Daemons Are Forever

But Molly wasn’t there. She was off wandering the grounds again, communing with her i

“Of course,” Giles said easily, “if you’re too tired, Eddie, or don’t feel up to it, I’d quite understand. And so would everyone else.”

“That’s quite enough of that,” the Matriarch said briskly. She rose smartly up from her shooting stick, leaving it standing there looking just a little lost and abandoned. She advanced on the startled Giles, fixing him with her cold stare. “I don’t know how they run things in your time, Giles Deathstalker, but we don’t choose our leaders through right of challenge. We’re all warriors here. You have to be far more than just a fighter to lead the Droods. But if you’re really so desperate for a duel, I’ll oblige you.”

“You?” said Giles, not even bothering to hide his surprise. And then he smiled condescendingly at her.

“Oh no,” I said quietly. “Don’t smile.”

“I’m sure you were quite the warrior woman, in your day,” said Giles, and Martha cut him off right there.

“I am the Drood Matriarch,” she said, every word chipped out of ice. “And any Drood is a match for some jumped-up future mercenary.”

Giles raised one hand in a conciliatory gesture. Martha grabbed his arm, spun him around into an arm lock, and then slammed him face-first down onto the grass. He hit hard enough to force a groan out of him. And then she kicked him so hard in the ribs that people twenty feet away winced. Giles scrambled away from her and rose quickly to his feet. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He started to say something, and then broke off as Martha advanced purposefully. He took up a standard defensive pose, and a hell of a lot of good it did him. Martha beat the crap out of him, parrying his increasingly desperate blows with casual skill, threw him this way and that, and made the whole thing look easy. All of it without ever once having to armour up.

Giles really should have known better. You don’t get to be Matriarch of the Droods just by inheriting it. Martha taught unarmed combat for thirty years, and only gave up because she finally found someone better at it than she was.

Giles wasn’t stupid. Once it became clear he couldn’t hope to beat her, or even hold his own, he surrendered. Martha immediately stepped back and allowed him to rise painfully to his feet.

“I take your point, Matriarch,” said Giles, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m impressed.”

“You should be,” Martha said coldly. “I do hope we don’t have to do this again. And Giles, if you were entertaining any ambitions, you could never hope to lead us. You’re not family.”

She turned her back on him, dismissing him, and he was smart enough to accept it. He yelled at everyone watching to get back to their training, and they did. Martha retrieved her shooting stick and looked at me consideringly.

“I defeated three sisters to claim my position as Matriarch. You run things because I allow it. Don’t you ever forget that, Eddie.”

“Of course, Grandmother,” I said, and she strode off back to the Hall. I watched her go, and when I was sure she was out of earshot I said, “There are more ways of fighting and wi

“I heard that!” she said, not looking back.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

The organised mayhem resumed, with Giles barking his orders perhaps just a little more loudly than before, but I felt I’d earned myself a rest. I raided the abandoned picnic hamper for some caviar and toast, and wandered off to find a little peace and quiet. I ended up back in the old chapel again. Quiet and peaceful, and still no sign of the ghost Jacob. I was begi

Even in the few hours since yesterday, I’d noticed physical and mental changes in Molly, almost despite myself. She looked taller, stronger, her movements somehow stranger… though that could all just have been my imagination. But there was no denying she held herself differently, and now and then I caught her standing u

She was having serious mood swings too, but I didn’t know if I could blame that on the infection.

The Merlin Glass showed her to me, standing in a small copse of trees looking out at the old abandoned waterwheel on the far side of the lake. Her face was drawn and thoughtful, her dark eyes far away, ignoring the swans that circled hopefully before her on the still waters of the lake, hoping for bread crumbs. I looked at her for a long time. She still looked like Molly. My Molly. But I had to wonder how long that would last. How long before the i

So I wouldn’t have to kill her myself, when she turned. Could I do that? I thought so. It was what she wanted, what she’d asked me to do. And besides, I’d done worse, in my time, for the family.

As I watched, Harry Drood and Roger Morningstar wandered along the bank of the lake to join her. Harry was smiling cheerfully, as though he was just out for a stroll, and had just happened to bump into Molly. Roger smiled meaninglessly, his eyes dark and watchful as always. The grass scorched and blackened where he put his feet, and the swans headed hurriedly away. A bird flying overhead fell suddenly dead out of the air and landed at his feet. Roger picked it up and bit into it thoughtfully, as though it was just another snack. Blood ran down his chin. Harry looked at him reproachfully, and Roger immediately threw the dead bird aside. Molly had to know they were there, but she ignored them until they were almost upon her. And then she stopped them both in their tracks with a single hard look.

Their voices came clearly to me, from far away.

It was clear to me, from the way she was looking at them, that she was wondering if they knew about her. After all, Roger had more than human senses, and Harry had years of experience as a field agent. But she quickly decided they didn’t and nodded briefly to Harry, ignoring Roger.

“Molly,” said Harry, smiling easily. “You’re looking good.”