Daemons Are Forever

“Sue didn’t make it,” she said dully. “Too much strain, too much magic; she never was strong.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Not your fault,” said Molly. “She volunteered.” She rose awkwardly to her feet. “We’ll come back for you, Sue. Later. We have work to do.”

“She’ll be fine here,” I said, because you have to say something.

Molly looked at me sharply. “Sue was my friend. She wasn’t always like this. You never saw her in her prime, rich and glamorous and a name to be reckoned with.”

“I know,” I said.

“She was my friend,” said Molly. “She only got involved in this because I asked her to.”

“Yes,” I said. “Lot of that going around.”

“The Sarjeant was a good man,” said Giles Deathstalker. “He knew his duty, and he stood his ground.”

“Of course,” I said. “He was a Drood.”

I looked around again. We were in a great grassy field looking out over Stonehenge, about half a mile away. There was no sign of Harry or Roger, or any of Truman’s Accelerated Men.

“We have arrived only a moment after we departed,” said Giles.

“How can you tell?” said Molly. “Even I can’t read the night sky that accurately.”

“I can tell because the clock implanted in my head just started working again,” said Giles.

“Smart arse,” said Molly. She looked at me. “I wonder how Jacob and Jay are getting on?”

“I doubt we’ll ever know,” I said. “It was one hell of a long shot. Either way, we can’t depend on them to save the day; we’re here, so it’s up to us.”

“There’s an entrance to an underground bunker, not far away,” Mr. Stab a

“By all means,” I said. “Lead the way.”

He nodded and strode off across the great open field, and we all followed. I was quite happy to have him lead. With the Sarjeant gone, I didn’t want Mr. Stab behind me. He might be a part of this mission, but I was never going to trust him. Not after Pe

Electric lights came on as we entered the tu

“This isn’t right,” she said quietly. “Truman’s last base was crawling with people. Where is everyone?”

“Good question,” I said. “Bear in mind, this isn’t just a Manifest Destiny base; it’s also a Loathly Ones nest.”

She didn’t look at me. She had to know what I was thinking. There was a Loathly One inside her, growing and developing. Who knew what it might do, now it was among its own kind at last.

I hoped we’d come across some armed guards soon. I really felt like taking out my frustrations on a whole bunch of poor helpless armed guards.

But as we rounded the last steel corner, and glimpsed at last the first open space of the bunker, a huge metal slab slammed down from the ceiling, shutting off the corridor and blocking our way with two tons of solid steel. It hit the floor with a hell of a bang, so loud I actually winced, but still no alarms sounded, and still there was no clamour of raised voices demanding to know what the hell was going on. Where had everyone gone? What was Truman doing down here?

I subvocalised my activating Words, and then punched the air with joy as the golden armour flowed smoothly over me. It was good to have it back. Good to feel fast and strong and fully alive again. I hit the steel slab, putting all my armoured strength into it. My golden fist sank a good three inches into the steel, but that was all. I had to jerk my hand back out, an inch at a time. I crouched down and slammed both hands into the bottom edge of the slab, forcing my golden fingers deep into the metal, and then strained with all my strength to lift the massive slab. It shook and groaned but hardly raised an inch off the floor. I just didn’t have the leverage. My golden fingers slipped slowly through the solid steel like thick mud, unable to find a purchase. I pulled my hands out and stepped back to glare at the slab, baffled and frustrated.

“I do have an energy gun,” Giles Deathstalker said diffidently.

“No,” I said immediately. “There’s no telling what kind of defences or booby traps Truman might have set up here. Let’s not make things worse than they already are.”

Molly sniffed and elbowed me aside. “Men,” she said scathingly. “If you can’t hit it or shoot it, you’re lost for an alternative.”

She stabbed an imperious finger at the steel slab, said two very old and potent Words of Power, and the slab actually shook all over before reluctantly rising back up into its slot in the ceiling. Molly smiled condescendingly back at me and Giles, no doubt ready to say something extremely cutting, and that was when the machine guns opened up. Giles grabbed Molly and threw her to the floor, covering her body with his own, ignoring her startled curses. I moved quickly to block the way, shielding everyone with my armoured form. Bullets sprayed the corridor, but my armour absorbed everything that hit it. I didn’t even feel the impact. I strode slowly forward into the hail of bullets, and almost immediately realised there weren’t any guards. Just two automated machine guns, set to cover the end of the corridor with suppressing fire, swivelling slowly back and forth on their gimbals. It looked like they were almost out of bullets, but I was in the mood to hit something, so I ripped them both off their supports and crumpled them in my golden hands. They both made satisfying squealing noises, and I threw them aside. A blessed silence fell across the corridor, apart from Molly cussing out Giles Deathstalker as he tried to help her to her feet.

“I can protect myself, thank you very much,” she snarled. “I do not need to be slammed into the floor by an overanxious, overmuscled drama queen!”

“Fine by me,” said Giles. “I’ll just leave you to die, next time.”

“I should,” I said. “It’s less trouble, in the long run.”

“I’m fine, by the way,” said Mr. Stab. “Never doubted it,” I said, not looking around. We made our way slowly and cautiously through the guts of Truman’s underground base. Everything was a mess: furniture overturned, papers scattered, doors left open to secure areas. There were no people anywhere. Just empty rooms and abandoned corridors. Half the lights weren’t working, and strange shadows loomed up everywhere. As we got deeper in, we found workstations where computers and other technology had been ripped apart and gutted. Great rents began appearing in the steel walls, long and jagged as though made by claws, with wiring and cables hanging out like entrails from open wounds. And the only sounds we heard in the whole base were the ones we brought with us.

Finally, as we neared the centre of operations, we started finding bodies piled up in careless heaps, as though they’d just been dragged there and dumped, out of the way. The were signs of struggle now, to show they hadn’t gone quietly to their deaths. Bullet holes in the walls, scorch marks from grenades, the remains of improvised barricades. They’d put up a fight, only to end up like their computers, torn apart, gutted; harvested. Broken open for their parts. Whole organs were missing, and hands, and eyes. Blood and discarded offal lay all around, still steaming and stinking on the cool, still air.