Daemons Are Forever

Molly quickly exhausted herself, and was soon reduced to throwing sputtering fireballs at Roger, none of which came close to hitting him. The dark clouds drifted away, and the elements settled themselves. I moved quickly over to Molly before she could move on to more dangerous methods, armoured down, and murmured calming, soothing words into her ear from a safe distance until she stopped glaring at Roger and turned sharply away, hugging herself tightly. I knew better than to bother her while she was in such a mood.

Harry and the Armourer came back to join us. “Would anyone care to explain to me what that was all about?” said the Armourer, just a bit testily.

“We used to date,” said Roger, in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

“It was a long time ago!” said Molly, still deliberately not looking at him.

“You never thought to mention this before?” I said.

She glared at me. “Do I quiz you about your old girlfriends?”

“Yes.”

She sniffed. “It’s different for a girl.”

“But he’s a hellspawn!” I said. “A half-breed demon!”

She shrugged. “It’s always the bad boy who makes a girl’s heart beat that little bit faster.”

Some conversations you just know aren’t going to go anywhere good, so I turned my attention back to Roger. “The last time I saw you, Truman had you trapped inside one of his holding pens. With your tongue cut out.”

“And you left me there to die,” Roger said easily. “How very Drood of you. But I escaped amid the general chaos. No one tried to stop me. No one dared. And I grew back my tongue. We hellspawn are very hard to kill.”

“Then how was Truman able to capture and mutilate you in the first place?” I said, perhaps a little pointedly.

Roger showed his teeth again in the smile that wasn’t a smile. “Oh please, like I’d be foolish enough to tell you.”

“All right,” I said. “Why are you here?”

“Revenge,” said Roger, and for just a moment bright crimson flames flared in his dark eyes. “Truman must pay for what he did to me…but even I can’t hope to take down an organisation the size of Manifest Destiny on my own. Which means I need allies, and your family seems the best bet. You want them destroyed almost as much as I do, and the enemy of my enemy can be my ally, if not my friend.”

“You expect us to trust you?” said the Armourer.

“Of course not. But as long as we have a cause in common, it’s in my best interests to be useful to you.”

“And he’s with me,” said Harry, very firmly. He was standing beside Roger again, as though he belonged there. “Roger and I go way back: old friends, old allies.”

“Dear Jesus,” said the Armourer. He sounded honestly shocked. “What have you been doing, Harry, what depths have you sunk to, that you could even consider befriending a thing of the Pit?”

“When your family turns its back on you, you have to find your friends where you can,” said Harry. “Right, Eddie? Now, no welcome home for me, Uncle Jack? After all these long years away, serving the family faithfully and well in foreign climes, with never even a thank you in return?”

“You could have come home any time,” said the Armourer. “The Matriarch might not have been too happy about it, but your father and I would have stood by you. We told you; we both told you, often enough. But you always had some excuse or another.”

“I’m here now, Uncle Jack. Because of my father.”

“You heard,” I said.

“Of course I heard. The whole world knows you murdered my father, dear Cousin Eddie. So here I am, representing all the Gray Fox’s old friends, allies, lovers, and enemies, all of us very upset that the legendary James Drood is dead. We want to know why. We demand answers.”

“It was a duel,” I said simply. “Armour to armour. He fought well, and died honourably.”

I didn’t even glance at Molly. Her part in James’s death was no one’s business but our own.

Harry looked at me, his head cocked slightly on one side. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“That’s all there is,” I said. “I was at war with my family, and he just got in the way.”

“Then…you didn’t just murder my father, and take away everyone’s torcs … so you could take over the family and run it unopposed?”

“No,” I said calmly. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It really wasn’t,” said the Armourer. “He’s telling the truth, Harry. Don’t you think I would have avenged my brother by now, if I thought he needed avenging?”

“Well, well,” said Harry. “How very intriguing. I can see I shall have to investigate further. Either way, I have come home at last, with my good friend Roger, to serve the family in its hour of need. Tell me how grateful you all are.”

“We can always use another experienced field agent,” I said. “But the hellspawn…”

“Please, call me Roger.”

“Don’t trust him, Eddie,” said Molly, back at my side again. “You can’t trust anything he says. Hell always lies, except when a truth can hurt you more.”

“I’ll say it again, for the benefit of the hard of thinking at the back,” said Harry. “Roger is with me. I vouch for him, and guarantee his behaviour while he’s here at the Hall. And he does have a right to be here. He’s family, just like me.”

“What?” said the Armourer. “Have you lost your mind, Harry? How can a thing of the Pit be family?”

“Because we share the same father,” said Harry.

Roger smiled widely. “Mother was a succubus, my father the illustrious James Drood. How about a big family hug?”

The Armourer shook his head slowly, dully, as though he’d been slapped hard. He looked suddenly older, and frailer. I have to say, it took my breath away. I looked at Molly, but she just shrugged, to show it was news to her too.

“That’s right,” Harry said brightly. “Roger is my stepbrother. And your nephew, Uncle Jack.”

“The old Gray Fox really did put it about,” said Molly. “But even so, a succubus? That’s just…tacky.”

“Lust demons are aristocrats in Hell,” said Roger. “Gathered souls are currency in the Pit.”

“Shut up,” said the Armourer. “Just shut up.”

“Yes, Uncle,” said Roger.

“It’s fu

“Then welcome home, Harry,” I said. “And you too, Roger. Come back to the Hall with us and we’ll get you settled in. But get out of hand even once, either of you, and I will knock you down and riverdance on your head.”

“It’s just tough love,” Harry said to Roger. “You’ll get used to it. It’s the Drood way. How is the dear old Sarjeant-at-Arms, Eddie?”

“Still ru

“Good to be home, Eddie,” said Harry. “Can’t say I’ve ever felt this welcome before. I suppose you and I have that in common, at least. We never were our family’s favourite sons.”

There were snorting, coughing sounds, and we both looked around. The gryphons had tracked us down at last, and ambled over to check out the newcomers with a good sniffing. Harry tolerated it in a resigned sort of way, and then the gryphons turned to Roger. They didn’t like his smell at all, and growled at him in deep, rumbling voices. One actually snapped at him, and Roger kicked it in the ribs, sending it flying a dozen feet away. I moved quickly to stand between him and the gryphons.