Doctor Who_ Relative Dementias - Mark Michalowski [96]
Two eyes, catching the moonlight, sparkled back at her like tiny sapphires.
‘We’ve got to get away,’ she said urgently under her breath, and pulled at the Doctor’s sleeve. But he held firm, frowning at her. ‘Why?’
‘Because. . oh, just because, Doctor. Trust me.’
He frowned and allowed Ace to pull him in the direction of Graystairs. She glanced back to see that the shadows were on the move, stepping over fallen branches, picking their way through the moonlit debris of the wood as if they were robots, silent and creepy. Like three mechanical assassins, they advanced on Ace and the Doctor. Ace remembered the events of the night before
-and suppressed a shudder.
Since Eddie had walked out of the vestry, things had happened quickly: the Doctor had jumped to his feet, announcing that, now that they had Eddie, the endgame had started. Claire had tried to get an explanation from him as to what the hell was going on, but he’d been too busy ordering everyone around to listen. He’d told Claire to get herself back home. She’d offered to call the police, but the Doctor had told her not to, saying that it would just mean more senseless deaths.
Perhaps Michael’s outburst had made an impact on him –
perhaps he was realising the importance of ‘the little people’
Wonders would never cease.
Suddenly, the shadows detached themselves from the spiky blackness of the wood, stepping into the broken moonlight in front of them.
‘Good evening,’ said the tweedy woman with a coldness that totally belied the words.
‘Good evening,’ the Doctor replied, raising his hat with his free hand. ‘Lovely evening for a stroll, isn’t it?’
‘It is indeed a good evening,’ answered the tweedy man at her side, looking from Ace to the Doctor and back again.
‘I’m the Doctor – and this is Ace. I remember seeing you in the village... are you local?’
The woman barely glanced at the man as she said ‘No, not really.’
‘Visiting Graystairs, then?’ The Doctor waved in the direction of the house.
‘That is our intention, yes,’ replied the man.
Ace suddenly remembered the dog, and looked around to see it standing behind her, cutting off her retreat. Its eyes shone with reflected moonlight, still that strange blue, as though illuminated from within. She swallowed.
‘Well perhaps we can go up together,’ suggested the Doctor, and stepped forwards. But the tweedies didn’t move. He caught sight of the dog, moving round to stand at the tweedies’ side, and waggled his fingers at it. It stepped forwards and gave a cautious sniff before glancing up at its owners in an oddly human gesture.
‘Careful Doctor,’ Ace warned him, remembering what the dog was capable of.
‘Beautiful little dog,’ the Doctor said, ignoring her and regarding it curiously. He looked up at the tweedies. ‘Well, a beautiful facsimile of one, anyway.’
He glanced at Ace, a smile playing round his lips. ‘Very realistic, wouldn’t you say, Ace?’
‘I’m sorry,’ the woman said in that distant, unconcerned voice of hers. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘The dog,’ the Doctor said. ‘Very realistic.’ He bent closer to it and it backed away, its eyes fixed on the Doctor. ‘What is it? A Landine?’
For the first time, Ace was almost staggered to see a break in the steely composure that the tweedies had shown so far. They glanced at each other, their eyes widening visibly. ‘How do you –
’ ‘How do I know? Well, when you’ve seen one gene-tailored guardform, you’ve seen them all.’
‘A what?’ whispered Ace, tugging gently at his sleeve.
‘A guardform?’ The Doctor drew himself up, as if preparing to give a lecture. ‘Well, not much more than a wild animal genetically modified, bred and conditioned to act as the ultimate in loyal guard dogs – if you’ll pardon the expression.
Polymorphic, I assume? Landines usually are.’
The tweedies seemed almost lost for words.
‘Oh well, I don’t suppose it matters,’ the Doctor said, saving them from having to answer.