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"Doctor, I still don't understand!" Lucy pleaded with him. He only held up his hand to silence her and she rolled her eyes at the back of his head.
This morning, she'd been enjoying her piping hot coffee when the Doctor burst into the room, looking harried and said, "Come on, Lucy, we've got to go, it's worse than I thought!" She'd spluttered at him, effectively spilling half the contents of her steaming mug down her shirt. He stared at her and she at him. He suppressed the fit of laughter that was sure to overtake him at any moment and she fought desperately not to fling the rest of the coffee in his face. Silently, Lucy had held up a finger whist glaring at the Doctor. He nodded and backed out of her room, choking sounds of mirth trailing down the hallway after him. Lucy had done her best to dry herself off and changed into a grey graphic T-shirt with neon green, blue and purple roses on it. She set down the dripping mug on the floor. Let it get a ring, she thought.
Lucy had rejoined the Doctor in the main area of the T.A.R.D.I.S. and found that he had had the grace to compose himself. "Where to then, Doctor?" she asked. He said not a word, only manned the controls and they were off.
Upon landing, Lucy had found herself in a future setting of Paris. Having never been to Paris before, she couldn't really make any comparisons to her time and the current year, 2084. They'd landed on a fair expanse of grass being shadowed by the Eiffel Tower. Lucy had only a moment to gaze up at the hulking structure before the Doctor grabbed her wrist and dragged her away.
They'd raced along the streets of Paris, had even taken a cab, Lucy throwing money at the perturbed driver as they dashed out the door before even stopping properly. Lucy knew better than to ask questions when he was like this, but it still irritated her. A million things going on in his mind, constantly she knew, but couldn't he take one second to tell her what was happening?
Lucy Blake could not have been more surprised when they turned up at the Louvre. Looking round, Lucy knew that something was wrong. The popular attraction was completely deserted. She could hear some commotion going on inside and sure enough, that's where they were headed. Two armed guards were at the doors. The Doctor pulled out his psychic paper and flashed it at them. "John Smith from Scotland Yard, some head mucky-mucks have sent me. And this is my partner, Lucy Blake." Lucy flashed the guards a smile and tried her best to look professional. She had never been very good at that. Composed yes, calm yes, but lacking the rigidity of a nine to five employee; inspector from Scotland Yard notwithstanding. The guards eyed them dubiously, but let them pass through.
Once through the Doctor had made to walk up to a gathering of people. They looked up at the two of them briefly, but Lucy tugged the Doctor back. Now she glared at him with real meaning and he leaned in close to her, the better to give her an answer.
"I got a message on the psychic paper. Told me to come here. It said something about this place, that everything was wrong."
"So that's it, we don't even know what's going on, just that something is 'wrong'?"
"Lucy, a bit of blank psychic paper tells you to come to the biggest art museum in the world, stating that everything is wrong, and what are you gonna do? That is enigmatic at its best, that is. Besides, you know me, couldn't resist, could I?" Lucy only grinned cheekily at him and tucked her hands in her coat pocket as she and the Doctor headed for the gaggle of people. She was grateful that she had at least donned a professional looking black duster.
"Hello there!" called the Doctor cheerfully. The crowd looked up at him and Lucy, varying degrees of shock, confusion and annoyance. "I'm Detective Inspector John Smith from Scotland Yard, and this is my partner, Lucy Blake. Somebody wanna tell me what's going on here, then?"
He was met with a half a dozen blank stares. In a loose huddle stood three men and three women. A tall, overfed, stuffy looking professor type looked down the bridge of his nose at the Doctor. Next to him was a docent in her red jacket. She was very small, shorter than Lucy and had dark brown hair and soft green eyes. Her eyes were slightly red, as though she had been crying. Standing with his hand on this woman's shoulder was a short, balding man, whose expressions ranged sporadically from gratitude to put-upon. Slightly farther back from the group was a young man with incongruous grey hair. He wore a dark suit and his handsome features were livid. Closest to them, on Lucy's right was a woman arrayed in the garb of a career psychic. A flowing multi-coloured tunic danced in folds when the woman moved and her coarse black hair hung to her waist. She wore many bangles and beads, and despite her gaudy and aloof appearance, she looked annoyed and harried. Standing slightly behind her was a young woman who could only be her daughter. This girl looked like she might be half Egyptian though. Despite her mother's forced air, this girl's amber gaze was quite knowing and wise. It was she who spoke to the Doctor.
"I'm Isis Arrah, sir." She said in an accent that was an amalgamation of English and, yes, Egyptian. "And this is my mother, Madame Lydia. She is a clairvoyant. We came to Paris to see the Louvre when-"
"When what, Isis?" The Doctor asked. His voice was patient, but Lucy caught that gleam in his eye.
"When we both heard whisperings. We were standing in the department of Greek, Etruscan and Roman Antiquities when it happened. It was like the statues were talking. It was like, for me, at least, like I was hearing one side of a conversation. And my mother said that they were calling out to her. Speaking to her, directly." Isis cast a glance at her mother, like she didn't believe her story. Did she doubt her mother's ability altogether?
The Doctor was clearly looking for more, however. He frowned and then the balding man gave the docent a gentle nudge forward. The woman spoke in a quavering French accent.
"Monsieur, I am Adora de Lis, a docent here at the Musee du Louvre. M-my father was a curator here. He usually inspects ze artwork, and records 'is notes electronically, in case 'e forgets. I found h-his body underneath the Mona Lisa. When I played ze tapes back, I 'eard him talking to someone. But this other voice sounded like whispers, like an echo. And, and." Here, Adora broke off sobbing. The balding man stepped forward, putting his arms around her shoulders. She cried into him and he looked up at the Doctor and Lucy imploringly. "Please forgive her. I am Guillaume du Pointe, another curator here. Just before Monsieur de Lis' voice cut off altogether, he said something about a…how you say, a voice calling to him, he said, 'It is consuming me, even now. This is the curse of those like me.' We have no idea what he meant." The Doctor nodded while Lucy just tried to take it all in. She was utterly lost.
"You're not the only one who's lost someone!" cried the furious looking grey-haired man suddenly. He was glaring at Adora, who pushed herself away from du Pointe, confused. She sputtered for a moment and Lucy raised her hand up to get the man's attention.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, "And by the way, she's still lost someone regardless, so there's no call to be rude." The man glared at Lucy before answering her.
"Since we're all wasting time here on introductions, I'm Anton Lhumes. My father, William and I came here from New York to see the sights. He insisted on this place, and looked what it got him! I found him collapsed somewhere in Islamic Art. And he said a little culture would never kill anyone." The Doctor nodded while Lucy clenched her fists inside the pockets of her duster and squashed the urge to punch Anton. She could hear Adora still sniffling into du Pointe's shoulder.
The Doctor looked over at the tall man on the left and raised his eyebrows. When Lucy looked over at him too, he grew flustered.
"Go on then, you're the only one we haven't heard from yet. Don't want to hold up the Yard, now do we?"
The man faltered for a second and said at last, "I am Devon Richmond, a professor at the University of Oxford. I am on holiday and was in the Sculptures wing when I heard shouting."
"Shouting, not whispering?" the Doctor asked.
"I never heard any whispers, Detective Inspector. The shouting I heard was Mr. Lhumes. I ran down here and joined everyone slightly before you and your partner showed up." He glanced over at Lucy and bent over slightly in an awkward half-bow. She only nodded once at him and kept silent.
"Right then, I think it best for the six of you to stay put while Inspector Blake and I have a look round." The doctor offered the group a salute and strode off, Lucy on his heels, chuckling.
"What's funny, then?"
"Just have a laugh at 'Inspector Blake' is all." The Doctor smiled and then stopped in his tracks.
"I've just realised. I've never been to the Louvre, let alone in the year 2084. I don't know my way round and I was gonna start with where Isis and her mother were."
Lucy was able to give him a gloating glance before pointing down a set of stairs to her right.
"And how do you know that?"
"Well, Doctor, I know my way round buildings. And besides, it says on that sign there, 'Denon Wing: Greek, Etruscan and Roman Antiquities." Lucy smiled the Doctor coyly as he looked at the sign. He gave her a look in return, clearly wanting to say that he'd known it all along. But Lucy knew him better than that.
Once inside the Denon Wing, Lucy found herself surrounded by ancient statues and urns. She walked by all of them, spying for something out of the norm to catch her eye. She should have just waited for the Doctor. He was scanning everything with the sonic screwdriver, and it wasn't long before he exclaimed,
"Go it! Lucy, come quick." She did as he said and rushed over to him. He was standing in front a huge statue. Most of a human figure stood atop a stone pedestal. The head and arms were missing, but the shape of the body suggested it was female. The wings were extended out, as though it had been about to take flight. The Doctor did another scan with the screwdriver and said, "I've picked up the leftover particles from the Pyranor. And before you ask, Pyranor are spore-like creatures that thrive off of energy and most importantly, brilliance and curiosity." He looked over at her, raising an eyebrow.
"And what better place is there to find brilliance and curiosity than the biggest art museum on the planet?" Lucy said picking up on the point he'd been trying to make.
"Exactly. But the Pyranor can exist for hundreds of years before they need to feed again, and when they do, they go on a spree."
"And Adora's and Anton's dads are the first in a long buffet line. So how exactly do these Pyranor work? They just sneak up behind you while you're looking at the Mona Lisa and then tuck in?"
"I told you, Lucy, they're a spore race. Microscopic. They're born inside something inspired by brilliance and curiosity. Then they sort of hibernate and in a couple hundred years it's feeding time."
"Does this mean that behind every great work of art is a swarm of all-consuming Pyranor?"
"Not every. But any."
"Talk about enigmatic at its best." Lucy teased him. He smiled and then they both looked up, alarmed when they heard a horrified scream come from somewhere to their left.
Racing down the halls of the now ancient museum, Lucy and the Doctor found what they were looking for inside the Near Eastern Antiquities, close to where they had been. As they approached the gaggle of people, Lucy noticed that one of them was missing. And that they were all standing around something.
"What is it, what happened?" asked the Doctor, his voice raised. The group had clearly disobeyed his notion that they all stay where they were. Everyone parted to reveal Adora kneeling by the body of Guillaume du Pointe. The Doctor bent down to look at him and told Lucy with one glance that he was right. Adora put her hand on his shoulder and said, "Detective Inspector Smith, please, can you help?"
"I can, Adora, and I will. The thing that killed these three people is moving quickly though. Now I'm only going to say this once, so everyone listen up. What we're dealing with are called Pyranor. They're spores that live inside the artwork and feed off brilliance. What Adora's father said, about it being a curse, he was partially right. Ever heard the saying 'Ignorance is bliss'? Well in this case, it is. All three of these men were very clever and the Pyranor need only that to survive. They will feed off your minds. You are all to stay away from the artwork until I can deal with this. They will consume you."
"You are right about that, Detective Inspector." said Adora. When the Doctor looked over at her, there was fear in her eyes. "I was with Monsieur du Pointe the whole time. I heard the whisperings too, but he started conversing with them, talking to them, I told him to stop, that he was scaring me, but he wouldn't. Then he turned to me and his eyes had gone blank. He kept talking about emptiness and wanting to grow stronger. He kept saying these frightening things and then he reached out to grab me, but I backed away. He walked toward me and it was like he was a shell. He looked like Monsieur du Pointe, but it wasn't really him. And then, he fell to the ground as you see him now. That's when I screamed and everyone came running in." Adora wiped the tears from her eyes and Lucy walked over to her and held her.
The Doctor was standing now, pacing, thinking of the next move. Had he not known about that particular facet of the Pyranor? Perhaps they'd evolved since last he'd heard from them. Lucy pulled Adora to her feet and looked over at the Doctor, not sure what to do or say. The Doctor caught her eyes and he looked up and stopped pacing.
"Right. Everyone should get back to the Atrium and stay there this time. No investigating, no poking round, that's my job. Now, Lucy, I want you to stay there with the rest of them while I go sort this out."
Lucy started and looked quite soberly at the Doctor. He returned her stare and she let go of Adora and walked over to him. In a hushed voice that was almost a hiss, she said, "You honestly expect me to let you wander round a building on your own? To fix this whole thing on your own? No!"
"Lucy, you heard what I said, they feed off brilliance, so I can't risk you being anywhere near them." Lucy's mouth dropped open and she was torn between feeling complimented and affronted.
"Doctor, you're not exactly Einstein's idiot cousin, are you?" he grinned at her and gestured her back to the waiting crowd. She stepped back quite reluctantly, biting her lip. The Doctor headed off in a new direction this time. Before he could disappear round a corner, Lucy called, "Hey, be safe, all right?" He stopped, hands in his pockets and sort of cocked his head at her.
"I always am." was his response.
As he left, Lucy chewed harder at her lip and felt the skin break. Cursing, she dabbed at her mouth with the side of her hand. Isis Arrah came over presently, holding out a stunningly white handkerchief. Lucy accepted it and paused before pressing it to her lips. She looked over at Isis questioningly, who nodded. Lucy wiped at her mouth and held the cloth there for a short while. When she was confident that the bleeding had stopped, she pulled it away and handed it back to Isis.
"Sorry about ruining that." Isis only shook her head. Lucy cast one look round at the five stunned people she'd just met. Madame Lydia Arrah was no doubt trying to comfort Adora. Lucy heard her saying something about the great beyond, about people's souls crossing over onto another plane. The rest of the group had tucked themselves away. Lucy looked back over at Isis. The woman had to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair was black like her mother's, but cut at a modest shoulder length. She dressed in business casual and had a very composed air about her, the opposite of her mother's. All the same, when Isis affixed Lucy with that cool amber gaze, Lucy felt chilled to the bone.
"You know, I never believed that my mother had the gift. She tried to convince me that I have it too. I told her she was wrong. How could I have it, if she didn't? She was furious with me. She said that perhaps she was wrong, that she had only spoken out of wishful thinking. She asks for money that she doesn't deserve for tricky guesswork, luck and superstition. She is no fortune-teller."
"Sounds like you two have some issues to work out."
"Arguing with my mother is pointless. Trying to have a reasonable conversation with her is the very definition of insanity. But I was wrong, Miss Blake."
"About what? Do you have the gift after all? You know, I never know what to believe about all that."
"Well, believe this, Lucy Blake. I do have the gift, even if my mother doesn't. And as soon as I saw you I knew."
Lucy's mouth hung open once more. She dreaded what Isis was about to tell her. It couldn't be.
"W-what? What did you know?" she asked, barely able to keep her voice from breaking.
"I'm sorry, Lucy. I'm really very sorry. But it's going to happen soon. You're going to die."
