Doctor Who_ Halflife - Mark Michalowski [83]
The voices belonged to an arrogant woman and an oily sounding man. She could almost hear the squelching of his palms rubbing together as he spoke.
His voice was much quieter, as if he’d discovered that stealthiness and creeping around paid the best dividends in life; the woman’s voice, by complete contrast, was loud and harsh, as though she was absolute Queen and Ruler of the Whole Bloody Universe and didn’t care who knew it. Lovely couple, thought Trix. Must invite them round for dinner. Something told her that these two were rather high up: maybe Sensimi’s mother and father, although the man sounded considerably younger than the woman. Didn’t Sensimi have a brother? Where had she heard that?
‘. . . probably dressing it in another doll’s outfit,’ the man’s voice said – the first words Trix had actually been able to make out.
‘Ghastly creature,’ cawed the woman. ‘I don’t know why I ever let your sister bring it in here in the first place. My first task as Imperatrix proper will 150
be to issue an Imperial Edict to make them illegal. Public health or something.
Have them all shot.’
The man chuckled fawningly. So the woman was definitely the Imperatrix
– and the man Sensimi’s brother.
‘Have you briefed the chef?’ the Imperatrix asked suddenly, and through the crack, Trix could see them: it was, judging by the resemblance to some of the portraits she’d seen in the corridors, the Imperatrix, looking every inch the evil-sounding old harridan – short and skinny, with a cascade of dark hair and ruby red lips. Sensimi’s brother, half-stooped in supplication and – joy! –
with his hands clasped together in mid-rub, was probably around Trix’s age.
His skin was rather lighter than Sensimi’s, and, to Trix’s surprise, he wasn’t half bad-looking. She’d hoped, somehow – expected – that his physiognomy would have matched his wheedling tones. But if he’d just stood a little more upright and stopped doing a Uriah Heep with his hands, he could have been quite a looker.
‘Everything’s on hold while this storm passes,’ he said, ‘but I’ve given her a list of Father’s favourite dishes, and –’ his lips twisted cruelly – ‘I’ve given her some of that special herb mix that he loves so much.’
The Imperatrix shifted so that Trix could only see the back of her head, but she could still hear every word the woman spoke.
‘Good – and I take it you’ve seen to it that she has special transport home. . .
after the dinner?’
The man inclined his head in a nod, as if desperately trying to curry favour with a superior, not his mother.
‘Good boy, Javill.’ She reached out and cupped the side of Javill’s face with her thin fingers, nails like scarlet talons, stroking his skin. Trix felt her stomach turn as Javill brought up his own hand, took his mother’s, and kissed the palm, his eyes never leaving his mother’s face.
Suddenly, from behind her, there came a squeaky little growl. Looloo was snoring.
‘What was that?’ asked the Imperatrix.
‘It’ll be that animal,’ Javill said, turning away from the door.
‘You’re sure she’s not in there – Sensimi, I mean?’
‘Of course not – she only ever leaves the door open when she’s not around so that Looloo can wander around. You don’t think I’d have let us have that conversation right here if she’d been in, do you?’
‘I don’t know. . . ’ she said silkily. ‘You might have enjoyed it. Now make sure you stay upstairs. There’s no telling when this storm will hit. . . ’
Trix had pulled back as the woman had turned, and now stood in the darkness behind the door. A few moments later, she heard them talking again. By this time, damn them, they’d moved away, and Trix couldn’t tell what they 151
were saying. She waited another minute and then glanced through the crack, just to be sure. There was no sign of them. She opened the door and slipped out. The corridor was deserted.
Of course, Trix didn’t have a clue what she was supposed