Daemons Are Forever

It roared and screamed like a living thing, and explosions ran through its shape like a string of firecrackers. New lights shone from a thousand new openings, while cracks ran up and down the exterior. Shudders ran through the whole height and width of it, and pieces started falling away. It swayed upon its crippled base, and then, slowly, the whole great length of it nodded forward and fell, stretching out across the great stone plain. Slamming down like the hand of God.

The gateway closed. Gone, just like that, and with it all traces of the terrible thing on the other side. The tower almost leisurely measured its length along the plain, and shattered into a million pieces as it hit. Most of the drones were crushed underneath it, and the few who survived turned and ran in a hundred directions. I let them go. I was busy hanging onto Molly, who was protecting us all with a simple force field, using the last of her strength. When it was finally over, only fifteen of us were left standing. Molly clung on to me, trembling in every limb, and I held her to me, only our shared strength keeping us on our feet. Roger Morningstar was holding Harry. Janissary Jane was on the radio to Callan and his people, left behind on the cliff, yelling for him to bring down transport for us. We had to gather up our fallen and get them out of here before the authorities arrived. The nine Droods dropped their armour; they all looked dazed and shell-shocked. Mr. Stab stared around him at the massed heaps of the dead, and smiled.

Harry let go of Roger and limped over to confront me. Behind the impassive silver mask, his voice was cold and harsh.

“We stopped the gateway opening. We brought down the tower and killed most of the Loathly Ones. But was it worth it, Eddie? Look at how few of us are left! Everyone else is dead! This was a debacle, a disaster. We’ve never lost this many family in a single operation in the whole history of our family! All so you could play the hero, one more time. When we get back, I’ll make sure everyone knows this was all your fault!”

“Of course you will, Harry,” I said tiredly. “That’s what you do. Go ru

“If you hadn’t taken away everyone’s torcs, most of those people would still be alive!”

“Yes. You’re probably right there.”

“You should have given everyone new torcs. Not just the ones you trusted to support you.”

I didn’t say anything. What could I say? He was right.

Harry turned his back on me and walked away. Molly finally let go of me and pulled something out of a hidden pocket.

“I found this, in the wreckage of the tower. It’s so full of potential magic, it all but shouted at me. You recognise it?”

I turned it over and over slowly in my hands. It was an amulet of some kind, deeply etched with Kandarian symbols. I could only translate one word.

“Invaders,” I said.

“Wonderful,” said Molly. “The Martians are coming.”

“No,” I said, too tired even to smile. “I’m pretty sure this was part of the summoning spell. An invocation, to bring through…whatever that was we stopped. Except…this is very definitely plural. Invaders…Not just one.”

“I may puke,” said Molly. “All we went through, just to stop one…what?”

“Something from Outside,” I said. “An invasion force, of something far worse than soul-eaters. Move over. I think I want to puke too.”

“Invaders,” said Molly. “Called by the Loathly Ones. Does that mean…more nests, more towers, somewhere else in the world?”

“Almost certainly,” I said. “Maybe in every country in the world. This was just the begi

“God, you can be a real pain in the arse sometimes,” said Molly.

“Comes with the job,” I said. “Let’s go home.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Family Matters

We came home in the Blackhawkes. Those wonderful, sleek, and silent planes. Nothing wrong with them. Completely untouched. But they seemed so terribly empty, carrying just the few of us home. With only eleven torced Droods left, we had to spread ourselves out across the planes, so we could fly undetected through foreign airspaces, above a world that didn’t even know what we’d saved it from. None of the other Droods would even look at me as we climbed aboard our separate planes. Molly sat beside me all the way back, holding my hand, talking softly to me, but I couldn’t tell you a single thing she said. All I could think of… was what we were carrying in the cargo holds of the planes. All the dead Droods.

The news went ahead of us. Bad news always does. When the Blackhawkes finally touched down on the landing field behind the Hall, it seemed like the whole family had come out to watch. And when I and the terribly few survivors of my first disastrous mission descended from the planes, we did so to utter silence. To ranks of shocked faces and condemning eyes. I could have fobbed them off, told them there’d be an official statement later. Could have walked right through them and gone inside. But I didn’t. I stood and waited with everyone else, as the bodies were unloaded from the cargo holds.

We hadn’t been able to recover them all. Most of the bodies on the plain were either crushed into pulp by the falling tower, or so messed up from the fighting we couldn’t tell who was who, or what was what. Some had been reduced to just bits and pieces. So we just brought back the heads. We spent hours under the hot sun, digging through the wreckage and sorting through the carnage, the blood and the offal, and the stench, but in the end we brought less than half of the family home. The watching crowd made soft, shocked noises as the first bodies appeared. They’d never seen so many dead Droods before. No one had. Such a tragedy, such a loss of life in one operation, was unprecedented. Some people cried out at the sight of familiar faces, broken and disfigured and smeared with dried blood. Some people made to rush forward, but the Sarjeant-at-Arms was there with his people, to keep order. Family dignity must be maintained at all times.

The family doctors and nurses soon ran out of stretchers, even though they were dropping the bodies off in the mortuary and returning as fast as they could. So when the stretchers ran out, they improvised with tables and trolleys and other flat surfaces. For the bits and parts of bodies, and the severed heads, the doctors loaded them into black plastic garbage bags, to be sorted out later. The crowd didn’t like that, but the decision had been made to get the bodies off the planes and out of sight as quickly as possible. It wasn’t my decision. I was too numb to think of anything except how badly I’d screwed up. No, someone in the I

I stood in the shadow of my plane and made myself watch silently until every last body had been carried into the Hall. Brought home, at last. That was my duty, and my penance. Molly stood beside me the whole time, still holding my hand. I held onto her like a drowning man, clutching her hand so hard I must have hurt her, but she never made a sound. I never said a thing, not even when my family looked at me with hot teary eyes and cold judgemental faces. What could I say, except I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

As the last few stretchers and the last few plastic bags disappeared inside, Molly finally stirred and leaned in close to me. “Don’t you have any body bags?” she said quietly. “For disasters and emergencies like this?”

“There’s never been a disaster like this before,” I said. “We never needed body bags, because we never lost this many people.”

“We didn’t lose the battle,” said Molly. “We destroyed the Loathly Ones’ nest, and their tower. We stopped the Bad Thing from coming through. Hell, we saved the world, Eddie.”