Property of a Lady Faire (A Secret Histories Novel) (19 page)

“I am not sitting down anywhere,” she said. “The whole place looks unhealthy. I might catch something.”

“Come into the study, Molly,” I said encouragingly. “You’ll like the study.”

I led her to the end of the hall, and sent a tendril of golden strange matter down my arm from my torc to form a golden glove over my right hand. And then I carefully extruded a key from one finger and unlocked the study door. I waited a moment, just to be sure the key had shut down all the various nasty deathtraps protecting the room, and then pushed the door open. The study seemed calm and quiet, so I led Molly inside. She looked around and sniffed loudly, but I could tell she was impressed, really.

The walls were all spotless white tiles, with not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere. The floor was so clean you could have performed major surgery on it. The computer system set up on the only table looked just as it had the day I’d left it. I pulled out the only chair and sat down at the keyboard. Molly moved in close behind me, so she could peer over my shoulder.

“I programmed this room to look after itself,” I said. “And protect and defend the computer, of course. If the wrong key tried the door’s lock, the room would have blown up the whole building. Drood tech must never be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Aren’t you glad I told you that after I tried the key? Thought so.”

“Blow up the house and to hell with the neighbours,” said Molly. “That’s the Drood way, all right.”

I fired up the computer and logged in, using one of my old Shaman Bond online identities. Just in case someone tried chasing the connection. The monitor screen showed me a screensaver of a Soho street at midnight, with something odd lurking in the background.

“We’re going to have to be quick,” I said, tapping away at the keyboard with my usual two fingers. “Just my being online will attract the attention of my family. And then they’ll wonder what Shaman Bond is doing in Newcastle, and someone will come running to find out. And this will be another of my secret bolt-holes I can’t come back to. I really must find the time to set up some new ones. You can never have enough hiding places. Okay, let’s do this. Get the info and get out.”

“Fine by me,” said Molly, her chin on my shoulder and the side of her face pressed against mine as she studied the monitor screen. I found her presence comforting. I slipped easily into the OverNet and moved rapidly from one site to another, following one promising link to the next. Images came and went quickly on the screen, as I went looking for the Lady Faire.

“You know,” said Molly, “you don’t need all these safe houses and bolt-holes any more, Eddie. You can always stay in my forest. No one can get to you there. You’d be safe with me. Not even Droods can enter my wild woods without my permission.”

“That’s very kind of you,” I said, keeping my gaze fixed on the screen. “But I’ve never liked to be dependent on the kindness of others. Besides, your forest doesn’t have computers.”

“Lot you know,” Molly said easily. “You’d be amazed at what I’ve got there, tucked away. The wild woods are a lot bigger than you think.”

“How on earth can you have computers in the woods? Where’s your power supply, and your connections? How could . . . No. No, I’m not going to be distracted. You can tell me all about it later, and I’ll disbelieve you then.”

“Suit yourself,” said Molly.

I went rummaging roughly through the OverNet, searching for information on the Lady Faire. I did get distracted by a few things along the way, because you can’t help it. Even Drood tech can’t protect you from all the unwanted pop-ups and unnatural ads that infest the OverNet.
Would you like to meet other pagans in your area?
said one insistent message. I had to wonder, what did they mean,
other
? What sort of list was Shaman Bond on? Another ad wanted me to
Join the Satanic Swingers Club! You’ll have a Hell of a good time!
There were photos attached, but I didn’t have the time. And then there was
Hello, I am an Elven Prince with a large fortune in fairie gold that I need to transfer into your reality. If you will just give me all your bank details . . .
I’m amazed anyone still falls for that one.

I finally left the distractions behind and moved on, in hot pursuit of the Lady Faire. There was no shortage of stories about her past exploits, most of them wildly contradictory in the details. That’s legends for you. The Lady who’s been everywhere and had everyone . . . A lot of the accounts tended to quickly degenerate into
He said, She said, They said
. . . And there was no shortage of fan sites for the Lady Faire, all unofficial. Some were even set up to worship her, quite literally, as a living goddess. These people were praying to her, even sending her gifts and supplications, pleading for intervention in their personal lives and solutions to their problems.

It didn’t look like the Lady Faire ever responded to their entreaties, or talked directly to any of them. In fact, I couldn’t find a single instance of her communicating with anyone. There were just as many sites condemning her as everything from a Bad Example to a female Antichrist. Angry accusations, death threats, calls for jihad . . . It did seem that some sites were actually at war with one another, with mounting real-life casualties. These people took the Lady Faire very seriously. And yet, strangely, there wasn’t a single photo of her to be found anywhere. Not even on the most rabid and obsessive fan sites. Instead, there were any number of artist’s impressions, everything from court sketches to fully painted portraits.

And every single one of them different.

I finally ended up on the message boards. As Shaman Bond, naturally. Because the whole point of my cover identity was that Shaman could turn up anywhere and no one was ever surprised. I chatted with a lot of people who claimed to know the Lady Faire, or more usually knew people who knew her, but while everyone had heard about her annual Ball, none of them had any idea where it was being held. Until finally I made contact with Dead Boy.

Dead Boy came to the Nightside as a teenager and was immediately mugged and murdered. He made a deal he still won’t talk about, to come back from the dead and avenge his murder. But he should have read the small print. He’s stuck in his risen corpse, unable to leave, possessing his own dead body. At least until his body wears out. He’s something of a party animal, and he does get around.

I know where the Lady Faire’s Ball is being held,
he said.
I just got my invitation.

“Okay,” said Molly, her chin still resting comfortably on my shoulder. “The Lady Faire only gives out invitations to her lovers. Which means she, he, or it has had sex with Dead Boy. Who is, after all, dead. Now that’s just creepy. I mean, I like to think I’m open-minded about most things, especially if I haven’t got around to trying them yet, but even I draw the line at sleeping with someone who smells strongly of formaldehyde. Even if they are still moving around.”

“I am very pleased to hear that,” I said.

Get you to the Winter Palace,
said Dead Boy.
And beware the Ice Queen.

He withdrew completely from the OverNet before I could ask any questions.

I sat back in my chair, and Molly put her arms around me. I was thinking hard. The monitor hummed impatiently before me.

“Okay,” said Molly. “The Winter Palace . . . That name definitely rings a bell, but I can’t place it.”

“The Winter Palace is very exclusive,” I said. “Very elite. In fact, I think you have to own or run a small country just to get past the doorman. Never been there myself, but I have heard stories about it. From my uncle James.”

“He’s been there?”

“The Grey Fox has been everywhere.”

“Well, where is the Winter Palace?”

“Ultima Thule,” I said. “The last really cool place in the world. I hope you packed your thermal underwear.”

And then I broke off, as the monitor screen suddenly went blank. My first thought was some Trojan must have got past my filters, but then a gleaming golden Drood mask appeared on my screen, featureless and implacable, seeming to stare right out at me, as though it could see everything.

“What is that?” said Molly. “Eddie, what is that thing?”

“My family have found us,” I said numbly. “They’ve hacked into the OverNet connection. I didn’t think they could do that.”

“Then do something!” said Molly. “Shut down the computer!”

“I can’t!” I said. “It should have shut itself down the moment it realised something was wrong. My family have overridden the security protocols from their end.”

I hammered away at the keyboard, trying to call up something that would protect me, and as I did, the golden face started to talk to me.

“Where are you, Eddie? The family needs you to come home. You need to come home. Now. Eddie needs to come home now.”

I hunched my shoulders against the hypnotic words. “No, he bloody doesn’t,” I said.

“What is that awful voice?” said Molly. “It doesn’t even sound human . . .”

“Psychological warfare,” I said. “Don’t listen to it.”

I gave up trying to shut down the computer, and pulled the plug. Everything went dead, but the golden face was still on the screen, still talking. So I armoured up my fist and smashed the computer with one vicious blow. Sparks flew, and black smoke curled out of the collapsed sides of the machine. The golden face disappeared from the monitor screen, its voice cut off in mid-sentence. I hit the computer again, just to be sure. Broken pieces scattered across the desk.

I retrieved the glove to my torc, pushed back my chair, and got to my feet. Molly stayed with me, her hands on my shoulders, talking calmly but urgently, but I wasn’t listening. My family had found me. They’d be here soon to take me home. By force, if necessary. And this time I would never get away. Never be free again. They’d see to that. Even if it meant I ended up as the Drood in Cell 14.

All the house’s security alarms went off at once. Bells and sirens and flashing lights, in every room throughout the house. I hadn’t realised I’d installed so many. I shouted the various suppressing words, and one by one the alarms shut down. I turned to Molly.

“My family can’t be here already,” I said. “They just can’t.”

“Are you sure they didn’t know about this place?” said Molly.

“No one knew!” I said. “That’s the whole point of an underground bolt-hole! I only ever brought one other person here. And she wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s dead.”

“What happened to her?”

“A painting ate her.”

I hurried over to the study’s only window and looked down into the street. Molly crowded in beside me. Dozens of soldiers in dark uniforms were moving quickly from house to house, calling out the occupants and then hurrying them away. Soldiers with body armour and automatic weapons, being very professional, and not taking no for an answer from anybody. There had to be at least a hundred of them, a very efficient small army, anonymous behind black-visored helmets. Some of the people didn’t want to be evacuated from their homes, but when faced with even the slightest opposition or resistance, the soldiers went straight to brute force. Some of the students started shouting about their rights, and I winced as I saw rifle butts connecting with heads and ribs, and limp bodies being dragged away. Most people went quietly. Having an automatic weapon shoved right in their face does tend to take the fight out of most people.

Someone wanted the street emptied. Someone didn’t want any witnesses for what was going to happen next.

As fast as people spilled out of their houses, soldiers led or dragged them away to the far ends of the street, where more soldiers were waiting to move them on to a secure area. It was all very well organised. The whole terrified populace was emptied out in minutes, with no one left behind. Except Molly and me. My safe house was being conspicuously avoided by the soldiers. Left until last. But eventually the dark-uniformed soldiers came, and formed a crowd bristling with weapons before my door. Someone leaned heavily on the doorbell, and followed it up almost immediately with a loud, hammering fist.

“Who are these people?” said Molly. “SAS?”

“No,” I said. “Come on, Molly, we’ve seen these uniforms and tactics before. These are MI 13 shock troops. Remember when they attacked us outside my old flat in Knightsbridge?”

“Of course,” said Molly. “Silly buggers. They came in mob-handed, complete with helicopter gunships and armoured vehicles. Didn’t do them a whole lot of good against us.”

“We kicked their arses,” I said. “You’d think they’d know better than to annoy us again . . . Will you listen to the noise they’re making at my front door? Idiots. With the shields I put in place, they couldn’t break that door down with a depleted-uranium battering ram. But I suppose we’d better go down and talk to the uniformed thugs, if only to find out what they want. And how they knew we were here. I also wish to make a very strong complaint about how they’ve been treating the innocent people of this street. First rule of fights in the hidden world: it’s not supposed to spill over into the real world, and affect innocent bystanders. I will not have civilians hurt because of me.”

“You tell them, Eddie,” said Molly. “Be firm.” And then she kissed me hard.

“What was that for?” I said.

“Because you immediately assumed that this was all your fault. It isn’t. Everything bad that’s happening here is down to the uniformed thugs. So let’s go kick their nasty arses. I’m just in the mood to punch people in the face, knock them down, and stamp on their throats.”

“Never knew you when you weren’t,” I said generously.

We sauntered down the hall to the front door, and I yanked it suddenly open, surprising a large burly type in mid-knock. I thrust my face right into his visored helmet and gave him my best
You’re in trouble, pal
glare. There were several black-uniformed soldiers at my door, and they all backed quickly away, covering Molly and me with their automatic weapons. I stepped outside, with Molly right beside me, and the door quietly shut itself. Which meant all the house’s shields were now back in place and fully armed. If anyone did try to break in, the whole place would go
Boom!
in a loud and thorough manner. I smiled easily at the soldiers crowded together before me.