3 – Finding Your Feet
The branch hit the ground with a thud, bursting into flames a second later.
A metre to it's side, Penny lay on the sodden grass, gasping for breath. Just a moment earlier, she'd been pushed there, by someone. Or something…
"Don't you know to never stand under a tree in a thunderstorm?" asked a voice, emanating from the darkness.
"Er…no, apparently," Penny shot back, now even more confused than before. "Who are you?"
A figure approached the flaming log, the orange haze illuminating him. Stocky, muscular, piercing grey eyes with cropped black hair.
"I'm Balthazar," the figure, offering his hand to Penny. She grabbed it, and he heaved her to her feet in one fluid motion.
"Penny," she replied, regaining her balance slowly. For a second, the duo stood around the burning log, Balthazar transfixed by it.
"So…where's Melchior and Caspar?" Penny joked, a small grin breaking out on her face. Needless to say, the joke fell flat – Balthazar simply tilted his head in confusion. "Never mind…" she muttered in defeat.
"You'll catch your death out here in the rain," Balthazar said, changing the subject. "Come on…we have to get back inside, or you'll be totally drenched,"
And with that, the pair ran away from the tree, their feet pounding at the ground, towards the glowing windows of the house.
The Doctor strode across the pristine lawn, towards the small group assembled over by the greenhouse.
"Who's this, now?" barked Miss Tomlinson, the wife of a born millionaire. "Another free-loader, I suppose?"
"Now, now, Letitia…" chided Thomas, the seldom-known lord of somewhere-or-other. "Don't judge a book by it's cover…"
"Hello!" yelled the Doctor from a few yards away, waving his arms wildly in an exaggerated wave. "I'm the Doctor!"
"Charming…" muttered Julian, a theatre director, whilst the Doctor was still out of earshot. However, a second later, the stranger was met with: "How nice to meet you!", complete with extended palm.
The Doctor happily shook the hand…before crying out in pain for a second.
He retracted his hand, examining it. In the centre of his palm, there was a red mark, in the shape of a triangle encased in a circle. Gingerly, he tapped it with his left index finger, and winced.
"Looks like a burn," commented Miss Tomlinson, peering over the Doctor's shoulder. "Funny-looking one, too,"
"Yes, it is…" the Doctor murmured. "Sorry, where are my manners? Doctor John Smith," he said, offering his left hand, this time. "So…which of you is Baden?"
"Master of the House?" quipped Thomas. "Probably in his study at the moment, finishing up on his work. That's our Jack…"
"Yes, well, all works and no play makes Jack a dull lad, eh?" the Doctor replied. "Shall I go fetch him?"
"Leave him to it!" chortled Julien, sipping the martini from the glass. "Jenkins will let us know,"
Naomi Chambers, Baden's maid, tottered along the corridor, towards the study.
Slowly, she raised a fist to the door, and gently rapped upon it:
"Mr Baden?" she called. "Jenkins wanted me to tell you that the party has started!"
No reply.
"Mr Baden?"
Still nothing.
Naomi produced the key from her pocket, and inserted into the lock, twisting it to unlock the door. It clicked, and the door swung open.
Baden lay dead on the floor, his arms and legs forming a cross on the floor. Blood seeped from a wound on his chest, a large, jagged length of metal protruding from his chest.
Naomi dropped the key, and let out a blood-curdling scream…