“Wanted you to see how bad things had got,” the Sarjeant said calmly. “I’d have stepped in, if things started getting ugly.”

“I only put up with you so you can keep the pests off my back,” I said flatly. “It’s bad enough I just got attacked outside my old flat by a whole bunch of MI5 goons, without being ambushed by my own family the moment I walk through the door. You let this happen again, and I will slam you against the nearest wall until your eyes change colour! Do I make myself clear?”

Give the man his due; even though no one had dared to speak to him like that in decades, and even though he knew I meant every word of it, he didn’t flinch one bit.

“I needed to see who would act, instead of just talk,” he said. “Now they’ve identified themselves as troublemakers, I can go after them, and there will be spankings. Don’t try to teach me my job, boy. You might run the family now, but I run the Hall. Now what was that about you being attacked by MI5? No one attacks us and gets away with it.”

“Trust me,” I said. “They didn’t. But they knew exactly where and when to find me, which means someone in the family must have ratted me out to the prime minister. So make yourself useful and find out who.”

His cold eyes brightened at the thought of authorised violence. “Any restrictions on my methods?”

“I want answers, not bodies,” I said. “Otherwise, anything goes. Make them cry, make them talk. The family can’t afford to be divided right now.”

“Hardcore, Eddie,” said Molly. “What’s next; loyalty oaths and public executions?”

The Sarjeant-at-Arms inclined his head slightly to me. “Welcome home, sir. Welcome back to the family.”

“Get my Inner Circle together,” I said. “And have them wait for me in the Sanctity. We have urgent new business to discuss. I’ll be along as soon as I can. I have to talk to the Matriarch first. How is she?”

“Still in mourning,” said the Sarjeant.

“Alistair isn’t dead,” I said.

“Might as well be.”

The Sarjeant bowed stiffly to me, ignored Molly, turned on his heel, and strode off into the labyrinthine depths of the Hall. He was never going to warm to me, and I wouldn’t have known what to do if he had.

“You’re really getting into this leadership thing, aren’t you?” said Molly. “Barking orders and handing out beatings. I guess breeding will out. You’re every inch a Drood, Eddie.”

I shrugged apologetically. “I swear I used to be so much calmer and easygoing, before I came back to the Hall. There’s just something about having to deal with my family that makes me want to spit and curse and throw things. Preferably explosives. But I have to be seen to be in charge, Molly; I have to be hard on the family and make it toe the new line, or they’ll turn on each other, and the family will devour itself. I’ve taken away everything they depended on; now it’s up to me to give them something else to live for. A new cause to follow.” I sighed tiredly. “I hate all this, Molly. Not least because I have a horrible suspicion I’m not up to the job. But I have to do it… because there’s no one else.”

Molly put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I could always turn more people into things…”

“Could you turn them into reasonable people?”

“Be real, darling. I’m a witch, not a miracle worker.”

We both managed a small smile. “I don’t like what I have to do,” I said. “I don’t like what I’m becoming. But I have to fight for every inch of progress. It’s not me; it’s them. My family could have Mother Teresa drinking straight from the bottle and calling for the return of hanging in a week. Look, I’ve got to go and see the Matriarch, and you can’t come with me. It’s going to be difficult enough for me to get in to see her. So, you pop along to the Sanctity and keep the others amused till I can get there.”

“I see,” Molly said sweetly, and very dangerously. “I’m your court jester now, am I?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m still getting the hang of this being in a relationship thing. I meant, of course, take charge of things till I can get there. We are, after all, equal partners.”

“Well,” said Molly. “I might settle for that. But only because I’m so fond of you.”

I went striding through the long corridors and hallways, the great circular meeting places and wide airy chambers, heading for the Matriarch’s private rooms in the west wing. People stopped what they were doing to watch me pass, and I smiled at those who smiled at me, and glared at everyone else to make sure they kept their distance. I wasn’t in the mood to answer any more questions, particularly since I didn’t have a whole lot of answers. Centuries-old wood panelling gleamed on every side with a comfortable patina of age and beeswax, and paintings by famous names hung on every wall. Everywhere I looked there were statues and busts and ornaments of great worth and antiquity; the accumulated tribute of the Droods. Presented to us by the governments of the world because they were so grateful to us, and not at all because they were scared of us.

The whole wing had that calm assurance that comes from seeing generation after generation pass through its rooms and corridors. That slightly smug calm that says I will be here long after you are gone. From earliest childhood it’s drilled into every Drood child that we are only here to serve the family in its never-ending fight against evil. Soldiers in a war that never ends. Our motto: Anything, for the family. And I believed it. We had a holy cause and a holy duty, and our foes were dark and terrible indeed. Even after all the lies I uncovered in the dark and secret heart of the family; I still believe. The Droods have to go on, because humanity couldn’t survive without us. I just had to get the family back to what it used to be; to what it was originally meant to be.

The shamans of our tribe; standing between the people and the forces that threaten them. Fighting for them, dying for them. The protectors, not rulers, of humanity.

The Matriarch had the very best quarters in the Hall, of course. A whole suite of rooms just for herself and her husband, on the top floor of the west wing. A whole suite, even though most of us had to make do with one room, and the youngest members lived in communal rooms and dormitories. In a place as crowded and packed to the seams as the Hall, the only real luxury is space. The Hall is big, but the family is even bigger.

As the new leader of the family, I could have thrown the Matriarch out and taken the suite for myself and Molly, but I didn’t have the heart. Not after what I’d done to the Matriarch’s husband, Alistair.

I could feel my heart beating faster as I approached the Matriarch’s door, and my breathing tightened in my chest. I’d only ever been here once before, back when I was just twelve years old. I’d been summoned by the Matriarch herself for a personal interview; an unheard-of thing. The Sarjeant-at-Arms took me there, a large hand ever ready to smack me around the head if I dawdled. I was half out of my mind with worry. What had I done wrong this time? All kinds of things came to mind, but nothing bad enough to warrant the Matriarch’s personal attention. The Sarjeant knocked on her door, opened it, and pushed me in. And there she was, Martha Drood, sitting bolt upright on a chair, fixing me with her unrelenting gaze.

She had my latest schooling report in her hand, and she was very disappointed in me. Apparently it was full of comments like Must Try Harder, Could Do Better, and, most damning of all, Intelligent, but Lacks Discipline. Even at twelve, my character was pretty much set. The Matriarch scolded me in her coldest voice, while I stood sulking and stubborn before her. It wasn’t my fault if I asked questions the teachers couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer. I wouldn’t be told, you see. I’d do anything if I was asked, but I wouldn’t do a damned thing I was told if I couldn’t see a good reason for it. And a family built on duty and responsibility could never accept an attitude like that. They’d tried beating respect into me, and when that didn’t work, they sent word to the Matriarch, who now condemned me as lazy and uncooperative, and told me I’d come to a bad end.