From a Drood to a Kill - Simon R. Green Page 0,113

that any more.”

“Just checking,” Kate said airily. “You do have a reputation, you know . . . Not that any of us here gives a damn about the London Knights, you understand. If they want, they can make an official complaint about you to the family. And then we can have the fun of officially ignoring it.”

I filled Kate in on everything that had happened during my visit to Castle Inconnu. Including my conversations with Sir Perryvale and the Lady Gaea. Even including the things that might have made me look a bit bad. Kate immediately went all swoony at the very thought of talking with Mother Earth in person. She pressed me for details on exactly what was said, what the Lady looked like, and what she was wearing. But I was already forgetting most of what had passed between us. Which was probably just as well. Mortals aren’t supposed to get used to talking with living goddesses. I did explain to Kate why I had to fight my way out of the Castle, and then I stopped. She didn’t need to know how badly I’d been injured. And she really didn’t need to know about Uncle Jack and the underworld. That was nobody’s business but mine. And Jack’s.

So instead I told Kate about my lead on finding Molly through the Travel Bureau and its infamous Departure Lounge.

“I can have armoured backup on the spot to assist you in under an hour,” said Kate.

“No,” I said quickly. “I can’t wait, and we can’t risk word getting out that I’m heading their way. The Travel Bureau must have their own ear to the ground, to be able to run an operation like theirs, and it would only take a whisper that the Droods were involved to put the wind up them. They might shut everything down and do a runner, or destroy all their records—and there goes my only lead to Molly. No, Kate, I think it’s safer I do this alone, as Shaman Bond. That is what he’s for, after all.”

“Don’t be proud, Eddie,” Kate said quietly. “If you do need help, yell for it.”

“Understood,” I said. It was a way of agreeing without agreeing, and we both knew it.

* * *

I strode along Oxford Street, half wishing I hadn’t left the Bentley back at the Hall. Everywhere I was thinking of going was in walking distance, but that still covered quite a lot of ground and meant quite a bit of walking. I didn’t dare try using the Merlin Glass openly anywhere in London; it would have been like blasting a great spotlight through the dark, and be bound to attract all kinds of unwelcome attention. Even assuming I could persuade the treacherous little object to do what I needed it to.

I realised I was walking with a distinct spring in my step. I felt better than healed; I felt strong and sound again. As though I’d put down a cripplingly heavy weight that I hadn’t even realised I was carrying. I still wasn’t sure what really happened down in the underworld, or even if anything actually had . . . but I didn’t want to think about that right now. I’d had enough of mysteries; I wanted answers. Starting with who the hell had taken Molly, and where they had taken her. And that meant striking a deal with the Travel Bureau for use of their Departure Lounge. As quickly as possible.

I’d never been to the Travel Bureau before, but I knew about it. I knew about a great many things and places and nasty practices that went on in London that I’d never got around to checking out in person. There’s just too much weird shit going down in this city for even a Drood field agent to keep up with. As long as most of them didn’t make waves, or draw attention to themselves, I was usually ready to leave them be so I could concentrate on the things that needed stamping on. The twilight side of London isn’t so much a maintained peace as a constant juggling act between what we Droods can actually do and the threat of what we might do if we became sufficiently upset. Drood authority helps to keep the lid on things, but there’s always going to be a lot bubbling away underneath.

I looked around surreptitiously as I continued down Oxford Street, but it all seemed normal enough. Crowds of people everywhere, traffic moving slowly and bad-temperedly along, and