Doctor Who_ Camera Obscura - Lloyd Rose [80]
But not the dog. Every time he heard it, it was closer. He was gasping for breath and his blood pounded in his ears and every step jarred him to the bone. How ironic if he ran off a cliff. Well, perhaps ‘ironic’ wasn’t quite the word. What would the word be, he wondered, lungs aching. Not ‘amusing,’ though, admittedly, there was something amusing about it. And speaking of the right word – he slid and stumbled down a rise, narrowly escaping twisting his ankle – what was that quote? The something of a gigantic hound. Snarling? No. Barking? – his foot hit a rock, he recovered, pounded on – No. Yelping? Definitely nA triumphant howl broke out behind him.
Persistence. The Doctor frantically shrugged off his coat. The persistence of a gigantic hound. He spun around, throwing up the coat as the dog careened into him, and hit the ground with the animal in his arms, snarling and fighting the enveloping cloth. Rolling the furious bundle off him, the Doctor gained his feet one more time and staggered away. It was hopeless. The dog would be free in a matter of seconds. Lightning flashed. He glimpsed a grotesque shadow thrown in front of him, whirled in time to see the wild eyes of the charging horse – then the night was pitch black and something, with impossible strength, seized his collar and heaved him across the saddle.
The Doctor’s breath slammed out of him. His captor wrenched his arm up behind his back to hold him in place, but he still rocked and slid wildly on the galloping horse. He tried to cry Slow down, but could only gasp. His arm was going to break, he could feel it. Why so fast? He was caught, there was no need, his arm, his arm was –
The horse reared and the Doctor, released, slid to the ground. He rolled away, dazed, throwing up a hand against the brilliant light that had startled the horse. Where had it come from? He turned his head, gaped stupidly at his shadow. The light was blinding at this close distance, too bright, brighter than any light produced in this century, bright as –
The Doctor fell back, with a noise that could have been either a laugh or a groan. The horse and rider leaped into the darkness, and now he could hear, below the rain, the hum of an engine before its time, after its time, out of any time whatever – he shielded his eyes and stared into the blazing searchlights, just glimpsing, beyond their glare, a brass railing, and the massive figure leaning on it.
The next minute, hands were lifting him and worried voices talking.
‘Doctor...?’ said Fitz.
‘Are you all right?’ said Anji. She pushed the Doctor’s soaked, straggled hair back. His eyes were shut. She and Fitz stared anxiously at his white, rain-wet face. His lips moved, and they bent close to hear.
‘Footprints,’ the Doctor murmured. ‘ “Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.”’
* * *
Chapter Eighteen
In the courtyard of the thatch-roofed inn sat stone urns of flowers, still a little wet from the night’s rain and almost sparkling in the clear sun. The whole white-walled village, and even the ancient grey church, seemed to have a new-washed gleam. The Angel-Maker didn’t care. She sat on a bench in the high churchyard looking down at the thatched roofs and clean cobblestones, frowning.
She could just see a corner of the inn yard and the arm and shoulder of someone having tea out-of‐doors. She thought it was Fitz. The woman, Anji, would be with him. He was still inside; she’d made sure of that when she couldn’t find Sabbath. Fitz had said Sabbath had gone for a walk on the moor, and this sounded reasonable to her, but she was still uneasy and kept an eye on the inn in case he came out.
Oh,