him.
Jack liked the waterside. He walked along, watching the lights of the modern apartments opposite contrasting with the Victorian terraces behind him.
A couple of late-night ducks splashed in the water, and Jack leaned over to look at them. By now, the moon was up, a three-quarter orb in the sky, bright white, and it reflected on the largely unbroken waters, only the odd duckedformed ripple fragmenting the image.
Jack thought of space. Of being up there. Out amongst the stars. He could have gone back, not long ago. He’d had the chance, but opted not to take it. Cardiff, specifically the team at Torchwood, needed him. Earth needed him. Every single one of these bizarre little people needed him. And damn it, he needed them, too. They made him feel alive, gave him a purpose, gave him a reason to live.
‘Jack.’
He felt the word whispered in his ear, so softly it could almost have been the breeze. Except there wasn’t one.
He shivered anyway.
And realised that there was someone beside him. He could see the reflection in the water.
‘No,’ said the voice. ‘Don’t turn around. Just listen. I’m trying, trying so hard to do everything you taught me, but it’s difficult to maintain myself. It’s got all four of them, Jack. There’s just you now.’
The figure loomed forward and Jack saw a face. A young man, tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed (oh God, those beautiful eyes he hadn’t seen for so long), the cheekbones he wanted to rest a coffee mug on. No toothy smile though. Just a pained expression.
Jack’s heart literally jumped, and he breathed in sharply and deeply. ‘Greg,’ he breathed out.
‘I’m sorry, Jack, it’s so powerful. I’m really trying though… Please believe me.’
Jack stared at the reflection. He’d seen enough movies to know that, if he turned round, Greg would not be there.
‘Is it Bilis Manger?’
Greg frowned. ‘It’s so bright. And so dark. And I don’t know where I am, Jack. But it’s got them. It’s hurting them, Jack.’
‘Is it Bilis Manger?’ Jack spat, spinning round.
But Greg had gone.
Now it really had got cold. Damn the river, damn the park, damn the bloody ducks. He’d got distracted.
He ran, as fast as he could, across the park, up the steps onto the link road, across the roundabout and into Mermaid Quay.
By the time he reached Ianto’s shop front, he knew he was too late.
Standing further back, by the ice-cream parlour over the water, was Bilis.
The shop had a huge iron bar across the doorway, held in place by a massive, almost comically huge, iron padlock.
Instinctively, Jack tapped his ear. ‘Owen?’ he barked.
Nothing. No, not nothing – music. That was a new one.
He looked over at Bilis. ‘What have you done to Owen? Let me into the Hub!’
But Bilis was holding the padlock key in the air. He smiled, turned and threw it into the middle of the inner harbour. It vanished with a damp plop, and Bilis vanished as instantly.
Jack tried wrenching the bar off the door, but he knew it was futile.
He dashed up through Roald Dahl Plass to the water tower, activating the perception-filtered step/elevator via his wrist-strap as he ran, but when he got there, nothing happened.
People were staring at him as he jumped onto the step, ignoring water splashing around.
Damn, how could they see him?
Why wasn’t he moving down?
Four or five bemused people were watching him now. Among them, he realised, was Bilis Manger. Bilis waved, turned his back and walked into the foyer of the Millennium Centre.
Jack hurled himself past the crowds and into the venue.
Everywhere there were people – it was fifteen minutes to curtain up, and there were crowds moving up the steps on the left to the massive auditorium of the Donald Gordon Theatre, and more people were sweeping through from the bars and cafes from the right, heading past the desks and to the same steps.
Jack tried to focus, but he knew that Bilis would already have gone.
‘Mr Harkness?’
It was a maroon-waistcoated staffer, a collection of programmes for the show in his hand.
‘Yeah?’
‘The gentleman said you’d be here. He asked me to make sure you got your ticket. He’s already gone in.’
Jack took the ticket, but didn’t read it, instead looking towards the throng moving up the steps.
He was never going to able to confront Bilis in a theatre full of people.
‘No, sir,’ said the staffer, noting the direction Jack was gazing. ‘The gallery exhibitions are up the right steps, Level 2, sir.’ He pointed through the crowd in the direction of the bars.
Jack thanked him and eased himself slowly through the crowd, getting one or two hissed complaints as he stepped on a toe or knocked a handbag out of a manicured hand.
Eventually, he reached the wooden steps leading to the smaller galleries and conference rooms and took them three at a time.
He glanced at the ticket and read:
He threw himself into the bar, hand on his holster, expecting trouble.
Instead, he found a quiet, brightly lit bar, one barman and Bilis Manager, looking as cool and dapper as ever, sipping sherry from a glass, a waiter stood beside him, holding a tray of sherry glasses.
‘Jack,’ Bilis said expansively, as if welcoming an old friend to a party. ‘Delighted you could make it.’
Jack still kept his hand on his gun, but slowed to a casual walk as he headed to where Bilis stood.
The old man toasted him and then nodded to the windows, which showed the reverse of the words cut into the front of the building. Jack looked out towards the water tower below.
‘“In these stones, horizons sing.” They are inspiring words, don’t you think, Jack?’
Jack shrugged. ‘What do you want?’
‘Creating truth like glass from the furnace of inspiration – written by Wales’s first-ever national poet. Truth is a strange thing – one man’s truth is another man’s pack of lies.’
Jack turned away from Bilis. ‘If you’ve nothing relevant to say, Bilis, I have a team to find.’
‘Oh, you won’t be able to do that, I’m afraid. They won’t let you. Not yet. Tomorrow maybe, at the launch party.’
Jack turned back, walked to Bilis, ignoring the waiter, who staggered back as Jack cannoned into him. He grabbed Bilis by his red cravat, swallowing his surprise that the old man didn’t just vanish.
But then, maybe he hadn’t been expecting Jack to do that – so he could be surprised, caught unawares. Good.
‘Talking of furnaces of inspiration, I’m damn well inspired to chuck you through the glass and see if you can vanish in mid-air. But you know, I don’t think that would achieve anything. Where are they?’
‘I honestly can’t answer that, I’m awfully sorry.’ Bilis freed himself and straightened his clothing. ‘But I’m sure they are safe. I don’t think they want to hurt them.’
‘They?’
‘The Light, Jack. The Light and the Dark – forever at war, battling across the dimensions for centuries, coming here through your blessed Rift. My Lord understood them, but you destroyed him. And when you did that, they were free to do as they wanted. Capricious elements, you might say.’
‘What’s your role in this?’
‘I’m bound to them as I was bound to my Lord. I am but a humble servant – I see time, all time, past,
