Chapter 9 - Mirrors

“Window… Now.” Irene calls firmly from behind Andrew.

The man on the stairs is well-built, with pressed black trousers, a white shirt stained with multiple crimson patches and bare feet. His raven-black short hair, slicked with blood and sweat, falling lankly from his head as he sways unnaturally to one side, before a series of awful wet snapping noises happen all at once and he starts rushing up the stairs in a burst of movement. 

Andrew and Irene sprint forward in the same moment, aiming for the dark room at the other end of the hall before David collides with Andrew. They both tumble sideways with a crash as the impact has knocked something off the wall in the other room. Andrew frantically kicks forward against him, knocking him back a few feet before he starts crawling across the floor again. David’s arms snap backward as he climbs over Andrew, his fingers stretching awfully to grip and hold the terrified Doctor’s shoulders to the floor. 

Irene lets out a small scream as she kicks into David’s side but to no avail, barely shifting the man. Andrew goes silent for a moment, the hall feeling darker than ever as his panicked breath gets faster and faster. 

Crack. 

David’s head starts to slowly turn, his hair hanging loosely, as it starts turning to face Andrew. 

Barely three breaths before Irene’s bag strap wraps itself around David’s head and she heaves her bodyweight backward, tearing him away from Andrew, his head snapping back toward the wall as soon as he is away from the panicking Doctor. 

“GET UP!” Irene shouts, grabbing his hand and he stumbles up quickly, the two of them barrelling toward the dark room. David, slower than before, follows them behind with a soft groan whispering out from his hidden face. 

The room is barely visible, except for the faintest hint of moonlight coming through the window on the far side, offering an inviting escape. Andrew and Irene both impact the windowsill in their rush, with Irene lifting a leg over the ledge just as the sound of rushed mistimed footsteps creak their way across the room toward them. 

“Go!” Andrew shouts as he pushes her away.

Irene drops out the window, impacting the cobbles below with a painful grunt but no major injury as she stands, looking up with anticipation. The slightly darker visage of the two figures in the window above shows a struggle, and Andrew is pushed, his top half leaning out the window. Two bleeding hands emerge from the shadows of the room, bent at an impossible angle and pushing down on Andrew’s upper arms, causing him to gasp out in pain as he combats the weight of two whole people in an attempt to not fall. 

Thock.

Some kind of horrifying popping noise echoes out into the street, and one of the enshadowed arms falls limp, the joint pushed out of its socket. The sudden lack of pressure gives Andrew the chance to lever his weight and send David falling out of the window, landing with a dull thud on the cobbles.

“Andrew? Andrew!” Irene calls up as she’s lost sight of him, her voice shaking heavily, backing away slowly from the heap now laid out in front of her.

“I am alright, Irene.” He responds, heaving breaths between each word and clear panic in his voice. “Is he… Is David-”

“I’m not sure, but he is not moving. Get down here Andrew, get out of there.”

A few moments pass as Andrew carefully climbs down from the window, leaning his back up against the wall, hands on his knees. Irene is knelt down next to the still, unmoving David, checking his wrist for a pulse. She sits back on her heels, placing a hand over her mouth, hiding her shock.

“He’s gone isn’t he?” He calls from the wall, visibly shaking.

“Yes, Andrew. He’s gone. I am so sorry.” She sits forward again, a look of determination plain on her face, taking David’s chin in her thumb and forefinger, her other hand scooping below his head as she turns it up toward the sky. “Good god.”

“What, what is it Irene?”

“You need to see this, quickly Andrew.”

He lifts himself from his position against the wall and lurches over, kneeling down next to her, exhaling heavily with surprise. 

His eyes. There, in the place of what would normally be eyes, are two perfect reflective mirrors, both of which are slowly developing a spider web of cracks across their surfaces. With the tiniest shattering sound, they both fall away into an empty socket, the shards collecting in a tiny pile inside.

“What on this earth could possibly do that? It does not make any sense.” The Doctor’s mouse-like voice whispers out.

“I’ve heard of some of the most horrific examples of the occult that the Estate has ever dealt with. I believe whatever we are dealing with now must at least rival those. We need to get back to the store as soon as possible.”

“Oh Ida. What am I supposed to tell her?”

“The truth.”

-

The storefront is quiet, the early hours of the morning providing little light to bring it into detail. Irene is standing, one arm leaning against the wall, a thin trail of smoke making its way lazily from the lit cigarette glowing between her fingers. She takes a deep breath, exhaling a small cloud of mist into the peaceful night, preparing to take another drag of her vice before she is interrupted. The front door swings inward, the bright light of the lantern by the door lancing into the landing, with Andrew taking a moment to spot her in the dark.

“Irene, you need to hear this.”

The two of them head inside and the light is cut off from the street once again.

Inside, Ida is sitting at the small table by the window, wrapped up in a thick cream blanket, looking strangely at peace. Andrew takes a seat next to her, taking her hand in his again.

“Ida, can you tell Irene what you told me?”

“What’s this about Andrew, have you told her?”

“I did not need to.” He responds, his brow furrowing in confusion. Ida takes a sip from a cup before starting.

“I saw him. David. Upstairs. I do not know how, but I saw him outside the window-”

“In the street? That’s not possible.” Irene interrupts.

“Not in the street, standing just outside the window. I know it makes no sense but I saw him for a few moments, he had been hammering on the window. When I made eye contact with him, he smiled and disappeared.” She takes a moment, ruminating on the memory, before continuing. “I can’t say why, but when he faded I knew he was gone.”

“Andrew, is she alright? In shock or anything?” Irene presses, looking for an explanation in the Doctor's expertise.

“As far as I can tell, she is in shock, but she seems to be in control of her faculties. Ida tell her when this happened.”

“Around an hour and fifteen minutes ago, at my closest guess.”

Irene’s eyebrows shoot up, her gaze switching between the two of them.

“That is almost exactly when…”

“I’m telling you Irene, she knew already. Somehow.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Could be a coincidence brought on by trauma, but as a frighteningly intelligent woman has said to me before - ‘coincidences are few and far between.’”

-

The sky begins moving its variety of morning colours through the grey clouds, with a fine mist of rain hanging above the rooftops of the city. The drops cling in unique patterns to a symmetrical spider web that spreads between the shutters of a second floor window. Just inside, Ida sits on a small wooden chair, a thick black shawl drawn over her shoulders and staring idly at the faintly shifting artwork of the web. Her eyes are rimmed with red, slightly puffy with clear signs of what could only be an extended period of time crying. 

Down the stairs, the store is abuzz. Irene and Andrew are crossing over pages of notes and discussing wildly. They haven’t changed from yesterday's clothes yet, it's not even clear whether they have slept.

“I have to think we are getting close. Whatever this is, it's intrinsically linked to reflections and the eyes, so we know we can navigate provided we carefully avoid all of those things.”

“We also know that physical injury, malady or malnourishment is likely to have an effect on these people. When-” Andrew’s voice dips in volume for a moment. “-his shoulder popped out of its socket, it was very clearly weakened. Meaning we can safely assume that the people who have been under this influence for longer and are severely malnourished must be a lot slower and weaker.”

“True, but it only takes a moment of distraction for it to take you, like with the cordon officer. We also have no experience on whether they can coordinate, so avoidance is priority at all times.”

“Do you think we can look for him now?”

“We are certainly as ready as I believe we can be, when it comes to knowledge. However, I would like to reiterate that numerous agents of the Mayweather Estate have been sent to investigate the neighbourhood that the Thackery house is in, and not even one has returned.” Irene stops to take a deep breath, coughing slightly. “I do not know the exact number of people we can expect to be there, but it will be unbelievably dangerous.”

The room falls quiet for a moment, Andrew pulls out the small red gem, staring at it in his palm. 

“Irene, how do you think that symbol ended up in my office?”

She raises her eyebrow quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Based on everything we’ve seen, the requirement for being dragged into this is a close connection to someone who was taken by it. The only person that could be for me is William.”

“Andrew…”

“No, listen, what if the reason that the symbol showed up in my office was because William was warning me, just like how David showed up for Ida.” A glimmer of moisture beads at the corner of his eyes. “But that would mean…”

“I know you are scared Andrew, but we still have no idea what was going on with Ida and David. If we start assuming the worst we will never get anywhere.” Irene places a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. “Did I ever tell you how William and I met?”

“No?”

“He saved me. I owe him my life.” The eye contact is firm, a debt left unpaid clear on her face. “I was taken by a group of seriously disturbed people. I had been blindfolded and cut in a few different places.”

She takes a moment, rolling back her sleeves to midway up her arm. There, in a ritualistic manner, several long white scars run across the inside of her forearms.

“I was left in some place, bleeding, blind and alone for what felt like days before I heard a voice, not that I could even recognise it as a voice at that point.” She sits down, the chair shifting slightly backward. Her hands tremble faintly as she pulls a cigarette from her case. “I felt pressure against my arms that had long since gone cold at that time, it was warm and reassuring. The pain got slightly better after that, but then it was suddenly deafeningly loud. I remember screaming as hard as I could, my throat feeling like it was ripping apart. I couldn’t hear him talking until I ran out of breath. He was talking to me calmly, telling me how there are people coming soon who are going to help.”

Andrew stares intently, the story grounding him.

“He asked me my name, what I do for a job, if I have loved ones I care about. He kept me talking for god knows how long before I heard other people approaching, muffled. He called out to them, telling them he had someone who needed help urgently. It was not much longer before my blindfold was removed, and the light was blinding. I heard the voice telling the people that I had cuts on my arms that were wrapped but they were starting to bleed through the bandages. It took a while for my eyesight to adjust, and I finally got to see the face of the person who had been talking to me this whole time.”

“It was William?” Andrew chimes in.

“It was. He was closer than I had realised, leaning over me with a gritted smile on his face. The room around us was in disarray, people everywhere and the ceiling collapsed in. He had been holding a ceiling beam off me the whole time, so heavy it was cutting into his shoulders.” She takes a deep breath. “It turns out he had been investigating the people who took me and had snuck in, barring the door behind him to give him time to bandage me up. They collapsed the roof on us and ran off.”

She leans forward, putting the cigarette out in the ashtray and resting a hand on top of Andrews, which are clasped around the gem on top of the table. 

“Several months later he hired me as an assistant, and I asked him why he went through so much pain for someone he didn’t know. He told me that there is someone he had to get back to, no matter what, but he knew that if he had left me to go back to them and this person ever found out he would never hear the end of it.”

“Well he isn’t wrong. I had no idea though.”

“I’m telling you this because I want you to understand how much that man can endure. There is no way I could have known then that he was talking about you but, knowing now, I can say with some confidence that he would go through hell and back to see you again.”

“Thank you, Irene.”

“No need. I can not do this alone. We need to find him, together.”

Both of them flinch as something hammers on the front door for just a moment. They move to either side of the door, Irene lifting the latch with a finger as Andrew pulls it open. The morning air rushes in, brisk and cold. The sound of footsteps, many of them, can be heard on the cobbles outside. Andrew peeks his head out quickly, before straightening up.

“It’s alright Irene, it was an officer nailing this onto the door.” Holding up a sheet of paper that, at a glance, reads ‘Evacuation Notice’.