Falls the Shadow (13 page)

Winterdawn’s eye lighted on Ace’s hands – on the object cupped in her palms. It was no larger than a tennis ball, transparent, glowing with a soothing blue light. And powerful. Fear tightened something in his chest.

He barely heard the conversation. His mind locked elsewhere.

‘Yeah?’ Ace might as well be speaking from the other side of the solar system. ‘Doctor there’s some weird shit happening in this house. You know…’

‘I know.’ The Doctor plucked the object from her hands. He scrutinized it with the bearing of a professional. ‘Pyramid power?’

‘Tetrahedron power, Doctor.’ Winterdawn became anxious to regain a hold on the conversation. ‘You hold in your hand the final wonder of the world. God’s own decoder key‐
ring.’

The Doctor was talking, not to Winterdawn but to Ace. Winterdawn felt rejected.

‘Where was it?’

‘In that big wardrobe we saw when we first turned up. The one with the built‐
in floodlights. Sandra showed me.’

Winterdawn took this news in his stride. Betrayed by his own daughter. So what? Did he care?

Did he?

‘This woman attacked my daughter,’ he said.

The Doctor turned sharply, a dark expression on his face.

‘Ace?’ The Doctor asked.

‘No,’ she replied.

‘No,’ Sandra reiterated. Winterdawn recognized the sincerity in both their voices. They weren’t lying. In fact there didn’t seem to be any tension between them at all. Sandra had shown Ace the tetrahedron voluntarily, and that was proof.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, meaning it. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘’Sokay, I forgive you.’ Ace winked. Winterdawn bit his lip, digging his tooth deep. There was a vague taste of blood.

‘You must be Sandra,’ the Doctor was saying, apparently seeing the matter as cleared away and forgotten. He placed a friendly hand on Sandra’s shoulder. ‘I’ve heard so much about you. I had to borrow your room. There’s blood on the covers and a bullet in the ceiling but it was all for the sake of a dear friend.’

‘Doctor?’ Sandra grinned nervously, shooting an awkward glance at Ace.

‘That’s him,’ Ace muttered.

‘Yes.’ Sandra’s manner became dark as she prised the intruding hand from her shoulder. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you too.’

‘Doctor,’ Winterdawn interrupted loudly, determined to regain the initiative. ‘You know what’s happening; you know what I’m doing and you know how. Does my work interest you?’

The Doctor fixed him with a sincere stare. ‘Very much so.’

‘I’m going into the interstitial gap tonight,’ Winterdawn continued, ignoring the concerned expression flashing across his daughter’s face. ‘I was going to take Truman, but I’d prefer it if he stayed behind with the tetrahedron. And I don’t want to go alone.’

‘Yes…’ the Doctor replied guardedly, clearly aware of what was coming.

‘You’re a scientist, Doctor. You seem intelligent, imaginative and open to new experiences. Would you like to see the cosmos from the outside?’

Will you stop struggling?’ Truman hissed. He had the third intruder of the night in an armlock and was debating whether to twist it into a more painful position. He’d found her in Sandra’s room, conspiring with Cranleigh (of all people!). This one called herself Bernice, which was an improvement on ‘Ace’ at least. Unlike the sour and sullen Ace she was attractive, articulate and awkward, trying to fidget her way out of his grip.

Truman had hit on the idea that there was a paranoid conspiracy going on. Was it coincidence that four intruders were loose in the house on the same night? The Doctor and the woman with the gun were still running round free somewhere, there was that weirdo Winterdawn had claimed he’d seen watching the house… Something sinister was going on and Truman would lay odds that Winterdawn’s experiments were at the heart of it.

Bernice tried to jerk her arms out of his hold, but he twisted viciously until she screamed.

‘Shut up!’ Truman recognized the quiet desperation in his voice. ‘For God’s sake shut up.’

‘Have you ever thought,’ Bernice said through tightly clenched teeth, ‘of going into public relations? You’d go down a bomb.’

Truman pressed his free hand under her jaw, forcing it closed. His fingers brushed slowly against her face and hair, but he withdrew the hand hurriedly after the woman sunk her teeth into his index finger.

‘Don’t ever, ever touch me there!’

Truman twisted her arms viciously.

After considerable effort (he’d have to go back and check the furniture for finger‐
nail scratches) Truman finally got the unco‐
operative bitch into the presence of Professor Jeremy Winterdawn. He was coming down the stairs, wheeled down the ramp by his daughter. She was all right, thank God.

‘Professor Winterdawn. May I present,’ he announced with considerable difficulty, ‘yet another of the Doctor’s friends?’

‘Let her go.’

Truman started, swinging his gaze upwards to see the Doctor hovering on the stairs behind Sandra, Ace at his side. She was wearing a vicious expression that did little for his life expectancy. The Doctor had placed a restraining hand on her shoulder and Truman was at least grateful to the little bastard for this. For the moment, his reaction was simple surprise. His triumphant smile cracked and fell open.

Bernice pulled herself free, but Truman didn’t resist.

‘Harry, there seems to have been a small misunderstanding. This is the Doctor and Ace, and you appear to have hurt one of their friends.’ The voice was coming from another galaxy. Truman caught the gist. His eyes flicked between the Doctor and Winterdawn and for once he was grateful for the mask.

‘The Doctor,’ Winterdawn explained, not unkindly, ‘is going into the gap with me tonight. Whenever you’re ready, Harry.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Truman mumbled as Professor, daughter and wheelchair moved past him down the ramp. The Doctor followed them, speaking softly, reciting a rhyme which Truman hadn’t heard since childhood.

‘As I was going up the stair,

I met a man who wasn’t there,

He wasn’t there again today,

I wish, I wish he’d stay away.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he snapped, though suddenly fear – rather than hate – of the Doctor was dominant among his emotions.

‘Don’t you know?’ the Doctor asked. Truman’s aggressive stance dissolved into outright terror. The Doctor’s eyes had been steel‐
grey and terrible and his voice was harsh with truth.

Ace allowed Benny to slip alongside her at the back of the procession.

‘Hello,’ her companion announced with a cheerfulness Ace felt was misplaced. ‘Here we are three jolly souls all together again.’

‘Two jolly souls and one bloody idiot,’ Ace announced, jerking her head towards the Doctor’s back. A weary frown crossed Benny’s face.

‘What’s he done this time?’

Ace told her.

‘That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard this century,’ Benny proclaimed.

‘That’s why I’m doing it,’ the Doctor mumbled.

‘You’re mad,’ Ace lowered her voice to a quiet hiss. ‘Winterdawn’s a fruitloop. I wouldn’t want to be alone in the same
room
as him and you’re taking him on a round trip out of reality!’

‘Trust me,’ the Doctor whispered. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

Ace doubted it.

There was a hush in the cellar room, of the kind Benny usually associated with religious ceremonies. Something sacred was about to take place and from what Ace had told her, it sounded like human sacrifice.

The wardrobe was a wardrobe among wardrobes, but nothing more than that. It didn’t strike her as a potential entrance to other worlds. But then, neither would a police box. The doors had been thrown wide open, revealing bugger all. Three walls, a ceiling, a floor, solid. It was seriously unimpressive. Benny was cursed with a sceptical streak and by the feeling that the Doctor wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Truman sat cross‐
legged on the floor, a bland masked monk in meditation. The tetrahedron sat before him, glowing deeper in response to whatever it was he was doing. Benny had seen more convincing light bulbs and still wasn’t prepared to let the ‘interstitial gap’ have the benefit of the doubt.

Winterdawn was talking to his daughter. They were too distant to make out anything that was said, but Benny could sense a certain guardedness in their conversation. Winterdawn making back‐
up plans probably. In case of emergency pull here. The Doctor inspected the cabinet briefly before cutting across the room to join his companions.

‘Ace, Benny,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you won’t come? It’ll be a fascinating experience.’

‘Only to watch your back.’

‘My back is fine. It doesn’t need watching. Benny?’

‘No thanks.’ Benny smiled lightly. ‘I don’t believe in it.’

‘Well, if I can’t tempt you…’

‘…As the bishop said to the actress.’ Benny grinned salaciously.

‘I
will
see you back here in a couple of hours,’ the Doctor said, and it seemed to be an effort for him. ‘That’s a promise. Keep an eye on Truman.’ And he turned away from them, moving towards Winterdawn.

‘Good luck.’ Ace sounded uncomfortable, stopping the Doctor in mid‐
stride. ‘Professor,’ she added, breaking into a pleasant smile. The Doctor half‐
turned back to them and flicked at his forelock.

‘Thank you Dotty.’ He trundled across to join Winterdawn.

‘What’s he mean about Truman?’ Ace whispered.

‘Have you seen his face?’

Ace shook her head.

‘You haven’t missed much.’

Benny let her concentration wander around the room. It lighted on the features of Professor Winterdawn, now talking eagerly to the Doctor. The old man’s face was alive with a cheery enthusiasm which struck a chord somewhere in Benny’s consciousness. There was something beautiful about his behaviour, a good‐
natured obsession which Benny recognized as part of herself.

…and there was something dark and sick and rotting and buried clawing at the back of Benny’s mind scratching away the warmth and the cosiness…

Benny felt nauseous. She almost doubled up, but controlled herself by biting her lip, chewing with vigorous concentration.

‘Ace,’ she said quietly, but with a heavy emphasis.

‘Yeah,’ Ace replied but she was watching the Doctor, and Benny felt insecure voicing her thoughts without proper eye contact. Sandra slipped across the room to join them, sparing Benny her embarrassment.

‘They’re going,’ was all she said. Benny tried to let her fear slip away while she watched. It didn’t work. There was cold pain in her chest.

The Doctor pushed Winterdawn and his chair into the sarcophagus, pulling the door closed behind him. Anticlimax.

A handful of uneventful seconds slipped by.

Light exploded from the sarcophagus. Searing light seeping from cracks and gaps in the wardrobe’s shape.

Hiroshima light was followed by a long, deathly Hiroshima silence.

Benny’s composure was cracking. She was certain that they would open the wardrobe and find a couple of incinerated bodies, one tangled up in a molten metal frame. The other… the other she didn’t want to think about.

‘It’s okay,’ Truman said softly. ‘They’ve gone.’

There was another long silence bereft of the tension which characterized the first. It was broken by the distant doorbell being rung in short but rapid bursts. An impatient caller, apparently. Sandra smiled easily at the other women and slipped out of the room.

‘Okay,’ Ace said. ‘What’s wrong?’

Benny stared at her, unwilling to divulge her thoughts.

‘I’m not stupid. I can tell when something’s up,’ Ace persisted. Benny nodded and drew her companion into a corner as distant from Truman as possible. A mixture of relief and trepidation built up inside her as she began to air her fears.

‘Do you feel that there’s more going on here than Winterdawn is saying?’

‘More,’ Ace replied coolly. ‘I’m certain.’

‘You are?’

‘You’d be certain if you’d almost had your head torn off by Winterdawn’s twenty‐
foot pet locust! And there’s an attic window which changes colour.’

Benny blinked with practised calmness.

‘What if I told you there’s a woman loose trying to shoot people? Winterdawn a speciality.’

‘She’s got a sensible attitude towards him.’

‘I’m trying to be serious!’ Benny snapped, her composure caving in again. She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to cry.

‘Have you ever had a nightmare which is so… so bloody awful you’re grateful to wake up? And after it you start to get the feeling that it wasn’t a dream, it really happened and you’re just trying to forget it?

‘I had a dream after I’d been attacked in the conservatory. I dreamt I was in the cellar and there was something terrible there with me. I found something sick, a slice of genuine evil. And I… I think I did.’

Briefly she felt awful. She’d been spouting rubbish and Ace was going to laugh in her face and make her feel like shit. She wasn’t certain what she believed herself. She should have kept quiet. Ace said nothing – Benny took this as a bad sign and let her depression mature.

‘Do you want to take a look in the cellar?’ Ace asked, breaking Benny’s fears. ‘If you were just dreaming it can’t do any harm. If it’s real we’d better see what it is. Right?’

‘Right. Thanks,’ Benny replied elatedly.

‘’Sokay. Afterwards we can go hunt my big insect, right?’

Benny was grinning as she nodded, but still she was afraid of the cellar. It couldn’t have been a dream. Dreams don’t inspire so much fear.

Sandra reached the front door, unlocked it and pulled it open. Her apology had begun before it was fully open.

‘I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long, but this is a big house and I was busy in the cellar.’ The apology was abruptly curtailed when she saw the figures on the far side.

There were two people standing on the porch. Sandra knew neither. They were tall, sharp‐
featured, blue‐
eyed and blonde. Both wore the same patient expression. Sandra was startled by how attractive she found both.

Their clothes were formal; the man in a suit, the woman in a dress offset by her hair which hung around her shoulders. Hair and clothes that seemed perfectly dry, though they must have walked through the rain up a muddy track to have reached the house.