Live and let Drood

CHAPTER FIVE

Molly snapped her fingers and the air before us split obediently in two, forming into a shimmering portal that crackled with something very like static for a moment, like a television caught between stations, before finally condensing into a familiar silver tunnel. Molly had tried to explain to me that what I see when I look at her magic is largely symbolic; just my mind trying to make sense of something it can t cope with. Personally, I think she has the same relationship with magic that I have with science; we just pretend we know what we re doing and hope it all works out for the best. Molly strode into the silver tunnel and I hurried in after her, not wanting to be left behind or have important parts of myself sliced off by the portal closing after me.

Molly had clearly been refining her teleport spell on the quiet, because we didn t just end up back at the car. Instead, we both materialised inside the Phantom V, sitting in the front seats. Only because it was her spell, Molly was sitting behind the wheel and I was in the passenger s seat. She smiled at me triumphantly, running her hands over the steering wheel in a distressingly sensual way.

I ve always wanted to drive one of these! Give me the keys, Eddie. Then it s atomic batteries to power, turbines to speed and everyone else get the hell out of the way!

Sorry, I said. There are no keys. This is a Drood car, programmed only to accept a Drood driver. Basic security measure.

Molly glared at me. You re making that up!

Not even a little bit. There are no keys because the car knows who I am and does what I tell it to. So I m afraid we re going to have to switch seats if we re going to go anywhere. Really.

Someone s going to pay for this, said Molly.

It s all down to torc envy, I m sure, I said.

Molly sniffed loudly, kicked the driver s door open, and got out of the car. I got out my side, and we crossed in front of the car without speaking. The engine turned itself on as I sat down behind the wheel, and Molly banged her door shut with added violence. And that was when I heard sirens approaching. I looked in the rearview mirror, and sure enough several police cars were heading our way at speed sirens, flashing blue lights, the works. The large crowd of tourists and others who d been chased off the Pier by recent supernatural events waved excitedly at the approaching police. A few of the braver elements were hovering outside the Pier s main entrance, though as yet none of them felt brave enough to go back in without some official presence to lead the way. And, if need be, hide behind.

Let them look, said Molly. They won t find anything. The fog wiped all its traces away as it retreated. A built-in clean-up factor is the mark of a real magician.

Crow Lee didn t get where he is today by leaving evidence behind to reveal his presence, I agreed. Come back here in a few years and all of this will be just another urban legend. A story to tell visitors in an enjoyable and not-to-be believed way. They ll probably be selling the tourists Fog in a Can.

So, said Molly. Let us adjourn to pastures new before the boys in blue come knocking on our window, inviting us to answer some pointed questions. Which I have no intention of answering. Where are we going next?

Back to my old stomping grounds, I said. London. They call it the Smoke, and everyone knows there s no smoke without fire. Street by street and block by block, London s still the most magical city in the world. And not always in a good way.

I suppose you intend to drive all the way there? said Molly, just a bit sullenly.

No, I said. We don t have the time, and I don t think I trust the car s shields to hide us for much longer. Crow Lee found us here quickly enough. And don t look at me like that, Molly. In situations like this, paranoia becomes a survival skill. No, I think we d better use the Merlin Glass.

And risk attracting attention?

Crow Lee already knows where we are, I pointed out.

So we re leaving the car here? said Molly.

Hardly, I said. I d have to hit the self-destruct button to keep it out of official hands, and Uncle Jack would have my scalp if I lost another of his favourite cars.

I already had the Merlin Glass in my hand, and I hefted the silver-backed hand mirror thoughtfully. Like its predecessor, the Glass always seemed so small and innocent in its dormant state, like a vampire hiding its sharp teeth behind a polite smile. I fed the Merlin Glass the correct coordinates through my torc, and the Glass shot out of my hand and passed right through the windscreen without affecting it in the least, to hover on the air in front of the car. It grew quickly in size, becoming a great doorway through which I could see a familiar London street. I sent the Phantom rolling smoothly forward and we left Brighton behind, in search of fresh prey.

The Glass shut itself down behind us, ghosted through the back window, and nestled into the hand I put up to catch it. I put the Glass away, and tried to concentrate on my driving. This new Merlin Glass seemed to take a delight in demonstrating all the many tricks at its disposal. It seemed to have a lot more character than the one I was used to. I wasn t sure whether that was a good thing or not. We d appeared on a deserted side street, as I d requested, and the few people walking up and down paid us no attention. I eased the Phantom V down the street and out into the main flow of traffic.

I know this is London, said Molly, but surely even the most blas Londoner should have been a bit startled by a bloody big car appearing right in front of him.

It s all down to the Armourer, I said.

Uncle Jack built some serious blending-in tech into the car s shields.

But the Phantom must have been identified by now, said Molly. And you can bet Crow Lee will have put out its description to everyone who answers to him. Or owes him favours, of which there are no doubt many. Why not just drop the car off somewhere safe and we ll take the Tube? Who s going to notice just another couple of tourists in London?

Because I m not ready to give up the car just yet, I said stubbornly. It contains many useful items, courtesy of my uncle Jack. And a whole armoury of heavy-duty weapons that I want close at hand, ready for when I need them.

I m not entirely helpless, said Molly.

I still have a few charms left on my ankle bracelet.

I glanced at her carefully. Just how low are your magic levels at the moment?

Low, said Molly. I might be able to manage some impressive fireworks and whizbangs, but that s about it.

Then we need the car, I said.

Don t be smug, said Molly. Or I ll hit you with my pony.

We drove steadily on through the early-evening London traffic. Cars and taxis and bendy buses flowed past, and the pavements were packed with people hurrying about their everyday business. No one paid the Phantom any undue attention, thanks to Uncle Jack. Droods aren t supposed to be noticed. At least half our job is to keep people from noticing the very threats we protect them from. Droods are trained from an early age to deal with all the wonders and horrors of the hidden world, but even we have problems dealing sometimes. Humanity isn t ready to learn who and what they share this world with. Of course, if I couldn t find a way to bring my family safely home, Humanity might start finding out the hard way. There are all kinds of things out there who only play nice with everyone else because they know we re watching.

It didn t take long to get where we needed to be. The Merlin Glass had followed my instructions to the letter, and we were soon easing up the Mall, with Buckingham Palace straight ahead. I smiled complacently at all the other cars, obediently paying London s exorbitant congestion charge. Droods are exempt. In fact, we re exempt from all the annoying intrusions of the Establishment s bean counters. Perk of the job.

You do know where you re going this time? said Molly.

London is my territory, I said grandly. I was a field agent here for years before I even met you. Now, admittedly, I don t know the city as well as I once did. My old armour had the equivalent of a sat nav built in. Complete maps of London and all its environs programmed into the torc, ready to be downloaded directly into my mind, as and when required. The rogue armour doesn t have that. So I m having to work from my own personal memories.

So, what happens when we get lost? Molly said sweetly.

You get to ask for directions. But I don t think that s going to be necessary. Look up ahead. See the big palacey thing at the end of the Mall? Buck House, in all her glory.

Yes, I can see the palace, Eddie; I m just not sure why we need it. Madame O said we needed the Department of the Uncanny.

So she did. She also said we d find it at Big Ben. And how likely is that? Something that obvious, that public? How much do you know about the D of U?

I know the name, said Molly.

Then you re ahead of most people, I said.

It s one of those very old, very secret, secret organisations that the government won t even admit exists. Originally founded by Dr. Dee, Queen Elizabeth I s unofficial spymaster and magician general, alongside the more specialised Carnacki Institute. The Department of the Uncanny s remit is to defend the Realm from supernatural attacks, from within as well as without. More by gathering information and organising other people than by getting involved themselves. Mostly. It is possible they were originally put in place as an answer to the Droods, if we should ever get out of hand. On the grounds that the Department could always be relied on to put England s interests first.

It strikes me that there s so many of these secret organisations, it s a wonder they don t end up tripping all over each other, said Molly.

They have a lot of ground to cover, I said.

And they re all very jealous when it comes to guarding their own territory. The last thing anyone wants is a civil war in the hidden world over who s in charge of what. The Department of the Uncanny exists to defend the nation. The Carnacki Institute deals with ghosts and other mortally challenged incursions. The London Knights deal with otherworldly and other-dimensional threats. And MI-13 used to deal with supernatural intelligence; our spies versus their spies. The Droods deal with Major League Weird Shit. Worldwide threats.

Couldn t all these supernatural agencies work together to cover the Droods workload until they return? said Molly.

All the organisations I ve just mentioned are British based, I said patiently. They have British aims and responsibilities. The Droods may live in England, but we guard the whole world. We are Humanity s shepherds, their shamans and protectors. All of this country s departments working together couldn t do what we do.

Fancy yourself much, do you? said Molly, amused.

This is why my family has always taken duty and responsibility so seriously. I said. You ve never really thought this through, have you? Droods have field agents in every country and in every major city; there isn t a country or a culture on this planet that doesn t fall under our protection.

You used to run the world, said Molly. I remember. I was there when we put a stop to that.

We exist to protect all of Humanity.

Two World Wars and an extended Cold War. Good going

We protect Humanity from outside threats, I said carefully. From things like the Hungry Gods and the Apocalypse Door. It s our job to stand between Humanity and all the nonhuman things that threaten us. It s not our job to get involved in tribal squabbles.

Molly turned right round in her seat to look at me. Is that really how you see it?

It s how we have to see it, I said.

We can t take sides. We re here to help, not meddle, and sometimes that means standing back and letting things happen. Even when it breaks our hearts. Or we really would be the Secret Masters of Humanity. We may have lost our way for a while, but we re back on track now. The world needs my family, Molly.

Whether they want you or not?

Sometimes, yes.

Tell me more about the Department of the Uncanny, said Molly, staring straight ahead. Suddenly that seems like a lot safer conversation.

Okay, I said. They re basically an information-gathering organisation, evaluating all kinds of data gleaned from every corner of the hidden world to see if it poses any threat. They share information with a great many other organisations, and take occasional action on their own. They have an excellent reputation. I never had any direct dealings with them myself back when I was just the local field agent. As part of the Establishment, that made them part of Matthew s territory. Back when he was very much the senior London agent. I never got a look in. He had his own circle of intimates and connections, inside men and informers, to which I was never granted access. If I needed to know such things, I had to go to him, and didn t he just love that, lording it over me. I suppose those people are still on the files somewhere. To be honest, I was happy enough to let him deal with that kind of stuff. I was never what you d call diplomatic, in those days. I had issues with authority figures.

I had noticed, said Molly. You never did replace Matthew, did you?

I kept meaning to, I said. London s been without a proper field agent for far too long. I know that. It s probably why Philip MacAlpine and MI-13 were able to get so out of hand with no one noticing. I thought I could just come back here and take over again once I stepped down as head of the family.

They booted you out, the ungrateful bastards!

They voted me out, I said with some dignity.

And I was happy enough to get out from under the burden of command and run away back to London. But it s been just one damned thing after another. I kept being called back to the Hall to deal with things no one else could. They re never going to let me be just a field agent again. I m going to have to put someone else in charge of London. Someone I can trust It s right there on my list of things to do the moment I get my family back. If they were still here, I could have just asked where to find this Department. Someone would have known. I haven t a clue.

Madame O said to go to Big Ben, Molly said stubbornly.

Yes, but obviously she didn t mean that literally! It has to be some clever allusion or riddle or something equally irritating, and I don t have the time or the patience to work it out. No, the best way to find one secret organisation is to ask another. They love to rat each other out and show off how much they know that they re not supposed to know. And as it happens, I do know exactly where the secret headquarters of the Carnacki Institute are to be found. I know where their boss is, the very powerful, very forbidding Catherine Latimer. Her office is tucked away at the end of a corridor that doesn t officially exist, right at the back of Buckingham Palace.

Oh, that is seriously cool! said Molly. I ve always wanted to burgle Buck House!

One, I said, very firmly, we are not breaking in. We will be using the Merlin Glass to sneak in. And two, we are not stealing anything. Do you hear me, Molly Metcalf?

You are no fun sometimes, said Molly, slumping down in her seat and pouting just a bit. I ve got to do something to show I was there. I m the supernatural anarchist. Remember? I have an appalling reputation to uphold.

All right, I said. I ll let you scrawl some really hateful graffiti in the Institute toilets. How about that?

You are so good to me, Eddie.

Yes, I am. And don t you forget it.

Any corgis that get under my feet will regret it, Molly said darkly. How is it you know where to find Catherine Latimer s office?

Because I did a few jobs with the Institute back in the day, I said. A little cooperation here and there helps to keep the wheels turning. A favour for a favour. Matthew always looked down on those, always said he had more important things to deal with, and left them to me.

Is there anyone you haven t worked with at one time or another? said Molly.

I had to smile. I could ask you the same question.

She grinned. We do get around, don t we?

I found a very illegal place to park, right in front of the Buckingham Palace railings. We both got out of the car and stood together, staring at the guards and the sights just like any other tourists. Scarlet-garbed Horse Guard soldiers paraded up and down in their traditional bearskin hats. They looked very efficient and very dangerous, as well they should. But the real guarding forces watched from concealment, behind very sophisticated camouflage equipment. I could just See them out of the corner of my eye. They were the real hard men of the regiment. In fact, I think you have to bite the head off an SAS officer just to be allowed to apply.

Why don t we just drive in? said Molly, not unreasonably. I mean, you re a Drood! Who s going to say no to you?

Yes, I am a Drood, but I don t want just anyone knowing that, I said. Most people think my family are all dead, and I m quite happy for them to go on thinking that, right up to the point where I find it necessary to shout, I m here! and then punch them in the head.

You can t ask the Carnacki Institute for help without revealing who you are, said Molly. And the same with the Department of the Uncanny and the Regent of Shadows

One thing secret organisations are good at, I said, is keeping secrets. Especially from each other. Because you never know how valuable such information might become. And then you can trade it.

Molly started to snap her fingers, and then stopped. Damn. I don t even have enough power left to magic up a Disabled sticker.

This is London, I said. They re not so easily impressed here. I think I ll put my faith in the Armourer s security measures. This car can look after itself. If anyone does try messing with it, they ll wake up somewhen next year.

But Molly had already gone back to studying Buckingham Palace.

Why is the Carnacki Institute based here, of all places? I mean, I know they re part of the Establishment, but Is the queen an honorary ghostbuster? Is Prince Philip bothered by poltergeists?

Not officially. It s because the Institute is a royal charter, not a political department, like Uncanny. Apparently Elizabeth I wanted the Institute where she could keep an eye on it, and subsequent monarchs continued the tradition. It does mean that Catherine Latimer s private office is protected not only by its own shields, but also by the palace s. Of course, the Merlin Glass should be able to punch right through them.

Should? said Molly, immediately. I really don t like that word in this context, Eddie. What if it can t?

Bugs on a windshield, I said. Raise your Sight, Molly. Take a good look at the palace, and See what I m Seeing.

With the Drood torc at my throat, I can See the world as it really is and not as most people think it is. Though mostly I choose not to, for my own peace of mind. With the Sight, Buckingham Palace and its immediate surroundings all but disappeared under layer upon layer of powerful protections: overlapping screens and shields and deadly defences laid down over centuries.

Okay, said Molly, after a while. Those are serious protections. How the hell did that burglar get in? You know, the one who just wandered around till he ended up in the queen s bedroom and she had to call for help?

Simple answer: He didn t, I said.

They let him in. To make the rest of the world think they only had standard protections. Anyone who tried to follow in that guy s footsteps got flash-fried into free-floating atoms for some time afterwards.

Molly gave me a stern look. And the Merlin Glass should get us past all that?

Oh, almost certainly, I said cheerfully. If I understand how the Glass works, and I m perfectly ready to be told I don t, I think it opens a door on this side of the shields and another door on the other side. And then we step through without bothering the shields at all. They don t even know anything s happened.

But if they do detect us?

It s been fun knowing you, Molly.

Let s go somewhere else.

If there was somewhere else, I d be there, I said. But we need access to the Regent of Shadows, and Catherine Latimer is the only one I know who can get us there. And as long as Crow Lee is on our trail, the clock is ticking. He can t let even one Drood live, for fear I ll find a way to bring the rest back. And then everything he s risked will have been for nothing. Now grit your teeth and be a brave little witch, and there shall be dark chocolate Jaffa Cakes for tea.

Let me get this straight, said Molly. We re dropping in on the very dangerous boss herself, in her very own private and heavily defended office? Because you ve been there once before? Colour me officially uneasy, Eddie. Not many get in there and get out again with all their favourite parts still attached.

I did her a favour once on a case I still don t care to talk about. She wasn t exactly happy with the way I handled it, because the Droods got more out of it than the Institute did, but we still parted on pretty good terms.

So she isn t necessarily going to be pleased to see you?

Is anyone?

What if she point-blank refuses to help you, said Molly, now that the rest of your family isn t around to intimidate her into playing nice?

She doesn t get to say no, I said.

I m a Drood.

My tough guy, Molly said admiringly. Still, weren t we worried that using something as powerful as the Merlin Glass might attract all the wrong kinds of attention?

Oh, sure, I said. But not until it s far too late. I m not planning on sticking around here that long.

They might try to stop us leaving.

Like to see them try.

Okay, said Molly. We have now officially crossed the line from tough guy into cocky and downright arrogant. That s not like you, Eddie.

I m the Last Drood, I said. I can t afford to be stopped by anything or anyone. Not even myself. Not when my whole family is depending on me.

You can t help them if you re dead or stripped of your torc in some underground prison!

Well, then, I said. I d better not let that happen. Had I?

Cocky and arrogant, Molly said sadly. I am a bad influence on you, Eddie. She looked dubiously at the Merlin Glass as I held it up before us. Was the Glass we knew ever this powerful? I m not sure I would have trusted the old Glass in this situation.

It got you into the Timeless Moment to rescue me from Castle Shreck, I said. But it doesn t really matter. Needs must, when the Devil is breathing heavily down the back of your neck. One thing on our side: once we re in the boss s office, her shields should be more than enough to hide us from our enemies.

Including Crow Lee?

Let us both fervently hope so.

I concentrated on the Merlin Glass through my torc, visualising the exact coordinates for Catherine Latimer s very private office, and the Glass just sat there in my hand and refused to budge. I kept telling it where to go, and it just kept refusing. The shields around the office were so powerful the Glass couldn t find anything to lock on to. Buckingham Palace s shields weren t the problem, just the office s. Which told me rather more about the nature of the Carnacki Institute s shields than I was comfortable knowing. I looked reluctantly at Molly.

Problem We can t go straight to the boss after all. She s protected by something so powerful it even spooks the Merlin Glass. You know it might actually be safer if you were to stay here, Molly. In the car. Uncle Jack s protections will look after you, and you can always do a runner if necessary.

No way in hell, Molly said flatly. You re not going anywhere without me. Not while you re still pretending to be all cocky and arrogant to hide the fact that you re still grieving for your family. Someone s got to be there with you, to be reasonable on your behalf. And, yes, I do know that by volunteering myself in that department I am indulging in cosmic levels of irony, but How about this: If you can t go directly to the boss, can you get to her indirectly?

Of course! Yes! Molly, you re a genius. I had to wait in the secretary s office before I got to see Catherine Latimer, her own bad self, last time I was there. I concentrated on the Glass again, and it locked onto the secretary s office immediately. There you go! A definite weak spot in the Institute s security, Molly, which I shall be quite sure not to mention to the boss. In case I need to use it again.

You see? said Molly. You re getting smarter all the time just from being around me. Come on, let s do this. Before we have a rush of common sense to the brain. I m just in the mood to bully a functionary.

Ah, I said. Clearly you have never heard of the boss s secretary. Heather does not just type and file; she is also the boss s last line of defence. In that you have to get past Heather to get to the boss. Heather is the most heavily armed person in the whole place. She s not just there to smile politely at visitors; she s there to be very, very dangerous. So be prepared.

Oh, I am, said Molly. Really. You have no idea.

Cocky, and arrogant with it, I said.

You know you love it.

I armoured up. The golden metal swept over me in a moment, sealing me off from the world. The bitter cold was still there, but I was getting used to that. Which would have worried me if I d had the time to be worried. Molly looked at me dubiously.

Is that really necessary? Just for a quick drop-in and a chat?

Oh yes, I said. Really. You have no idea.

Shut up and get on with it.

Yes, mistress.

I shook the hand mirror out to door size, and immediately I could see Heather s office through it. I stepped quickly through, Molly all but treading on my heels in her eagerness, and the Merlin Glass immediately slammed itself shut behind me, pushed through my armoured side, and hid in my secret pocket. Out of harm s way. It occurred to me that if the Glass was that scared, then I ought to be, too. But I just didn t have the time.

The office itself was small and cramped and drab; just a close, windowless room with Heather the secretary sitting quietly at her desk, leafing through some paperwork. She looked up, startled, as Molly and I appeared out of nowhere, right in front of her, and she actually gaped for just a moment at the sight of a Drood in his armour. Which is one of the helpful things Drood armour is psychologically designed to do.

Heather herself was a calm, professional-looking sort, pretty in a pleasantly blond, curly-haired sort of way. She wore a white blouse over a navy skirt and had a really big silver ankh hanging round her neck. Anyone else would have seen her as sweet and harmless, just another secretary. Which was, of course, the point. I knew better, but I was still caught off guard when Heather threw off her surprise in a moment, pulled a really big gun out of nowhere and opened fire on me. The damned thing some kind of energy weapon I didn t even recognise was so big she needed both hands to aim it. She just blasted away without even saying a word to me or Molly, and the energy blast hit me right in the centre of my golden chest. The impact was enough to send me staggering back a step. I dug in my heels, regained my balance, while Heather fired at me again and again, the energy beams vividly bright in the enclosed space, leaving shimmering trails of Cherenkov radiation hanging on the air behind them. I leaned forward into the energy fire and advanced slowly and deliberately into the concussion blasts. My armour soaked up the deadly energies and the impacts with increasing ease. It was like wading forward against a strong chest-high tide, but it took me only a few steps to reach the desk, sweep it out of my way with one blow and then snatch the energy gun right out of Heather s hands. I crumpled it easily in my golden gauntlets, and all the little lights flashing on the weapon went out. I dropped the scrunched-up mess to the floor, and it dented the floor when it hit.

Out of nowhere Heather produced an aboriginal pointing bone. Molly slapped it out of her hand. The bone flew away across the office. Heather grabbed Molly s wrist and flipped her right over with a swift judo move. Molly barely had time to get out a surprised obscenity before she was flying through the air, upside down, and heading for the nearest wall. She managed to turn enough to take most of the impact on her shoulder, but the impact was still hard enough to knock all the breath out of her. She slid slowly down the wall, her eyes half-closed and her mouth slack.

I advanced on Heather. She snapped her fingers and the pointing bone reappeared in her hand. The bone was old cold brown, steeped in time and accumulated power. She stabbed the nasty thing at me, and the whole front of my golden armour reverberated like a struck gong, and I slammed to a halt as though I d just been hit in the chest by an invisible battering ram. To my utter astonishment, circular fingernail cracks radiated across my golden chest, a whole series of widening rings like ripples on a pond. I froze for a moment and then the cracks healed themselves, vanishing away as the golden metal re-formed. Heather froze when she saw that, and that was all the time I needed to surge forward and snatch the pointing bone out of her hand. I must have hurt Heather s fingers when I did, but she didn t make a sound. I crushed the bone in my armoured grasp. The bone cracked loudly and then collapsed in on itself. I opened my golden hand, and only dust and a few very small bone fragments fell out.

While I was busy showing off, Heather turned away and retrieved something else from her overturned desk. It turned out to be a shillelagh, a huge gnarled club made from black oak and decorated with all kinds of carved runes and sigils. Given the size and weight of the thing, I was frankly astonished Heather could even heft it. She came straight at me, and when I went to take the club from her, she avoided me expertly and hit me really hard around the head and shoulders. My armour made loud booming noises of distress with every hit, and while I couldn t feel the impact, the sheer ferocity of her attack drove me back several steps.

She flailed away at me as though the shillelagh was weightless to her, hitting me from this side and from that until finally I was sure my armour could take it. And then I snapped a golden hand forward into just the right place to stop the shillelagh in midblow. I held it firmly, and Heather s hands skidded off her end of the club. That must have hurt her, too. She looked at me with something like shock as I hefted the shillelagh easily in one golden hand and then tossed it across the room to Molly, who was already back on her feet. She caught the club easily, hefted it appraisingly and then advanced on Heather with the light of battle in her eyes. Heather looked at her and then at me, and then headed for her desk again. Molly got there first and held the shillelagh threateningly over Heather s work computer.

Hold it right there! Or I ll kill your files!

Heather glared at her. You wouldn t dare!

Trust me, I said. She will. This is Molly Metcalf.

Oh, poot, said Heather.

Things then took a turn for the weird. All four walls of the enclosed office were covered in portraits: professionally painted and photographed faces of old Carnacki Institute agents who had fallen in the field. There were an awful lot of them, men and women who had covered themselves in glory, if not renown. I had heard them referred to as the Honoured Members. It reminded me of the long gallery of Drood portraits back at the Hall. All of them gone now, of course.

All the faces on the office walls suddenly came alive in their frames, and one by one opened their mouths to roar and howl in fury, sounding the alarm at our intrusion. The sound was deafening, overpowering. Even Heather flinched, and she had to be protected. My armour took most of the brunt, but the sound was still so loud and so harsh I couldn t hear myself think. Molly s face screwed up with pain, but she still managed to stride right up to the nearest wall and glare right into the howling faces.

Shut the hell up! Or I will make your paint run and your colours fade!

And just like that the sound shut off and all the faces went back to being portraits and photos again. They must have been listening when I said Molly s name. Of course, they wouldn t know her power levels were at an all-time low. Molly smiled brilliantly, stepped back and shouldered her shillelagh. I armoured down and smiled at Heather.

Dear God! It s you, Eddie! Heather actually relaxed a little, and sank back onto her chair. I should have known; if anyone could survive the complete destruction of Drood Hall, it would be you. We all thought the Droods were gone forever! I m so glad you re all right! She broke off to run one hand quickly through her dishevelled hair, took a deep breath and then fixed me with her best professional smile.

So, Eddie. Do you have an appointment?

Guess, I said.

Catherine Latimer doesn t see anyone without an appointment.

She ll see us, said Molly.

Heather s gaze flickered from me to Molly and then back again. She was still smiling, but I could sense the effort.

We have to see the boss, Heather, I said.

And I mean right now. If you ve heard what s happened to my family, you know how urgent this is. And how upset I am.

I really thought you were dead, said Heather.

When you just appeared here, I thought your enemies must have taken the armour for themselves. Why didn t you use the main entrance and the proper protocols?

Too many eyes and ears, I said. I m the Last Drood, but I don t want just anyone knowing that.

The boss has already arranged for formal wreaths from the Institute, said Heather. To show our respect. Not that we could send them anywhere, of course, but we will find somewhere suitable to put them. Is this really the infamous Molly Metcalf? I always thought she d be taller. Please ask her not to kill my computer; I have a lot of vitally important typing to finish before the day s over.

I looked at Molly and she sniffed loudly, in an I m-making-no-promises sort of way.

I am keeping this shillelagh! she said loudly.

I like it and it s mine now. Just in case anyone starts getting snotty. Always wanted one

Let her have it, I said to Heather. She ll only make a fuss.

I can always get another one from the armoury, said Heather. One of our janitors hand carves them on his own time. You still can t see the boss without making an appointment. Even if you do trash my office and murder my filing system.

I looked thoughtfully at the door behind her desk. The very heavily reinforced steel door with no handle or electronic lock on this side that led into the boss s office. I didn t have to raise my Sight to know it was crawling with powerful protections. I grinned at Heather.

Get out your camera phone. I think I m about to make history.

Yeah! Molly said happily. Someone phone Guinness! Go, Drood. Go!

And then we all stopped and looked round as the intercom lying beside Heather s desk buzzed loudly. A cold, calm voice sounded clearly in the office.

Heather, if Edwin Drood and Molly Metcalf have quite finished striking dramatic poses, ask them if they d like to come through. I can give them ten minutes.

Yes, boss, said Heather.

How did she know we were here? Molly said suspiciously. How did she know it was us? I don t see any surveillance cameras here.

The boss knows everything, Heather said scornfully. In fact, that s probably part of her job description.

The highly impressive door swung smoothly and silently open on its own. I nodded briskly to Heather and strode into Catherine Latimer s very private office. Molly hurried after me, determined not to be left out of anything, her shillelagh still slung casually over one shoulder.

The grand old boss of the Carnacki Institute, Catherine Latimer, her own very bad and intimidating self, sat stiff-backed behind what I immediately recognised as a genuine Hepplewhite desk. Latimer had to be in her late seventies, but she still burnt with severe nervous energy, even while sitting still. She was medium height, medium weight and handsome in a way that suggested she had never been pretty because she d always had too much character for that. She had a grim mouth and cold grey eyes and looked like she d never been pleased to see anyone in her life. She wore a smartly tailored grey suit and was smoking a black Turkish cigarette in a long ivory holder, supposedly an affection that went all the way back to her student days.

While I was busy looking her over and working on my best opening gambit, Molly just sauntered round the office, displaying a keen avaricious interest in everything on display. There was a lot to look at. She made a series of loud ooh! and aah! noises as she cooed over the various intriguing objects in their display cases, many of which I remembered from my last time in the office. Catherine Latimer wasn t much for change for the sake of change.

There were reminders of past triumphs, famous cases ancient and modern, and souvenirs of people and places best not discussed in polite company. Molly ignored the many valuable books and folios crammed onto shelves all over the office, and had no time at all for the endless locked and sealed case files in their colour-coded folders. She bent over a goldfish bowl full of murky ectoplasm in which the ghost of a goldfish swam slowly, solemnly backwards, flickering on and off like a faulty lightbulb. Next to that a crimson metal gauntlet with two broken fingers, twitching unhappily inside a brass birdcage, was labelled THE SATAN CLAW. Farther along, a badly stuffed phoenix posed awkwardly inside a hermetically sealed glass case, to keep it from smouldering. And finally, on open display on a black velvet cushion, the Twilight Teardrop. Molly actually crouched down before it so she could set her face on the same level and study it better. The fabled ruby stone was actually composed of fossilised vampire blood made into a polished gem in the shape of an elongated teardrop, some four inches long and two wide, set in an ancient gold clasp and chain, supposedly taken from a dragon s hoard. I say supposedly; there s a whole lot said about the Twilight Teardrop, most of it contradictory and all of it upsetting. All anyone knows for sure is that it s a major magical depository for unnatural energies, mad, bad and dangerous to own.

Molly snatched it up and held it dangling before her eyes before flipping the gold chain over her head and round her neck, so that the glowing bloodred gem hung over her bosom.

Mine! she said loudly. I m taking it.

Put it back! I said.

Shan t!

Molly, I don t want that nasty thing anywhere near me, never mind you. And need I remind you, we re trying to make a good impression here?

Don t care. I want it. Pretty, pretty.

I ll take your pony away.

You wouldn t! All right, you probably would. You big bully, you. Oh, but, Eddie I really do need this. There s enough magical energy stored in here to replenish all my spells and abilities! And you know I have to be strong if we re going after You Know Who.

I looked apologetically at Latimer. Sorry about this.

Oh, let her have the bloody thing, said Latimer.

Given the sheer number of curses and bad vibes associated with the thing, she s welcome to it. She ignored Molly as she preened over her new toy, and fixed me with a cold glare.

Is she always like this?

Mostly, I said.

It s all part of my charm, Molly said easily.

Latimer and I exchanged a look but said nothing.

I have to admit, I m surprised to see you here, Edwin, said the boss. I have heard about what s happened to Drood Hall. I really thought all you Droods were dead and gone. I should have known the reports were too good to be true. And don t you raise your eyebrow at me like that, Edwin. You know very well your family has always been as big a threat to freedom as most of the threats you take on.

An argument for another day, I said. Right now I m here to ask for your help.

It was Latimer s turn to raise an eyebrow. Really? And just why would I want to do that?

I leaned forward across her desk and showed her my hand encased in a golden gauntlet. Vicious barbed spikes rose out of the clenched metal fingers.

Catherine Latimer smiled briefly. Typical Drood.

She didn t speak a Word or even gesture, just looked at me in a certain way and an invisible force snatched me up and held me tightly in its grasp. I fought against it but couldn t move a muscle. I was picked up off my feet, lifted up into the air, spun around several times and then slammed, spread-eagled, against the ceiling, looking down. I called for my armour but it didn t come. The boss had cut me off from my torc. I hadn t thought that was possible.

Molly started forward the moment she saw what was happening to me. The boss fixed her with a certain look, and Molly froze in place, locked between one movement and the next, in a stance that looked excruciatingly uncomfortable. Her face strained, her eyes full of silent fury, but she couldn t move a muscle. Any more than I could. The shillelagh slipped out of her paralysed hand and fell to the floor. Catherine Latimer allowed herself a brief smile.

You don t spend as much time as I have operating in the hidden world, in any number of influential capacities, without picking up a useful trick or two. Never bait the bear in her cave, children. If I let you both down, will you behave?

Almost certainly, I said from the ceiling.

Molly managed a more or less compliant grunt.

The boss sat back in her chair and drew deeply on her cigarette holder. I fell down from the ceiling, only just managing to get my feet under me in time. I also only just managed to grab Molly by the shoulder as she lunged forward again. I wrestled her to a halt, murmuring urgently in her ear, and she finally stopped. She shrugged sulkily and turned her back on the boss and me. I looked at Catherine Latimer.

I m pretty sure Crow Lee was behind the attack on my family, I said.

Unholy Crow Lee? said the boss. Could be. He d have the power and the gall, if anyone would. I was at Cambridge with him, you know. Back in the day. Had no doubt he was a bad sort even then. Cheated at cards, wouldn t pay his debts and insisted on reciting his own poetry in public. And now he s the Most Evil Man in the World or so people in a position to know say. Why should I help you against him?

Because if Crow Lee has become powerful enough to remove the entire Drood family from the playing field, how long before he comes after you and your organisation? I said.

Latimer nodded slowly and blew a perfect smoke ring. Good point. All right, Edwin. A temporary alliance. But you re going to owe me a really big favour for this.

Agreed, I said. A favour for a favour. And then I stopped and looked at her thoughtfully.

I have to ask: Did you by any chance know that something really bad was going to happen to my family? Did you have any information or warnings in advance and not tell us?

No, said the boss.

Would you tell us if you did? said Molly, slipping into place beside me.

Probably not, said the boss. I tend my own garden.

So, why are you so ready to help me now? I said.

Because I ve wanted a chance to bring Crow Lee down for ages, said Latimer. I really hoped your family would kill him long ago, just on general principle, but somehow you were always too busy with other things. I half expected to see him go down with the Great Satanic Conspiracy, but of course he was smart enough not to get involved. Personally, I think they weren t extreme enough for him. And, of course, he never was interested in joining any group that wouldn t immediately accept him as their leader. If they had, they might have beaten you. But he s always been too powerful and too well-connected for me to touch. So, you kick the little turd into the long grass with my blessing, Edwin. If you can. She looked at me for a long moment. Is it just you, Edwin? Did any of the other Droods survive?

No one else from my family made it out of the Hall alive, I said carefully. There s always the rogues, of course.

Of course. I am sorry for your loss, Edwin. Some of them were my friends. And I do know what it s like to lose family. Now, what can I do for you?

I need information, I said. Where, exactly, can I find the Department of the Uncanny and the Regent of Shadows?

Catherine Latimer looked genuinely surprised. Why on earth would you want him, of all people?

Because my family never wanted to talk about him, I said.