Doctor Who_ The City of the Dead - Lloyd Rose [77]
'I trust you.' Fitz jumped. Damn! Without opening his eyes, the Doctor found his hand and clasped it reassuringly. 'You have to trust me. Let me handle things my way. And don't bother Rust. He's worked to death.' Fitz started to reply, but the Doctor's hand fell away and he was gone again. He didn't move even when Anji emerged from the bathroom and dumped a tooth glass of cold water on his head.
Now, several hours later in this elegant restaurant, she wasn't particularly proud of that. Not that it had fazed the Doctor in the least: he had slept serenely on. It was Fitz, the voice of reason for once, who had told her what the Doctor had said and persuaded her to leave Rust out of things, at least for the time being. It was difficult, though, since the detective was talking about Acree:
'Have you seen his stuff?'
'No.'
Rust shook his head. 'He has talent, all right. I guess it's all a matter of taste.'
'He's obviously disturbed,' she said. Then, unable to help herself,'It's a wonder he hasn't hurt anyone.'
'Well, you know, your genuine homicidal maniac is a rare animal. People can be awfully, awfully crazy without resorting to killing. It's not something a man likes to do sober: drink or drugs are involved in the large majority of cases. And murder is usually a one-time crime. The guy generally feels pretty terrible about it and wants to put it behind him. I'm leaving out professionals, of course - drug dealers and so on. For them, it's a business necessity'
"This country is so violent,' she said. 'Not to be insulting, but from outside, the United States sometimes looks quite mad.'
He smiled ruefully. 'It's the American dream. When you have a country devoted to dreaming, a fair percentage of the population is going to have nightmares.'
A nightmare brought me here, she thought, and pictured the Doctor stretched out on his bed at Owl. Fitz had said that probably he wasn't asleep so much as in some sort of trance state. She felt bad again about the glass of water. She hoped he hadn't felt it and that by the time he decided to wake up he'd be dry.
In fact, to the extent that he had sensed it in his trance, the water had felt good to the Doctor. He was still a little feverish. Dupre's powders had been unusually toxic - or perhaps just extra-naturally toxic. The Doctor had partially shut down to finish healing, and to mull over matters as they presently stood. Though he didn't want them adding to Rust's problems, he appreciated Fitz and Anji's concern. And they were right about his not having been entirely forthcoming.
But would Fitz have made that intuitive guess about the empty grave if his mind had been muddled up with water spirits and time-travelling charms?
And their knowing about Teddy Acree only meant they had both jumped to the conclusion that he was Delesormes Jnr. Even if this were true, Acree had been frightened out of his ability to do anyone but himself harm. In fact, one reason the Doctor didn't believe Acree was Delesormes was that he doubted that obviously accomplished young mage would have been alarmed at a demonic manifestation. Or would have had anything to do with a pathetic fool like Dupre.
In which case, where was the boy he had pulled out of the wrecked house?
Did it even matter? The Doctor thought it probably did. The charm was the work of the boy's father - was the boy's father in one sense, being made of his bone. Surely he would be drawn to it, now that it was back in time after spending twenty-odd years on the bottom of a wardrobe in a time machine.
Did he even remember being rescued by the Doctor, or slipping the charm into his pocket?
I know what happened, he thought, but I don't know what happened.
Owing, he presumed, to the charm's peculiar temporal field, the TARDIS
had accurately homed in on it and made a precise landing on that spring night in 1980, enabling him to witness the incident that started everything.
He had the facts. But he didn't have the answer. So much for the advantages