Book 2 - Daemons Are Forever by Simon R. Green Read Free Book Online

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.
    I think she was mostly angry because we were so closely related, and my failures reflected badly on her. More was expected of me, because of that. Even at twelve I was old enough to feel that was distinctly unfair, but I didn’t have the capacity to put it into words. So I just stood sullenly before her, and said nothing. Even when she tried to question me. In the end she threw me out, back to the tender mercies of the teachers and the Sarjeant-at-Arms. I think she was resentful at having to take time away from more important business, just to deal with me. I never was important to her, and then she wondered why she was never important to me.
    I stopped before the suite’s door, took a deep breath, pushed it open, and walked in without knocking. Start as you mean to go on, or they’ll walk all over you. The luxuriously furnished antechamber was full of people, all of them suddenly silent and staring at me with cold and unfriendly faces. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who wanted to see the Matriarch, now that she’d retreated into seclusion to nurse her injured Alistair. No one in the antechamber looked at all pleased to see me, but I was getting used to that. I just scowled right back at them and strode forward like I intended to trample underfoot anyone who didn’t get out of the way fast enough. Usually that works, but this time no one budged an inch. They just stood their ground, blocking the way between me and the door to the Matriarch’s bedroom, on the other side of the antechamber. Openly defying me to get past them. Some were her friends, some were her allies; most were just determined to deny me anything they could. They’d all been people of power and position, before I overturned the applecart. I stopped. It was either that or resort to throwing punches and head-butting, and I wasn’t quite ready to do that yet. Not just yet.
    “Well, look who’s here,” I said. “All the paid-up members of the Let’s Turn the Clock Back and Pretend Nothing’s Happened Society. It’s times like this that make we wonder if we haven’t been getting a little too slack over the rules governing inbreeding. Hands in the air, anyone who can count to eleven on their toes.”
    A woman of a certain age stepped forward to confront me. I didn’t know her, but I recognised the type.
    “How dare you?” she said, loudly. “After everything you’ve done to the family, and to Martha and Alistair…How dare you show your face here?”
    “That’s right, dear. You tell him,” said a man just behind her. Had to be the husband. He had that well-trained look. “Have you no shame, Edwin?”
    “Sorry, no,” I said. “I’m right out. I’ll have to send down to the shops for some more. Now get the hell out of my