unauthorised grimoires and forbidden texts, information I shouldn’t have had access to … maybe even records of payments from outside the family. Anything they could use to condemn, pressure, or blackmail me. My family has always preferred to negotiate from a position of strength. Fools… As though I’d leave anything that important just lying around here, for anyone to find…”

“Right,” said Molly, smiling mischievously. “Where do you keep your really secret stuff, Eddie? Your embarrassing photos of yourself as a kid, your old teenage crush love letters, and your own personal naughty films? Any particular favourites you might want to bring along with you? I can be very broad-minded…”

“I don’t have any of those things,” I said with some dignity.

Molly sighed and shook her head. “For a secret agent, you’ve led a very sheltered life. Not to worry, Eddie. I’ll be your porn.”

I smiled. “And they say romantic banter is dead.” It didn’t take me long to gather up the few things I wanted to take with me. Some battered old Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat books that were my favourites when I was a kid. A framed photo of my parents, taken just before they went off to die on one last mission for the family. Molly studied the photo curiously.

“They look so young,” she said finally. “Not even as old as we are now. Much the same age as my parents, when they were murdered by the Droods.”

“We have so much in common,” I said, dropping the photo into a carrier bag along with the books. “I promise you; I will find out the truth about what really happened to your parents, and mine.”

“If you like,” said Molly. “I told you; I don’t believe in looking back.”

I rescued a dozen or so of my favourite CDs from the mess on the floor. (Molly drew the line at any of my Enya albums, which I thought was a bit mean. I don’t object to her playing her Iron Maiden in the car.) And that…was that. I looked around, but there wasn’t anything else I wanted to take with me. I looked down at the carrier bag. Not much to show, for ten years in one place. Not much to show, for a life.

“I did have some good times here,” I said.

“Yeah, right,” said Molly. “I’ll bet you were a real party animal at weekends.”

“No,” I said. “I hardly ever brought people back here. Because people only knew me as Shaman Bond, and this was the only place I could be Eddie Drood. The family discourages field agents from having close friends, or anything else. Close associations might dilute our loyalty to the family. And you can’t ever be really close to anyone, when the life you share is a lie. Agents in the field live solitary lives, because we have to. Because when you care for someone, you don’t want to endanger them.”

“And your family encouraged this?” said Molly.

“Of course. They wanted the family to be the most important thing in our lives, so we might never be tempted to turn away from them. I had more freedom than most, and I still toed the family line…right up to the point where they turned on me. I had friends…but I could never tell them anything that mattered. I had lovers, but never loves. It wasn’t allowed. All I had…was the work.”

“If you start getting maudlin on me,” Molly said firmly, “I will slap you, and it will hurt. I told you; never look back. All you ever see are mistakes, failures, and missed opportunities. Concentrate on the here and now! You’re running your family, you have all the best toys to play with, and you have me! What more could mortal man desire?”

“My Enya CDs.”

“One slap, on its way.”

We both laughed. I took her in my arms and held her close. She nuzzled her face into my shoulder and rubbed my back with her hands. I bent my head over hers and breathed deeply the perfume from her hair. I felt…like I could have stayed there forever. But I had things to do.

“My world used to be so simple,” I said. “I knew who I was, and what I was, and what I was supposed to do with my life.”

“No,” said Molly, not raising her head from my shoulder. “You only thought you did. Welcome to the real world, Eddie. Hateful place, isn’t it?”

“No,” I said. “It has you in it.”

We left the flat and made our way down into the enclosed courtyard below, and then stopped as we realised the wrought-iron gates were standing wide open. I looked out into the street, and a whole army of heavily armed and armoured men looked right back at me. Molly moved in close beside me. Two black attack helicopters filled the early morning with their clamour as they manoeuvred into position overhead. I lifted my head and squared my shoulders. First rule of a field agent; never show fear. I sauntered over to the open gates for a better look.

There had to be at least fifty armed men, anonymous in body armour and dark-visored helmets, every one of them pointing their oversized guns right at me. Automatic weapons, too; top of the line. They weren’t taking any chances. I looked up and down the street. They’d blocked off both ends with armoured vehicles. Frightened faces peered out from closed windows, up and down the street. You didn’t expect scenes like this in civilised Knightsbridge.

One armoured figure moved forward to face me, still careful to maintain a safe distance. He pushed his visor up just enough to get an electric bullhorn under it.

“Edwin Drood, Molly Metcalf; you are ordered to surrender yourselves. Failure to do so will be met with all necessary force.”

I looked at Molly. “So, how do you want to play this?”

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, the usual, I think. Extreme violence and unpleasantness, visited upon one and all, suddenly and horribly and all over the place.”

“My kind of woman,” I said.

“Surrender or die!” said the spokesman through his bullhorn.

“Do you mind?” I said witheringly. “We’re talking, here. We’ll get to you in a moment.” I turned back to Molly. “I’m a bit reluctant to go head-to-head with them here. Right out in the open, surrounded by innocent bystanders.”

Molly shrugged. “They chose the setting. We could make a run for the Bentley, I suppose, and shortcut our way out of this…but I don’t do the running thing.”

“Same here,” I said. “It does so tend to give the wrong impression. These scumbags need to be reminded of what it means to challenge a Drood.”

“And the wild witch of the woods, darling.”

“Of course, my dear.”

“If you don’t surrender right this minute…”

I had to laugh. “He doesn’t know us very well, does he? Who do you think they are?”

“Big display of force, even bigger guns, and not a grain of common sense among the lot of them…got to be Manifest Destiny. The I-Can’t-Believe-They’re-Not-Fascists brigade. Truman must have got his act back together again. Who knew he’d still be mad at us, just because we destroyed his underground base and scattered his whole repellent organisation to the winds?”

“All-powerful cult leaders with delusions of godhood are often funny that way,” I agreed.

The spokesman threw his bullhorn onto the ground and stalked forward to confront us. Molly and I turned around and fixed him with a thoughtful gaze, and he slammed to a halt. He was carefully not pointing his automatic weapon at us, just yet.

“Look,” he said, in the strained tones of someone trying to be reasonable under very trying circumstances. “We both know you don’t have your golden armour anymore, Eddie. None of the Droods do. If I have to order my men to open fire, you’ll end up riddled with so many bullets your family will be able to use your corpse as a colander. You’ll have so much lead in you, your coffin will have to be labelled toxic waste, and even your DNA will end up in pieces. So will you please just do the sensible thing and surrender, and we can all get out of here!”

“I think you pushed those metaphors a bit too far,” I said.

“Definitely reaching there, at the end,” said Molly.

“Nobody does really good villainous threats anymore,” I said. “In the old days, a real villain could make your blood run cold with just a simile.”

“Hell, I could make someone wet themselves with just a baleful glare,” said Molly.

“Sorry,” I said to the spokesman. “We don’t do reasonable. Do we, dear?”

“Certainly not,” said Molly. “Bad for the image. Hey, what do you want to bet I can turn this creep into some kind of dripping snot creature before he can give the order to open fire?”

“You can’t take on a whole army!” said the spokesman. His voice was becoming just a bit hysterical. “Extreme measures have been authorised!”

“Well,” I said. “That’s always nice to know. Now we won’t have to hold back. I count fifty-seven armed men, Molly.”

“Probably more in hiding, as reinforcements,” said Molly. “He looks the sneaky type. Nice to know they’re taking us seriously, at least.”

“Who are you?” I said bluntly to the spokesman, leaning forward to try to peer through his dark visor. “Your voice is familiar…”

“Codename Alpha!” he snapped, actually shying back a little. “Are you going to come quietly, or not?”

“Oh, definitely not,” said Molly. “We have a reputation to live down to.”

I gestured at the two black attack helicopters hovering overhead, stirring our hair with their downdraft. “I really don’t approve of those, Alpha. We’re supposed to fight secret wars, behind the scenes of the world. The general public is never supposed to know about us, and the things we have to do.”

Alpha shrugged. “It’s a new world now. You saw to that. Surrender. Now. This is your last chance.”

I looked at Molly. “I feel like a little light exercise,” I said. “How about you?”

“I feel like kicking some heads in and stamping on some throats,” said Molly.

“Never knew a time when you didn’t,” I said. “Let’s dance.”

I armoured up, all in a moment. I subvocalised the old activating Words, and the silver strange matter held in the collar around my neck flowed suddenly forth, encasing my whole body from top to toe. Alpha stared blankly for a moment, and then actually screamed before turning and retreating rapidly back to his men. He’d been told I didn’t have my armour anymore, and he was wrong. I’d upgraded. I knew what I looked like. A gleaming silver statue, the perfect protective armour, seamless, without any joints or vulnerable points. Even my face was a featureless silver mask, through which I could see and hear and breathe perfectly naturally.

I flexed my arms, and the silver armour flowed smoothly with me. I felt stronger, faster, sharper, like coming suddenly awake after a long doze. This was the great secret of the Drood family; the marvellous armour that makes us so much more than human, that lets us do our job no matter what the bad guys throw at us. Once it was gold; now it is silver. The details change but the war goes on. I closed my hands into armoured fists, and heavy spikes appeared on the silver knuckles as I concentrated. I was looking forward to seeing what the new armour could do under battle conditions.

Alpha finally screamed an order through his bullhorn, and all the armoured men opened fire at once, concentrating their aim on me. I’d already moved to cover Molly, and I stood firm as a storm of bullets slammed into me. Instead of ricocheting harmlessly from my armoured form, as they used to with the golden armour, the silver strange matter absorbed both the impact of the bullets and the bullets themselves. Just swallowed them right up, as fast as they came. Safer on innocent passersby, I supposed, but I did wonder whether the armour would have to crap the bullets out again, later. I made a mental note not to have Molly standing behind me after the battle was over.

The armoured men realised their bullets were having no effect on me, and the fusillade died raggedly away. Molly immediately stepped out from behind me, raised her arms in the stance of summoning, and called down the elements.

“Awake, awake, ye northern winds…”

A great stormwind came howling down the road. It picked the armoured men up and sent them tumbling head over heels the whole length of the street. Some hid in doorways or behind cars and concentrated their fire on Molly. The bullets punched through the raging wind, only to turn into rose petals before they got anywhere near her. She was protected by all the magics of the wild wood, and nothing from the material world could touch her. She only let me protect her because she knew it made me feel better. She gestured sharply, and lightning stabbed down from the darkening skies, picking out armoured men in their hiding places and incinerating them.

New men arrived from concealing positions, carrying heavier weapons. They forced their way forward against the howling winds, step by step. Molly stabbed a finger at them, and the street was suddenly full of a dozen or so very confused-looking llamas.

Molly was on a roll.

But that kind of magic took it out of her, so I decided it was time for me to get hands-on. I charged forward into the mass of the remaining soldiers, moving at superhuman speed, driven by the inhuman strength of my armoured legs. I was in and among the armoured men faster than they could react, striking out at them with appalling augmented strength. My spiked silver knuckles stove in reinforced helmets and smashed through Kevlar as though it were paper. Blood flew on the air, and men fell screaming. Still alive. I prefer not to kill if I don’t have to. I’m an agent, not an assassin.

They crowded in around me, hoping to overwhelm me and drag me down through sheer force of numbers. They beat at me with gun butts and shot me in the face at point-blank range. I picked them up and threw them this way and that, sending them flying the length of the street with my more-than-human strength. Men crashed into walls that cracked under the impact. More and more armoured men came running to face me, and I had to admire their courage, if nothing else. I went to meet them with a smile on my lips and a song in my heart. The good thing about fighting real scumbags like Manifest Destiny is that you never have to feel bad about the awful things you do to them. And it felt good to have a solid enemy to strike back at, to take out the frustrations of the day on. I waded right into the thick of them, fists flying.

Poor bastards never stood a chance.

Armoured cars came rolling down the street, firing really big guns from embrasures. Molly turned their gunfire into pretty butterflies, and then melted all the cars’ wheels with a wave of one hand. They ground to a halt, steel rims digging into the road. Molly scowled with concentration, so intent on the mischief she was working she didn’t even see the armoured man closing in on her. Somehow he’d fought his way forward through the blustering winds, and approached her in her blind spot. He raised a gun to shoot her in the head at close range, and she didn’t even know he was there.

I grabbed the nearest man and threw him at the gunman sneaking up on Molly. The man flew screaming through the air with unnatural speed, driven by the awful strength of my armoured arm. He actually caught on fire from the friction of the air, and was a mass of flames when he slammed into the man threatening Molly. The gunman just had time to look around, and then the burning man hit him so hard I heard bones break under the impact. Molly looked at the two bodies lying on the ground some distance behind her, and then looked at me.

“I knew he was there.”

“Of course you did,” I said. “Do you think you could lay off the winds a bit? Even I’m having trouble keeping my feet.”

Molly frowned. “They’re not my winds…”

We both looked up. The two black attack helicopters were descending upon us. They came roaring in from both ends of the street at once, raking us with machine-gun fire, explosive flechettes, and long sticks of incendiaries. I just stood there and took it, untouched by the bullets or the explosions or flames that rose up around me. The armoured men around me didn’t fare as well, and broke away screaming and slapping at their burning armour. Molly turned briefly sideways from the world, and it all went right through her, like a ghost. But while she held herself midway between dimensions like that, she was helpless to fight back. So it was down to me to do something about the helicopters.

Bullets chewed up the street all around me, and fires sprang up fiercely on all sides. A thousand rounds a minute slammed into my silver chest and just disappeared. I didn’t even rock on my feet. The explosions didn’t move me, and the fires couldn’t reach me. A Drood in his armour is an unstoppable force, and a terror to his enemies. I grabbed the nearest injured man up off the street and threw him at the nearest helicopter. He hurtled screaming through the air and slammed into the helicopter’s rear rotor. His scream cut off abruptly as blood and offal flew across the sky. The helicopter swung back and forth drunkenly, its rotor smashed, and then it fell to earth like a crippled bird.

The pilot made a last desperate attempt to aim the crashing helicopter right at me. I stood my ground, braced for the impact. The helicopter loomed up before me, trailing smoke and flames. I could see right into the cockpit, see the pilots screaming hate and defiance at me. And then the machine smashed right into me, and exploded. For long moments there were only fire and sound and thick black smoke, but none of it touched me. I stood unscathed in the middle of the inferno, and then strode calmly out of it, kicking bits of wreckage aside.

I looked up, and the other helicopter was coming in for another strafing run. They were firing wildly now, half out of their minds with shock and desperation. The bullets chewed up the street and the houses, and even some of their own men. And then the bastards fired a Hellfire missile at me. Right in the middle of civilian territory. I stood my ground, braced for the impact, and caught the missile in my arms. The armour absorbed all the impact, and I bent over, hugging the missile to my chest. It exploded, and my armour absorbed most of the energy. A whole lot of windows shattered all around me, but no one was hurt. I glared up at the helicopter. I’d had enough of those idiots. They were losing it, big time. I jumped up into the air as the helicopter swept towards me and, driven by the strength in my armoured legs, I soared up and grabbed onto the front of their cockpit. The helicopter swayed and lurched wildly under the extra weight. I drew back a silver fist and punched right through the reinforced cockpit glass.

“Get out,” I said coldly to the two pilots.

They pushed open the cockpit doors and bailed out. I didn’t blame them. All the training in the world can’t prepare you to face a Drood field agent in his armour.

The helicopter slammed down onto the street and skidded along, throwing up sparks and smoke. I rode it the length of the street, waited till it finally screeched to a halt, and then stepped calmly down from the shattered cockpit. Some days, it’s good to be an agent. Molly strolled over to join me.

“Show-off.”

I looked around the street. Most of the armoured men were down; hurt or terrorised or not moving. The few still on their feet had thrown away their guns and were standing with their hands clasped behind their helmets. I almost had it in me to feel sorry for them. They’d thought they were coming to arrest one unarmed field agent and his girlfriend. Probably thought the size of the operation was just typical military overkill. The winds Molly had summoned up were slowly dying away, still sending furious little gusts this way and that, as though resentful at being disturbed against their will. Fires burned here and there, up and down the street, and thick black smoke curled up from the wreckage of the two helicopters.

Alpha walked slowly forward, gun and bullhorn abandoned. He stopped right before me, and to his credit he looked defeated, but not beaten. He took off his helmet, and a great many things suddenly became clear as I recognised the middle-aged face. I sent my armour back into my torc, so he could see mine.

“Philip MacAlpine,” I said. “Thought I recognised the voice. You used to have more sense than to get involved in a clusterfuck like this.”

“You know this creep?” said Molly.

“He’s with MI5,” I said. “Or at least, he used to be. Worked with Uncle James on a lot of cases, back in the day. I saw him around the Hall a lot, when I was a kid.”

“Please,” said MacAlpine. “You’re making me feel old.”

“What are you doing out in the field, Phil?” I said. “And when did you join up with Manifest Destiny?”

MacAlpine shook his head quickly. “I’m nothing to do with Truman’s private army. This is an MI5 operation; though strictly speaking of course, it isn’t, officially. This comes under DDT.”

Molly looked at me. “Pest control?”

“Department of Dirty Tricks,” I said. “Departments within departments, that don’t officially exist, for maximum deniability. Who set this up, Phil?”

He smiled briefly, and shrugged. “You know I can’t answer that, Eddie.”

“Molly,” I said calmly, “you want to turn him into something more cooperative?”

“It was all the prime minister’s idea,” MacAlpine said quickly. “He wanted us to establish whether the Droods really were as vulnerable as our intelligence suggested. So we could take the advantage while you were still weak.” He looked at the wreckage and bodies all around him. “So many good men, dead and injured. You didn’t use to be this vicious, Eddie.”

“I only kill when I have to,” I said. “You know that.”

MacAlpine looked at me, his face unreadable. “I don’t know anything about you anymore, Eddie.”

“The politicians are getting restless,” I said to Molly. “I suppose something like this was inevitable, once word started to get around. The politicians would love a chance to get their hands on a Drood and sweat some real secrets out of him. We’d better get back to the Hall; see what else is happening.” I looked back at MacAlpine. “I’m surprised to see you here, Phil. Last I heard, you’d been thrown out of Special Operations for excessive violence.”

“Don’t be silly, Eddie,” he said. “That’s how most of us get in. You must know…this won’t stop here. The prime minister’s taken too much shit from the Droods down the years not to strike back, now he sees an opportunity. All our agents are being called in, for a preemptive strike against your family. Even the old bastards like me. All sins forgiven, if not forgotten. And it won’t just be us. The whole world will be at your throat, from now on.”

I considered him thoughtfully. “Just how did you find out that the Droods don’t have their golden armour anymore?”

“Don’t be naïve, Eddie. We have a whole department dedicated to studying every move your family makes. Reports have been coming in from all over the world of Drood field agents suddenly abandoning their posts and running for home by the fastest routes possible. We know something drastic has happened inside the family, Eddie. You can’t hope to keep it secret for long. We’ll find out.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said.

MacAlpine shrugged, started to turn away, and then looked back. “Is it true? About James?”

“Yes,” I said. “He’s dead.”

MacAlpine nodded slowly. “The old Gray Fox is gone. I thought he’d outlive us all. How did it happen?”

“Sorry,” I said. “Family business. Now tell the prime minister to back off. Tell him what happened here. Tell him about the silver armour. And tell him the family isn’t weak. Just…reorganising.”

“No doubt he can expect a call from the Matriarch?” said MacAlpine.

“Eventually,” I said. “Molly and I are leaving now. You and your people can stay, and clean all this mess up before you go. We’re supposed to fight secret wars, not endanger innocent civilians! What were you thinking of?”

“I told you,” said MacAlpine. “It’s a different world now. All the old rules have changed. Thanks to you.”

Molly and I headed back to the Hall in the Bentley. Molly sang happily along to her Ramones compilation, while I did some thinking. No one in the wrecked street would talk about what they’d seen happen, right in front of them. The usual mixture of bribes, threats, and the magic words terrorists and national security would see to that. All camcorders and camera phones would be confiscated, and if anybody did get stubborn and try to talk to the media, the government would slap on as many D notices as necessary to muzzle them. Any real troublemakers…would be made to forget. It’s a secret war, in an invisible world, and people have to stay ignorant if we’re to protect them.

I still had a lot of unanswered questions. How had MacAlpine known exactly when to stake out my flat? That much armour and manpower takes a lot of advance organising. Somebody must have talked, and the only people who knew…were family. I’d known there were still members of the Zero Tolerance faction who hoped to sabotage and undermine me, so they could seize back control of the family…but to talk to outsiders? To politicians? That was crossing the line.

Enemies without, enemies within. As if I didn’t have enough problems.