From a Drood to a Kill - Simon R. Green Page 0,71

Come on, people! Get your arses back here! I want every single bit of this unnaturally mobile shit caught, collected, and locked up in seriously secure containers so it can be sent away for analysis. And God help any of you if you miss one little bit.”

Her people made themselves very busy. Secretly, I think they quite liked being shouted at. Sandra straightened up again, so I did too. She shook her head slowly.

“We are not here to provide you with a cleaning service, Eddie.”

“Come on,” I said. “Admit it. You’re having fun.”

She looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then shot me a quick grin. “You do tend to brighten up an otherwise dull day, Eddie.”

“How long before I can have the car back?” I said.

“Oh, she’ll be ready by the time you’re back from the wake,” said Sandra. “Sink a few cold ones for me. He was the best, your uncle Jack; you know?”

“Yes,” I said. “I know.”

I nodded a quick good-bye and headed for the garage doors. Sandra yelled after me.

“Hey, Eddie! You’re supposed to be close to the new Matriarch! Talk to her! Tell her we need a decent budget to do a proper job. You can’t work miracles every day on the cheap! Are you listening to me, Eddie?”

I kept walking. Some fights you just know you shouldn’t get caught in the middle of.

* * *

Once I was safely outside the garage, I retrieved the Merlin Glass from the pocket dimension I keep in my pocket, shook the Glass out to Door size, and stepped through. The Glass dropped me off in a very familiar dark alleyway outside the Wulfshead Club. I shivered despite myself, moving from the warmth of a Summer’s day to the chilly twilight of a London evening. The Glass worked perfectly, for once, which was just as well, because I wasn’t in the mood to be messed with. Perhaps the Glass could sense that. It shrank down to a hand mirror again, and I tucked it away in my pocket. I looked carefully around me. There was no one about in the alley to note my arrival; the Merlin Glass is always very good about choosing just the right moment.

The alley was full of shadows, lit only by the single amber street light at its far end. It all seemed very quiet; even the roar of passing city traffic sounded eerily muffled, suppressed. Harsh neon from the adjoining streets barely penetrated a few inches into the alley. It was a lonely, separate place, by design. The alley existed only to give access to the Wulfshead Club.

The narrow passageway was a mess, as always, with piles of genuinely disturbing garbage scattered the length of it. Deliberately never cleaned up, to discourage the wrong sort of people. Some of the garbage seemed to be moving, and not in a good way. And I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be anything as obvious as rats. I gave the garbage plenty of room as I headed for the only door, set flush in the left-hand wall.

The shiny wet brickwork was covered with layer upon layer of old overlapping graffiti—the usual threats and warnings, boasts and sarcasm. Names of old gods and new street gangs, monsters and messengers. The usual gossip and intelligence, from the hidden world. From the ones who know . . . There was one example of very recent graffiti, right next to the door. The paint still looked wet. Eye Can See You. Oddly ominous, and just a bit worrying . . .

I stood before the dully gleaming metal door. Solid silver, with no sign or name; either you knew this was the entrance to the Wulfshead Club, preferred drinking hole and gathering place of like-minded souls in the supernatural and super-science community, or you had no business being there. The silver was deeply etched with threats and warnings in angelic and demonic script. You can find all kinds at the Wulfshead. The Management don’t care which side you’re on; they just want your money. The door had no handle. I placed my left hand flat against the metal, which felt uncomfortably warm to the touch. Organically warm. The door swung slowly back, and I retrieved my hand with a certain amount of relief. If your name isn’t on the club’s approved list, the door will bite your hand off. I didn’t think it could get to me past my Drood armour, but I wasn’t in any

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