Property of a Lady Faire: A Secret Histories Novel Page 5

  I strolled on through the grounds, taking my time, enjoying the scenery. Everywhere I looked, perfectly cut and professionally maintained lawns stretched away before me, big enough to land a whole fleet of planes on. Sprinklers filled the air with a moist haze, and stepping through them allowed me to enjoy a cool and refreshing moment in the blazing summer heat. The old hedge maze was still there, its spiky green walls towering over me as I passed. Of course, the old monster it had been constructed to imprison was long gone now, safely dumped and abandoned in another dimension. But I was sure we could find something equally bad and dangerous that deserved trapping inside the maze. Though I didn’t think I’d raise the idea with my family. Given our track record, they’d probably try to throw me in.

  A little further on, I paused to enjoy the massive flower gardens, laid out in intricate shapes and mosaics and boasting more than a few multicoloured blooms not at all native to this world, or even this reality. Some of them still moved to follow an entirely different sun than ours. A wide circle of red, white, and blue roses had been planted to resemble a great eye that winked slowly at me as I passed. I didn’t wink back. It’s best not to encourage them.

  A whole crowd of peacocks paraded proudly by, filling the air with their loud, discordant cries. All part of our early-warning system. High-tech and magical systems are all very well, but you can’t beat a natural response. Machines and magics can be overcome, or even sabotaged, but the only way to shut the peacocks up would be to shoot them all in the head. And I think we’d notice that. The gryphons were out on patrol too, waddling importantly back and forth. They can see a short way into the future, which makes them ideal for spotting potential attacks and attackers, and being there waiting for the poor sods when they arrive. They’re friendly enough creatures to the family, but they do like to track down dead things and then have a really good roll in them. Which is why they are never allowed inside the Hall. I waved at them, and kept moving.

  I knew I was just putting off the moment when I would have to go inside, and make my report to the ruling Council. Not that I had anything to worry about; the mission had gone well, or at least well enough. But I just knew they’d find something to complain about. They always did. I hate debriefings. It’s hard enough explaining why you did something, without having to explain why you didn’t do something else that they thought you should have done.

  And they always make such a fuss over my expenses.

  Drood Hall rose up before me; huge and imposing, it dominated the grounds it was set in without even trying. My old family home. Very old. The centre structure was a great sprawling manor house, with ivy swarming all over the walls. It dated originally from Tudor times, and had been much added to down through the centuries. It still boasted the traditional black-and-white boarded frontage and heavy leaded-glass windows, all under a jutting gabled roof. Four great wings came later, massive and solid in the old Regency style, containing fifteen hundred rooms and a hell of a lot more Droods. We’re a big family, and getting bigger. Soon enough we’ll be packed to overflowing, and then it will be time to move on again. Floors and floors above me, the great roof rose and fell like a grey-tiled sea, complete with gargoyles, ornamental guttering, observatories and aeries, sprawling nests of antennae, and a series of landing pads for everything from autogyros to winged unicorns. Along with a hell of a lot of gun emplacements. I did mention that we take our security seriously, didn’t I?

  I always have mixed feelings every time I come back to stand before Drood Hall. The family made my life hell, all the time I was growing up, and I ran away to London to be a field agent first chance I got. But the Hall is still my home.

  Suddenly Molly Metcalf, my love and my delight, was running towards me, emerging from a door in mid-air that hadn’t been there just a moment before. Molly was allowed to open a door onto the Drood grounds from her personal forest, because she was my girlfriend and because there was absolutely no way of stopping her. The wild witch of the woods walked her own path, and woe betide anyone who got in her way. So the family made a special dispensation in her case, rather than have her do it anyway and just laugh in their faces when they got upset about it. I could see the massive ancient trees of her private forest through the door, stretching away forever—trees too big, too primal, to be part of today’s world. Someday I was going to have to find out just where, or more likely when, her wood was situated.

  Molly came running from the opening she’d made in the world, smiling broadly at me, arms stretched out wide. The door behind her disappeared as she sprinted across the lawns to greet me. Sweet, petite, and overwhelmingly feminine, Molly always reminded me of a delicate china doll with big bosoms. She had bobbed black hair, huge dark eyes, and a rosebud mouth red as sin itself. She was wearing a long, billowing dress of ruffled white silk, possibly chosen to lend a touch of colour to her pale skin. For someone who preferred to spend most of her time out of doors, Molly never took even a touch of tan.

  My Molly, my love. There are an awful lot of strange and disturbing stories about the wild witch Molly Metcalf, and every single one of them is true. I know; I was there at the time, for most of them.

  She crossed the open space between us at incredible speed, her bare feet barely disturbing the thick green grass, and then she slammed right into me, throwing her arms around me as she bowled me over and sent me flying backwards. I was braced for the impact, and it still knocked the breath out of me for a moment. Molly ended up lying on top of me, laughing breathlessly into my face as I lay flat on my back on the thick green grass. I held her in my arms, grinning back at her. I always enjoy having Molly lie on top of me; it’s like her whole body from head to toe is saying, Hello! I’m here!

  “All right,” I said finally, “how did you know to find me here?”

  She kissed me several times, and ran her fingers through my hair. “I always know where you are, sweetie. I keep track. How else can I look after you? How was the Vatican?”

  I looked at her sternly. “That’s family business. You weren’t even supposed to know I was there.”

  “I refer you to my previous answer,” said Molly, in her most sultry voice. “And you haven’t answered my question. Any problems?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I said.

  “Showoff . . .”

  I kissed her, to shut her up, and then we both lay there together, on the grass, in each other’s arms. She rested her head on my chest, riding my breathing.

  “I haven’t paid the Vatican a visit in years,” she said finally. “It’s well past time I dropped in again, just to annoy them.”

  “Please don’t,” I said. “I’m pretty sure they’re still getting over the last time you were there. When you transformed all the statues of the Saints into female versions.”

  “I was making a point!” said Molly. “I changed them all back again, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Eventually . . .”

  Molly suddenly scowled at me, glaring right into my face from only a few inches away. “Why are we here, Eddie?”

  “Why are any of us here?” I said, reasonably. “I can make a few informed guesses, if you like . . .”

  She prodded me hard in the chest with one long, bony finger. “I mean, why are we here at Drood Hall when we should be smashing our way into the Department of Uncanny, roughing up the hired help and intimidating the security guards, before pinning the Regent of Shadows to his office wall and getting some answers out of him? Very definitely including why did he murder my parents?”

  She didn’t give me time to answer. Just got up off me, scrambled to her feet, and turned her back on me, glaring at Drood Hall with her arms tightly folded. I sighed, inwardly, and took my time getting to my feet. Giving myself time to work out exactly what I was going to say. It wasn’t going to be easy, because there was no right thing to say, but it was important to me that we understood each other. I brushed crushed grass off my clothes, to let her know I was approaching, and then moved carefully
in beside her. I had enough sense not to touch her.

  “Visiting the Regent, my Grandfather, in search of answers . . . is next on my list of things to do,” I said. “Right after I’ve talked to the Council.”

  “You had time to stop off for a drink at the Wulfshead,” said Molly, still not looking at me.

  “That was business,” I said. “And this spying on me is becoming less charming by the moment.”

  Molly turned her head to scowl at me, her dark eyes flashing dangerously. “You promised me that when we got back from France, we’d go straight to Uncanny and get some straight answers out of the Regent! I want to know who gave him the order to execute my mother and father! I want to know exactly who in your family was responsible!”

  “And we will,” I said. “I promised. But first, loath as I am to admit it, I do have duties and responsibilities to my family.”

  She looked away again. “That’s always been your problem, Eddie. Always one more mission, one more thing that needs doing . . .”

  “Molly . . .”

  “Cut the cord, Eddie! Before I decide to do it for you, and in a way you won’t like. What’s holding you here?”

  “Right now?” I said.

  “You didn’t have to come back here for a debriefing, and you know it!”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I’m here because I was called back to attend the reading of my grandmother’s will. The mission was just something to keep me busy till all the paperwork was in order.”

  Molly looked at me blankly. “But . . . Martha was killed ages ago! And they’re only now getting around to the reading of the will? Why has it taken so long?”

  “Things move slowly inside the family,” I said. “Customs and protocols, and all that. And to be fair, we have all been very busy. Anyway, I have to be present for the reading, because apparently I’m mentioned in the will.”

  “Ooh!” said Molly, brightening immediately. “Any chance she’s left you some money?”

  “What do we need with money?” I said, suddenly suspicious. “Last time I looked, we had enough tucked away to last several lifetimes. Have you been shopping in the Nightside again?”

  “Of course we don’t need the money,” said Molly, her voice maddeningly calm and reasonable. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I said. “With you, it’s never the principle of the thing. It’s always all about the money!”

  “So you do think she’s left you something!”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The Armourer just said I was . . . mentioned in the will. And knowing Grandmother, almost certainly not in a good way.”

  Molly looked at me thoughtfully. “You know, most people have two sets of grandparents. I know the Regent, your grandfather Arthur, was Martha’s first husband. Before she kicked him out of the family, and married Alistair . . . and that Emily was her daughter by that first marriage, who married your father, Charles . . . Or Diana and Patrick as they now like to be known . . . God, your family’s complicated, Eddie. But where are your father’s parents? What about his family?”

  “Good question,” I said. “I have no idea. The Droods never like to talk about outside relatives. Inside the Hall, it’s only Droods who matter. Makes it easier to instill family loyalty and duty. I grew up thinking both my parents were dead, and my family never wanted to talk about either of them. When I finally got to meet my parents, there just wasn’t time to stop and talk . . . And since they’ve gone missing again . . .”

  “Complicated,” said Molly. “Very complicated.”

  “It is something I think about,” I said. “I like to believe that there’s another family, out there in the world somewhere. People I could go to if I ever did turn my back on the Droods.”

  “Are you thinking of leaving, Eddie?” asked Molly, not quite as casually as I think she intended. “I mean, you know I’m all in favour of that, but working for the Department of Uncanny didn’t really work out. Did it?”

  “No,” I said. “The Regent lied to me almost as much as the Droods did. But I would like to have the option to leave; if only I knew for sure there was somewhere else for me to go . . .”

  Molly smiled at me brilliantly and slipped a companionable arm through mine, and I knew I was forgiven. For the moment.

  “Come on,” she said briskly. “Let’s do this. Get it done, and over with, so we can concentrate on the things that really matter. I wonder how much your grandmother’s left you . . .”

  “I’m really not going to like it when next month’s bills come in, am I?” I said.

  “All I ever inherited from my family were two sisters who always irritated the crap out of me,” said Molly.

  “You never talk much about your family,” I said.

  “Bunch of deadbeats and hangers-on,” she said. “I’d divorce the lot of them if I could just find a lawyer who wasn’t afraid of them.”

  • • •

  We strode briskly across the lawn, heading for Drood Hall. I could hear one of the underground robot gun emplacements, directly under our feet, stirring restlessly as we passed over it. I was safe enough, as a Drood, but the robot sensors didn’t approve of Molly. The robot gun would probably have liked to come up out of the ground to take a good look at her, but it was just sentient enough to be very wary of her. Even the peacocks backed away, to give her plenty of room. Which made me think . . . and take a good look around. The huge grassy lawns stretched off into the distance, open and empty. Not a Drood to be seen anywhere—which was just a bit odd, on such a lovely summer’s afternoon. Where was everyone? Which, of course, led me on to another thought.

  “Molly,” I said carefully, “where are your sisters right now?”

  “No need to look over your shoulder, sweetie,” said Molly, smiling. “I would warn you if there was any danger of them dropping in. If only so that you could keep up with me once I started running. No, the last I heard, Isabella had bullied her way onto an archaeological dig somewhere in darkest Peru, in search of the Great Demon Bear. And Louisa is currently scuba-diving among the sunken remains of the city of Lyonesse, somewhere off the Cornwall coast.”

  “At least she won’t be bothering anyone there,” I said.

  Molly laughed briefly. “You’ve never been to Lyonesse, have you?”

  And then we both looked up sharply as a flying saucer went tumbling through the sky overhead. Just a small one, not much bigger than a London bus, covered with all kinds of crackling lights. It shot this way and that, turned rapidly end over end, circled the Hall twice, and then dived down for a not particularly dangerous crash landing on one of the empty arrival pads on the Hall roof. Dazzling colours blew off in every direction, exploding in the sky like so many silent fireworks. Two teenage girls on winged unicorns quickly appeared on the scene, and hovered overhead while spraying the scene with anti-radiation foam, from long nozzles attached to sturdy packs on the unicorns’ sides. Nobody emerged from the crashed flying saucer. Probably too embarrassed.

  “A flying saucer?” said Molly. “Some of your lot, or just Visitors?”

  “It’s questions like that,” I said, moving on, “that remind me why I prefer to stay away . . .”

  The front door loomed up before us—the main entrance to Drood Hall, and everything it contained. I took a deep breath, and braced myself.

  “Look,” I said to Molly, “I have to go in and see my family. You don’t. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go back and wait in your nice safe private forest, until all the shouting and bad temper has subsided?”

  “Nonsense!” Molly said immediately. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I promise I’ll stand at the back, and be very quiet, and not attack anyone unless I feel I absolutely have to. Come on—a chance to watch your family lose their temper with each other, like the arrogant, entitled, elitist scum they are? I never miss a chance to feel superior . . . Besides, you really think I’d let you walk into the lions’ den on your own? It’s my job to watch your back, again
st friends and enemies and family.” She squeezed my arm against her side possessively. “What do you think the previous Matriarch of all the Droods has left you in her will, Eddie?”

  “Nothing I’d want, knowing her,” I said.

  “Maybe she’s appointed you her official successor and made you head of the whole Drood family!”

  “Only if she was really mad at me . . .”

  • • •

  I kicked the main door in, and Molly and I strode into Drood Hall like we were thinking of repossessing the place. I was immediately surprised to discover that there was no one there to meet us. Or to try to stop us from entering. It’s usually one or the other. The Sarjeant-at-Arms was nearly always waiting, to say something sardonic and offensive, as though he felt it was his duty to make sure I knew I was not at all welcome. Like I needed him to tell me that. At the very least, the Sarjeant usually preferred to escort me through the Hall, to make sure I didn’t go anywhere the family didn’t want me going. It’s not like he could actually stop me doing any damned thing I felt like, including stuffing some of the family silver in a big bag marked Swag and making off with it, but we both usually went along. For the good of the family.

  But it’s when there’s no one around that I know for sure something’s going on. Something I’m really not going to approve of.

  First rule of an agent: Never let them see they’ve got you worried. I stuck my nose in the air and strode through the shadowy vestibule, and on into the main hallway, with Molly still hanging determinedly onto my arm. Light streamed in through dozens of long, narrow stained-glass windows, shimmering spotlights stabbing through the gloom, filling the long corridor with all the colours of the rainbow. Many of the stained-glass scenes depicted significant moments in my family’s long history, all the heroes and legends of Drood times. The secret history of the world. After that, it was row upon row of paintings and portraits, showing off honoured family members. Most of them looking dour or constipated, with not a single smile to be seen among the lot of them. The fashions changed as the centuries passed, but they all did their best to look like secret masters of the world.