“Most of them are true,” said the Armourer. “Harry’s always been one of our best field agents, if a little too independent. Not unlike you, Eddie, in many ways.”
“But why appear out of nowhere like this?” I said. “In the company of a demon?”
“You killed his father,” said the Armourer.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life, isn’t it?”
“At least now we know how they got in,” said Howard, sounding a little more cheerful. “No mystery anymore. Our defence systems were never designed to recognise something as rare or unnatural as a half-breed hellspawn.”
“All right, Howard,” I said. “Put the Ops Room on standby, but keep all weapons on line. Just in case Harry’s invited some more friends to drop in later. But don’t start anything without express instructions from me. Molly, Uncle Jack, let’s go welcome Harry home.”
“Is it okay if I take my arm out of the computer first?” said Molly.
Molly offered to teleport us right to the lake, but I thought it better we take our time and walk. I didn’t want Harry to think he could panic us into acting precipitously. No, let him wait. The three of us left the Hall and strolled unhurriedly across the wide expanse of open lawns towards the lake. It was a nice summer’s day, warm sunshine and a pleasant breeze. Bright blue sky, with hardly any clouds. And it would have been a pleasant enough walk if I hadn’t had such a bad feeling about the coming encounter.
A Drood and a hellspawn, together? Not that long ago I would have said such a thing was impossible. But I’d learned a lot about what the family was capable of since then. Little of it good.
Molly linked her arm through mine as we walked along. She was always happier when she was out in the grounds. She was, after all, a witch of the wild woods, and the old gray stone of the Hall imposed on her free and easy nature. She chattered happily as we walked, and I did my best to go along, but both of us could tell my heart wasn’t in it. My mind was ahead of us, at the lake.
“Harry Drood,” I said finally to the Armourer. “There was a scandal about him, wasn’t there?”
“Oh yes,” said the Armourer. “Though it was never discussed outside the Matriarch’s Council. You see, James only married once, and then expressly against the Matriarch’s wishes. Only he could have got away with something like that. He married the infamous adventurer and freelance spy, Melanie Blaze. A very successful operative, in her own sneaky, Machiavellian, and underhanded way. She and James made a great team, important players back in the sixties. Whenever you heard of a secret base being blown up, or an untouchable villain being assassinated, you knew it had to be James and Melanie. Everyone admired them, even their enemies, and every Drood wanted to be them.
“James only brought Melanie home a few times. The Matriarch was very cold.
“And then Melanie disappeared into the subtle realms, on some secret mission or other, and never resurfaced. That was…fifteen years ago now. James went in after her several times, with and without family approval, but he never found her. He was never the same, after that.”
“James was like a second father to me,” I said. “He brought me up after my parents were killed. But I don’t think I ever even met Harry.”
“Harry…was always very much his mother’s son,” said the Armourer. “She raised him outside the Hall. Away from the Matriarch. James visited him as much as he could, but… I don’t know, Eddie. James and I were close, but there were some things he just wouldn’t talk about. There was something going on… with Melanie, or Harry, but… Anyway, after Melanie disappeared, James insisted we find work for Harry as a field agent, and the Matriarch kept him busy with missions in foreign climes. And just like you, Eddie, Harry lived for his work and never came home.”
“I was never allowed out of the country,” I said wistfully.
“But Harry was James’s son,” said the Armourer. “And James was always Mother’s favourite. Still, Harry proved to be an excellent field agent; very resourceful, always got the job done.”
“But what kind of a man is he?” said Molly.
“I have no idea,” said the Armourer. “Harry was always…distant.”
“Is he James’s only son?” said Molly.
“Hell no,” said the Armourer, chuckling. “Harry was James’s only legitimate son, but he has any number of stepbrothers and stepsisters, scattered across every country in the world, from all the women James had…relationships with, down the years.”
“He never could keep it in his trousers,” I said. “Got him into trouble more often than I care to think about.”
“James was just very romantic,” the Armourer said firmly. “Always falling in love with a pretty face, and usually living to regret it. The family has never officially recognised any of these…offspring, but to keep James happy we usually made arrangements to keep them gainfully employed, doing useful work for the family. On occasions when we needed more than usual distance, or deniability.”
“I thought your family didn’t approve of half-breeds?” said Molly.
“We don’t,” I said. “They’re never invited home, and we never send them Christmas cards. The Droods are a very old-fashioned family in some ways, but that’s what happens when you’ve been around for centuries.”
“But it’s still okay to make use of them, for dangerous jobs?” said Molly.
“The family can be very pragmatic, when it wants,” said the Armourer. “That’s how we’ve survived for centuries.”
We finally got to the lake. The dark blue-green waters stretched away before us, serene and undisturbed, the far shore so distant we couldn’t even see it from where we were. There’s an undine in it somewhere, but she keeps herself to herself. The first thing I noticed was that all the swans were gone, presumably fled to the other end of the lake. And when I saw the two men standing on the lakeshore before us, I understood why.
Harry Drood smiled briefly at the Armourer, gazed coolly at me, and nodded briskly to Molly. He looked tall and well built in his sharply cut gray suit, and behind his wire-rimmed glasses his face had that unremarkable look that made the Droods such natural secret agents. No one looks twice at us in the street, and we like it that way. Harry was holding a dead swan by its broken neck, as though it was just something he’d happened to pick up. For an intruder and a swan killer, he looked remarkably casual and at ease.
The half-breed demon beside him had all the calm and poise of a predator crouched and ready to launch an attack. He looked human enough, until you took in the details. He was a good six feet six tall, slender but powerfully built, with an unnaturally pale face, night black hair and eyes, and a mouth so thin he hardly had any lips at all. He wore an Armani suit and wore it well, along with an Old School tie I couldn’t believe he’d come by honestly. Both his hands were thrust deep in his pockets and he grinned at us all impartially. There was no humour in the smile, just a predator showing its teeth. Up close, he reeked of the Pit, a sour and sickening stench of sulphur and blood. The grass beneath his feet was blackened and smouldering. “Hello Uncle Jack,” said Harry in a light, pleasant voice. “I’ve come home. No need to prepare a fattened calf for the prodigal son, I think I’ll have swan. I was always very fond of swan.”
“You might have asked first,” said the Armourer.
“But then you might have said no,” said Harry reasonably. “And I really think I’m entitled to something special for my homecoming feast, after so long away.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce your unnerving companion?” I said.
Harry smiled briefly at me. “Oh yes. How very rude of me. This is my good friend and companion, Roger Morningstar.”
“I know who you are, you son of a bitch,” said Molly, and her voice was very cold. “I told you what I’d do to you if I ever saw you again.”
She threw up her arms in the stance of summoning. Dark clouds boiled in the sky overhead. Lightning bolts stabbed down, blasting the ground all around Roger, but they couldn’t touch him. He just stood there, smiling easily at Molly, while the rest of us dove for cover. Molly howled with fury and unleashed all the elements at once against the hellspawn.