Daemons Are Forever

Mr. Stab checked the bodies for details. No one else wanted to get close enough.

“They did this to complete their tower,” I said, because someone had to put it into words. “Technology and…organic components, to finish the job. Because they were in a hurry. Because they knew we were coming.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” Molly said immediately. “None of this is your fault. Manifest Destiny brought this on itself by allying with the Loathly Ones. Come on, let’s find Truman.”

“How do you know he’s still alive?” said Giles.

“Because rats like him always find a hole to hide in,” said Molly.

It didn’t take long to track him down. We just followed the signs on the walls to his private office, and sure enough there were more dead men piled up outside the locked and no doubt barricaded door. A green light showed above the door, indicating that the leader was IN. And a single security camera swivelled back and forth, looking us over with its little red light. I pounded on the door with my fist.

“You know who this is, Truman. Surprisingly enough, I’m not here to kill you. In fact, I’m probably your best chance of getting out of this mess alive. Open up, so we can talk about the Loathly Ones.”

“Go away!” screamed a voice from inside, shrill and cracked. “You can’t fool me! You’re not people! Not anymore!”

“This is Edwin Drood, Truman. Now let me in, or I’ll rip the door clean off its hinges.”

There was a long pause, followed by something that might have been a chuckle. “A Drood has come to save me. That it should come to this…”

There was the sound of furniture being dragged away from the door, and then after a bit the door unlocked itself. I pushed it open, and we all filed into Truman’s office. Once it might have been luxurious, even impressive, but now it looked like a bolt hole. The place was a mess, and it stank of sweat and fear. Truman was sitting stiffly behind his desk, half a dozen guns set out before him, though he had the sense to keep his hands well away from them. He held his head erect, no doubt braced by implants, to support what he’d done to himself, to his head and his brain. Truman believed in the gains to be made from extensive trepanation, or the making of holes in the skull to allow the brain to expand. So he’d drilled a dozen holes in his skull and then inserted long steel rods deep into his brain. The great steel spikes protruded from his head, radiating in a wide circle co

“Just when I think things couldn’t possibly get any worse, you two turn up.”

“Tell us what happened,” Molly said flatly. “And then we’ll decide whether your miserable arse is worth saving. What have you done here, Truman?”

“I never wanted to ally Manifest Destiny with the Loathly Ones,” he said, looking at his hands so he wouldn’t have to look at us. “They are everything I hate and despise. But after you destroyed my old organisation, I had to go underground, and my advisors insisted that we needed powerful support if we were to protect ourselves while we rebuilt. And they came to me, the Loathly Ones, and said all the right things, and promised me the world and everything in it, if I would just let them build one of their damned towers here. I knew the risks, can’t say I didn’t, but I was so sure I could control them, use them, and then destroy the tower before they could do anything with it… I was a fool. They infected my people one by one, starting with my advisors, so I only heard what they wanted me to hear. The first I knew something was wrong was when the infected drones suddenly attacked the rest of my people, right here in my own base.” He smiled suddenly, an odd, crooked smile. “They even infected me. Oh yes. One of my oldest friends did it, putting their filthy presence inside me. But I killed him, and then I killed it. Killed it dead. My augmented brain was more than a match for the small, weak thing they put in my head. I ate it, and savoured its dying screams in my mind.”

He actually laughed out loud then, enjoying the memory, and only sobered as he took in the expressions on our faces. “Of course, by then it was too late. My people had been taken over or butchered, my base had been torn apart to provide the final material for their stinking tower. But I shall still have the last laugh! Oh yes! I have a secret weapon, secretly prepared for the day they might rise up against me. The Soul Gun…Only I have the access codes. No one else can get to it, or fire it. Let them activate their tower! I shall activate my Soul Gun, drain all the power out of the Soul of Albion, and use it to banish the Loathly Ones from this world forever!”

He glared around at us triumphantly, but Molly and I were already shaking our heads.

“Won’t work,” I said. “Your trouble is, you never did take the trouble to work out what the Soul of Albion really is. It’s not just a thing, an object you can use. The Soul fell to earth from a higher dimension, just like the Drood Heart. It might even be a splinter that broke off from the Heart during its descent. Strictly speaking, the Soul is a baby crystal intelligence, only centuries old, too young to have developed a full personality. It protects England, because this is what it thinks of as home. You try and drain its power, suck all the life out of it, and it’ll just destroy you and your base, and go back to sleep again.”

“And even if you could make it work,” said Molly, “do you really think one baby crystal could hope to hold back the Invaders, the Many-Angled Ones, the Hungry Gods? You do know that’s what the tower is designed to bring here?”

“No,” said Truman. “No, no… You’re just trying to frighten me…”

“Trust me,” I said. “We’re already scared enough. We have to destroy the tower before the Invaders come through. Where is it?”

An alarm went off, deafeningly loud in the small office. We all jumped. Truman stabbed at the controls on his desktop, and a monitor screen flared into life on the wall, showing Harry Drood and Roger Morningstar moving cautiously through the underground base. They’d finally got here. I had to smile. Harry would so hate coming second.

“Damn,” said Molly. “In all the excitement I’d forgotten about them.”

“I haven’t forgotten about all the Droods they brought with them,” I said. I fixed Truman with a cold stare. “Your Accelerated Men, and your damned Soul Gun, killed hundreds of my family.”

He smiled spitefully at me. “I only wish it could have been more. You brought me to this, brought me so low I had to ally myself with alien scum! Everything that’s happened here is your fault, Drood!”

“Oh, shut up, you wimp,” said Molly, and the sheer distaste in her voice stopped him like a slap in the face. She moved around beside the desk, found the general address, and called Harry and Roger by name. They both looked up, startled, and Molly gri

“Excuse me,” Giles Deathstalker said quietly, “but what is that thing on his head?”

“Cutting-edge technology,” I said solemnly.

Giles raised an eyebrow. “In my day we find it more useful to put the technology inside the head. Mind you, we also find it useful to shoot overambitious idiots like this on sight.”

Harry and Roger finally found their way to Truman’s office and barged right in without knocking. Harry looked at me and sniffed loudly.

“Might have known you’d find a way to be here for the end, and grab all the glory for yourself.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Because I’m so like you, Harry.”

“Boys, boys,” said Molly. “Put them away or I’ll cut them off. We are on something of a deadline here… Truman’s going to take us to the tower.”