Daemons Are Forever

No Roger, though. Presumably Harry was hoping out of sight would mean out of mind. The three of us stared into the hand mirror, watching and listening silently as the voices in the room came clearly to us from far away.

“Hello, Grandmother,” said Harry, leaning right over to kiss her offered hand. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“There were reasons,” said the Matriarch. “As well you know. But you are here now, back where you belong, and that is all that matters. It is good to see you again, Harold. You have your father’s looks…”

“And my mother’s, so I’m told,” said Harry.

The Matriarch ignored that. “Much has changed, but the family’s needs must always come first. You can serve the family now, more than you ever did in your self-imposed exile. James was always my favourite son, high in power and esteem. Be my favourite grandson, Harold. Take control of the family back from the traitor Edwin. Restore the proper way of things. And all old…arguments shall be forgotten and forgiven.”

Harry smiled. “That’s what I’m here for, Grandmother.”

I shut down the Glass with a Word, and the scene was swept away by our returning reflections.

“Treacherous little scumbag,” said Molly. “Didn’t take him long to stick his knife in your back, did it?”

“Can’t say I’m surprised by any of this,” I said, slipping the Glass back into my pocket. “Disappointed, but not surprised.”

“Want me to turn him into something small and icky?”

“I can stop Harry,” I said. “If I have to. Grandmother believes in bloodlines, in children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”

“Am I supposed to understand that?” said Molly.

“No,” I said.

“You and your family’s secrets,” said Molly. “Like I care.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the prodigal son till you return,” growled the Armourer. “But don’t rely on me to stop him from making mischief. I may be I

“I haven’t seen him since the Circle meeting,” I said.

“He disappeared when Harry turned up,” Molly said thoughtfully. “Could there be some co

“I doubt it,” I said. “Not everything that happens here is part of some conspiracy; it just seems that way. I should never have encouraged Jacob to leave his chapel. I only wanted him here in the Hall because I needed his support. He was always so much more…together in the chapel. He knew who he was there. He only left the chapel to save me…”

The Armourer put a large, comforting hand on my shoulder. “And not everything bad that happens here is your fault, Eddie. Jacob will turn up. He always does…unfortunately. You couldn’t get rid of him with bell, book, and candle. Now, the Glass…I’ve got some of my people working their way through the old library, looking for mentions of the Glass, or Merlin, but without an overall index…It’s a slow process. And the current librarian isn’t much use. He didn’t even know the old library existed until you rediscovered it. Now all he does is roam the stacks going Oooh! and Aaah! and trying to keep my people from reading the older texts in case they damage them. Idiot. Those old books can look after themselves. You could probably pour boiling napalm on them and not even mark their covers. Some of them would probably fight back…”

“Then you’ll probably be pleased to know that one of the rogues I’m pla

“Damn right!” said the Armourer, brightening again. “You found William? Well done, Eddie! I never did believe that nonsense about him going rogue when he disappeared. I knew him well, back in the day; a first-class mind. Where has he been all these years?”

I shot a look at Molly before answering, but there was no easy way to say it. “William…isn’t the man he used to be, Uncle Jack. He had some kind of confrontation with the Heart, before he left…and something bad happened to him. He held himself together long enough to go to ground, but then … he had a breakdown. He’s currently residing in a sanatorium.”

“A lunatic asylum?” the Armourer said incredulously. “You mean he’s crazy?”

“It’s not such a bad place,” Molly said quickly. “They’re looking after him properly there. Eddie and I visited him just recently. He was…distracted, but he was also quite sharp, for a while. I think the Heart did something to his mind. Now that it’s gone, perhaps the effects will disappear too…”

“I’m sure he’ll feel a lot better, once he’s back in the Hall,” I said just a bit weakly.

“Hell,” the Armourer said gruffly. “This whole place is a madhouse at the best of times. He’ll fit right in.”

“New weapons?” I said, figuring that was the best way to take the Armourer’s mind off things.

He sniffed loudly again. “I don’t know if I want to trust you with any of my good stuff. The Bentley came back covered in scratches, and I still haven’t forgiven you for breaking my one and only reverse watch. And you lost that special directional compass I made for you!”

“Let us take it for granted that I am careless and ungrateful, and never appreciate anything you do for me, and move on, shall we?” I said patiently. “I still have the Colt Repeater, but I could use something more…dramatic.”

“I’ve still got that nuclear grenade…”

“No,” I said, very firmly.

“All right, how about a portable sonic generator that can make your enemies’ testicles swell up and explode in slow motion?”

“Oh, please!” said Molly.

“Tempting, but no,” I said. “I’d prefer something a little less…conspicuous.”

“You were always fussy with your food, too.”

“Moving on, please…”

“I’ve got a short-range teleporter I’ve been riddling with,” said the Armourer, scrabbling through the junk piled up before him on the workbench. “Jumps you instantaneously half a mile, in any direction. Just think of a place, say the Words, and go. Completely untraceable. And unlike Merlin’s Glass, completely undetectable.”

“That sounds more like it,” I said. “Why only half a mile?”

“Because any farther than that, and you tend to arrive in an arbitrary number of separate pieces,” the Armourer admitted reluctantly.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Molly.

“You are not alone,” I said.

“Oh, go on,” said the Armourer. “Give it a try. Ah! Here it is.” He held up a simple copper bracelet, breathed on it, polished it on his grubby coat sleeve, and then handed it to me. It looked very much like one of those bracelets people wear to ward off rheumatism. The Armourer gri

“He may be scary, but he has a point,” said Molly.

Reluctantly, I slipped the copper band round my wrist. “With my luck, it’ll probably turn my skin green. And you still haven’t offered me a decent weapon…”

“You don’t need a weapon,” said Molly. “You’ve got me.”

“She’s got a point,” said the Armourer.

Molly and I used the Merlin Glass to transport us to our first destination, that notorious drinking dive, neutral ground, and den of iniquity, the Wulfshead Club. All I had to do was tug at the Glass’s silver frame while muttering the right Words, and the mirror stretched like a piece of Silly Putty, until it was the size of a door. Our reflections vanished, replaced by a dim and gloomy view of our destination. Molly and I stepped through, and just like that we were standing in a familiar deserted back alley, deep in the heart of London’s Soho. The Glass snapped back to its usual size, and I put it away.