“Why have I been summoned here?” Tiger Tim said bluntly. “You know I hate teleporting; it always makes my fillings ache. I have to get back to Area 52 soon, before I’m missed. Not by Doctor Delirium; he’s still obsessed with the Door. But some of his peo ple are getting seriously suspicious about me. Some have actually started questioning my orders, and I can’t kill them all. Rumours are beginning to circulate about what happened to the people left behind at the Amazon base. I get the feeling that when the truth finally comes out, these people won’t see the funny side.”
“You’re here to listen, while I explain the grand scheme to everyone,” said Methuselah, just a bit sharply. “I felt you deserved that honour, after all you’ve done for us. Once I’ve finished here, you can return to Area 52 and kill Doctor Delirium. Take control of the Apocalypse Door, destroy any of your people who cannot be controlled, and then drop all the protections and let me in. It’s time to put this show on the road.”
“That’s it?” said Tiger Tim. “I’m not standing around listening to anyone. There’s work to be done.”
And he disappeared, gone in a moment. The Leader of the Immortals shrugged easily, and turned back to face his children.
“Some people have no sense of drama. Mayflies get so impatient . . . Anyway, I thought you should see him. The rogue Drood who made all this possible. Yes, I thought you’d enjoy the irony . . . As soon as he’s carried out his orders, and he will for all his impertinence . . . I shall go to Area 52, along with all those who choose to accompany me. And once there I shall dispose of our dear rogue Drood, since we won’t need him anymore, and then I shall take control of the Apocalypse Door and transform it. And for the suspicious among you, yes, I do have the power to do that. The answer, once I’d thought about it for a bit, turned out to be surprisingly simple. A Hand of Glory, properly prepared, can open any door, any lock, even potential ones. Of course, it would have to be a very special Hand . . .”
He was teasing them now, dealing out little titbits of information, and we were all lapping up every word. This was what it was all about. Methuselah smiled calmly upon us all, and then suddenly produced and held up a large mummified Hand. Its skin was so white it blazed, and the long tapering fingers were still intact, though they’d been made into candles, with wicks protruding from the fingertips. Even at the very back of the lecture hall, I could still feel the incredible power and presence radiating from the thing. It beat on the air, like the wings of a great captured bird, fighting in its rage to be let loose. Those Immortals nearest the dais shrank back in their seats from it. Methuselah held the Hand high, enjoying the shocked gasps and protests all around him. It was all I could do to stop myself armouring up, fighting my way through the crowd, storming the stage and taking the Hand from the Leader. I thought I knew what he’d made his Hand of Glory from. His blasphemous Hand.
“There was an angel war in the Nightside, not so long ago,” said Methuselah, when all was quiet again. “Agents of light and darkness, angels from Above and Below, raged against each other in that place where the night never ends . . . and against the morally dubious powers that live there. Some angels fell, struck down, and had their heads impaled on spikes. Dangerous place, the Nightside. Dangerous people . . . I was there, going about my private business, when I found one of the destroyed angels. I cut off its hand, and took it away with me. And eventually I made a Hand of Glory out of it. Because I just knew it would come in handy some day. Do I hear the word blasphemy? Abomination? An outrage against Heaven and Hell? What better way to overpower and transform the Apocalypse Door, and make it over into what I want it to be?”
He looked around, clearly anticipating applause and acclamation from his audience. Instead, they sat there silently, looking at each other. There was a general sense of unease, and even blank disbelief. No one thought any part of this was a good idea. Finally, someone roughly halfway through the circles stood up, urged on by many around him.
“Yes?” Methuselah said sweetly, with only a hint of danger. “You have a question, perhaps?”
“Not everyone here believes in this,” the younger Immortal said bluntly. “And even among those who do, not everyone here wants to do this. You want to pass through this Door in search of Heaven? Fine. Off you go. We’ll all stand here and wave you good-bye. Most of us have a good life, and no intention of giving it up.”
“You don’t have to,” Methuselah said patiently. “Once I’ve turned the Door, and reversed its nature, I shall open it. And then those who wish can follow me through, and enjoy all the pleasures that can be found in Paradise. None of you will be forced through. Heaven is not for the timid. I offer you all a gift, a chance, for those who’ve earned it through long service to the family.”
He looked about him, more impatiently now; he could tell he hadn’t convinced them. They either didn’t understand him, or halfway understood and wanted no part of it. Only a few of the Elders, in those circles nearest the dais, were nodding slowly. Methuselah sighed loudly.
“Very well! One more time, for the hard of thinking! I have been searching for the Apocalypse Door for centuries. I first read about it in an illuminated manuscript, a piece of apocrypha recorded by the Venerable Bede. Then again, in a sixteenth-century manuscript that turned up during Henry VIII’s dissolving of the monasteries. I almost got my hands on the Door during the Great Fire of London, but it disappeared in the general confusion. Imagine my surprise when it finally reappeared in the Really Old Curiosity Shoppe’s auction catalogue, in LA. Of course, I couldn’t risk being outbid, so I sent in a few of my more deniable people to pick it up.
“All would have been well, if Doctor Delirium hadn’t turned up with his people, and not one but two Drood field agents. Some days things wouldn’t go right if you twisted their arm. Ever since dear Eddie reorganised the Droods, it’s been very difficult to get reliable information out of Drood Hall.”
“Why don’t we just kill Edwin?” It was the same younger Immortal, on his feet again. There was a loud murmur of agreement.
“We’re working on it,” said Methuselah. He gave the other Immortal a hard look, until he sank back into his seat again. Methuselah continued. “We will take care of Eddie, the moment a decent opportunity presents itself. For the moment, he and his family are preoccupied with digging out all the doppelgangers we placed inside Drood Hall. We knew this was inevitable, the moment Eddie started reorganising things, that’s why I ordered the Matriarch murdered, and tried out the Acceleration Drug’s addition on them. Always such fun, spreading chaos among one’s enemies. The witch’s death . . . was unfortunate. It’s made Eddie more dangerous than ever. But, assaulting the Hall with Doctor Delirium’s Accelerated Men distracted them all nicely, and killed a satisfying number of Droods along the way. And that is the most we can hope for, for now. Strike directly against Eddie, or those closest to him, and they will strike back. That can be your problem, for the future. Once I, and whoever chooses to join me, have passed through the Door . . . you can choose a new Leader, and a new direction, if you wish. The family will be yours to run and shape.”
The young Immortal was back on his feet again, waving a hand angrily to be acknowledged. It was clear Methuselah was growing angry with this open challenge to his authority, but he still kept his calm, and finally gestured for the Immortal to speak.
“What if Doctor Delirium opens the Door before you get there, and all Hell is set loose on the world? Why are you waiting?”
“This is Area 52 we’re talking about,” Methuselah said flatly.
“The most secure, and most heavily guarded, military base on the planet. All of its security measures and protections are still very much in place, along with Doctor Delirium’s personally designed anti-Immortal measures. If we even try to break in through brute force, you can bet Doctor Delirium will open the Door, if only to spite us. We have to wait to be invited in, by our man on the inside.