Doctor Who_ Cats Cradle_ Witch Mark - Andrew Hunt [75]
He'd already tried reasoning with them. As he had lain, barely conscious, in the darkness of what seemed to be a broom cupboard, he had heard them discussing what was to happen to him. At the first chance that had presented itself, he had spoken to one of his captors.
'You can't burn me!' he had said. 'This is England, isn’t it? You don't burn people in England!'
'No, boyo,' the masked figure had replied, 'this isn't England and nor is it Wales. This is a little extension of the old world. Our families may not have lived there for a hundred years, but we still remember the traditions. And even though their so-called guardian of the stones won't help us, we know what to the likes of you. '
'Hey, come on!' David tried to put a bit of levity into his voice. 'Surely you can't hate Americans that much.'
'American, English, French, Welsh. That's of no importance,' the man spat. 'You're a witch!'
Jack and Inspector Stevens ran and slithered down the gully in the hillside. Its sides fell away and now carried along with the smell they heard voices chanting.
'Down here!' Jack took off away from the stream, heading towards the trees at the bottom of the valley.
The chanting grew louder, and there were points of fire dancing amongst the trees. Stevens and Jack dodged between them and Jack began to yell like fury. Stevens imitated him; it looked like there were ten people there and it would take a lot of noise for them to be intimidated by two.
But the chanting faltered and Stevens heard voices raised in query. And then the torchlights scattered.
They caught glimpses of white robes dashing amongst the trees. When they burst into the clearing, there was only one of the white figures remaining, clutching a torch. And tied to a stone post was David.
‘Jack,’ he shouted, relieved to see his friend. The person in the white robe looked around in desperation and then flung his torch at the wood piled around David’s feet. It roared into flames.
‘Oh my God, Jack!’ David shouted. 'Get me out of here!’
Jack rushed forward to free him and the lingerer took the opportunity to escape. Steven’s lumbering run brought him into the clearing just too late to fling himself at the absconding figure – but he did it anyway.
'David, it's good to see you,’ Jack said.
‘You too, Jack. I thought it was rissole time for me. Who's your friend?’
Stevens levered himself up on one elbow. ‘Stevens of the Yard at your service. You would be David Gibson, I take it? Your foot is on fire by the way.’
David beat his foot on the ground until the flames died down.
'Who were those weirdos, David?' Jack's face was a picture of happiness 'What happened to you?'
‘God knows, I’ve been out of it for twenty-four hours.’
'Would you recognize any of your assailants?' asked Stevens.
'You bet.' David nodded vigorously. 'You don't forget people like that.’
'Right then, I’ll drop you two off at the Swan and then I'll go and fetch the village policeman. He'll have to do something now.’
'But he's mixed up in all this ' Jack protested.
'Maybe' Stevens agreed: but there was some doubt in his voice. He was used to policemen going out of their way to obstruct him. ‘Anyway, I’ll need him if I’m to get the police at Gwydyr to do anything.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ said David.
‘But do you know why they wanted to burn you?’ Jack asked.
‘Well,’ said David, ‘I’m not sure … but I think it may have more than a little to do with this.’ And pulling his hair to one side, he showed them his birthmark.
‘You again!’ Hughes sounded annoyed this time. Stevens noticed the sweat that was standing out in beads upon the constable’s forehead.
'I want you to come down to the Black Swan and take a statement off one of those young American lads.'
Hughes turned and went through into his kitchen. Stevens used this as an invitation to come in.