From a Drood to a Kill - Simon R. Green Page 0,111

with and sometimes didn’t, until finally the family turned on me, for all my loyalty. I talked about how I ended up running the family, to save its soul, to save it from itself; and how I stepped down because I honestly believed I was getting good people killed, because I wasn’t up to the job.

“I know all this,” said the Arbiter coldly. “I’m you, remember?”

“It’s important to me to talk it through,” I said just as coldly. “To be clear about it all. To understand the context . . . You want sins, and confessions of guilt, and mea culpa? Then let’s start with Charles and Emily. My father and my mother. I understand what they did, and why they did it, a lot better now . . . But still, I can’t forget how they made me feel. By going away and leaving me. Leaving me to the family. That’s why I’ve been so desperate to find them. So I could talk with them, and get the truth out of them. But really . . . facts won’t help. Won’t make any difference. Inside, I’m still the small boy abandoned by his parents. All I can do is understand that they did what they thought was best under the circumstances. So I forgive them.”

“Good start,” said the Arbiter. “Continue.”

I scowled at him. “I’m really not very good at all this head-shrinking, touchy-feely crap.”

“Of course not,” said the Arbiter. “You’re a Drood. Continue.”

“I never forgave my grandmother Martha, for not loving me. Or at least, not loving me the way I thought she should. She tried to have me killed! But she had pressures and responsibilities I couldn’t understand until I tried to do the job myself. And in the end I took everything away from her. I changed the family until she couldn’t recognise it. I caused her husband, Alistair, to die horribly. We came to a meeting of minds, at the end . . . but it could be said I blamed her not for what she was but for not being what I wanted her to be. And that, again, is a child’s viewpoint. So I forgive her too.”

“Not bad,” said the Arbiter. “Continue.”

I talked about all the people I thought I’d let down, from all my various cases and missions. The people I tried to save, and couldn’t. The people who trusted me, and died still trusting me. I remembered all the bodies, all the dead Droods coming home from my failed attack on the Hungry Gods. I remembered the CIA agent Honey Lake, dying in my arms. I remembered . . . so many names, so many faces. And I forgave myself—because looking back, I realised I really had done my best.

I finally ground to a halt. Exhausted. Like I’d just run an emotional marathon. I honestly hadn’t realised I’d thought so much about my past, or blamed myself for so much. I was shaking, worn down and worn out, from the strain of remembering so many old emotions.

“Continue,” said the Arbiter.

“What?” I said. I looked at him angrily. “What else is there? That’s it!”

“No, it isn’t,” he said. “Why don’t you want to live, Eddie? Your injuries are bad, but you’ve come back from worse. Why do you think you don’t deserve to live? Why have you decided you’re not going to kill ever again?”

“Because it shouldn’t be that easy!” I shouted at him. “I just decided that little shit at Uncanny deserved to die, and he did! All right, he probably wanted to die. Suicide by Drood. But . . . I should have found some way to save him. He was Arthur’s grandson, just like me. He was family.”

“Good,” said the Arbiter. “You didn’t kill him; he killed himself, using you as the weapon.”

“I still don’t want to kill again.”

“That’s the future. That’s between you and your conscience. We’re dealing with the past here. With forgiveness and absolution. Continue.”

“There’s nothing else!”

“Yes there is. Continue.”

“No!”

“Say it. Speak the truth at last. What’s the one thing left, that you can’t, won’t, forgive yourself for?”

“No!”

“Say it! Say you’re sorry!”

I spun round to face the Armourer. “I’m sorry, Uncle Jack! I’m so sorry! I went away and left you to die alone! I wasn’t there when you needed me! I should have been there with you!”

“I know,” he said. “I know, Eddie.”

He opened his arms, and I stumbled over to him, and hugged him hard. He held me in his strong engineer’s arms, held me