Property of a Lady Faire (A Secret Histories Novel) Read Free Page A

. . . problem.”
    “And why are you speaking for them, Harry?”
    “Because they’re not stupid enough to reveal themselves to a Drood. And because I owe them,” Harry said flatly. His words gave him a certain amount of courage, and he did his best to look at me defiantly. “They didn’t want you in particular, and the Drood family in general, knowing who they are. You’d only take advantage . . . And anyway, if you did know who they were, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t approve.”
    “Wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “My family doesn’t approve of most people. And nearly always with good reason. So why are the management asking for my help? What could be so bad?”
    If anything, Harry seemed even more jumpy now. He looked quickly around him, at the bare walls and the closed doors, and edged a little closer.
    “Are you sure you’ve finished your business with the Vatican, Eddie? No loose ends that might turn up to . . . distract you?”
    “It’s all done,” I said firmly. “And that is all I am going to say on the matter.”
    Harry Fabulous didn’t need to know that I had broken into the Vatican not to steal something but to make them a present. I had taken in with me a single significant volume of forbidden lore, and deposited it in a certain place on a certain shelf, in the Vatican’s Very Secret Library. This particular copy, an almost exact copy of the book already in place there, had been compiled by the Drood Librarian. Just a few small changes, overseen by the family. I replaced one with the other, and took the original out with me. Because there were certain things in the original that we didn’t want the Church to know about. It would only have upset them and kept them up nights. Vatican Security might know someone had been poking around, but they wouldn’t know who, or why. Which added up to a completely successful mission in my book.
    Harry still didn’t look at all happy. “I just hope no one saw you arrive out of nowhere.”
    “Come on, Harry,” I said. “That was old Soho. One of the few bits they haven’t got around to gentrifying yet. You could set fire to a giant Wicker Man stuffed full of merchant bankers, and no one would give a damn. In fact, they’d probably applaud.”
    “I hate to put it this bluntly, but I’m going to because the management insisted,” said Harry. “You can only enter the Wulfshead Club as Shaman Bond. The management can’t allow Eddie Drood to set foot on the premises. Not after what happened the last time he was here. Apparently, it took ages to get all the bloodstains out.”
    “Understood,” I said shortly.
    The last time I’d had reason to come to the club as a Drood, it had been during the Great Satanic Conspiracy. I’d forced my way in, in my armour, because I didn’t want Shaman Bond associated with what I was about to do. What I had to do. I needed answers to some questions, very urgently, and I didn’t have the time to be patient or reasonable. So I just beat them out of the man. And a few good people who got in the way. I looked thoughtfully at Harry.
    “How long has the club’s management known that Shaman Bond is a cover identity for Eddie Drood?”
    “I find it best not to ask them questions,” said Harry. “Are you sure you don’t know who they are?”
    “I’m sure my family could find out,” I said. “If we ever really wanted to know. But they’re not important enough. For now.”
    Harry sighed, and sat down on one of the chairs. He looked tired. I pulled up the other chair, sat down facing him, and then looked at him expectantly.
    “There’s trouble at the Wulfshead Club,” said Harry. “We need you—that is, we need Shaman Bond—to ask questions quietly and discreetly, among the club’s clientele. Because secrets are leaking out of the club. Things said in confidence here have started turning up in the outside world. Which is supposed to be impossible. The club management guarantee that whatever happens in