Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [75]
‘No we didn’t. We didn’t take an overdose, Shell. We were forced to take one. People made us do it. Warlock will understand that we’re not to blame. Warlock will be angry at the other people. Not us. Not me. Not you.’
‘Nice going,’ whispered Jack. He was right. Ace could see she was making progress. Shell’s face was still wet with tears but an expression of calm was coming over it, like an invisible hand caressing the girl’s face, smoothing away the anxiety. As she relaxed, so did Ace, heaving a sigh of relief. She couldn’t believe she’d done it.
A smile was beginning to spread across Shell’s full lips. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Warlock is good. Warlock will help us. Come to us, warlock. We honour you.’
‘Oh Christ, she’s off again,’ said Jack.
Shell whispered huskily, ‘We invite you, warlock. Come to our aid now.’ Up in the rafters the small bird stepped out into space and descended with its short wings flapping briskly.
‘Help us punish those who have dishonoured you. They are evil. You know what goes on here. Help us escape. Then when we escape I promise we’ll help punish the evil ones.’
‘I’m not sure this is an improvement,’ said Jack.
‘Help us and help our animal friends.’ Now Shell was staring at the cages that the teenager had brought into the room on his electric trolley. There were four cages. In three of them cats peered out; in the fourth a dog lay glumly hunched. The animals were intermittently visible as they moved around inside. Ace had wondered at first if one of the cats might be Chick but the two she could see were both older and larger, a plump white cat and a pretty, ink‐black one with a splash of white on its nose. But the fourth cage on the trolley was angled so she couldn’t see into it properly and only a familiar yowling finally revealed to Ace that this was where Chick was housed.
As if attracted by their voices, the small bird fluttered overhead for a moment then flew across the room and settled on top of the cages on the trolley. It stood there watching them, small head swivelling. In the cage beneath it the black cat peered up and bared its fangs, letting out a thin cry of frustrated longing.
‘Come to us, warlock. Help us to escape.’ Shell’s voice had taken on a singsong quality.
‘I hope she’s not going off the deep end again,’ said Ace.
‘She’s not. Don’t worry about her,’ said Jack. ‘This is normal behaviour when she takes the stuff. She’s really well away.’
‘I don’t feel anything yet,’ said Ace.
‘Neither do I.’
‘Do you think they gave us different dosages?’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Jack. ‘Shell’s done warlock plenty of times before. The more often you take it the more susceptible you become. She responds really quickly.’
‘Have you ever tried it?’
‘Sure. A few times.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘Hang on to your hat,’ said Jack.
‘That’s not very helpful or informative.’
Despite being strapped into the chair, Jack managed a pretty good shrug. ‘It’s different every time. Depends on your surroundings and your situation and the people you’re with.’ He suddenly grinned at Ace. ‘You’re not doing too good on any of those.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Ace smiled back. ‘The company could be a lot worse.’ She admired Jack’s spirit. If she could manage to get free he would be a definite asset in any escape attempt.
Once again Ace began systematically testing the straps on her chair. There were five of them, broad strips of heavy‐duty synthetic fabric of the kind used in car seat‐belts. They were tight, though not uncomfortable, but their positioning made it virtually impossible to achieve any useful movement.
The bottom strap was just above Ace’s ankles, and the next one ran across her at mid‐thigh. Neither of these mattered much. It was her hands Ace needed to free. But the upper three straps ran above her breasts, across her elbows and above her wrists. She was totally immobilized.