organisations, some almost as experienced as us. Do I really need to mention the Carnacki Institute, the London Knights, or the Deep School, the Dark Academy? And there's always the Regent of Shadows…'
'We don't talk about him,' said the Matriarch, very sternly.
There was a short pause, as we all avoided each other's eyes.
'These people are all long shots and you know it,' I said finally. 'I say we need to look closer to home. Inside the family.'
'Paranoia doesn't suit you, Edwin,' the Matriarch said patiently. 'The days of Zero Tolerance and Manifest Destiny are over. Those traitors have been executed, expelled from the family, or very forcibly shown the error of their ways. The family is united again. I have seen to that. If the Droods are to thrive and prosper again, and take their place on the world stage, it is vital we are all singing from the same hymn sheet.'
'I do like a good male voice choir,' said the Armourer wistfully.
'I'm not talking about traitors within the family,' I said doggedly. 'I'm more concerned with infiltration. A dying mercenary in the ruins of the Magnificat claimed to be part of an organisation that's always been our greatest bogeyman: the Anti-Droods. Another family, dedicated to everything we oppose. He used the phrases wolf in the fold and serpents at our bosom. That implies an enemy who is someone we trust, someone who's worked their way inside this family, just to work against us. It has happened before. Remember Sebastian? He was one of us, until he was possessed by a Loathly One. We never did find out who killed him, presumably to keep him from talking. We have to face up to the possibility that someone inside the family is not what they appear to be.'
'But maybe… that's what he wanted you to think,' said Harry. 'A dying man's last chance to mess with your head, and spread distrust inside the Droods. There can't be an Anti-Droods. There just can't. We'd know.'
'We didn't know about the Apocalypse Door,' said the Sarjeant. He was frowning thoughtfully, clearly considering certain names. And I didn't like the way he looked at me.
'If these Anti-Droods really are as good as us,' said the Armourer, 'as old and as experienced and as practiced as us… We wouldn't know. That's always been our greatest fear; that some where out there were people just like us, but opposed to everything we believe in.'
We all sat and looked at each other for a while, and there was no telling where the conversation might have gone if we hadn't all been distracted by the sounds of sudden violence outside the Sanctity doors. Violence, heavy thuds and screams, followed by muffled moans of pain and the sounds of heavy bodies slumping to the floor. The doors burst open, and Molly Metcalf came storming into the Sanctity.
My sweet Molly, a precious china shepherdess with bobbed black hair, dark eyes, and really big bosoms. She was wearing a glorious white silk creation that clung to her like a second skin in places, emphasising her curves- like they needed any help-spotted here and there with fresh blood. She was wearing… shoes. Don't ask me what kind; expensive, probably. Men don't understand shoes.
I stood up to greet Molly, and she flashed me a wide grin. The wild witch, the laughter in the woods, the eternal rebel. Molly fought for a better world, on her terms, and often in disturbingly violent ways. My love, my everything. She threw herself into my arms, slamming me back against the end of the table, and kissed me like we'd been apart for years, instead of a few weeks. I lifted her off the ground and held her above me, and she shrieked delightedly, kicking her legs. I laughed along with her. Sometimes it seems to me the only times I get to laugh are with my Molly.
I put her down, and she punched me lightly on the chest and gave me her special low growl, that means later… And then she pushed me away, and glared at the Matriarch.
'I know now why my parents were killed! And Eddie's! And it's all down to the Droods!'
And it had all been going so well… I moved in beside her. 'You have proof?' I said. 'Evidence, and I mean hard evidence?'
'Not yet,' said Molly, still scowling at the Matriarch. 'But I'm getting close. Isabella and I are right on top of it. I came straight here to tell you, Eddie. There's a? definite link between the murder of my parents and yours! Don't trust any of these people.'
'You're wrong,' said the Matriarch, her cold composure utterly unmoved. 'No one in this family would have ordered the execution of Eddie's parents. Certainly not without my knowing.'
'Well, you would say that, wouldn't you?' said Molly.
'Do you really think I'd order the death of my own daughter? Do you really think me capable of such a thing?'
'You had no problem ordering the death of your grandson,' I murmured. 'Sending me to my death didn't seem to bother you at all, Grandmother.'
Her face didn't give an inch, but when she spoke she chose her words carefully. 'That was different, Edwin. I thought it was necessary, for the good of the family. It has been made clear to me that I was wrong about that… and other things. Emily was my dearest daughter. And I approved of Charles, your father. A bit of a rogue, but a good man with a good heart. Did you think I'd let just anyone marry my daughter? I liked Charles, and trusted him implicitly. He and Emily made a formidable team as field agents. Until that unfortunate business in the Basque area… I investigated their deaths thoroughly, Edwin. If there'd been even a hint that anyone had intended their deaths, I would have torn the family apart to find the culprits, and executed them myself. But it was just a stupid, regrettable accident. The result of bad intelligence and worse planning. These things happen, even in the best- regulated families.'
'Nothing just happens, where the Droods are concerned,' said Molly.
'Your parents died in the middle of a firefight,' the Matriarch said calmly. 'They should never have sided with the White Horse Faction. Those people were extremists, terrorists, and always far too ready to shoot first. They were a bloodbath waiting to happen.'
'They were freedom fighters,' said Molly. 'Idealists. And you had them all killed, including my mother and father.'
'We offered them every chance to surrender. Causes like that are always half in love with Death, one way or another.'
'You killed my mum and dad,' said Molly.
'You could have found another way,' I said to the Matriarch.
'You know that isn't always possible,' she said flatly. 'Did you take the time to consider all the possibilities, when you murdered your Uncle James? My son? The legendary Grey Fox?'
'That wasn't Eddie's fault!' Molly said immediately. 'You sent James to kill Eddie! And you're still trying to manipulate him, even now, working on his emotions, and the sense of blind duty you pounded into him! It's all you know how to do. Anything, for the family. You're already responsible for the deaths of so many; what are a few more, even if they have familiar faces? I'll see you dead for what you've done, you coldhearted bitch!'
The Sarjeant-at-Arms was already on his feet and armoured up, two oversized guns appearing out of nowhere in his hands. The Armourer was up and on his feet only a second later, moving to put himself in front of the Matriarch, protecting her from all harm with his own body. But he hadn't armoured up. Uncle Jack liked Molly. He didn't really believe she would hurt the Matriarch, but he knew his duty. Harry hadn't budged at all. He just sat there, entirely at his ease, watching the drama before him with cheerful detached interest.
I could see this situation going to hell in any number of unfortunate ways, so I grabbed Molly from behind, heaved her over my shoulder, and strode quickly out of the Sanctity. She stiffened ominously for a moment, but didn't struggle, and allowed me to remove her from the scene. Though I was pretty sure I'd be made to pay for the indignity later. Behind us, I could hear the Armourer laughing, and applauding. My back crawled, in anticipation of a bullet from the Sarjeant, but I'd been careful not to provoke him by armouring up. And besides, I didn't think my grandmother would allow the Sarjeant to shoot me in the back. If she ever decided to order my death again, she'd want me to see it coming.
I left the Sanctity behind, and strode nonchalantly through the Hall, Molly still slung over my shoulder.
'Anyone else I'd have turned into a toad,' she said casually. 'Or something small and squelchy with its testicles floating on the surface.'
'Yes,' I said. 'But I have boyfriend privileges.'
'You are pushing it, big time.'
'I know,' I said. 'Next time, you can carry me off.'
'I love it when you talk dirty.'
After a while I put her down, and we went back to my room at the top of the Hall, and made up. Afterwards,
