Doctor Who_ Set Piece - Kate Orman [96]
Ten.
‘But there are three rules. One. I’m in charge.’
‘Whatever you say, Professor.’
Nine.
‘Kill her.’
Eight.
‘Ace. Come back. Come home.’
‘What’s happening to me, Doctor?’
‘It’s alright, Ace. We’re going home.’
Seven.
‘You’re so clever, you little shit. I’m never gonna play your games again . . .
never get manipulated again.’
Six.
‘Two. I’m not the Professor. I’m the Doctor.’
‘Whatever you want.’
Five.
He saw the searing Blue in her eyes, the glitter of the obsidian blade in her hand. He threw his arms around her, as though she were the one who needed 187
protection, as though she were the sacrifice. And then she slammed the knife up and into his chest, and suddenly his knees buckled and she was the one holding him.
Four.
‘And the third?’
Three.
‘Scream, I’ll save you later.’
Two.
‘Well, I’ll think up the third by the time we get back to Perivale.’
One.
No.
She wasn’t going to sacrifice him.
That was the third rule. That was it. That was her rule. No – one deserves to be sacrificed. Not her, not Jan.
‘Not even you, you old bastard,’ she said out loud, and put her gun away.
Astonishingly, he winked a chlorophyll-coloured eye at her.
Then he threw back his head and screamed.
Nicolas had stuffed a travelling bag with clothes, money, some food hidden in a cupboard in the shop. He ran to the cellar door, flung it open, hesitated at the odd green light and the thick, sour hothouse smell. Well!’ he cried. ‘Are you coming?’
The Englishwoman appeared at the bottom of the steps. ‘You’re leaving?’
‘ Bien sûr! I don’t fancy hanging around for the justice of the Versaillais.’
‘What time is it?’
Nicolas glanced back at a cuckoo clock on the wall. ‘It’s eight in the morning. It’s already warm, going to be a scorcher.’
‘I’ll say. The Communards will set Paris alight to try and stop the advance of the troops. And the Versaillais are going to shoot everything that moves.’
‘You’re very well-informed.’
‘Yes.’
‘So let’s go!’
Benny was coming up the steps. ‘Do you know what’s down here?’
Nicolas shook his head. ‘I thought, perhaps a medical school, without a license. She needed the bodies for dissection.’
‘How many bodies did you bring here?’
‘Perhaps a dozen. Perhaps a score.’
‘Why are you trying to save my life?’
‘ Comment? ’
‘How many people did you kill? For how much money?’
188
Nicolas backed away from the cellar door. ‘If you don’t want a lift,’ he growled, ‘you can stay here and burn!’
‘How many, Nicolas? As long as you got your money, it didn’t matter how they died, did it?’
‘You can stay here and burn.’ He stomped out, bag slung over his shoulder.
Benny listened until she heard his horses’ hooves on the cobblestones. ‘I wasn’t going anywhere anyway,’ she said, and went back into the cellar.
Ace was screaming too, now, because the Doctor was thrashing in the vines, his tenor howl skittering up into a surprisingly high shriek. She tried to reach him, but there was too much vegetable matter in the way, looping and snaking, trying to grab her hands.
Suddenly his cries were cut off. His chest heaved, a tiny trickle of blood made its way out of his mouth. Ace’s ears rang, but the only noise was the desperate sound of his breathing.
With a crunching sound, the flower exploded out of his shoulder. She screamed again as she was sprayed with alien blood. The blossom uncurled itself just below the Doctor’s left collarbone.
Ace frantically wiped sticky hair out of her eyes. The flower’s roots were thrust deep into his chest, wrapped around the ganglion. Don’t throw up, don’t throw up, you’ve seen worse stuff than this, haven’t you? Haven’t you? The blossom pulsed redly into life, its petals rushing with the double rhythm of his hearts. It was a communications relay, connecting his central nervous system directly with Ship’s.
And then Ship died.
The corridor trembled once, its light flickering like a sick fluorescent tube. The sounds of the living vessel whispered away into nothing. The air hung thick as treacle.
The Doctor’s body hung limply