flowers in vases, and restful colours, and nice paintings on the walls. Now everything was smashed and broken. The paintings had been ripped off the walls and torn to pieces. The comfortable furnishings had been reduced to wreckage and kindling. It had the feel of vindictiveness and spite, as much as vandalism. Dark bloodstains everywhere—old blood, long dried. Soaked into the thick carpet and splashed across the walls. No one had cleaned up; it was still a crime scene.
“I wonder what they did with the bodies?” said Molly, peering quickly about her, entirely unmoved and unaffected. She didn’t believe in being sentimental about people she barely knew. “I hope they’ve been buried properly. The last thing this place needs is the unquiet dead wandering around, disturbing the peace.”
“Heroes lie in anonymous graves,” I said. “Comes with the job, and the territory. But not the Regent. Grandfather’s body was recovered by the Droods. He was still one of us, after all. So the Matriarch sent in a special team to retrieve the body and take it back to the Hall.”
“That was good of them,” said Molly.
“Not really,” I said. “They were just being practical. Drood DNA contains far too many secrets and mysteries to be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Or even the hands of people who might become our enemies at some future time. My family always thinks ahead. That’s how we’ve survived so long. At least Grandfather Arthur got to go home at last. That’s something, I suppose.”
Molly frowned. “I don’t remember receiving any invitation to his funeral.”
“That’s because there wasn’t one,” I said. “No ceremony, no get-together. It was all taken care of very quietly, very quickly. Because Arthur had dared to walk away from the family. And to make things even worse, he had become fairly successful on his own terms, without Drood help. So the family just did what was necessary to put him to rest. I didn’t even know it had happened until it was over. Or I would have been there. Which is probably why they didn’t tell me. Or you.”
“Your family . . . ,” said Molly.
“Trust me,” I said. “I know.”
We walked on, through empty corridors and open rooms. It was all very quiet, since we were the only living things left to make any noise. It was like walking through a battlefield after the opposing forces had clashed and moved on. Signs of violence everywhere: broken floorboards, kicked-in doors, smashed-in walls. The sight of blood and the smell of death. The Drood from Cell 13 and his vicious clone army had made a slaughterhouse out of the Department of Uncanny.
“What about special weapons, and objects of power?” said Molly quite casually. “All the sensitive information in the computers?”
“All of it gone,” I said. “Transferred to safe locations. Just in case anyone had any ideas about looting . . .”
“Oh, perish the thought,” said Molly, grinning. “I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. No. Not while there was anybody watching . . . Where do you suppose it’s all gone?”
I gave her a look, and she shrugged prettily.
“The Government will only lock it away, Eddie. You know that. They won’t appreciate what they’ve got. Not like I would.”
“My family removed all the heavy-duty stuff, while they were here,” I said. “Things we felt the Government couldn’t be trusted with. Or isn’t supposed to know even exist. There are special protocols in place, even for disasters like this. In fact, probably especially for disasters like this. I’m sure everything else has been locked up in the usual secret depositories. Until it can be shared out, among the other secret organisations. They’ll all be struggling to fill the gap with Uncanny gone, and they’ll need all the help they can get. This is just an empty place now. Waiting for new occupants. A new identity and a new purpose.”
“Do you think they’re going to rebuild the Department of Uncanny?” said Molly.
“Probably not,” I said. “It failed.”
And then we both stopped abruptly and looked around, as we heard someone moving about. Quiet, furtive sounds. The police officers had been quite certain that no one else should be here. We were supposed to have the place to ourselves. So whoever was in the building with us had no right to be there. I looked at Molly, and she smiled brightly.
“Maybe someone didn’t know there’s nothing left to loot . . .”
She concentrated, and invoked a quick-and-dirty tracking spell. A glowing green arrow appeared, floating on