Doctor Who_ Foreign Devils - Andrew Cartmel [35]
Zoe looked down from the dark sky and back at the place where the stream. had once been, now just a dark winding trench in the snow clad ground, glistening, drained and empty. The stream, the Kentish countryside, England, the rest of the world . . . She stared out at the unlimited dark reaches of the night. Cold constellations without end. She felt her heart sink into her boots. Slowly she backed away, further still from the edge, and then yet further. Still she didn't feel safe. She wondered if she'd ever feel safe again. The endless abyss seemed to threaten to suck her over the side, into the void, to fall forever . . . 'In short,' said the Doctor, 'there is no question of leaving on foot.'
The guests huddled around a fire in the great hall, most of them still wearing their heavy outdoor coats and sweating glumly. Zoe found herself nabbed by Elder-Main and drafted into serving drinks to everyone. She didn't really mind. Everyone looked like they needed a drink.
Except Thor Upcott, who no doubt had had plenty to drink already. He was standing by the east fireplace, braying loudly. 'Well I think it's absolutely extraordinary. I mean it's not every day that the bulk of the family estate ceases to exist and is replaced by the swirling bowels of the cosmos. It almost makes me wish I had a telescope. Well, actually I do. But I mean it makes me wish I knew something about astronomy. I'd take a crack at looking at all those constellations and milky ways and things.'
Zoe wished he would shut up. But it seemed there was no one who was both inclined and qualified to tell him to do so. The older brother, Pemberton, who might normally be expected to provide this service, was sitting on a sofa staring into some confused inner space. No one sat too near to him, allowing him the traditional respectful isolation of the recently bereaved. Zoe thought of the poor woman upstairs in the bath. The water slowly forming a film of ice around her as the
chill of winter invaded the room.
As soon as she had finished serving drinks – warm pewter mugs of mulled rum with spiced butter floating on it – Zoe took the tray back to the kitchen and then hurried upstairs to join the Doctor and Carnacki. They were once again busy in Mrs Upcott's bathroom. 'How is everyone downstairs?' said the Doctor.
'Pretty downcast,' said Zoe. 'Either waiting for the killer to strike again or still trying to come to grips with the new boundaries of the estate.'
'Oh I don't think they need to worry about the killer. At least not most of them . . . ' said the Doctor. He was standing beside Carnacki, bending down over the tub. The terribly still white form of Mrs Upcott was sitting in the opaque white water with ice crystals slowly forming at the base of her neck. Her long smooth white arms were extended out over either side of the tub.
'Only Thor Upcott seems the least bit cheerful,' said Zoe.
'Yes. Our friend Thor. He is an exception in many ways. Not least an exception to my observation about the killer. Thor, I believe, does indeed have something to fear.' The Doctor turned to Carnacki. 'Can I borrow your magnifying glass?' Carnacki passed it to him. The Doctor peered at the woman's forehead where a tiny red dragon marred the pale skin, like a fresh wound.
'Is her tattoo just like the others?' said Zoe. She found herself speaking in a whisper, as if she were afraid the dead woman might hear her. 'Not quite like the others,' said the Doctor, handing the magnifying glass back to Carnacki.
He offered it to Zoe and she quickly shook her head. 'I'll leave that