Part 34 (1/2)

A rainbow of b.u.t.terflies poured out, a fast-flowing stream of light in the cloying gloom of the Green Man. Moving as one, the creatures flapped over the counter, and disappeared out of sight.

The Doctor walked behind the beer pumps. The trapdoor was open, and the insects poured down into the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Intrigued, the Doctor followed.

The cellar was dark and smelled of hops. The tarpaulin covering had been pulled away from the tunnel entrance, revealing a dark mouth of natural stone. The b.u.t.terflies flowed down it, encouraging him on.

Water dripped from the walls of the tunnel, and sonorous murmurings from all around indicated that this was the heart of Jack - and that Jack was still moving. The pa.s.sage widened into a cave, dominated by an ornate mirror. The b.u.t.terflies streamed into the mirror, pa.s.sing straight through and vanis.h.i.+ng from sight.

The Doctor stood before the frame of gold. There was no reflection. Over his head, the last few insects fluttered through the mirror.

The Doctor breathed deeply, knowing that this was where everything started - and, hopefully, where it would end.

He stepped through the mirror.

CHAPTER I5.

CEREMONY IN A LONELY PLACE.

Rebecca picked up the fallen pitchfork and brought its full weight down on the scarecrow's back. The p.r.o.ngs bit deep into the ma.s.s of straw, but the little creature clung tenaciously to Denman, slowly throttling the life from him.

Rebecca shouted for Trevor, but he was nowhere to be seen. She turned in panic, and found what they had been looking for: a can of diesel fuel. She fell to her knees, her hands scrabbling at the cap, rusted solid with age. After four attempts, Rebecca finally got the top to move. The can squealed in protest.

The pungent smell of the fuel hit Rebecca full in the face, and for a moment she felt dizzy and overwhelmed. Then she remembered Denman, and heard the choking rattle of his breathing. She turned and hurled the can at the stickman.

This time the blow was unexpected, and it knocked the creature away from Denman. The policeman collapsed in a heap, clutching at his own throat as tightly as the stickman had.

The terrifying little creature rose to its full height. Its eyes, deep in the now exposed face of vegetation, screamed vengeance. Rebecca got to her feet, crying out at the stinging pain in her knees, bloodied by the barn floor. All she could think about was her mother's childhood tales of Jack's implike children.

A hiss of outrage emerged from the creature. It moved with great deliberation towards Rebecca, hands outstretched, stick-fingers clicking as they closed in a fist, then opened again.

'Go away!' screamed Rebecca.

Somewhere an engine kicked into life with a low growl, but Rebecca was unable to tear away her eyes from those of the stickman.

'Please,' she said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. The machine noise increased.

The creature was only inches away. She could feel its breath on her cheeks.

The roar of the machine cut through her stupor.

Rebecca looked up just as the creature turned its head.

The tractor bore down on the manikin, the silver blades of the hedge cutter spinning.

There was a swish, then a dull thud of impact, and a red mosaic formed on the barn wall, spattering Rebecca's face with blood.

The whirling blades began to slow as the tractor stopped.

Rebecca put her hands to her face, and they came away smeared scarlet.

'You took your time!' she shouted angrily, the terror that had rendered her incapable of movement now exploding like steam from a valve.

Trevor jumped down from the tractor seat. 'You ever tried to manoeuvre one of those things?' he asked, stepping across the barn towards the p.r.o.ne figure of Denman.

'Is he all right?' asked Rebecca.

'He's alive,' said Trevor, kneeling beside the policeman. He looked back at the diesel can lying on its side in the centre of the barn. 'And you found some fuel, too. Well done.'

'Oh my G.o.d.' Rebecca rushed to the can. Only a small amount of the precious fluid had spilled out. 'Right,' she said, trying to stop her hands shaking. 'We've got a weapon.'

On the other side of the mirror, Matthew Hatch stood, waiting for the Doctor. At least, the man resembled the politician in outward appearance, but his eyes were alive with an unfathomable alien intelligence. Hatch's usual scorn was as nothing compared with the outright contempt that dominated his features now.

'Hatch?' asked the Doctor, his voice swallowed up by the cathedral expanse of the dark phantom world behind the mirror.

Hatch - Hatch's body - took a step closer. 'You should not have survived the transition.' He lapsed into silence, as if searching out some long-buried piece of information. 'The Doctor,' he said at last, nodding to himself. 'A problem.'

The Doctor smiled. 'I'm delighted that you remember me.'

Hatch continued to observe the Doctor, his face twisted in a grin of amus.e.m.e.nt. 'Hatch is no longer here.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'No, he's in there, somewhere.

You're just using his body.'

Hatch laughed. 'He thought my hold on him was slight. He believed he could use me. me. How pathetic.' How pathetic.'

'You used his infertility, his fears and pa.s.sions...' used his infertility, his fears and pa.s.sions...'

'Humans are full of fear and pa.s.sion.'

'The clinic?'