Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [125]
The milky white body of a princess had proved to be a dream that would never come true. Knowing this was so, she had taken a bitter pleasure in covering herself with the permanent stains of tattoos.
But now Shell’s body was a smooth, perfect white at last.
She stretched a paw out towards the bars of her cage and admired it, licking carefully at it to clean her fur. She ignored the sights and sounds that were taking place in the laboratory in front of her. Instead she took refuge deep in the wild jungle of the new mind where she had found herself.
When the real world became too much Shell always had a tendency to turn away from it and flee. She’d been a moody, solitary child who’d retreated into picture books or gone to bed in the middle of the day, waiting for the vivid confusion of afternoon dreams to invade her sleeping mind.
As she’d grown older she’d discovered the meditation and breathing exercises of Buddhism and, later on, the easy exit of drugs.
Now, trapped in this cage, confronted with the brightly lit horrors of the laboratory, Shell sought refuge in meditation, and discovered that her cat mind was oddly suited to it. It was remarkably easy to set her thoughts swaying in a steady rhythm, detached from the world in a pleasant buzz.
Her mind began to knit itself into a blissful shimmer and she heard a strange warm sound that she gradually realized was coming from within herself.
She was purring. She was purring furiously, letting herself be carried away by the sensation. Shell had discovered that the purring of a cat was breathing which had reached a rippling relaxed perfection, a kind of breathing Buddhist monks only begin to aspire to in their ritual exercises.
Shell had never achieved nirvana, that ultimate state of harmonious abandonment of self which all meditation is aimed towards. But within a few moments of triggering her purring reflex she found herself transported into a realm of calmness and detachment that transcended all her fears.
This feeling she was experiencing now made nirvana sound like a cheap tourist destination.
So Shell sat in her cage, purring and grooming and admiring her own sleek white body, white beyond the dreams of a troubled child, as white as the coat of the woman who peered in through the bars of the cage at her.
* * *
Pam made herself turn away from the cages. For some odd reason, the purring of the cat disturbed her more than any amount of howling or complaint might have done. She washed her hands and prepared the instruments and the computer for the next series of experiments.
She debated working on a dog. But dealing with that first cat had set her mind working along a certain path and she had a number of interesting lines of investigation she wished to pursue. Using a dog would mean interrupting her train of thought and also preparing a different set of restraints, which would be a nuisance.
No, working on a dog could wait. She had plenty of time. She would use another cat next. Pam studied the animals. Two to choose between.
The white cat with its odd purring and the lithe black cat who eyed her with such fierce, green‐eyed hostility.
Pam made her decision and opened the cage.
* * *
Chapter 30
Creed was watching a feather. It floated above him as if it was defying gravity, spinning and rising. It would gradually begin to sink back down towards his face, and then he would breathe out and the feather would float back up and begin its cycle again, its slow random tumbling linked to the rhythm of his breathing.
Creed felt that if he watched the feather long enough it would reveal a secret to him.
He lay on the battered mattress in his hotel room, feeling the warlock start to work on his mind, watching the feather and listening to the sounds around him.
There were voices echoing from the corridor. Three men were playing cards in the room opposite Creed’s with their door open. Creed had picked up snatches of their conversation through