“Forever, if necessary,” said Roger. “The Matriarch was most firm on the matter. Sentimental old thing.”
“Grandmother always did have a taste for the big gesture,” I said. I looked at the tower, in its pit. The thing was obviously dead. It was slowly melting, its steel and technology and living parts all slipping and sliding away, rotting and falling apart. Slumping slowly back into the pit Truman had dug for it, and I couldn’t think of a better place to bury it.
“I feel like hell,” Molly said abruptly. She shook her head, as though to clean out the cobwebs, and then winced. “Damn! It feels like someone took a dump in my head… Did I hear you right? We killed the Hungry Gods? I can’t seem to remember much about what happened on the other side…”
“Probably just the stress of dimensional travel,” I said quickly. “Bound to play hell with the memory.”
“At least you aren’t infected anymore,” said Roger. “The Loathly One that was growing inside you is completely gone.”
We all looked at him. “Molly was infected?” said Harry.
“How long have you known?” I said.
“Almost from the beginning,” said Roger. “You can’t hide something like that from my superior half-demon senses.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” said Molly.
“None of my business,” Roger said easily. “Your magics were doing a perfectly good job of suppressing it, and it was clear Eddie knew about it… Besides, I was interested to see what would happen.”
“And just when were you planning on tell me?” said Harry. “No one ever tells me anything…”
“So I’m just me again?” said Molly. She grinned suddenly. “Any more of this, and I’ll start believing in happy endings.”
“Where’s Giles?” said Roger. “Didn’t he make it?”
“Giles has gone home,” I said. “I hope. Where is Mr. Stab?”
“Here,” said the calm, cold voice of the immortal serial killer. He appeared from behind the decaying tower, and nodded briefly to Molly and me. “I’ve been studying the tower as it dies. Most fascinating. I’ve cut out a few particularly interesting bits for souvenirs. The odd eyeball and so on. I hope no one objects.”
“You’ve been doing that for twelve hours?” said Molly.
“Just filling in time,” said Mr. Stab. “I knew you’d be back. And I wanted to say good-bye, before I left. I won’t be going back to the Hall. There’s nothing there for me now, with Penny dead, and I’m sure most of the family will bear a grudge. Present company included.”
“I trusted you!” said Molly. “I vouched for you!”
“You really should have known better,” said Mr. Stab. “The damned, above all, must be true to their nature. If I thought anyone could actually kill me, I might go back with you, but as it is… I will go back into the world again, and walk up and down in it, and do terrible things… because I must. Until finally I do something so awful, you’ll have to find a way to destroy me. Good-bye, everyone. Until we meet again…”
He bowed briefly, turned, and walked away. We let him go. What else could we do?
“At least Manifest Destiny is finished now,” said Harry after a while. “Truman’s dead, along with all his people here, and the base is destroyed. One less evil in the world to worry about.”
“Don’t be naïve, Harry,” Molly said tiredly. “Manifest Destiny is an idea, a philosophy. It’ll always be around, in some form or another. There’ll always be small, bitter people ready to follow some charismatic leader who promises them peace and happiness through justified violence and the killing of scapegoats.”
“But that’s a matter for another day,” I said firmly. “Come on; let’s go home.”
The Merlin Glass appeared abruptly before us, opening out onto the War Room. We filed through, and everyone there burst into applause, cheering my name and Molly’s. The Armourer was waiting to greet us.
“Knew you’d be back,” he said gruffly. “Never doubted it. What was the higher dimension like? What did the Hungry Gods look like? Did you bring me back any interesting souvenirs?”
“Hello, Uncle Jack,” I said. “Good to be back.”
There had to be a great celebration, of course. The family has always been big on ceremonies and celebrations. So after Molly and I had gone straight to bed and slept the clock round, word was sent that we were expected in the ballroom. We dressed up in our best and went along to find pretty much the whole damned family gathered in one place, dancing and drinking and feasting, in jubilant celebration that the world wasn’t going to end after all. They looked as though they’d been at it for some time, too. The noise was deafening. Strange had manifested his rosy glow up by the high ceiling, and was broadcasting dance music out of nowhere. People were dancing wildly, drinking freely, and chattering loudly together as they devoured the wide array of food laid out on buffet tables lining all four walls.
And then everything stopped as we entered, and everyone turned to cheer us, clapping their hands and stamping their feet, and basically going out of their minds just at the sight of us. The sheer volume and sentiment was so overwhelming, I practically blushed. I nodded stiffly, smiled, and waved tentatively. Molly smiled sweetly and basked in it all. Molly had never been bashful in her entire life.
We made our way into the ballroom, and everyone went straight back to dancing and drinking and eating. We’ve always been a very pragmatic family. The Matriarch had wanted Molly and me to be the guests of honour, with speeches and presentations and the like, but I had put my foot down. This was a celebration by the family, of the family. We all did our part. We all did our duty.
Molly and I wandered along a buffet table, trying a little of this and a little of that. Most of the food on display was the usual party nibbles, family style. Molly loved the pate-stuffed baby mice on cocktail sticks, and I was quite taken with the baby octopus stuffed with caviar. Then there was lemming mousse, deviled brains in a brimstone sauce, and any amount of roast swan. We don’t like the lake to get overcrowded. Her Majesty the Queen had given us special dispensation to eat swan. As if we cared.
I was still bone tired, despite many hours of deep and dreamless sleep, and even Molly lacked some of her usual sparkle. So we just strolled around, saying hi to people and shaking hands, and allowing ourselves to be clapped on the shoulder, which actually gets quite painful after a while, and just generally let everyone tell us how marvellous we were. Familiar faces popped up here and there. The librarians William and Rafe nodded briefly to us in passing, intent on devouring everything on the buffet tables that didn’t actually get up from its plate and run away. Harry and Roger sailed past, dancing together to the strains of a Strauss waltz, and very dashing they looked too. Young Freddie Drood was dancing with the Matriarch, the pair of them sailing smoothly and gracefully across the floor, and for just for a moment I caught a glimpse of the magnificent woman Martha must have been in her prime.
Callan came limping over to join us, with a large drink in one hand and an even larger drumstick in the other. “Hi there! Welcome back! What the hell did you think you were doing, going off to save the world without me? I woke up in a hospital bed and had to fight my way out with a steel bedpan and a walking stick. Only to find you were already gone! I always miss out on the good stuff…”
“Maybe next time,” Molly said kindly. “Did you see Janissary Jane in the infirmary?”
“Oh, sure. She’s recovering. Slowly. Tough old bird.” Callan took a deep breath and looked suddenly subdued. “Lot of others didn’t make it. The funerals alone will take weeks to get through. The family will be a long time getting over this.”
“All the more need for good people to step forward, and take up the strain,” I said. “I’ve already talked to the Matriarch about making you a full field agent.”
Callan grinned. “About time. I’ll show you all how it’s done.”