to do no more damage than I had to—to the Hall, and to my family. Because while I might be mad at them right now, I still had to live with them afterwards. I’d put a lot of thought into this particular home invasion, and it was all about the shock and awe, and moving too quickly for any serious confrontations.
Half a dozen armoured Droods turned up with at least some idea of how to fight and a willingness to get stuck in. Good for them. But I was a trained field agent, with many years of hard experience and all kinds of nasty tricks tucked up my armoured sleeves. I knocked them down and kicked them around, and Molly hit them with eldritch lightnings if they tried to get up. They ended up scattered the length of the corridor, wondering what hit them and whether it was ever going to stop. Poor bastards. They never stood a chance. Which was just as well. Because I would have damaged them if I’d had to. No one was going to stop me this time.
* * *
The farther into the Hall Molly and I penetrated, the faster we moved. By the time we approached the centre of the Hall and its hidden core, the Sanctity, we were both running at full pelt. I wanted to leave my family well behind, so there wouldn’t be any . . . accidents. I was trying to make it clear to everyone that I was here for a purpose, and determined to get to where I was going. That I had no intention of being stopped . . . and that it really would be better for everyone if they just got the hell out of my way and let me get on with it.
Finally, we rounded a corner and there was the Sanctity, straight ahead of us. At the far end of a long stone corridor. The heart of the Hall, where all the decisions that matter are made. I slowed my pace to a determined stroll, and Molly drifted dangerously along beside me. No more smiles. This was serious business. I felt a sudden harsh tingling in my throat. I’d been expecting that. It was a standard defence, designed to deal with any Droods who went mad or rogue, by taking their armour away from them and pushing it back into their torc.
“Ethel?” I said, subvocalising so only she could hear me.
The warm and friendly voice of the Droods’ very own other-dimensional patron and protector came clearly to me, inside my head.
“You know, I really should just shut you down, Eddie. That’s what everyone else is shouting at me to do and I do wish they wouldn’t. Tell me you have a really good reason for causing this much commotion.”
“I have a really good reason.”
“Really? Cross your heart?”
“Trust me.”
“You know I do. But you don’t make it easy.”
“I know,” I said. “But I do make it fun.”
“Yes, you do. I’m looking forward to hearing what this is all about. Hint, hint.”
“You’ll enjoy it,” I said.
“I’d better.”
The tingling around my throat went away, and I relaxed, just a little. I’d been fairly confident I could convince Ethel—but it’s hard to be sure of anything when you’re dealing with an other-dimensional entity.
The way to the great double doors that were the only access to the Sanctity was blocked by two very large armoured guards who stood their ground. They showed no intention of moving or of being moved. I slowed to a casual stroll, with Molly close at my side. She gestured impressively at them, trying to teleport them away, as she had with the Serjeant-at-Arms. But without the pointing bone she hadn’t a hope of moving two Droods in their armour. She scowled, and stuck out her lower lip sulkily.
“Come on,” I said. “That was never going to work.”
“It might have!” she said. “I put hours into researching that spell.”
“You didn’t really think you could overcome Drood armour all on your own, did you?”
Molly smiled dazzlingly. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”
The two guards stepped forward, long golden sword blades extending from their armoured hands. I was glad to see they’d been practising. Drood armour can be reshaped by the will of its occupant, but it takes a lot of concentration to hold the new shape. It was clear from the way the guards stood that they knew what they were doing. They looked practised and prepared, and properly dangerous. Everything a Drood should be.