Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [21]
As if mirroring the mood of the room, the sun faded in the windows, swallowed by a huge wall of drifting grey cloud. The room was cheerless and shadowy now and everyone seemed to be shivering. It had started with the hooker and now it was like a yawn passing from person to person.
‘But I don’t really understand,’ said Miss Winterhill. Creed wished she’d shut up. Her cheeks were flushed. She looked hot. In fact, Creed was beginning to feel oddly warm himself. The room had begun to feel stuffy and overheated. It was as if the shiver that had passed amongst them had marked a sudden shift in temperature. ‘How can the drug help you find the policeman?’ she said.
‘Just think of it as a seance,’ said the older Mayan brother. He sat down at the far end of the dim living room, cross‐legged on the floor. ‘We have summoned the spirit of warlock.’
The plastic on the window flapped again, shifted by the billowing night wind of the city.
It sounded even more like a voice this time.
* * *
Chapter 3
The tattooed girl called Shell was standing waiting by the gate on Allen Road when Ace arrived.
Chick the cat was strolling back and forth, rubbing his lean body against the wrought iron bars. Shell reached through to stroke him and the cat rocked back on his haunches, purring and pushing his small head up to meet her caressing hand. Ace felt this was somehow an act of disloyalty on Chick’s part.
She walked past the dry fountain towards the gate, her feet scuffing on the sparse gravel of the driveway. It was a cool grey evening and the wind was whispering in the branches above her. Ace paused and watched the girl playing with the cat, waiting patiently outside the gate.
Ace felt a sudden wave of antagonism. She came up to the gate and put her hand on the cold iron bars. Before she could say anything the girl looked up at her and said, ‘You’re angry at me.’
‘No I’m not,’ said Ace. But she was taken aback; it was true. As she came closer she could see that Shell’s pupils were wide and dark. She was high on something again. Under the scent of patchouli, Ace caught the strange liquorice smell as before. ‘I just wish you wouldn’t keep setting off the alarm.’
‘I’m an uninvited guest. I’m sorry. It’s the only way to call you down from the house. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.’ Shell looked at her with those wide dark eyes. The tattoos were bright splashes of colour stretched across her broad cheek bones. Ace couldn’t take her eyes off them. ‘They tell a story.’
‘What?’ said Ace.
‘My tattoos,’ said the girl, stroking the cat. Ace felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stir. ‘Is he here?’
Ace didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. ‘I can’t keep track. He comes and goes. But in any case he’s always very –’
‘Busy,’ said Shell. ‘Did you give him our message? About the animal experimentation labs?’
‘Yes,’ said Ace, more curtly than she’d intended. In fact, she hadn’t said anything to the Doctor. The scrap of paper was still folded in a pocket of her jeans. She’d simply forgotten.
Shell regarded her with wide, knowing eyes. ‘So, what did he say?’
Out on the road beyond the girl a battered green and white Volkswagen van approached and rumbled to a halt. At the wheel Ace could see the man called Jack. He beeped the horn and fluttered his fingers at Ace and grinned. In the back of the van the wedge‐shaped head of Sheba, the sleek black dog, was pressed against the window, dark eyes staring out at her.
‘He said he’d think about it,’ lied Ace.
‘Thank you for your help,’ said the girl.
‘No problem,’ said Ace quickly.
‘Here, this is for you.’ Shell passed something else through the gate, holding her