Property of a Lady Faire: A Secret Histories Novel Page 12

  “Your family is seriously paranoid,” said Molly.

  “With good reason,” I said. “Most of the universe really is out to get us.”

  “True.”

  I peered cautiously round the corner of the nearest machine, and looked out across the Drood family Armoury. As always, it was a busy place, with dozens of experiments going on simultaneously, a whole bunch of complicated machines doing inscrutable things, and lab assistants running wild everywhere. Rows upon rows of work-benches, design tables, and assembly points, and all kinds of weapons being tried out for the very first time, nearly always without any reasonable safety precautions. Uncle Jack’s assistants were always so eager for a chance to prove how clever they were, it often seemed genius had taken up a lot of the space in their brains that was normally reserved for self-preservation instincts.

  One assistant with two heads was arguing coldly with himself as to whose fault that was. Something large and wolfish in the ragged remains of a lab coat ran happily back and forth on all fours, pursued by several other assistants with nets and Tasers. And a young lady with far too much frizzy red hair walked calmly across the stone ceiling, upside down and apparently entirely unconcerned, as she pursued a giant eyeball equipped with its own flapping batwings. And all she had was a really big butterfly net.

  Just another day in the Armoury.

  There were loud bangs, even louder shrieks and curses, and several slowly dispersing clouds of smoke. Off in the distance I could just make out the Armourer himself, watching approvingly while some of the younger lab assistants blew the hell out of what was left of the firing range, with really big guns.

  I pulled my head back in, and gave Molly my best serious look. “I need you to set up a distraction. Something that will grab everyone’s attention, and pull all the lab assistants away from Uncle Jack so I can get him to myself. Something loud and scary and dangerous, but preferably also something that isn’t actually going to damage anyone.”

  Molly snorted loudly. “Come on, Eddie, these are your uncle Jack’s assistants we’re talking about. You couldn’t upset them with any less than a nuclear grenade. You can’t damage them! They’re like cockroaches. They always bounce back.”

  “This would be a really bad time to prove otherwise,” I said. “I need the Armourer’s help, and willing cooperation.”

  “Oh, all right. Something highly scary and threatening but not actually deadly coming straight up, just for you.”

  Molly reached down and plucked a single silver shape from the delicate charm bracelet around her left ankle. She stood up, peered around the corner of the machinery, and threw the charm the whole length of the lab. A dragon suddenly appeared inside the Armoury. A massive creature, with a huge golden-scaled body and vast flapping membranous wings. It shrieked harshly, and lowered a horrid horned head on the end of a long snakelike neck. Its clawed feet dug deep furrows in the concrete floor, and a barbed tail lashed back and forth behind it, throwing heavy equipment this way and that. Its eyes glowed blood-red, and its gaping mouth was packed full of large serrated teeth. It was actually very impressive, given that it wasn’t real. As such.

  The dragon filled all the available space at the far end of the Armoury, its curved back slamming up against the stone ceiling, while its great head swept this way and that to menace everyone in reach. The wings flailed wildly, creating heavy gusting winds to blow away everything that wasn’t actually nailed down. But the lab assistants didn’t stop to gape at the dragon, even for a moment. They took one look at the thing and immediately grabbed the nearest weapon and opened fire. They blasted away at the dragon with guns, energy weapons, magical artefacts and a whole bunch of strange things I didn’t even recognise. The dragon soaked it all up, without taking any damage.

  Uncle Jack was right on the ball, of course. He rummaged around in his desk drawer and came up with a bulky high-tech thing that looked like it had been cobbled together from half a dozen other items just that morning. And for all I knew, it had. Uncle Jack does love to tinker. He slapped the piece of tech a few times, till it was ready to do what he wanted, and then a dimensional gateway appeared, directly behind the dragon. A great circle cut out of Space, with rogue energies sparking and spitting all around the circumference, and beyond it, a view of Somewhere Else.

  Molly muttered a few Words, and the dragon seemed to back away from all the armed figures, retreating through the dimensional gateway and out of the Armoury. The lab assistants pressed forward after it, caught up in the moment, still firing everything they had. They all passed through the gateway, except for the Armourer, who stood his ground. He looked more resigned than upset, as though a suddenly appearing dragon was just another annoyance to interrupt his day.

  The massive creature reared up on the other side of the gateway, holding the attention of the lab assistants, so they wouldn’t realise they weren’t inside the Armoury any longer. And also so they wouldn’t realise their weapons weren’t having any effect. Molly shot me a quick grin.

  “I’ll have to go join the dragon, or it’ll disappear the moment the gateway closes. I’ll keep the lab assistants occupied for as long as I can, so you can talk with your uncle. But keep it short, Eddie. It only takes one smarter than average lab rat to shout Illusion! and the game’s over.”

  She snapped her fingers and teleported away, air rushing in to fill the gap she’d left. I glimpsed her briefly on the other side of the gateway, half hidden behind one of the dragon’s legs. And then the circle snapped shut, and they were all gone. The dragon, the assistants, and Molly. It was suddenly very quiet and peaceful in the Armoury.

  I moved out from behind the machine stacks, and headed for the Armourer. He dropped the piece of improvised tech on his desk, and scratched at his bald head thoughtfully. Anyone else would have handled such a powerful piece of equipment more carefully, not to mention respectfully, but the Armourer built his toys to take punishment. He knew they had to work out in the field, often under harsh conditions. He sat down at his workstation and drummed the fingers of one hand on the desktop. I hadn’t got within ten feet of him when his head come up.

  “Hello, Eddie. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away for long.”

  “You knew I was here,” I said.

  “Of course!” he growled. “I always know . . . Nothing happens in my Armoury that I don’t know about. It’s a necessary survival skill. Even if I am getting old, and tired. I’ve spent too many years buried away down here, Eddie. Time . . . for a change, I think. Time for a younger Drood to come in and take over. Someone who’s got the energy to keep up with all the madness the current crop of lab assistants specialize in. Some days . . . I feel that when I wake up in the morning I should give myself a round of applause just for making it through the night.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Uncle Jack,” I said. “You’ll outlive us all.”

  “Well,” said the Armourer, “I am working on something . . .”

  He suddenly spun round on his swivel chair, so he could smile at me. I smiled back, pulled up a chair, and sat down opposite him.

  “Now,” said the Armourer, “nice to see you again, Eddie. Where’s Molly?”

  “Off with the dragon,” I said. “She has to be close, to keep the illusion going. You did know it was . . . Of course you did.”

  “How about a nice cup of tea?” said the Armourer. “Maybe a few Jaffa Cakes? No? Then perhaps you’d like to tell me why you’ve turned up here again, so soon after stomping out on the family? And please tell me you have Mother’s little black box. Everyone else was going crazy looking for it, when they weren’t accusing each other of taking it.”

  “I’ve put it somewhere safe,” I said. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

  I felt the need to choose my words carefully, so I sat back in my chair and looked around. The Armourer’s desk was covered with assorted scraps of unnatural technology, where he was working on a dozen different things at once, as usual. His computer was wrapped in mistl
etoe and long strings of garlic; I’ve never liked to ask why. And there were papers all over the place, designs and lists and results, all covered with the Armourer’s usual unreadable scrawl. I looked back at my uncle Jack. He was still sitting patiently, but I wasn’t ready, so I looked round at the Armoury.

  It hadn’t changed much, but then, it never did. For all the destructive and appallingly dangerous things that happened all over the place on a regular basis, the Armoury itself was extremely resilient. A massive stone cavern, it was set deep in the bedrock under the West Wing. Originally the family’s wine cellars, it was all bare plaster walls now, decorated with multicoloured spaghetti of electrical wiring, tacked up all over the place. Some of it hung down from the high stone ceiling, in tangled masses that no one had dared tackle in years. The fluorescent lighting was almost brutally bright, so anything that escaped would have a hard time finding a shadow to hide in, and the air-conditioning grumbled to itself and worked when it felt like it.

  Harsh chemical stinks fought it out with the cloying aromas of freshly pressed herbs, along with the lingering smell of cordite that always hung around the firing range. Everywhere you looked, there was always bound to be something interesting and unusual and deeply worrying.

  I couldn’t put it off any longer, so I looked back at the Armourer.

  “I need your help, Uncle Jack,” I said steadily. “I can’t tell you why, and you can’t tell anyone I was here, or what we talked about. I can only talk to you now because I’m putting all my faith in the Armoury’s shields, to keep out unfriendly eyes and ears.”

  “Business as usual,” said the Armourer. “You only ever come to see your old uncle when you want something. What is it this time, Eddie?”

  “I need you to tell me all you know about the Regent of Shadows and the Lazarus Stone.”

  “Oh bloody hell!” said the Armourer, quite loudly. He glared at me, his mouth a flat, angry line, but I could tell he wasn’t mad at me. He breathed deeply a few times, and thrust his hands deep into his coat pockets. “I always knew that bloody thing would come back to bite us all on the arse, some day. What do you want with that, Eddie? I mean, bringing back people who are supposed to be safely dead and gone . . . as if we didn’t have enough problems already.”

  “Isn’t there anyone you’d bring back, if you could?” I said.

  He met my gaze coldly. “No. You should know better than to ask that, Eddie. There’s a reason why we don’t allow ghosts to hang around Drood Hall. A reason why we respect our fallen dead, but we don’t listen to them. You can’t look back if you want to keep moving on. We’ve known that in the family for generations. You have to let people go. No matter how much you might miss them.”

  “Is that why you told me my parents were dead, for all those years, when you knew they weren’t?” I said.

  “That was different,” said the Armourer. “I had to protect you, and them.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “So many burdens,” said the Armourer. “No wonder I feel tired all the time. But Anything, for the family.”

  He looked at me, as though waiting for me to repeat the family creed, and when I didn’t he moved on.

  “Now, where was I . . . Oh yes! Yes . . . The Lazarus Stone.” His mouth compressed again, as though nursing a bitter taste. “Certain elements within this family acquired the Stone years ago, almost certainly from some highly disreputable source in the Nightside. And yes, Eddie, I know Droods are banned from that awful place by ancient pacts and agreements. If these members of our family had been found out, there would have been all kinds of repercussions. And there’s no telling where the fallout might have ended. There’s never been any shortage of people in this family who would welcome a chance to go to war against the Nightside. Wipe it out completely, once and for all.”

  “Why haven’t we?” I said. “I visited the place once, and I loathed everything about it.”

  “The Nightside is allowed to maintain its unsavoury existence because it is necessary,” the Armourer said firmly. “It serves a purpose.”

  I waited for a while, but he had nothing else to say.

  “That’s it?” I said.

  “That’s enough,” said the Armourer. “Now, moving on . . . These people, inside the family, went on to form the Zero Tolerance faction, and Manifest Destiny. And I don’t need to remind you how close they came to subverting and taking over the whole damned family. They weren’t above breaking mere rules in the name of a greater cause. They wanted to use the Lazarus Stone to bring back some of our greatest and most successful Droods, from out of the Past. Create an army of heroes and warriors and assassins, to tip the balance in the ongoing war between the Droods and all our many enemies.

  “They wanted to win the war forever. No more compromise, no more agreements; they were going to put an end to the war by killing everyone on the other side. And anyone who sided with them. And anyone who just got in the way. The Droods would rule, and to hell with the collateral damage . . .” The Armourer laughed harshly. “Like that was a new idea. If it had really been that simple, the family would have done it long ago. And these people didn’t care about all the changes such disturbances in Time would make to History, because they didn’t like where History had brought them anyway. I have to say, Eddie, I’m not actually convinced any of this is actually possible . . .”

  “It could be,” I said. “I have seen History rewritten . . .”

  I remembered the Red King, and the Sceneshifters. I was the only person still living who could, because I was there when the severed head of the Red King, preserved and controlled against his wishes, finally woke from his dreaming. The Sceneshifters had been this really secret group who moved things around in the background when people weren’t looking. Rewriting History in small telling ways, to achieve their own ends. But small changes accumulate, and the Sceneshifters weren’t always in control of what happened. Apparently, there used to be pyramids in Scotland. A major tourist attraction. But no one remembers them any more.

  The Droods knew about the Sceneshifters, but didn’t believe they were important enough or powerful enough to worry about. I met the Sceneshifters when I was on the run from my family, and I was so appalled at what they were up to that I put a bullet through the Red King’s severed head. He woke up from his long dreaming and he woke up mad, and made the Sceneshifters never happened. I was lucky to get out of there alive. And still real. A cautionary tale . . .

  The Armourer waited until he realised I had nothing more to say on the subject, and then he continued with his story.

  “You youngsters, you think you invented secrets. Now, this all goes back to when your grandfather Arthur, the Regent, was doing dirty work for the family. They used my father cruelly, and there was nothing I could do . . .”

  I leaned forward. I couldn’t help myself. “Do you know who in the family gave the Regent his orders, and chose his targets for him?”

  “Are you asking this for yourself?” said the Armourer. “Or for Molly?”

  “Does it matter?” I said.

  “I suppose not . . . It was mostly the people who went on to create Zero Tolerance. And Mother, of course, as Matriarch, because my father never could say no to her. And make it stick. But as to who ordered the Regent to kill Molly’s parents . . . I couldn’t tell you. I was out of the loop in those days, mostly by my own choice. I could see which way the wind was blowing, and I didn’t want any part in it. I just kept myself busy in the Armoury and kept my head down. Eddie . . . it could have been any of a dozen people, most of whom are dead now anyway. Does it really matter? The family gave the order, so the family must take responsibility.”

  The Armourer paused, and looked at me thoughtfully. “And Molly’s parents did have it coming, Eddie. Your Molly made quite a name for herself, back in the day, as a supernatural terrorist . . . But all of that was nothing compared to some of the things her parents did, in the name of the White Horse Faction. They put the terror in terrorism . . . Th
ey had to be stopped.”

  “Are you going to tell Molly that, or should I?” I said.

  “Probably best if nobody does,” said the Armourer. “Better for all concerned . . . Anyway, when your grandfather finally realised he was just being used, and walked away from his family for the second time, he took a number of useful things with him. Partly to punish the family, partly to help fund his new organisation. And one of the things he took . . . was the Lazarus Stone. Because he didn’t trust what the Zero Tolerance people might do with it.

  “There was a hell of a row in the family, afterwards, when they discovered the Stone was gone. But by the time they’d worked out who’d taken it, your grandfather had already made himself into the Regent of Shadows, a man of influence and power in his own right. And the Matriarch wasn’t ready to go to war with him over a few missing items. The Zero Tolerance people couldn’t explain how important the Stone was without revealing their own intentions . . . And then, of course, a lot of things happened, which you know very well because you were there for most of them, and the Lazarus Stone . . . was forgotten. I knew Father had it, because I helped him steal it. You must understand, Eddie—the Regent didn’t take the Stone because he wanted to use it; he just didn’t want anyone else to use it.”

  I looked at him steadily. We’d finally got to the point I’d been dreading.

  “You do know what’s happened, Uncle Jack . . . at the Department of Uncanny?”

  “Of course I know,” he said. “All hell’s breaking loose up in the War Room, though no one’s decided what to do yet. Yes, Eddie, I know. They told me as soon as the news came in. My father is dead. Finally dead for real, lost to us all. It’s been a hard few years for me, Eddie. First I lost my brother James, and then my mother, the Matriarch, and now my father. And my son, Timothy, of course, but then . . . he was lost to me years ago. Still, the family endures. The family goes on. That’s what they teach us, and it is a comfort, I suppose.” He looked at me sharply. “You were there, Eddie. How were they able to kill the Regent? He had Kayleigh’s Eye! I gave it to him before he left, to keep him safe!”