Live and Let Drood

that until finally I was sure my armour could take it. And then I snapped a golden hand forward into just the right place to stop the shillelagh in midblow. I held it firmly, and Heather’s hands skidded off her end of the club. That must have hurt her, too. She looked at me with something like shock as I hefted the shillelagh easily in one golden hand and then tossed it across the room to Molly, who was already back on her feet. She caught the club easily, hefted it appraisingly and then advanced on Heather with the light of battle in her eyes. Heather looked at her and then at me, and then headed for her desk again. Molly got there first and held the shillelagh threateningly over Heather’s work computer.
    “Hold it right there! Or I’ll kill your files!”
    Heather glared at her. “You wouldn’t dare!”
    “Trust me,” I said. “She will. This is Molly Metcalf.”
    “Oh, poot,” said Heather.
    Things then took a turn for the weird. All four walls of the enclosed office were covered in portraits: professionally painted and photographed faces of old Carnacki Institute agents who had fallen in the field. There were an awful lot of them, men and women who had covered themselves in glory, if not renown. I had heard them referred to as the Honoured Members. It reminded me of the long gallery of Drood portraits back at the Hall. All of them gone now, of course.
    All the faces on the office walls suddenly came alive in their frames, and one by one opened their mouths to roar and howl in fury, sounding the alarm at our intrusion. The sound was deafening, overpowering. Even Heather flinched, and she had to be protected. My armour took most of the brunt, but the sound was still so loud and so harsh I couldn’t hear myself think. Molly’s face screwed up with pain, but she still managed to stride right up to the nearest wall and glare right into the howling faces.
    “Shut the hell up! Or I will make your paint run and your colours fade!”
    And just like that the sound shut off and all the faces went back to being portraits and photos again. They must have been listening when I said Molly’s name. Of course, they wouldn’t know her power levels were at an all-time low.…Molly smiled brilliantly, stepped back and shouldered her shillelagh. I armoured down and smiled at Heather.
    “Dear God! It’s you, Eddie!” Heather actually relaxed a little, and sank back onto her chair. “I should have known; if anyone could survive the complete destruction of Drood Hall, it would be you. We all thought the Droods were gone forever! I’m so glad you’re all right!” She broke off to run one hand quickly through her dishevelled hair, took a deep breath and then fixed me with her best professional smile. “So, Eddie. Do you have an appointment?”
    “Guess,” I said.
    “Catherine Latimer doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.…”
    “She’ll see us,” said Molly.
    Heather’s gaze flickered from me to Molly and then back again. She was still smiling, but I could sense the effort.
    “We have to see the boss, Heather,” I said. “And I mean right now. If you’ve heard what’s happened to my family, you know how urgent this is. And how upset I am.”
    “I really thought you were dead,” said Heather. “When you just appeared here, I thought your enemies must have taken the armour for themselves.…Why didn’t you use the main entrance and the proper protocols?”
    “Too many eyes and ears,” I said. “I’m the Last Drood, but I don’t want just anyone knowing that.”
    “The boss has already arranged for formal wreaths from the Institute,” said Heather. “To show our respect. Not that we could send them anywhere, of course, but we will find somewhere suitable to put them. Is this really the infamous Molly Metcalf? I always thought she’d be taller. Please ask her not to kill my computer; I have a lot of vitally important typing to finish before the day’s over.”
    I looked at Molly and she sniffed loudly, in an I’m-making-no-promises sort of way.
    “I am keeping this shillelagh!” she said loudly. “I like it and it’s mine now. Just in case anyone starts getting snotty. Always wanted one…”
    “Let her have it,” I said to Heather. “She’ll only make a fuss.”
    “I can always get another one from the armoury,” said Heather. “One of our janitors hand carves them on his own time. You still can’t see the boss without making an appointment. Even if you do trash my