Doctor Who: The Shining Man Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also available from BBC Books

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1 Making it up

  Chapter 2 Stormy Weather

  Chapter 3 A Cry for Help

  Chapter 4 Into the Woods

  Chapter 5 Pull to Open

  Chapter 6 The Corner of Your Eye

  Chapter 7 Working Undercover

  Chapter 8 A Visit from the Doctor

  Chapter 9 #fearthelight

  Chapter 10 Gone Shopping

  Chapter 11 PC Schofield

  Chapter 12 In for Christmas

  Chapter 13 Lore of the Land

  Chapter 14 Ultra-Terrestrials

  Chapter 15 Levelling up

  Chapter 16 Half a Lifetime

  Chapter 17 A Groove in Time

  Chapter 18 Clues

  Chapter 19 Taking a Dip

  Chapter 20 Turman’s Report

  Chapter 21 Welcome to Fairy Land

  Chapter 22 Safe Together

  Chapter 23 Chased

  Chapter 24 Sense of Direction

  Chapter 25 Tit for Tat

  Chapter 26 The First of the Three

  Chapter 27 Home

  Chapter 28 An Old Friend

  Chapter 29 Lady of the Dance

  Chapter 30 Last of the Three

  Chapter 31 Into the Circle

  Chapter 32 SPLINK

  Chapter 33 A Fairy Story

  Chapter 34 The Final Deal

  Chapter 35 And They Lived …

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  About the Book

  “Being scared is the least of your worries.”

  The Shining Men are everywhere. You spot them out of the corner of your eye. Abnormally tall, with long lank hair, blank faces and blazing eyes. If they catch you, they’ll drag you away to who knows where. No one is safe. They’re on every street corner. Waiting. Watching. Shining bright.

  Of course it’s a hoax. It has to be, right? It started as a joke, a prank for Halloween. Then it went viral. Idiots dressing up as monsters. Giving folk a scare. Silly masks and fright wigs. No one gets hurt. Because bogeymen aren’t real.

  Until people start going missing and lights burn in the darkness. Burning like eyes.

  But help is on its way, in the form of a strange man called the Doctor and his friend, Bill. The Doctor will keep us safe. The Doctor will stop the monsters. Unless the monsters stop the Doctor first…

  An original novel featuring the Twelfth Doctor and Bill as played by Peter Capaldi and Pearl Mackie.

  About the Author

  Number One Bestseller Cavan Scott has written for such popular series as Star Wars, Vikings, Warhammer 40,000 and, of course, Doctor Who. He’s the writer of Titan Comic’s ongoing adventures of the Ninth Doctor and was one of the 2016 World Book Day authors.

  Also available from BBC Books

  DIAMOND DOGS

  by Mike Tucker

  PLAGUE CITY

  by Jonathan Morris

  For Mark

  Chapter 1

  Making it up

  ‘Mum!’

  Sammy Holland was barely through the front door before her son ran the length of the hallway and threw his arms around her.

  ‘Hey, what’s all this?’ she said, prising Noah away from her waist and dropping down to look into his puffy eyes. She wiped a tear away from his cheek. ‘Whatever’s happened?’

  Noah was 8 and short for his age, with a freckled face, chipmunk-like cheeks and a mop of curly brown hair. He sniffed, wiping snot on the back of his hand. ‘It jumped out at me and Frankie. It was horrible.’

  Sammy frowned. ‘What did? What are you talking about?’

  ‘He’s making it up!’ came a voice from the lounge.

  Sammy looked across the hall. Through the lounge door, she could see her daughter draped over the sofa. Ten going on eighteen, Masie took after her father, more’s the pity. The two children couldn’t have been more different. While Noah was short, Masie was long and willowy, her shoulder-length hair poker straight and so dark it was almost black. Their temperaments were just as distinct. Noah was the quintessential mummy’s boy, always looking for a hug, while Masie was becoming a thoroughly independent miss, desperate to grow up. She was all about make-up, celebrity gossip and being glued to her mobile phone 24-7.

  ‘Making up what?’ Sammy asked. ‘Will someone tell me what’s been going on? Why’s your brother so upset?’

  ‘Is that you, love?’ a woman’s voice called out from the back of the house. ‘Am I glad you’re home!’

  ‘Mum?’ Dropping her handbag by the door, Sammy scooped Noah into her arms and carried him through to the kitchen, his tears running down her neck. Her mum was in the utility room, piling wet clothes into the tumble dryer. Sammy didn’t know how she’d manage without her. She’d retired early, giving up her job at the local Co-op to help look after the kids. She picked them up from school every day, giving them their tea, so Sammy didn’t have to rush home early from work. Of course, Sammy had told her time and time again that she didn’t have to do the laundry, but Hilary Walsh was not the kind of woman who took no for an answer; or put up with nonsense from her grandkids for that matter.

  ‘I haven’t been able to do anything with him since we got back from school,’ Hilary said, rubbing her back as she slammed the dryer shut.

  Sammy sat Noah on the worktop, as she had whenever they needed a serious chat ever since he was a toddler. He sat swinging his legs, looking down at the checked lino on the floor, refusing to even meet her gaze.

  ‘OK. Let’s have it. Who jumped out at you, Noah?’

  Hilary crossed her arms and gave her grandson a knowing look. ‘If you don’t tell her, I will.’

  Noah still didn’t respond. Sammy’s Mum tutted.

  ‘All right, then,’ she said. ‘Someone decided to leave the school grounds at lunchtime.’

  Sammy’s hands went to her hips. ‘Noah, you didn’t!’

  ‘Do you want to tell her why?’

  Noah mumbled something incoherently. Sammy took a step back and, mirroring her mother, crossed her own arms. She didn’t like to admit it, but the two of them were like peas in a pod. Neither woman was taller than five foot four, both had tight curly hair and blue-green eyes, and they shared a contempt for lies and liars.

  ‘Sorry?’ Sammy asked, jutting her head forward. ‘What was that?’

  Noah sighed and gave into the inevitable. ‘It was Dylan. He said he’d seen one on the way to school, down Shrewfoot Avenue.’

  ‘Seen what?’

  Noah wiped his eye with the heel of his hand, still looking everywhere other than at his mum. ‘A Shining Man,’ he mumbled.

  ‘You’re kidding me.’ Sammy looked from the boy to her mother, who just shrugged and shook her head. ‘That nonsense on the radio? What have I told you about leaving the school? What did Mr Weenink say?’

  ‘Oh, he said enough, trust me,’ Hilary said, before explaining in excruciating detail how disappointed the new head teacher had been.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Sammy said, running her hands through her hair, still damp from the rain. She stomped back into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. She didn’t want a cup of anything; it was just habit. Something to do other than rant at her son. Of all the stupid things to do. ‘A Shining Man? Really?’

  Noah followed her out. ‘But Dylan was right. We saw him.’

  ‘Told you he was making it up,’ Masie shouted from the other room.

  ‘Not helpful,’ Sammy called back. ‘And get off that screen. Haven’t you got homework to do?’r />
  ‘Done it already,’ came the reply. ‘I’m skyping Shona.’

  Sammy went to respond, but stopped herself. Choose your battles, Sammy. Choose your battles.

  Blowing air from her cheeks, she led Noah to the kitchen table and sat him down.

  ‘Noah,’ she said, sitting beside him and taking his hand. ‘Shining Men don’t exist. They’re just some silly urban legend that’s got out of hand.’

  Noah looked puzzled. ‘What’s an urban legend?’

  ‘A story that’s told to scare people.’

  ‘But Dylan said—’

  ‘Dylan Edwards says a lot of things,’ she snapped. ‘All of them rubbish.’ She paused, regaining her composure. ‘Why were you really out of school? Were you going to the newsagent?’

  ‘I told you. We were looking for the Shining Man, but he found us first. He jumped out of the bush and roared at us.’

  ‘Noah …’

  He yanked his hand away. ‘Frankie said you wouldn’t believe me, and he’s right.’

  ‘I didn’t say—’

  ‘It happened!’ Noah insisted. ‘His eyes shined right in our faces, we couldn’t see anything, and he tried to grab Frankie.’

  ‘And you told Mr Weenink this?’

  ‘I’ve told everyone, but no one’s listening.’ The chair squeaked on the kitchen floor as Noah pushed it away and bolted from the room. Sammy let her head drop into her hands and listened to the thud-thud-thud of her son charging upstairs.

  ‘You shouldn’t let him talk at you like that,’ Hilary said from the sink, the sound of the water running into the bowl competing with the music now blasting from Noah’s room upstairs.

  ‘Leave that, Mum,’ Sammy said, standing up. ‘I’ll do it later.’ She undid her coat and went to hang it beneath the stairs. ‘What if he’s telling the truth?’

  Hilary snorted. ‘About seeing ghosts and goblins? You’re as soft as he is if you believe that.’

  ‘Something’s scared him.’

  ‘Yeah, being caught out of school. He’s talking bobbins, and you know it.’

  Sammy leant against the kitchen door and sighed. The Shining Men. She’d laughed when she’d first heard about them. Bogeymen spotted on street corners, turning up on blurry photos, two blazing lights for eyes. She’d seen the pictures online, like something from the cheap horror films Noah’s dad used to make her watch. It was the same every week. A new DVD would plop through the door with a garish cover and a stupid name, and she’d have to pretend she enjoyed every gory minute. The Devil’s Whisper. The Walls Have Teeth. Children of the Cull. What a load of rubbish. If she never saw another monster movie, it would be too soon.

  She’d dismissed the early Shining Man reports as a publicity stunt for a similarly puerile film. Halloween was just around the corner, after all. But then the kids started banging on about Shining Men at school, freaking each other out, claiming to have seen them hanging around the neighbourhood. And Dylan-blooming-Edwards was the worst of the lot. That boy wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him on the bum.

  ‘Mu-uuum!’ Masie whined from the lounge. ‘Noah’s playing his music too loud. I can’t hear Shona!’

  ‘It’s not too loud!’ Noah shouted back down the stairs, and whacked the stereo up at least another ten decibels.

  Sammy fought the urge to bang her head against the wall. It was going to be a long night.

  Two hours later and the atmosphere in the Holland household had mellowed considerably. Masie was in her room, probably still glued to a screen, while Sammy perched on the side of Noah’s bed, a well-thumbed book in her hands.

  ‘The goblin hopped up and down in anger,’ she read. ‘“It’s a trick,” it complained. “A filthy trick by a filthy human.”’

  Noah giggled. He always loved it when she did the goblin’s squeaky voice.

  ‘Jack smiled at the imp,’ she continued. ‘“We made a deal,” he reminded the creature, “and I’ve kept my half of the bargain. Now it’s time to keep yours.”

  ‘ “You haven’t heard the last of me,” the goblin snarled, disappearing in a puff of smoke. In its place was a golden egg. Jack scooped up his prize and ran all the way home where he and his mother lived happily ever after.” ’

  Noah smiled, nestled beneath his superhero duvet; the Ghost soaring up, up and away across a Manhattan skyline. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  She brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead. ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Can I read for a bit?’

  She closed the book and handed it over. ‘Half an hour and then lights off. And I’ll be up to check.’

  He nodded, already flicking through the brightly coloured pages to find a story to read. Not that he didn’t know them all off by heart. Sammy had lost count of the times they’d read it together, but she didn’t mind. The Goblins of Neverness had been a favourite of hers since she was little. Back then it had been her dad doing the funny voices, making her squeal with laughter every time the goblin was outraged.

  She leant over and planted a kiss on Noah’s head. ‘Love you, peanut.’

  ‘Love you too, Mum.’

  Sammy left him to his fairy tales, checking in on Masie. As expected, her daughter was watching YouTube videos on her bed, headphones clamped firmly over her ears. Sammy just couldn’t understand it. Masie spent more time watching other kids playing computer games than playing them herself. Still, anything for a quiet life. At least she wasn’t squabbling with her brother.

  Sammy went downstairs. The radio was still playing in the kitchen. A hit from the 1990s. Sammy smiled. Her mum had always hated that one, played over and over on loop.

  She walked into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle as she passed. The tea things were still in the sink. Usually her mum would have done them, but she had rushed into town to see a show at the Palace with the girls from bingo. Sammy laughed to herself. The Girls. Not one of them was under 60.

  The song on the radio finished to be replaced by the seven o’clock news. Sammy already knew what the first headline would be. The same story had been rehashed for every bulletin since she’d got home.

  ‘Shining Man arrested in Stockport,’ the newsreader declared. ‘Locals demand action.’

  Sammy sighed and switched off the radio. She’d heard enough about Shining Men for one night, thank you very much. This was getting out of control. Now people were dressing up as the damned things just to scare people. The guy in Stockport had been caught jumping out at an 82-year-old woman, giving her the fright of her life. Sicko. The thought of someone doing that to Noah made her blood boil. Masie was convinced he’d made it all up, but Noah had stuck to his guns all evening. Sammy didn’t know what to believe. At least he’d think twice before slipping out of school again.

  Sammy’s mobile rang, out in the hallway. She went to recover it from her handbag, glancing at the screen. It was Polly from work. She clicked answer.

  ‘Hiya Pol,’ she said, wandering back to the kitchen. The kettle had stopped boiling and she flicked it on again, finding a clean mug from the draining rack. ‘No, I can’t get out tonight. Mum’s gone into town, so there’s no one to watch the kids.’ Polly made a suggestion and Sammy scoffed. ‘Yeah, like that’ll happen. You know Mike. He needs at least two months’ notice to see his own children. Besides, Noah needs me around tonight.’

  She dropped a teabag into the mug, telling Polly about the entire Shining Man debacle. She poured the water and went to get milk from the fridge. ‘I know. It’s all over the news. Did you hear about the bloke in Stockport? Should throw away the key.’

  She returned to the sink, glancing up as she slopped milk into her tea. ‘I don’t believe it.’

  In her ear, Polly asked her what was wrong.

  ‘There’s one on the corner of the street. A Shining Man!’

  Polly swore in response.

  ‘Not a “real” one, obviously. One of those nutters dressing up.’

  Sammy leaned across the sink to get a closer look. The figure
was tall and painfully thin, its back to her. As she watched, it turned its head and two beams of light swept across the road in front of it.

  ‘It must be wearing head torches or something,’ she muttered, prompting Polly to ask what she’d said.

  ‘Nothing,’ she replied, making a decision. ‘Pol, I’ve got to go.’ She stormed out of the kitchen, snatching her coat from the peg in the wall. ‘I’m not going to let them get away with this, frightening innocent people.’

  On the phone, Polly tried to dissuade her. ‘What are they going to do to me?’ Sammy said, slipping on her coat. ‘Probably a big coward behind all that get up, anyway. Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful. I call you back.’

  Sammy ended the call, looking around for her keys. Where were they?

  She rifled through her pockets, putting her phone down on the bookcase in the hall. She walked back into the kitchen, spotting her keyring by the kettle, the little plastic pixie from a family holiday to Cornwall winking cheekily at her.

  She grabbed the keys, heading back to the door.

  ‘Just stepping out for a moment,’ she yelled up to the kids, opening the front door. ‘Stay in bed.’ She didn’t wait for either of them to reply.

  The cold hit her as soon as she stepped outside. What kind of freak stands around on street corners in the middle of October? Probably, the same kind of low-life that jumps out at kiddies near schools. Zipping up her coat, Sammy marched down the road.

  ‘Oi,’ she cried out. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  The figure didn’t turn. They didn’t even flinch, standing there in their long shabby coat, greasy hair stretching down their back.

  ‘I’m talking to you!’ she continued. ‘It isn’t right, what you’re doing. Scaring people. It’s not a joke, you know? My little boy was terrified earlier today. Really, really scared.’

  Still the weirdo ignored her. She wasn’t having that.

  She couldn’t tap him on the shoulder. The guy was too tall for that. Ridiculously tall. But even that didn’t stop her, not today. Sammy grabbed him by the arm, pulling him around to face her.

  ‘Well, what have you got to say for yourself?’