Doctor Who_ The Hollow Men - Keith Topping [106]
alive with the alien creature - were of natural rock, dominated by a large silver mirror.
Ace ran towards the mirror, but saw only her puzzled reflection staring back at her. „What‟s this doing here?‟ she wondered aloud.
Suddenly something moved behind her, reflected in the mirror. She turned, and saw an impossibly tall man, dressed in white robes, held in place with a silver sash. His hair gleamed like gold.
„Right,‟ said Ace, „I‟ve had enough. Who the hell are you?‟
The tall man stooped to look down at Ace, as though he hadn‟t noticed her before. His face creased into a frown, and he didn‟t answer, seemingly unused to such communication.
„I watched the battle at Mons,‟ he said, obviously considering this explanation enough. His eyes were wet with an extraordinary sadness.
„The bloke who brought me here,‟ explained Ace, „said I had something to do. A mission.‟
The tall man nodded, but said nothing more.
Ace sighed. „Well?‟
„Smash the mirror,‟ said the man, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.
„Why?‟ asked Ace.
The man smiled, his face lighting up like early-morning clouds. „Because you want to.‟
„Why can‟t you do it?‟
The man pushed his arm through the mirror, as if by way of demonstration. „We can have no direct impact on Jack,‟ he said.
„Then the mirror is... Jack?‟
The man shook his head. „A mirror into his soul. It was an unwanted gift to Jeffreys, and was left in the pit when he sacrificed the villagers to Jack‟s greed.‟
„Jeffreys?‟ asked Ace.
„Smash the mirror,‟ said the man, turning away from Ace.
Moments later he was out of the pit, and striding across the countryside.
„I thought you guys had halos and little wings,‟ called Ace after him, but the tall man was long since gone.
Ace scrabbled in the writhing soil for a rock.
The Red Lion was an old-fashioned-looking public house on the edge of the village of Yarcombe, some twelve miles from Hexen Bridge. Matthew Hatch caught a glimpse of the swinging sign out of the corner of his eye, and slammed on the brakes. With barely a glance in his rear-view mirror, he engaged reverse gear, and the limousine accelerated into the car park, throwing up gravel and splashes of mud.
Hatch got out, whistling and tossing his keys from hand to hand. The barman was equally pleased to see him.
„What can I get you, sir?‟ he asked.
Hatch glanced around him. The place was surprisingly busy, a few tourists picking at their ploughman‟s lunches while a gaggle of students played pool in the far corner.
Suited refugees from the nearby town huddled on lonely stools around the bar, studying the beer mats as intently as the news pages of the Financial Times.
Hatch returned his attention to the rotund barman, and grinned.
„Ask not what you can do for me,‟ he said. „Ask what I can do for you.‟
„Sorry, sir?‟
Hatch reached out for the man, gripping his forearms in his hands. The barman shook, as if he had plugged himself into the National Grid. His mouth hung open, high-pitched whines escaping from prodigiously rounded cheeks.
Hatch let go, and strode towards the pool table. As he brushed against customers, arguments and fights broke out behind him. The sudden commotion disturbed the students, who looked up in alarm. Three boys and a girl. Perfect.
Hatch shook the hand of one of the uncomprehending young men, and turned for the door. There was a low thud as the girl was thrown to the floor, almost unnoticeable against the animal screams that filled the bar.
Behind him, the first window shattered just as Hatch opened the door of the limousine.
From the hillside Joanna watched in amazement as the ghostly hunters slaughtered the scarecrows. The stickmen were easy prey for the apparitions and their charging horses, falling beneath rushing hooves and exploding into pillars of flame. It was as though some celestial power was having its revenge on the scarecrows for having dared cheat death.
Joanna stared with horrified fascination as one barely