Live and Let Drood

distance.
    “So we took the bodies of the Accelerated Men, all of them, and made them into scarecrows. Stuffed with straw, hanging on their crosses, waiting to be called. Because that’s what you get for threatening our children.
    “Look at them, Molly. There are hundreds of them. More appearing all the time. I don’t know how many there are; I’ve never cared enough to find out. I’m sure someone knows the exact number and keeps a watchful eye on them so the rest of us don’t have to. Duties and responsibilities for all of us. Remember? It’s enough that the family is protected, Molly. We don’t need to know all the details. It’s enough that our enemies know what we’re capable of.”
    “It’s times like this,” said Molly, “that I want to bring your family down more than ever.”
    “We only do such awful things,” I said, “because our enemies are capable of so much worse. It’s necessary.”
    “Very good, Eddie. Now try saying it like you mean it. You don’t approve of this, Eddie! You couldn’t! You said yourself, the grounds are lousy with defences! Why do you need bloody scarecrows?”
    “Because of the effect they have,” I said. “Because they upset peoplejust the way they’re upsetting you now. I might not approve…but the needs of the family are always going to be bigger than the needs of one man.”
    “Oh, very good, Eddie! That’s a fine Drood answer! I’m sure that’s what your ancestors said when they sold your souls to the Heart!”
    She turned her back on me. I’m sure she would have liked to stride away, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk through the ranks and rows of scarecrows.
    I let her have her moment while I went about my necessary business. I sent the scarecrows out to guard the perimeter of the grounds, with strict orders to keep everyone out until I said otherwise, but not to kill unless they were under actual attack. They turned and stomped off onto the grounds, on their stiff scarecrow legs, lurching along like the dead straw men they were. I could have sent Molly off on some errand, away from the copse of beech trees, but I made up my mind a long time ago that I would never keep secrets from my Molly. All the good and all the bad in me; she had to see it all if we were to have any chance of a future together. It’s not easy loving a Drood.
    Ask the undine.
    When the scarecrows were all gone, I set off across the grounds again, and Molly walked stiffly at my side, staring straight ahead, saying nothing. I could have said any number of things, but I didn’t. This was something she had to work out for herself. Finally we came to the new earth barrow at the far end of the grounds—the huge earth mound where the Armourer had buried the severed dragon’s head I’d brought back from Germany. (Well, I say he buried it, but I very much doubt he did it himself. That’s what lab assistants are for.) I’d found the dragon’s head while scoping out Castle Frankenstein, then home to my family’s mortal enemies, the Immortals. Apparently the fifteenth-century Baron Frankenstein cut the dragon’s head off when it menaced the local populace, but such ancient creatures are very hard to kill. The Baron buried the severed head under what became a hill, overlooking the Rhine River. I got into conversation with the dragon’s head (my world’s like that somedays), and it seemed a pleasant enough creature, much mellowed by its long centuries under the hill, so I had it transported back home with me. The Armourer swears he’ll find a way to grow it a new body. He’s always wanted to have his very own pet dragon, if only so he can cock a snook at all the other secret organisations that don’t have one.
    Sometimes I get the feeling the Armourer isn’t entirely all there.
    Two great golden eyes opened in the side of the great earth barrow and regarded Molly and me thoughtfully. Molly jumped, despite herself, and punched me hard in the arm.
    “You could have warned me!”
    Sorry, said the dragon, in its warm, comfortable voice. It’s just that I do so love company. The Armourer often comes out here to spend time with me, and many of his assistants and any number of other Droods…but after all the centuries I spent under that hill, I’m reluctant to miss an opportunity.
    “So, how are you settling in?” I said. Just to be saying something.
    Very nicely, thank you, Eddie. Is this the wild witch herself, your lady love, Molly Metcalf? She is just as beautiful