More than ever, I needed answers. Information. Options. And the only people who might have those…were the other rogues.
Molly buttoned up my collar and wiped the sweat from my face with her handkerchief. I nodded my thanks. I wasn’t used to needing help. I wasn’t used to hurting. The only way to seriously damage a Drood was to catch him out of his armour, and we’re all very hard to surprise. I hadn’t been really hurt since I was a teenager. Pain and weakness were new things to me, and I hated them. Molly saw some of this in my face and smiled briefly.
"Welcome to the world the rest of us live in. What do you want to do now, Eddie?"
I stood up carefully. My left arm hung down at my side, quiet as long as I didn’t try to use it. I needed to be up and moving, doing…something. "Who’s the best rogue to talk to? Who’s most likely to know something about me and my family?"
"That would be Oddly John," Molly said immediately. "I’ve never been able to get much out of him, but I’m pretty sure he knows important things."
"Is he far from here?"
"Two train journeys."
"Forget that. Call up another spatial portal."
"I’m not altogether sure that’s wise," Molly said carefully. "They’re really only for use in emergencies. They take a lot out of me."
"Could anyone track us through the portal, once we’re gone?"
"No. But any number of people would detect a magic like that operating and come here to check it out."
"Let them," I said. "It doesn’t matter. I doubt I’ll be coming back here again. We can’t afford to travel openly in London anymore. By now both my family and Manifest Destiny will have filled the city with agents looking for us. Tell me about this…Oddly John."
"He lives out in Flitwick," Molly said, not quite avoiding my eyes.
"Nice little commuter town some way outside London proper."
"There’s something you’re not telling me."
"There’s lots I’m not telling you. But this…you really need to see this for yourself, Eddie."
"All right," I said. "Let’s go."
The portal dropped us off just outside a small town and on top of a grassy hill overlooking an old Georgian manor house set in its own spacious grounds. Birds were singing cheerfully under a bright blue sky, and the early morning air was crisp and clear. All very picture postcard, except for the high stone wall surrounding the manor grounds topped with iron spikes and rolls of barbed wire. The only entrance was through a massive iron gate heavy enough to stop a tank in its tracks. Looking beyond the high walls, I could just make out people walking back and forth in the grounds. All very peaceful. But even from a distance, the manor house had a dour and forbidding look, and there was something…wrong, about the people in the grounds. Something about the way they moved, slowly and aimlessly, not interacting with each other. I looked at Molly.
"All right," I said. "Spill it. What kind of a place have you brought me to?"
"This is Happy Acres," Molly said calmly. "A high-security installation for the criminally insane. The locals call it Happy Daze."
"And our rogue is in there? What is he, crazy?"
"Yes, and no," said Molly. "You’ll have to see for yourself. Oddly John’s position here is…complicated."
We started down the hillside, slipping and sliding on grass still wet from the dawn, heading towards the home for the criminally insane. All at once, the heavy iron gate didn’t look nearly heavy enough. I studied the manor house dubiously until the rising stone walls shut it off from view. I’d never been to a madhouse before. I wasn’t sure what to expect. When Droods go seriously crazy, we kill them. We have to. The armour makes them far too dangerous. Like Arnold Drood, the Bloody Man. I can’t believe that bastard was able to fool us for so long. Molly and I reached the bottom of the hill, and I trailed after Molly as she headed for the entrance. I wasn’t holding back. It was just that Molly knew the way.
"So," I said. "Criminally insane. Are we talking…ax murderers and the like?"
"Oh, at least," Molly said cheerfully. "But not to worry; I’m sure everyone will make you feel perfectly at home."
We stopped outside the iron gate, which seemed even bigger close up. It looked like it had been cast in one piece, with bars so thick you couldn’t get a hand around them. Its design was stark and purely functional. It was there to keep the inmates in, nothing more. Molly hit the buzzer recessed into the thick stone pillar beside the gate, and after a lengthy pause a heavyset man in hospital whites came over to glare suspiciously through the gate at us. The leather belt around his thick waist held a radio, pepper spray, and a long heavy truncheon.
"Hello, George," Molly said easily. "Remember me? I’m here to see my uncle John again. John Stapleton."
"You know the routine, Molly," said George in a surprisingly soft and pleasant voice. "You have to show me a signed and dated pass from the hospital administration."
"Oh, sure," said Molly. She held an empty hand up before him, and he leaned forward for a closer look, his lips moving slowly as he read the details on a nonexistent pass. He finally nodded, and Molly quickly lowered her hand. George worked an electronic lock on the other side of the gate, and there was the sound of heavy metal bolts disengaging. The gate swung smoothly open on concealed hydraulics, and Molly led the way into the house grounds. The gate swung shut behind us, locking us in with the inmates.
"Shall I call up to the house for an escort to take you the rest of the way?" said George, his hands resting on his belt next to the pepper spray and the truncheon.
"No, that’s all right, George," said Molly. "I know the way."
I must have looked a bit disconcerted, because George smiled reassuringly at me. "First visit? Don’t worry. None of the patients will bother you. Just stick to the path, and you’ll be fine."
We set off up the wide gravel path. "What was that bit with the empty hand?" I said quietly.
"Basic illusion spell," Molly said briskly. "Lets people see what they expect to see."
"Uncle John," I said with some emphasis. "And you knew the guard’s name. Are you a regular visitor here, by any chance?"
"Spot on, Sherlock. I found out who Oddly John really was by accident, and I’ve been keeping it to myself ever since. I was hoping I could use him to dig up some useful dirt on your family. Some secret piece of insider knowledge I could use as a weapon."
"And?"
She looked at me briefly, her expression unreadable. "Wait till you meet him. You’ll understand then."
Wide green lawns stretched away on either side of the path, cropped and cultivated to within an inch of their lives. Patients in dressing gowns, with wild hair and empty eyes, wandered listlessly back and forth, taking the air. A handful of bored-looking guards in hospital whites were enjoying a cigarette break by the ornamental fountain. Some of the patients muttered to themselves. Some just made noises. None of them looked like an ax murderer. And none of them even glanced at Molly and me, caught up in their own private worlds.
As Molly and I drew closer to the big house, I realised that all the windows were barred, with heavy metal shutters ready to be swung into place. Swivelling exterior cameras watched us approach. The main door looked very solid and very shut. Molly leaned over the electronic combination lock set into the post by the door and pecked out four numbers.