Part 7 (2/2)

He shouted her name a third time, and on this occasion, to his relief, she stopped and turned round.

'What do you want?' she asked discouragingly as he drew near.

He thumped to a halt and bent double, hands on his knees, out of breath. After a moment he gasped, 'I came... to see... if you were all right.'

'Did the Doctor send you?' she asked suspiciously.

'No. But I do think you ought to come back and talk to him.

Clear the air.'

Obstinately she folded her arms. 'Why?'

'Well, because... because you and the Doctor are the only friends I've got. I don't like ill-will between any of us.'

She snorted. 'That's rich, coming from someone who was trying to kill him not so very long ago.'

He looked shame-faced, hurt. 'You know I was tricked by the Black Guardian. Besides, that's all in the past now. I'm doing my best to make amends.'

'Is that so?'

'Yes! Look, I don't suppose I can blame you for not trusting me, but we got each other out of Sea Base Four alive, didn't we? There'll be no more lies, I promise.'

'We'll see,' said Tegan, though her voice was softer now.

Turlough extended a tentative hand towards her. ' Please Please come back to the hotel.' come back to the hotel.'

Tegan sighed and glanced towards the Lombard. She could see the lights in its windows glowing some distance away, up beyond the promenade.

'He treats us like children,' she said. He doesn't tell us what's going on.'

'He's not like that all the time,' said Turlough.

Tegan gave him a sharp look. 'Why are you defending him?'

'I'm not. It's just...' He sighed. 'I think you're being a little hard on him, Tegan. He just wanted us to have a holiday, to relax after what happened on the Sea Base.'

Now it was her turn to sigh. 'I know. I don't like him making decisions for me, that's all. I'm old enough to make my own.'

Turlough smiled wryly. 'Not in his eyes. Though if you manage to live for the next four or five hundred years, you just might might get a little respect.' get a little respect.'

She laughed and took the hand he was still holding out towards her. 'All right; she said resignedly, let's go back.'

'And you'll talk to the Doctor?' said Turlough.

'I'll try. But I can't guarantee it'll be a civilised civilised conversation.' conversation.'

As the two figures turned and walked away, the creature in the cave snarled and writhed in frustration. The smell of their blood, carried on the wind like musk, was sending it wild with the urge to tear and rend and devour. But just when its feast was almost within reach, it seemed it was to be cruelly denied it. Desperately, the creature moved forward to the cave entrance, but as soon as the moonlight touched it, it shrank back.

Despite its craving, an overriding instinct compelled it to remain in the shadows. Very soon it would not matter, but for now it was important that the creature not draw attention to itself. Bloodl.u.s.t pounded through its veins; a desire so powerful that the creature's eight legs twitched and jerked in involuntary spasms, sc.r.a.ping against the walls and gouging out great ruts and scars of stone.

After saying goodnight to Tegan, Andy Weathers decided to call in at one of his favourite haunts, The Blue Falcon, for a nightcap. He was feeling good, still buzzing from Tegan's company, and he didn't feel like heading home just yet. One or two of the lads might be in the Falcon - it was a favourite police haunt - but it wouldn't bother Andy unduly if he had to drink alone. Besides, it would give him the chance to plan his day with Tegan tomorrow.

The first thing he noticed when he pushed open the door was that there was a rowdier than usual crowd in tonight.

The lads from the force could get a bit loud, especially on a Friday when the landlord employed a couple of strippers to bolster trade, but this lot was different: young lads and la.s.ses, holidaymakers probably. As he made his way to the bar, Andy realised that the atmosphere was not merely rowdy, it was downright threatening. He glanced quickly around, but the hostility did not seem to be directed at him in particular. It was simply there, as thick as the cigarette smoke that curled around the room in swirling grey patterns.

The landlord, Bob Walker, moved down the bar to serve him, and immediately Andy saw the tension on his face.

'Evening, Bob,' Andy said.

Walker gave a brief nod. 'Andy.'

'Something going down tonight, is there?'

Walker's gaze flickered nervously around the room. 'So you feel it too, do you? It's been like this all week,' he said quietly.

'Any trouble?'

'Nothing serious so far, but I have this horrible feeling that it's only a matter of time.'

'Same mob every day is it?'

'No, that's the odd thing. There are some of the same faces, but nearly everyone who comes in looks as if they're spoiling for a fight. Even -' he faltered.

'Even what?' Andy said.

Walker looked uncomfortable, embarra.s.sed. He lowered his voice even more. 'Now, don't take this the wrong way, Andy. I don't mean to be insulting or anything. But I've even noticed it in some of your lot.'

Andy frowned. Walker's words had served to crystallise some of his own recent concerns. 'I've noticed it too,' he admitted. 'For a week or two now I've had this feeling that...

that we're sitting on a powder keg.'

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