Doctor Who: Bad Therapy (39 page)

‘Bring her to me.’

‘And if she is all that you remember and desire will you leave here?’

‘If she is as you say, what reason would I have to stay?’

‘That’s what I’m counting on,’ the Doctor whispered to himself. He beck-oned the woman out of the darkness. Maintaining empathic control over the Toy wasn’t going to be easy without any physical contact. He crossed his fingers behind his back and took a deep breath.

Petruska stood a few feet away from Moriah. Despite her strange clothes she looked composed and regal. Moriah reached out to touch her face, hesitantly, as if he were expecting the worst; but not, the Doctor noted, without hope.

The Doctor closed his eyes. He concentrated on Petruska’s song. The song he had read on the walls of Gilliam’s memories. He focused upon its gen-227

tle, seductive melody, careful to ignore the words which were tucked away between its notes. In his mind, he sang the song to Moriah, following the delicate verses and feeling himself lifted by the confident march of the chorus.

When the Doctor opened his eyes again, Moriah had wrapped Petruska in his arms and they were kissing passionately. When they finally broke off, Moriah’s grey eyes were shining with tears.

‘You have brought her back to me,’ he said, choked. ‘She is exactly as I remember her when she was by my side.’

The Doctor smiled tightly, careful to keep giving voice to the song in his mind. He could already feel Moriah’s own resistance to Petruska. He could feel the man-god’s unconscious guilt crashing against her, unable or unwilling to hear and accept her song of love. Somewhere deep inside the centuries-old man, the Doctor was sure that Moriah knew that he was unworthy of his queen.

As the Doctor moved quickly over to one of the globes and began to programme the coordinates of the gateway, he began to improvise his own harmonies to the melody of the song, working hard to provide a sound full enough to drown out Moriah’s insecurities. It wasn’t easy: conducting a choir of internal voices was one thing, but simultaneously writing additional patterns for them to sing was quite another.

‘I have kept my side of the agreement, Moriah,’ the Doctor said through gritted teeth. ‘Now it is time for you to honour yours. It is time for you to leave.’ He pulled his paisley handkerchief from his top pocket and dabbed at the beads of cold sweat which had formed on his brow.

He wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for much longer.

‘Can’t go on,’ Chris panted. ‘Pain. Hurts so much. Got to rest.’

Patsy glanced behind them into the smog. There was no trace of the monstrous vehicle that had swallowed Gordy Scraton, but it couldn’t be far behind them. She had the distinct impression that it was playing a game of a cat and mouse with them.

‘Come on Chris, don’t give up on me now.’ It was perverse, but ever since he’d been shot, she’d felt stronger, clearer headed. More herself. Whoever that was.

He needed her. And his need was keeping her alive. His need was all the blood in her veins and all the air she needed for her lungs.

Patsy half dragged, half carried Chris to the side of the road, just as she saw the black cab emerge through the smog behind them.

She looked around desperately for somewhere to hide. They’d walked further than she’d thought and were back outside the Top Ten Club. A small fire escape spiralled up to the roof of the club – if they could get even a few steps 228

up the fire escape then they would be safe from the taxi which was bearing down on them.

She tipped Christopher on to the fire escape ahead of her and he sprawled on the first couple of steps. He was half-conscious now, but still grunted in pain as his shoulder hit the iron bannister.

Patsy jumped up beside him, her lungs aching with the strain of her exer-tions. The cab was still coming. It slowed at the base of the metal staircase and seemed to hover uncertainly. Up close she could see that its surface was matt and tacky. Grit and small stones were embedded in the surface of the strange vehicle; it looked like a jelly that had fallen in the dirt.

The black cab was wider than the stairs. It touched the bannisters and its front wings bulged around the metal bars for a moment before it absorbed them into itself and began moving up the first step.

Patsy screwed her face up in disgust. She almost gave up, only the idea of the monstrous vehicle swallowing Christopher girded her into action. She climbed up past him before turning, getting hold of him under his arms and dragging his dead weight up the steps.

Come on, Squire Cwej. Don’t give up on me yet.

The cab moved slowly, perhaps affected by trying to accommodate the railings within itself, but it showed no sign of giving up its chase.

Patsy reached the flat roof of the Top Ten Club and dragged Chris across to the far side. The air was clear of smog, the fires in Notting Hill had filled the night sky with dark orange streaks.

There wasn’t anywhere to go from here. They were trapped.

She shook him gently. ‘We’re in trouble, Cwej; you can’t go to sleep, not yet.’

He looked peaceful. She almost could taste his need to rest on her tongue.

Well, you can’t always have what you want.

She slapped him rudely awake. ‘Wake up, Adjudicator Cwej, or I’ll have you transferred and get myself a decent squire.’ Patsy didn’t know what the words she was saying meant, but she knew who they belonged to.

‘Roz,’ he slurred and opened his eyes, focusing on something beyond her.

‘Roz, behind you.’

The cab bounced on to the roof, accelerating, its bright headlamps chasing each other across the wet floor of the roof as it swung from side to side, searching them out in the darkness.

The air was like treacle in the underground cavern. The aniseed smell from the pools of black tar was overwhelming, and made Jack feel giddy and nauseous. He moved as quietly as he could down the crumbling stairs that were cut into the side of the cavern. Below him he could see the Doctor bent over one of the fiery spheres, behind him Moriah held his bride in his arms.

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Jack’s attention was distracted by movement in one of the corners of the cavern. From out of the shadows, he saw a figure in a white tunic stalk the Doctor. It was one of Moriah’s blank-faced mannequins, armed with a double-pronged spear.

‘Doctor,’ Jack cried, but he was too far away and his voice was lost in the huge chamber.

Moriah’s attention appeared to be completely focused on his bride.

Jack shouted down at the tiny figures again. At this distance he couldn’t tell if the Doctor had heard him. He set off, taking the large, crumbling stone steps two at a time.

As he neared the floor of the cavern, he could see the Doctor more clearly.

His mouth was moving as if he were engaged in an anxious conversation with himself. His face was a mask of concentration. His eyes staring, without blinking, at the task in front of him.

The creature moved stealthily towards him, stalking the Doctor as if he were a dangerous animal and it a brave hunter. Jack saw that Moriah was looking over his bride’s shoulder, watching the creature’s progress with his old, impassionate eyes. The creature crept up behind the Doctor and raised its glinting spear, preparing to plunge it into his back.

‘No!’ Jack screamed. ‘Doctor! Look out!’

The Doctor looked up from his task to see Jack running down the last of the stone stairs towards him and his face furrowed in desperate annoyance. ‘Jack, don’t, you’ll spoil –’ And then he must have understood the panic on Jack’s face because he spun around just as the creature brought its weapon down upon him.

Chris blinked as he lay on the edge of the flat roof. Someone was shining lights in his eyes. Two bright white shining lights. They were getting nearer.

His shoulder felt frozen, the joint had locked and he couldn’t feel his arm at all.

He blinked again. The shining lights were headlamps of a black cab – no, of
the
black cab. Part of his memory returned. The monster, coming for them out of the smog.

Through his tears he saw someone – Roz? – standing next to him. It was just like her to have to end up looking after him. Roslyn Forrester protecting her young squire.

No, that couldn’t be right. Why not? His mind was a fog.

She stepped in front of him, waving her arms to attract the vehicle’s attention. It swung towards her and she immediately darted away from Christopher, leading the monster away from him.

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He called after her but she didn’t reply. His vision started to blur and darken, he fought the blackness, willing himself to focus: he didn’t want to die while he could still see her.

For a moment she stood on the low wall of the roof, silhouetted against the dark orange of the night sky, facing the vehicle which was hurtling, hungrily towards her. It made a jump for her and then, for a moment, all Chris could see was the outline of the London taxi cab suspended in the air against the skyline of the city. And then it dropped out of the sky, plummeting towards the ground below.

The silver spear crashed into the glass sphere, and it shattered, spraying shards of glass everywhere. The green fire which burnt inside flared when it was exposed to the air in the cavern. It exploded upward, bathing the faceless creature’s head in intense emerald flames. The creature made a guttural wail and its doughy flesh melted, dripping like porridge down on to its scorched tunic.

The Doctor rolled neatly out of his dive and turned to face Moriah. ‘Oh very clever,’ he barked. ‘Very
honourable
.’

‘I have my queen now, Doctor. What use have I for honour?’

Moriah was distracted by Petruska beginning to move in his embrace. ‘What is it, my love?’ he asked, smoothing her long, dark hair with his hand. She flinched from his caresses, squirming in his embrace. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘I do not believe it. What is happening?’

The Doctor stood, motionless. His blue eyes burning brightly beneath his heavy brow. ‘She’s expressing her true feelings for you, Moriah.’

‘Are you responsible for this, Doctor? Have you instigated this deception?’

Moriah threw his bride down on to the ground. ‘Why?’ he howled. ‘Why can’t I have her back?’

As if in answer, Moriah’s veiled brides began to drift out of the shadows in the cavern to welcome their new sister into their ranks, as they had welcomed all of the Petruskas before her.

‘Because your wife is dead,’ the Doctor said, calmly. ‘Long dead.’

‘Then you will join her.’ Moriah reached out with one of his large hands and grabbed hold of the Doctor by the throat.

The Doctor struggled against the alien grip, never once taking his eyes off Moriah.

Jack tried to intervene, tried to pull one of Moriah’s huge arms away. The Doctor winced when he saw Moriah casually bat Jack away with the back of his free hand.

Moriah lifted the Doctor off the ground. ‘I shall have the pleasure of ending your life before I leave this place, Doctor. And one day I will find my queen.

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If I have to kill a thousand people, I shall have her.’

The Doctor’s eyes bulged as he felt his windpipe begin to collapse. He’d used up all his tricks, all his plans. He didn’t have anything tucked up his sleeve. His aces were all spent, his trump card played and lost, and his friends were either hurt, had deserted him, or were dead.

Sometimes, Roz, the monsters just refuse to fall into their own traps. The thought made him smile somewhere deep inside of himself. He looked into Moriah’s eyes, and only felt pity for the huge man.

The world went dark.

It took Chris twenty minutes to stagger down to street level from the roof.

His head was thick with shock and he had to keep stopping to rest to prevent himself from blacking out.

All that remained of the taxi was a thick black smear which ran across the pavement. Lying within it, coated in a layer of slime was the body of Gordy Scraton, and a blank-faced mannequin dressed in a suit two sizes too big for it.

Chris ignored the dead thug. He knelt in the black jelly by the mannequin that had once been Patsy. Her featureless body was twisted and broken by the fall. He wiped her blank face clean with his hand. He stayed like that until the ambulance came.

Above him, on the wall of the Top Ten Club, Patsy Monette stared sightless out of her photograph.

The Doctor felt the kindness of women’s hands upon him. Moriah’s grip on his throat was loosened, and he drew a rasping breath into his lungs. Only then was he sure that he was still alive.

He opened his eyes. He was in the middle of a crowd of veiled women. They swarmed around him, pushing past him, reaching for Moriah with clawed hands.

‘You shall not leave us,’ the women told their king in one voice. ‘You are ours, Moriah,’ they chanted. ‘Just as we are yours.’

The First King of Kr’on Tep struggled violently against the women who beat him with their fists and tore at his skin with their bare hands, but eventually the sheer number of attackers overwhelmed him. He screamed in terror as he was buried under their many pounding fists.

The Doctor scrambled over to where Jack sat, rubbing his jaw where Moriah had struck him. ‘Time to leave,’ he said.

The first explosions shook the building just as the Doctor and Jack reached the main hallway of the Institute.

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‘I think visiting time must be over,’ the Doctor shouted.

A huge crack appeared in the linoleum floor and the little man almost toppled into it. Jack had to grip the collar of his jacket and pull him back.

‘What’s going on?’

‘The bird/globe is disintegrating. The Vortex is leaking through the gateway.’

Around them, mannequins in orderlies’ uniforms staggered in confusion with no one to direct their thoughts.

Jack followed the Doctor as he edged around the yawning tear in the middle of the room. Kaleidoscopic light was spilling into the room from the underground chamber below, casting emerald butterfly shadows on the ceiling.

The building trembled violently beneath Jack’s feet. As the Doctor opened the front door, the brace gave way and the wall above the door collapsed into the doorway, and the little man disappeared beneath a shower of bricks and cement.