Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [25]
He decided that the drug must be affecting the body temperature of each of them. And somehow it was synchronizing their biological thermostats.
Their fluctuations in body heat were in turn nudging the thermodynamics of the room in a strange synergy. The pattern of changes was causing local variations in the room temperature, creating pockets of warm and cold air. A miniature weather system was building up in the room.
Creed seized upon this explanation. It allowed him to remain calm as the cool breeze made its first slow whipping pass, like the invisible tail of some huge beast sweeping through the room.
Miss Winterhill was thinking something similar, he was certain. She appeared calmly lost in thought, puzzling over the phenomenon. As if sensing this calmness, the wind passed swiftly over her, hardly pausing. It was as if it respected the depth of her concentration and didn’t want to disturb her.
As the breeze moved on she looked up at Creed, relief in her eyes. ‘It’s almost organic,’ she said.
‘What do you mean, almost?’ said Creed. After all, it was being shaped by their minds, and their minds were expressing emotions physically, organically.
This thing was like the blended smell of their bodies in the room; the stink of their fear and excitement come to life. Creed forced himself to concentrate on these thoughts as the wind stirred past his face again. Cold air, full of that strange liquorice smell. Like someone’s breath in your face, but cold.
The breeze ebbed, dissipated, then collected itself and moved on. It drifted back towards the far end of the room where the older Mayan was sitting. Like a dog returning to its master, Creed thought. Then he cursed himself.
He was falling into the wrong pattern of thinking. If he began to believe this thing could sniff him out, he might cause exactly that to happen.
Creed wiped sweat off his forehead. Miss Winterhill was looking at him. She opened her mouth to say something.
‘Quiet, you two,’ said the older Mayan. ‘Respect the presence of warlock.’ He opened his eyes. ‘Come on, warlock,’ he whispered. His eyes gleamed with excitement. ‘Show us who the narc is.’
‘Whoa, feel it go,’ said the younger brother. There was a note of respectful fear in his voice.
The wind was swirling past the brothers and sweeping back towards the hooker again. Creed saw her face crease with anxiety as it approached her. She was shaking, clutching her arms tightly around herself. Creed felt sorry for her. Unlike him, this girl had no weapons of logic to wield. She looked as if she was about to go off the deep end into the abyss of her own superstition. The wind stirred around her, circling in a predatory way. It was as if it sensed the terror in her.
Then it struck, whipping past her so strongly it stirred her hair. Creed felt it pouring down the gradient of her vulnerability. Somehow it responded to subliminal emotional reaction in the room. It was a blind worm, drawn hungrily to any weakness.
‘Is it her?’ whispered the younger Mayan.
‘Quiet,’ said his brother. ‘Wait and see.’
The hooker had closed her eyes. She whispered a prayer and dug out a bright pendant from between her dark breasts. A small gold crucifix. She kissed it.
Her face slowly became calm. And with that growing calm the breeze seemed to die down.
Creed wondered if the hooker’s superstition might also be her salvation. She believed in something. There was something for her to cling to.
For a moment it seemed that the chill wind had vanished from the room altogether, but just as he was starting to relax Creed felt it again.
This time it was probing at him, like the cold inquisitive snout of some beast. Sniffing, sizing him up, probing his defences. It was a distinct cold touch in the centre of his chest.
We are what we believe ourselves to be, Creed told himself. And he manoeuvred that thought like a chess piece to guard his heart.
This thing frightened him but Creed felt himself rising to the challenge. This was just like any other bad trip. When the horrors set upon you, you had to stand up to them.