Doctor Who_ Wonderland - Mark Chadbourn [19]
Polly and Ben looked at me with the kind of pity people have for someone who is talking from the depths of grief. I didn't care; in my own mind, I was sure.
'And the first step is finding out why Denny died. Was it just some crazy, random thing? You'd think, right? But then I go back to that day in Dallas, and that's what they told us then. A lone gunman. A crazy thing. No meaning at all. But the truth is, that was the first shot of the secret war that the people in charge have tried to hide from us with all their lies. You see, what we stand for is a threat to them. They can't keep power for power's sake in the kind of world we want. They need the shadows, and lies, and corruption.'
'You're saying the people in charge killed Denny?' Ben said warily.
'No, I'm not saying that. All I'm saying is that there's a reason why Denny died. There's a reason why everyone dies. And I want to find out what it is.'
'You know,' Ben began cautiously, 'sometimes people just die.'
I shook my head. 'Not this time.'
'I can't say as I really believe in conspiracies,' Ben said.
'You know what they say, Ben. Sometimes you're paranoid and sometimes they really are out to get you. I think there is a conspiracy here ... something to do with whoever's dumping Blue Moonbeams on the Haight. And I think Denny died because he found out about that. You didn't go through what I did in the Goblin's place. Something big is going on, something wild and frightening. I don't know what it is, but I'm going to find out.'
'Maybe you should take a little time off, to think it through,' Polly said awkwardly. 'Look at it again when you've got over the shock.' The doubt was clear on both their faces. They were so convinced that I was inventing this to deal with the shock and the pain, I began to waver a little.
'I think perhaps you should listen to Polly, my dear.'
I started; I had no idea that the Doctor had come up behind me. It was like he'd just appeared out of the shadows; I almost expected to smell brimstone.
I turned to face him, my anger giving me a clear focus. 'So you think that I should j sit back and do nothing? My parents used to say the same thing: you can't beat the system. Look at the President. You can't beat the system.' All the upset I'd bottled up threatened to come out in tears, but I wasn't going to let him see me cry; I bit on my lip until the pain made it go away.
It felt like his dark eyes were burrowing into my head. 'Well, then,' he said, as if we'd been talking about a shopping trip. 'Where do you go from here?'
Night had fallen and there was a chill in the air. We stood in the shadows of an alley a stone's throw from Buena Vista Park opposite a big house that harked back to the grand old days of San Francisco. It was the arty quarter: the writers Ambrose Bierce and Jack London had lived nearby, and the place shared by the Grateful Dead and their extended family was a couple of blocks west.
Ben and Polly stood behind me. They weren't sure about what we were doing, but the Doctor, who had strangely decided to accompany us, was rubbing his hands excitedly. 'A party! How exciting!'
The house belonged to a witch. Mathilda's reputation was known all over San Francisco, attracting a following that included bands, actors, writers, intellectuals, even straight celebrities. She was the heart of an occult network of astrologers, magicians and gurus who provided for the spiritual needs, and egos, of a crowd keen to get a piece of the Age of Aquarius. The Goblin had mentioned her when we were talking about the Blue Moonbeams.
The party-goers had been arriving for the past hour. I'd