“Yes, you are, dear,” Molly said kindly. “You must believe me when I tell you I’ll see you safe, at the Hall. I don’t know if you can trust the whole family, but you can trust Eddie. He’s taken his family by the scruff of the neck, and seriously shaken up the way they do things. He wants to change the way they think, and see the world, and that’s why I suggested you as one of his outside tutors. You won’t be alone there. We’re going after Mr. Stab next.”
“Oh wonderful,” said Subway Sue. “That’s supposed to make me feel safe? But… anywhere has to be better than here. You have no idea how much you miss plumbing till you don’t have it anymore. And I do owe you, Edwin, for helping free me from Truman. You do know he’s reorganised, at a new location?”
“Nothing specific,” I said. “Do you know where we can find him?”
“I hear rumours, that’s all… He’s supposed to have a new secret underground base, outside London, in a place of ancient power. You should have killed him when you had the chance, Drood.”
“I’ll try harder next time,” I said. “You ready to go?”
“Hell, yes. It’s not like I’ve got anything to keep me here, is it? Or anything I want to take with me.”
I did the business with Merlin’s Glass, and pushed her through the opening into the Armoury, where Uncle Jack was waiting. He glared through the gateway at me.
“Eddie! Wait just a damned minute!”
“Sorry, Uncle Jack! No time! Catch you later!”
And then I shut the Glass down, cutting him off before he could come up with lots of good reasons why I couldn’t keep lumbering him with the job of looking after my new tutors. Molly looked at me.
“What do you suppose that was about?”
“Nothing that can’t wait till we get back,” I said airily. “Now for Mr. Stab.”
“I wish you wouldn’t pull faces like that, Eddie. I’m sure they’re not good for you.”
“I am taking a hell of a risk on your say-so,” I said. “If anything goes wrong, once we’ve got him back to the Hall…”
“It will all be my fault; yes, we’ve established that. Look, Eddie, I know how dangerous he is. I know that better than anyone. But I’ll be there to keep a very stern eye on him, and…well, just how much damage can he do, in a house full of Droods? Even his old magic is hardly a match for Drood armour. I need you to trust me on this, Eddie.”
“I do trust you,” I said. “I just don’t trust him. But if this is so important to you…”
“It is,” said Molly. “I need to believe that people can change. Even the worst of us.”
“All right,” I said. “Where do you think we should look first, for the most notorious uncaught serial killer of Old London Town?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Molly. “And I think we should start with the Order of Beyond.”
“You have got to be kidding,” I said. “You mean that place down Grafton Way, where possessed people sit around and spout gibberish at each other? What would Mr. Stab be doing in a place like that?”
“Listening,” said Molly. “He thinks if he listens long enough, he might learn some ancient secret or knowledge he could use to alter the conditions of his immortality.”
“To cure him?”
“Or make him a better killer.”
“You are not filling me with confidence about this, Molly.”
“Let’s go.”
“Before or after we have a rush of sense to the head?”
“Oh hush. Be a good boy and I’ll buy you a nice dinner afterwards.”
“I am so easily bribed.”
Merlin’s Glass took us straight to Grafton Way, in one of the older, more traditional parts of the West End. You can find all sorts in that area: embassies for the smaller countries, company houses, literary agencies…And the Order of Beyond, located in the middle of an ordinary, unassuming terraced row, with nothing to mark its presence but a simple brass plaque on the wall, giving the name of the place and the stern admonition No Revenants, Reincarnations, or Repo Men. I hit the buzzer, and when a cold voice from the intercom demanded my name and business, I just said Shaman Bond, and after a pause the door clicked open. My cover identity has a long and carefully established reputation for turning up anywhere, and for being basically harmless. Just another face on the scene, with a keen interest in anything illegal, immoral, or unnatural. Shaman Bond was a chancer, a small-time operator, and nothing at all like Eddie Drood. Which was what I liked most about him.
The reception area turned out to be deliberately blank and anonymous, with no clue as to what lay in wait below. Bare walls, bare floor, and a very professional receptionist sitting behind a very simple reception desk. The receptionist seemed typical enough, with the usual blankly attractive face, eyes of pure ice, and a smile that meant nothing at all. The kind who lived and died by her appointments book, and who wouldn’t make an exception for anyone, even if you set her heavily lacquered hair on fire. I just knew we weren’t going to get along. Molly and I strode over to the desk as though we were slumming it just by being there, and planted ourselves directly before the receptionist. She ignored us, of course, giving all her attention to the papers spread out before her, to properly put us in our place. So I leaned over, grabbed all her papers and threw them up into the air, smiling easily into her horrified face as the papers fluttered down around us.
“Hi,” I said. “Shaman Bond, at your service. The very dangerous person standing beside me is Molly Metcalf, the rightly legendary wild witch of the woods. She has expressed an interest in seeing what goes on at the Order of Beyond, and since I’m far too scared of her to say no, I said I was sure you’d let her in.”
“Because if you don’t, I will take names and kick arse,” Molly said cheerfully.
The receptionist struggled to regain her calm. “Do you have a reservation?”
“No,” said Molly. “I’m going to thoroughly enjoy it. Starting with you, if you don’t get a move on.”
I saw the receptionist reach for an alarm button under the desk and I wagged a warning finger in her face. “Molly Metcalf? Turns people into things? Has a very nasty sense of humour… Is any of this ringing any bells?”
“Go right down,” said the receptionist. “Never wanted this job anyway.”
She moved her hand across to press another button under her desk, and a large trapdoor opened on the floor on the other side of the room, rising slowly and silently of its own accord. Molly and I wandered over to it and looked down. A long stone stairway fell down before us, leading deep into the earth. There was a strong smell of blood and brimstone, and a distant murmur of voices. I insisted on leading the way down, and Molly made me pay for that by crowding my back all the way. The trapdoor slammed shut behind us with a loud, solid, and very final-sounding thud. The bare stone walls beaded with water like sweat, and the air grew hot and close as we descended. I could feel presences below, like heavy weights pressing down on the world and making it cry out. We were going into a bad place, where bad things waited.
Finally, the stone steps curved suddenly round to one side and deposited us into a great natural stone cavern, deep beneath the street. The stone floor stretched away in all directions, covered with blue-chalked pentacles, circles of salt, and rows of squat solid cages made of steel and silver and brass. All designed to safely hold and contain the poor possessed creatures who were the whole reason and purpose of the Order of Beyond. There were men and women and even children, trapped like animals. Some sat and talked calmly, reasonably, arguing that they really didn’t belong in a place like this. Others howled and raged and threw themselves at the cages that held them prisoner, beating at the solid bars with hands that felt no pain. And others just sat and watched sullenly, hatefully, with unblinking eyes, waiting for someone to make a mistake.
Sitting before every possessed prisoner was a member of the order, coaxing and cajoling the possessor into speaking to them. It usually didn’t take much. The possessors do love to talk, to tease and threaten and horrify the listener with lies, half-truths, and terrible facts.