Daemons Are Forever

“Your family never ceases to amaze me,” said Molly.

“They can surprise me too, sometimes,” I said. “My own I

“Eddie, that’s not fair,” said Molly. “If you can’t control them, you certainly can’t expect me to.”

“I don’t want to control them,” I said. “Not as such. I just want the stupid bastards to understand that I’m right. I need them to believe that my way is the right way. Or everything I’ve done, to save the family’s soul, could be undone.”

“You don’t need me for that,” said Molly.

“Yes I do! I do need you, Molly. I’m…stronger, more confident, when you’re with me.”

Molly smiled and moved in close, putting her hands on my chest. “That’s very sweet, Eddie. But I can’t always be with you. I just can’t. Not here. Not in this place. I told you; I’m never going to fit in here. I belong in the wild. I’m begi

She looked at me for a long moment, her dark eyes deep and unfathomable. “You’re starting a war, Eddie. A war I’m not sure you can win. The Loathly Ones were bad enough, but that thing they were summoning? Major-league bad. I signed on to fight demons, not gods. You need to start with something smaller, more manageable. Like Manifest Destiny. Truman’s still out there, putting his nasty little organisation back together again. And this time he won’t have the Zero Tolerance people holding his reins and pulling him back. Start with him, Eddie. With a fight you can win.”

“I’ll consider it,” I said. “Now, please, come back inside. Be with me, if only for a while. I’m tired. I need to crash. Get some sleep, forget the world and its problems for a while. It’s going to be a hard day tomorrow.”

“Of course, sweetie. Come and lie down with me, and I’ll take all your cares away. And you can help me forget mine. But what’s so special about tomorrow? What’s happening then?”

“The funerals,” I said.

Next morning came round all too quickly, and the insistent clamour of a bullying alarm clock made sure Molly and I were up bright and early to greet the coining day. And all the pressures and problems it promised. Molly and I went down to breakfast in one of the big dining rooms. Rows and rows of tables covered with bright white cloths, a long sideboard with every kind of breakfast you could imagine, and huge windows looking out over the lawns. There were braised kidneys, and kedgeree, and even porridge, though you couldn’t get me to eat that stuff no matter how much salt you put on it.

I’m not really a morning person, never have been, and I’m not all that keen on breakfast, but this day of all days I needed to be seen, so that no one could accuse me of avoiding the funerals. My absence would have been interpreted as an admission of guilt.

So I nursed a cup of strong black coffee while Molly tucked into a full fry up, complete with liver and mushrooms and more scrambled eggs than was good for her arteries. I’d never realised what a noisy eater she was, unless it was the terribly early hour. Everything sounds louder and more oppressive, first thing in the morning. There were a lot of other people around us, breakfasting and talking animatedly. None of them had anything to say to me, or Molly.

“Why are we up this early?” said Molly, attacking her mound of steaming scrambled eggs with quite appalling vigour.

“Funerals here are always held early in the morning,” I said. “It’s tradition. Probably for the best, this time; we’ve got a lot to get through. All the people I lost…”

“Don’t start,” Molly said sternly, threatening me with her fork. “None of what happened was your fault. If it was, I’d tell you. Loudly and violently and where everyone could hear me.”

I considered that. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“So, why are we holding the funerals so quickly? It’s not like they’re going to go off.”

“We don’t hang around, where funerals are concerned,” I said. “The family has too many enemies who might try to use our own dead against us.”

Molly chewed on a crispy bit of bacon, thoughtfully and thoroughly. “What kind of funeral does your family put on?”

“Oh, it’ll be a big ceremony,” I said. “My family has a ceremony established for practically everything. We’re very big on tradition. Helps discourage the rank and file from thinking for themselves. And I’ll have to make a speech, at the end. It’s expected of me.”

“What are you going to say?” said Molly.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose I could throw myself on the family’s mercy…”

Molly shook her head. “I wouldn’t.”

After breakfast, I led Molly to the back of the main house and out through the huge French windows onto the long sloping lawns where the funeral was to be held. The coffins gleamed brightly in the early morning sun, rows and rows of them stretching away before us. All closed, of course, to hide the fact that most contained only parts of bodies, and some contained nothing at all. Two hundred and forty wooden boxes. I didn’t know we kept that many in stock. Or perhaps someone just used a duplication spell. Two hundred and forty fewer Droods, to stand between the world and all the evils in it.

All family loss matters. But my family matters more than most.

The whole family, or so it seemed, turned out for the funeral. They came from all over the Hall, standing in groups according to their calling or status. No one wanted to stand with Molly and me, not even the other members of my I

The music finally ended with a stirring rendition of “I Vow to Thee My Country,” which we’ve pretty much adopted as our anthem, and then a Drood vicar came out to start the service. He was a Christian; nothing more. The family has never bothered with all the various schisms that have split the Protestant Church down the years. We’d probably still be Catholic if the pope hadn’t ordered us to assassinate Henry VIII, when he split England away from Rome. The pope really should have known better. No one orders Droods around.

The vicar took us quickly through a stripped-down service, not even pausing for hymns or homilies, and then he stepped back and nodded to the Armourer. Uncle Jack hit a large red button with the flat of his hand, and just like that, two hundred and forty coffins disappeared, gone, leaving only faint indentations in the grassy lawn. Molly looked at me inquiringly.

“Transported directly into the heart of the sun,” I said. “Instant cremation. Ashes to ashes, and less than ashes. Nothing left behind to be used against the family. I told you we all get cremated; we’re just a bit more dramatic about it than most. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make my speech. Good thing I don’t suffer from stage fright; looks like everyone’s here, except the Matriarch.” I frowned. “She should be here. She shouldn’t let private arguments get in the way of family duty. Ah well, wish me luck.”

“Anyone even looks like heckling, I’ll set fire to their underwear,” said Molly.

“How very fitting,” I said.

“I thought so,” said Molly.

I walked unhurriedly forward to where the coffins had been, and then turned and faced my family. So many Droods, all in one place, watching me with uncertain faces, waiting for me to say the words that would make everything all right again. If I could have, I would…But when in doubt, tell the truth. It may not be comforting, or reassuring, but at least then everyone knows where they are. So I told them what we found, down on the Nazca Plain. The Loathly Ones working through their drones, the insane structure they built, and the Awful Being they tried to summon through into our reality. Told them how my force fought bravely and well, against unexpected, overwhelming numbers, and how we triumphed in the end. Those of us who remained.