Molly offered to teleport us right to the lake, but I thought it better we take our time and walk. I didn’t want Harry to think he could panic us into acting precipitously. No, let him wait. The three of us left the Hall and strolled unhurriedly across the wide expanse of open lawns towards the lake. It was a nice summer’s day, warm sunshine and a pleasant breeze. Bright blue sky, with hardly any clouds. And it would have been a pleasant enough walk if I hadn’t had such a bad feeling about the coming encounter.

A Drood and a hellspawn, together? Not that long ago I would have said such a thing was impossible. But I’d learned a lot about what the family was capable of since then. Little of it good.

Molly linked her arm through mine as we walked along. She was always happier when she was out in the grounds. She was, after all, a witch of the wild woods, and the old gray stone of the Hall imposed on her free and easy nature. She chattered happily as we walked, and I did my best to go along, but both of us could tell my heart wasn’t in it. My mind was ahead of us, at the lake.

“Harry Drood,” I said finally to the Armourer. “There was a scandal about him, wasn’t there?”

“Oh yes,” said the Armourer. “Though it was never discussed outside the Matriarch’s Council. You see, James only married once, and then expressly against the Matriarch’s wishes. Only he could have got away with something like that. He married the infamous adventurer and freelance spy, Melanie Blaze. A very successful operative, in her own sneaky, Machiavellian, and underhanded way. She and James made a great team, important players back in the sixties. Whenever you heard of a secret base being blown up, or an untouchable villain being assassinated, you knew it had to be James and Melanie. Everyone admired them, even their enemies, and every Drood wanted to be them.

“James only brought Melanie home a few times. The Matriarch was very cold.

“And then Melanie disappeared into the subtle realms, on some secret mission or other, and never resurfaced. That was . . . fifteen years ago now. James went in after her several times, with and without family approval, but he never found her. He was never the same, after that.”

“James was like a second father to me,” I said. “He brought me up after my parents were killed. But I don’t think I ever even met Harry.”