And they always make such a fuss over my expenses.
Drood Hall rose up before me; huge and imposing, it dominated the grounds it was set in without even trying. My old family home. Very old. The centre structure was a great sprawling manor house, with ivy swarming all over the walls. It dated originally from Tudor times, and had been much added to down through the centuries. It still boasted the traditional black-and-white boarded frontage and heavy leaded-glass windows, all under a jutting gabled roof. Four great wings came later, massive and solid in the old Regency style, containing fifteen hundred rooms and a hell of a lot more Droods. We’re a big family, and getting bigger. Soon enough we’ll be packed to overflowing, and then it will be time to move on again. Floors and floors above me, the great roof rose and fell like a grey-tiled sea, complete with gargoyles, ornamental guttering, observatories and aeries, sprawling nests of antennae, and a series of landing pads for everything from autogyros to winged unicorns. Along with a hell of a lot of gun emplacements. I did mention that we take our security seriously, didn’t I?
I always have mixed feelings every time I come back to stand before Drood Hall. The family made my life hell, all the time I was growing up, and I ran away to London to be a field agent first chance I got. But the Hall is still my home.
Suddenly Molly Metcalf, my love and my delight, was running towards me, emerging from a door in mid-air that hadn’t been there just a moment before. Molly was allowed to open a door onto the Drood grounds from her personal forest, because she was my girlfriend and because there was absolutely no way of stopping her. The wild witch of the woods walked her own path, and woe betide anyone who got in her way. So the family made a special dispensation in her case, rather than have her do it anyway and just laugh in their faces when they got upset about it. I could see the massive ancient trees of her private forest through the door, stretching away forever-trees too big, too primal, to be part of today’s world. Someday I was going to have to find out just where, or more likely when, her wood was situated.
Molly came running from the opening she’d made in the world, smiling broadly at me, arms stretched out wide. The door behind her disappeared as she sprinted across the lawns to greet me. Sweet, petite, and overwhelmingly feminine, Molly always reminded me of a delicate china doll with big bosoms. She had bobbed black hair, huge dark eyes, and a rosebud mouth red as sin itself. She was wearing a long, billowing dress of ruffled white silk, possibly chosen to lend a touch of colour to her pale skin. For someone who preferred to spend most of her time out of doors, Molly never took even a touch of tan.
My Molly, my love. There are an awful lot of strange and disturbing stories about the wild witch Molly Metcalf, and every single one of them is true. I know; I was there at the time, for most of them.
She crossed the open space between us at incredible speed, her bare feet barely disturbing the thick green grass, and then she slammed right into me, throwing her arms around me as she bowled me over and sent me flying backwards. I was braced for the impact, and it still knocked the breath out of me for a moment. Molly ended up lying on top of me, laughing breathlessly into my face as I lay flat on my back on the thick green grass. I held her in my arms, grinning back at her. I always enjoy having Molly lie on top of me; it’s like her whole body from head to toe is saying, Hello! I’m here!
“All right,” I said finally, “how did you know to find me here?”
She kissed me several times, and ran her fingers through my hair. “I always know where you are, sweetie. I keep track. How else can I look after you? How was the Vatican?”
I looked at her sternly. “That’s family business. You weren’t even supposed to know I was there.”
“I refer you to my previous answer,” said Molly, in her most sultry voice. “And you haven’t answered my question. Any problems?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I said.
“Showoff . . .”
I kissed her, to shut her up, and then we both lay there together, on the grass, in each other’s arms. She rested her head on my chest, riding my breathing.
“I haven’t paid the Vatican a visit in years,” she said finally. “It’s well past time I dropped in again, just to annoy them.”
“Please don’t,” I said. “I’m pretty sure they’re still getting over the last time you were there. When you transformed all the statues of the Saints into female versions.”
“I was making a point!” said Molly. “I changed them all back again, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” I said. “Eventually . . .”
Molly suddenly scowled at me, glaring right into my face from only a few inches away. “Why are we here, Eddie?”
“Why are any of us here?” I said, reasonably. “I can make a few informed guesses, if you like . . .”
She prodded me hard in the chest with one long, bony finger. “I mean, why are we here at Drood Hall when we should be smashing our way into the Department of Uncanny, roughing up the hired help and intimidating the security guards, before pinning the Regent of Shadows to his office wall and getting some answers out of him? Very definitely including why did he murder my parents?”
She didn’t give me time to answer. Just got up off me, scrambled to her feet, and turned her back on me, glaring at Drood Hall with her arms tightly folded. I sighed, inwardly, and took my time getting to my feet. Giving myself time to work out exactly what I was going to say. It wasn’t going to be easy, because there was no right thing to say, but it was important to me that we understood each other. I brushed crushed grass off my clothes, to let her know I was approaching, and then moved carefully in beside her. I had enough sense not to touch her.
“Visiting the Regent, my Grandfather, in search of answers . . . is next on my list of things to do,” I said. “Right after I’ve talked to the Council.”
“You had time to stop off for a drink at the Wulfshead,” said Molly, still not looking at me.
“That was business,” I said. “And this spying on me is becoming less charming by the moment.”
Molly turned her head to scowl at me, her dark eyes flashing dangerously. “You promised me that when we got back from France, we’d go straight to Uncanny and get some straight answers out of the Regent! I want to know who gave him the order to execute my mother and father! I want to know exactly who in your family was responsible!”
“And we will,” I said. “I promised. But first, loath as I am to admit it, I do have duties and responsibilities to my family.”
She looked away again. “That’s always been your problem, Eddie. Always one more mission, one more thing that needs doing . . .”
“Molly . . .”
“Cut the cord, Eddie! Before I decide to do it for you, and in a way you won’t like. What’s holding you here?”
“Right now?” I said.
“You didn’t have to come back here for a debriefing, and you know it!”
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m here because I was called back to attend the reading of my grandmother’s will. The mission was just something to keep me busy till all the paperwork was in order.”
Molly looked at me blankly. “But . . . Martha was killed ages ago! And they’re only now getting around to the reading of the will? Why has it taken so long?”
“Things move slowly inside the family,” I said. “Customs and protocols, and all that. And to be fair, we have all been very busy. Anyway, I have to be present for the reading, because apparently I’m mentioned in the will.”
“Ooh!” said Molly, brightening immediately. “Any chance she’s left you some money?”
“What do we need with money?” I said, suddenly suspicious. “Last time I looked, we had enough tucked away to last several lifetimes. Have you been shopping in the Nightside again?”