by Paul Cornell
"You're becoming a vampire: Madelaine reached out and smoothed back Nyssa's hair protectively. "The Child was interrupted in his feeding, but by then he'd taken enough to pass it on to you. Don't worry. It's really good. You can do what you want and live how you like."
"But you prey on other people!" Nyssa clasped her hands distractedly.
"Yes, that worried me at first. But, listen, you get the idea really quickly. Jake says that we're the next step up from mea ... from humans, okay? So we treat them like they treat cows and sheep and things. They're going to die anyway, and we're not, so we get to feed on them. And we're in the position to offer them a gentle and painless death. Fear makes blood taste revolting, anyway. We're not sadists, Nyssa."
"I can't do this. I can't."
"You can hear me in your head already, can't you? Feel where I am in the room? You're never going to be lonely again. You meet great people. You can fly! I know you feel awful now, I mean, I did as well, but you soon realize that you've got no choice, not after the next full moon at least, and then - " Madelaine glanced up. "Company's on the way. Do you want to come with me, let me introduce you to everybody?"
"No. Just go. ."
"Okay. I understand. We won't let you tell, though, all right? Bye for now." Madelaine leapt for the window and vanished like a rocket into the black.
A second later there was a knock at the door. Holding her emotions in with every ounce of Trakenite reserve, Nyssa opened it.
"Have you been - ?" Tegan glanced around the room. "No, you're okay. Come quick, the Doctor's got a vampire with him."
"Has he?" Nyssa heard herself say, reaching for her dressing-gown. "How interesting."
When the two women entered, the Doctor was pacing up and down his room, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his dressing-gown. His gaze was fixed on the stoic vampire.
Eric looked at Nyssa as she came in, and smiled slightly. Nyssa looked away.
So," the Doctor was saying. "You're not local and you're part of a team, which tends to indicate that you came after myself and my companions deliberately. Am I right?" Eric ignored him. "I don't know you, so you must be working for somebody who does. Who?"
"He knows you all right," Eric muttered. "But you don't know him." He furrowed his brow, suddenly. Inside his head, a voice had started asking him where he'd got to and what was happening to him.
"Interesting! Somebody from my past, then." The Doctor stopped, hit by a sudden thought. His hand emerged from his dressing-gown in a pointing gesture, and his voice took on sudden conviction. "Or somebody from my future, hm?"
The muscles of Eric's face twitched, and the vampire grimaced. "Oh no ..." he murmured. "He's got nowt, he won't find out anything like this! No, you can't!" He seemed to be shouting at some unseen force that was making the flesh of his face twist and distort.
Eric's hands sprang up in front of him, suddenly independent and possessed by life.
The Doctor realized what was about to happen. "No!" he shouted to the ceiling. "Whoever you are, your argument is with me, not him!"
Eric's hands grabbed his own head, fingers stretched against the temples. The Doctor sprang forward, knocking aside the breads, and wrestled with the man, pulling at his arms. One solid palm shot out and sent him sprawling backwards.
"He's free!" the Doctor shouted from where he lay. "He can escape, I won't stop him!"
But it was too late. Eric's hands were pulling at his own skull, his face going white. Tegan grabbed Nyssa and made her look away. She had been staring at what was happening with a kind of distant shock that the Australian didn't like the look of at all. Not that she was enjoying this all that much herself.
"Let me go!" Eric shouted, and the shout became a scream. His fingers were holding his skull like a ball, pushing it upwards, thumbs hooked under his jaw. His features creased in a mask of fear.
There was a sudden cracking sound.
Eric pulled his head from his shoulders and flung it upwards. It hit the ceiling. The body fell, lifeless. The head landed on top of it.
There was no blood. For a moment, Eric looked like an ordinary dead man, his features relaxed in very human surprise.
"Don't look." Tegan held Nyssa close. "Look away."
As she and the Doctor watched, the corpse crumbled, the chest collapsing and the skull crumpling in on itself. The body dissolved into ashes, disintegrating into smaller and smaller fragments until only a fine dust remained.
"There was no need ..." The Doctor stepped forward, shaking his head in horror. "Absolutely no need ..."
Yarven unclenched his fist. "There was every need, Doctor," he whispered. "He betrayed my intentions. And served as a messenger of the fear I wish you to experience."
He turned from the corner of the console room where he'd been standing, concentrating. His face was full of sadness before Ruath, Madelaine, Jake and Jeremy. The Child floated over the console, interested only in the flashing lights. "Eric is ... dead," Yarven told his people. "The Doctor killed him."
"What!" Sanders cried. "Why then, let's go over there and punish him for it! You can't let one of us die without vengeance! It's against the whole blasted code!"
"I agree. Of course there must be vengeance." Yarven took Jeremy by the shoulders and smiled kindly. "I feel the insult as much as you do, believe me. But Madelaine says that one of the Doctor's party is becoming one of us. Let this Time Lord see her transformation before we take him. Let him feel the loss of that."
Jeremy took a deep breath and nodded his assent. "Yes, Lord. Sorry, it's just that these particular humans ... well, they're rather good at this sort of thing." He felt the cross marked on his skull. "It's not good form at all."
Jake and Madelaine were standing a little apart from the others. "What's the kid like?" Jake asked.
"She's sweet," Maddy whispered. "I sort of wish that she wasn't involved in all this. We could give her some more help. She's quite innocent, the sort who night try and stake herself or something. It's going to be hard for her."
"Harder than it was for you?"
"It was just you and me, then," Maddy murmured, carefully smiling at the others.
Ruath was lounging on a couch by the wall, examining her new fingers closely. She had painted the nails blood red. "We will all have the revenge we desire, Jeremy." She looked at Yarven. "Won't we, my dear?"
"Of course!" laughed Yarven turning away from Sanders. "You were born to be Undead, my dear. Now ..." he waved a hand airily, "the details of your plan, please."
"My Lord!" Ruath hopped up and activated the monitor. "Let me tell you, my friends, how we are to humble this arrogant adventurer called the Doctor, and incidentally how we are going to gain control of this planet. The first things we need ..." She punched a button and a map appeared on the screen. "The first things we need are a place to settle and a large food supply. Does anybody have any suggestions?" Jake raised a hand lazily, despite Maddy's quick glare. "I think I know a place," he said.
The Doctor stared down at the ashes as they scattered across the floor in the breeze from the window. "I have to find out who did this," he told Nyssa and Tegan.
Tegan had let Nyssa go. The young Trakenite bent to examine the ashes. "I've never seen such swift cellular decay," she murmured. "Why does it happen?"
"A vampire's bioplasmic field, like that of a Time Lord, is diffused through its whole body," the Doctor explained, squatting down beside her, "though it isn't controlled by symbiotic nuclei. It's centred on the human brain stem, at the top of the spine. Sever that stem from the controlling brain, and the whole system collapses. Certain sources recommend keeping the head and body separate, and stuffing the neck with garlic."
"Who says that?" Tegan muttered. "Delia Smith?"
"Tegan ... ."
"Sorry. Who are this lot, anyway? You said something about, what was it, E-Space? Isn't that where Adric came from?"
"Yes. Sometime before we met, Tegan, I encountered a planet in E-Space that was ruled by vam
pires. They were created by the Great Vampire itself, a being of legendary power. At that point, I thought that they were an isolated community, that Rassilon himself had wiped out all the original Undead." He picked up a handful of ashes. "It seems that I was wrong."
"So what do we do?" Tegan asked. "If they're after us ...."
"This has the feel of an opening gambit, a demonstration of power. Just what you'd expect of somebody with an old grudge. Pack your bags. We should move on."
"You mean we're running away?" Tegan had thoughts of getting their landlady to start baking garlic bread around the clock.
"Hardly, Tegan." The Doctor stood up, clapping the dust from his hands. "I want to find out where these two creatures came from, and follow them back to whoever's in charge. If we stay here, nobody on the island's going to be safe." He frowned. "I'd better tell David that he's going to have to find another opening bat."
Tegan left to pack. The Doctor opened his wardrobe and started to throw clothes into a bag.
Nyssa stood in the middle of the room, looking down at the ashes that had coated her bare feet.
Three
Victor Lang sat behind a large oak desk, its surface clear and shiny. He was handsome and silver-haired, with a richly cragged face and large hands. These were clasped in prayer before him, his eyes closed.
On the other side of the desk sat a woman in a business suit. She was praying too.
"Oh Lord" began Lang, "make this day a happy and useful one. Let's do good works in your name, and do them well." His voice was gentle Texan, a great power evident in the slow roll of consonants. "Amen."
"Amen," echoed his PA. She opened her eyes and smiled brightly.
"Would you like a decaf, Olivia?" Lang got up and headed for the coffee machine in the corner of the office.
"No thank you, sir. I gave it up."
"Did you? Well, maybe I should." Lang poured himself a cup. "Tell me how the publicity's going."
Olivia called up some figures on her laptop computer. "We're now fully postered. Stephen went to the top local firm and they sorted it."
"I love the way you say that," Lang smiled. "Sorted. Is that a Manchester thing?"
"Yes sir, I suppose so. We've got North West Tonight on Friday, a recorded interview - "
"Did we get it straight about final edit? I don't like what some of the media here do with this stuff"
"They refuse to budge on editing, sir, but they're making noises about the interview being "dignified". I think that was the word they used. If they mess it up, we'll talk to Granada instead. They're both interested. It's not every day that a man of God sells out Old Trafford."
Lang waved a hand, looking down at his feet uncomfortably. "It's not getting them there that matters, Olivia, it's what they come away with. Have we heard from that poor young girl again?"
"She called the office last night, pretty late. Stephen didn't think it was a good idea to wake you. They asked her to keep in touch, to come in if she needs to. I've got a transcript here. Terrible stuff: She keeps going on about how she can't remember anything awful happening to her when she was little, but she's sure something did."
"False memory syndrome," Lang nodded, taking the sheaves of printout and studying them. "We see this with a lot of victims of Satanic Abuse. They feel there's a hole in their lives, but can't figure out what's missing. It can take months of hypnotherapy for them to remember." He tapped the paper with his finger. "This is the heart of evil, Olivia, the biggest problem in this country of yours. And only a few people, people like you and I, are trying to do anything about it."
"There's the New Light group, sir."
"Yes, yes ..." Lang raised a hand and forced a smile. "I'm not going to let the tricks of Satan get me down. The weekend's going to see a lot of people turning away from that nonsense. If we could get that young woman up on-stage ... Tell Steve to try and get a contact number. We can come and get her if she wants. I don't want her going through another day without help." Lang took another sip of his coffee and looked at the cup worriedly. "I'm beginning to see what you mean about this stuff. Maybe they should do de-decaf."
The Doctor stood outside the TARDIS, holding his hat against his lapel. He replaced it on his head as it started to drizzle. He sniffed the air. Not good. A lot of pollution, though not as much as in the seventies. Ground-level ozone up and atmospheric levels down, of course. The whole decade was upside down.
The TARDIS had appeared in a side-street, nearby to a multi-storey car-park and the backs of several shops. The Doctor had identified the place as Manchester, a city he had some experience of. His companions had never been there, but at least Tegan wouldn't stand out from the crowd. She wandered out behind him, having changed into jeans and pullover for a British November.
"Tegan..."The Doctor grinned. "You're ordinary."
"Thanks."
"This is a major city, a smorgasbord for the Undead. Wander around a bit and check up on things. Listen to rumours, buy a few newspapers."
"Okay. They're not going to be about in daytime, are they?"
"No. Vampires can't stand sunlight." He saw Tegan's nonplussed glance skywards. "And they have an overwhelming urge to sleep during the daytime. Take Nyssa with you."
Tegan shook her head. "She's locked herself in the lab and won't come out. Doctor, you don't think that she.. ."
"I'll go and call her." The Doctor spun on his heel and headed back into the TARDIS. "Stay there."
Tegan sighed, and popped her umbrella open.
Nyssa would normally have compiled a record of her experiments, but that would have been too much of a risk this time. She had been pleased to find out that in the other-dimensional interior of the TARDIS, she didn't feel an urge to sleep or wake at any particular time, so she'd gone to bed at the same time as the others when they'd left Tasmania. The Doctor had stayed up for a while working with the TARDIS navigation equipment, telling her that he was trying to find a way to track vampires. Nyssa wondered if she should listen to such conversations. Soon she might be telling the enemy everything. Or perhaps she already had, if they were as telepathic as they claimed.
She didn't hear the door behind her opening.
The Doctor had deactivated the lock from the console room, feeling rather awful about it even as he'd done so. Now he walked carefully into the laboratory and took a couple of soft paces forward. Nyssa had left her jacket on a hook on the back of the door and was working in the sleeveless vest she favoured for the hot atmosphere of the lab. The Doctor examined the curve of her neck carefully. Nothing on either side. No sign of a mark. Thank goodness.
He coughed loudly and walked quickly to her. Nyssa turned round, surprised but not shocked. "I was wondering if you could give Tegan a hand?" the Doctor asked. "Keep her company."
"Of course." Nyssa put down the flask she'd been holding over a Bunsen burner. "Doctor, this reaction gets dangerously volatile. I thought that I'd locked the door."
"Oh? Local power coupling failure, I expect. The old girl's getting old. I've been thinking of redesigning the console, actually, stabilizing a few of the linkages. Well, Tegan's waiting outside, so - "
"I'll get my jacket." Nyssa followed the Doctor to the door. Before she left the room, she glanced back.
The ball of plastic skin she'd kicked under the table had rolled into a shadowy corner.
Nyssa stepped carefully out of the TARDIS and shivered despite the bulky coat she'd put on. She felt suddenly exhausted like she'd been up all night and was working at dawn. The backstreet was cold and murky, like some parched dream. Cautiously, she looked up at the sky. The terrible sun was obscured, thank the Keeper.
"Good to see you," Tegan smiled, looking relieved. "Come on then, we'll go and do some shopping."
The Doctor watched them walk off down the street, and turned back to the TARDIS. He was going to take the air himself, but first there were some preparations he had to make.
"What do all the flowers mean?" Nyssa asked as they passed by
the Arndale Centre. By the steps that led up to the restaurant, a pile of bouquets had gathered. There was another pile in the entrance to the centre itself.
"I guess that's where somebody's died," Tegan told her. "But two in the same place? That's bizarre."
They wandered down to the Exchange Theatre complex, moving with a crowd of shoppers across the traffic signals.
Nyssa was shivering more every moment, but at least her coat kept that from Tegan. She felt sensitive to every footstep and atom of exhaust gas. And at any moment the sun might come out. She didn't know what that would do, but it would be horrible.
She wanted desperately to tell Tegan. But every time she even thought of it, a great wall of shame and embarrassment rose up in front of the words. Their way of stopping her, she supposed. If they could plant such a powerful suggestion in her mind, why didn't they use her limbs, make her into a weapon, or at least a purveyor of false information? Obviously they couldn't yet, so she was still free in that regard.
On the steps of the Royal Exchange, there were more flowers. Tegan bought a copy of the Evening News. The headline read: "How Can We Stop This Madness?" Beneath it were pictures of parents grieving.
"They're here," Tegan muttered.
Nyssa bit her lip, and shuddered.
She'd drawn blood.
They walked to the Town Hall and sat on a bench in front of its great gothic shape, Tegan reading extracts from the paper. There were, of course, piles of flowers in dark corners. "The city's in the middle of a wave of violence," Tegan muttered. "Not riots or anything just individual assaults. Lots of missing kids. I wouldn't like to be around here when it gets dark."
"Can we go back to the TARDIS now?" Nyssa asked. "I'm hungry."
"Yeah, I could do with some munchies as well. We could go to a pizza place or something."
"No, I'd like to make something myself." Nyssa seemed to be concealing some great urgency. "There are some dishes that 1 used to have on Traken, that I'd like to prepare. And the ingredients are in my room. So if we could go back - "
