Doctor Who_ Ghost Light - Marc Platt [21]
Ace darted forward and threw back the drape. She revealed a small bird which was desperately beating its wings against the glass.
Lightning blazed in through the window, accompanied by a stone-splitting crack of thunder. The bird dropped to the floor and lay fluttering on its back at Ace’s feet. The beats of its wings grew slower and finally stopped altogether.
Ace reached down to touch it, but drew her hand away with a look of distaste.
‘It’s just a toy. Look, one of the toys,’ she said, but the toy, like those in the observatory at the top of the house, was a little too real.
Gwendoline knelt down by the bird with a look of grief on her face. ‘Poor thing,’ she said. ‘It was one of my friends. And it’s such a long way to go to Java.’
The storm crashed again and from somewhere close by, they heard the terrified cry of a man beyond the end of his wits.
‘Come on, something’s happening!’ Ace said, heading for the door.
Gwendoline faltered: until now it had been only a game.
‘Wait! I can’t wear this,’ she called.
‘Course you can,’ came the reply as Ace disappeared up the passage. Gwendoline heard the scream again and followed.
Against the screams and the rolling thunder, Ace could hear a gushing, rasping noise that grated in her head. She rounded a corner and saw the housekeeper in repose, a candle in one hand, her head reclined against a closed door and her grip firmly on the handle. White light seeped under the door and the gushing sound came from inside.
Immediately, Gwendoline was at Ace’s shoulder. ‘Mrs Pritchard? What’s going on?’ she demanded.
Without moving her head to look at them, Mrs Pritchard’s dead voice replied, ‘The door is jammed, miss.’
There was another scream from inside the room, to which the housekeeper paid no apparent attention.
‘Let me do it,’ said Ace, grabbing at the handle.
Mrs Pritchard’s arm thrust out to restrain Ace and her head turned sluggishly to fix Ace with a baleful stare. The eyes narrowed as she took in the girls’ dinner suits and bow ties.
Ace returned the glare and stepped back to get a decent swing at the door with her foot. There was another cry and the light under the door burned more fiercely.
‘Ace!’ The Doctor dashed along the passage and pulled her clear. ‘That’s no way for a Victorian lady...’ he took in her clothes and corrected himself, ‘...gentleman to behave!’
‘I’m no gentleman!’ she protested.
‘That’s still no excuse to wreck the joint.’
Ace, however, was not listening. She was staring at Josiah, who had come up the passage followed by Nimrod.
His white face with its parchment-like skin leered at her from behind the black glass spectacles before he turned towards the others.
‘Gwendoline, is this a metamorphosis?’ he croaked, fingering the sleeve on her black dinner-jacket.
‘It was Ace’s idea,’ she replied, proudly grinning at her new friend.
Josiah turned back to scrutinize Ace again. She paled at his look and clung on to the Doctor for protection.
The thunder boomed, but there were no more cries from the room, only the nerve-jangling flood of sound. So intense was the glare from behind the door that the grain of the wood stood out darkly on the opaque, glowing panels.
Josiah motioned Nimrod towards the door. The energy surged in power as Mrs Pritchard moved aside to allow Nimrod access and her candle exploded like a firework, flinging sparks into Josiah’s face. He fell back with a cry.
The Doctor and Ace exchanged worried glances.
‘I like the tuxedo,’ said the Doctor.
Nimrod set his shoulder to the door and began to heave all his weight against the barrier. It was then that Ace noticed a loud clicking coming from the Doctor’s jacket.
‘You’re crackling, Porfessor,’ she whispered in his ear.
He plunged his hand into his pocket and produced the Geiger counter. Its display uncontrollably flashed through an impossible range of figures.
‘Get behind me,’ ordered the Doctor, pushing Ace back and covering her eyes with his hand.
Nimrod began to heave the door open. Cold light sliced into