by Paul Cornell
Christ above him on the cross, eyes open.
He fastened on the image of his Lord, and felt death or life open behind him. Mike wavered, his body shivering faster and faster. He didn't want to give himself up to this, didn't want to let his flesh go. This was evil, wasn't it? Wasn't it? Wasn't it? He clenched his teeth and made his choice.
Christ's eyes closed.
Mike's body exploded, the skin bursting to let it out, the flesh expanding into a great flaming ball until all that remained was ashes. Around him, his comrades burst and flared, the valley alight with their ignition.
The hooded men watched as the youngsters burnt. Jeremy Sanders pulled back his cowl. "What astonishing faith they must have. May their God welcome them." He turned to the other vampires. "Leave the mortar and the animal. Bring the shells."
The Doctor was running down into the valley. "No!" he was shouting. "Stop it!" He stopped. Then clutched his head.
For a moment, the world had swung at a strange angle. Something terrible had happened inside his head, and his time senses had spun like they'd been slapped. The effect was gone as soon as it had come.
He supported himself, hands on knees, panting. Then he made himself stand upright and run again. It was too late. Long before he reached the gathering, the hooded figures had spiralled up into the air, taking a wooden box of ordnance with them. They paused for a moment, gazing down at the flames of faith below them. Then they accelerated off to the horizon.
By the time the Doctor reached the flames, there was only one of the youths left. He was rolling around on the ground, twitching amongst the ashes of his comrades. "Why couldn't I do it?" he was crying. "Why did I give up? I wasn't as strong as they were!"
The Doctor helped him up. "What do you mean?"
The boy stared at him. "I've been cut off from God," he said. "I'm in hell."
"It's not your fault."
Tegan had had to drive one of the minibuses, the Doctor being unable to concentrate on the task after all that he'd witnessed. They'd left the boy on his doorstep, Tegan having to physically prevent the Doctor from staying and offering a full explanation. Now they were back at the TARDIS, drinking strong, sweet tea.
"Isn't it?" The Doctor was sitting in the wicker chair in the console room, holding his cup with both hands. "I could have told them what to expect."
"They wouldn't have believed you. Besides, you thought that their faith would protect them."
"It did just the opposite. I'm not sure why, but whatever chemical agent was in those shells made their faith destroy them. Perhaps the garlic played a part as well."
Tegan took the cup from his hands and put it down on the floor determinedly. "Well it doesn't matter. We've got Nyssa to save, and there's only a few days left."
"Yes ... yes." The Doctor looked at her and nodded purposefully. "You're right, Tegan. We can't allow ourselves to wallow." He stood up. "You know, sometimes I wonder how I'd get on without you."
Tegan looked up and grinned. "Thank you."
"Probably quite well, all things considered. Now, another cup of tea would be useful."
Tegan's face fell. "It's great to feel useful."
The Doctor had produced a test-tube from the cricket bag. "This is a rather gory sample I took from the remains of one of Lang's team. I'll conduct an analysis of that later, but first ..." He hauled out a large device, a parabolic dish connected to an advanced bundle of circuitry. He connected a lead from it to the TARDIS console. "Vampires produce a unique heat signature, a great concentration of blood, other people's that is, inside a relatively cool body. I set the Heat Source Motion Tracker to plot the course of those leaving Alderley Edge. It should give us some idea of where they've taken not only Lang," he handed Tegan his empty cup, which she took with a disgruntled grab, "but also Nyssa."
Lord Yarven clicked his fingers. "Silence!" he commanded.
The revellers around the table quietened. In the distance could be heard the chiming of a clock. Yarven pointed to the roof stairwell. With immaculate timing, Jeremy Sanders ran down it, the cowled vampires behind him pulling off their cloaks and swirling them around the room.
"Success!" Sanders cried. "Everything went according to plan, your majesty!"
"Good! Good! Take the choicest cuts for your team, my most loyal follower! He is on his way, I trust?"
"He is!" Jeremy leapt up to Yarven's side. "Slowing Madelaine down with his struggles!"
Nyssa looked up from her place beside Jake, suddenly afraid. She'd been sipping from a mug of blood and milk, the blood supplied by Jake himself. Could they be talking about the Doctor?
"Don't worry" Jake advised, putting a hand on her arm. "It's not him."
Yarven stood and indicated several vampires, gesturing for them to follow him. They marched out of the hall with great urgency.
Ruath was standing before a panel of controls, chuckling.
Just for a moment there ... just for a moment, she had had the power of a deity. Those who ruled Gallifrey could have done so much with such abilities. It was only their weakness that held them back. She thought about the reasons behind her mission, of how she felt about Gallifrey now.
The same. When she'd found out the great secret of the Time Lords' future, she'd been reduced to inaction for days, as if a friend had died. As if all her friends had died. But that had become a passionate desire to do something. If only she'd had access to the Time Scoop for a little longer, she might have been able to find out more. The renegades must have discovered the secret in their adventures but none of them, not even Mortimus, had had the courage to try and change it. The Doctor, especially, was wanting in that respect. As always. She tapped a gauge on the newly constructed apparatus before her. The growing sense of achievement made watching all these silly dials worthwhile.
A distant bell rang. Yarven's summons. The plan was progressing. Ruath abandoned her experiments and headed eagerly for the stairwell.
Yarven stalked into a specially prepared room. Overhead was a dome. An attendant vampire pulled a lever and the dome split into quarters, revealing the night sky overhead. The quarters retracted into the roof.
Yarven let out a long cry. The cry was taken up by the handful of the Undead who accompanied him. Distantly, the cry returned on the wind.
"Ah ..." Yarven breathed. "The Children of the Night ... what a wonderful sound that is."
A speck in the sky resolved itself into Madelaine, carrying a limp figure in her grasp. The Undead lackey pulled another switch and a lid swished open in the floor, revealing a pit beneath.
Madelaine centred herself above the space in the roof of the castle, and let go of Lang. The evangelist fell through the hole and straight down the pit. Ruath ran into the room just in time to watch his descent. She kissed Yarven's cheek happily.
Madelaine fluttered down beside the others and brushed off her skirts. "He was shouting all the way," she told them. "He reeks of garlic, too, which didn't make providing oxygen for him entertaining. Nothing I could have done if he'd wanted to get off."
"Yes, that's the Doctor's work again," Ruath nodded. "That's exactly what I thought he'd do. Was he there tonight?"
"Yeah, I think he was with them."
"Did he seem to be suffering at all? My experiments have reached a point where he ought to be feeling their effects."
"I didn't get close enough to notice." Madelaine pointed to the pit again. "This one reacted just like you said he would, though. I told him that making himself fall would be suicide, a mortal sin."
"Good, good." Yarven patted Madelaine on the shoulder. Ruath closed the dome.
From the pit there was rising a palpable ripple of faith, a powerful impulse that was so strong the vampires could almost see it.
They took a step backwards.
"Who are you?" Lang shouted up. He was standing on a pile of mattresses, a circular light source illuminating his predicament. The sides of the pit were supernaturally smooth. The palm of his hand could hardly feel them.
"I am Yarven, lord of all my people," a dark and cultured voice called. "This is my castle. I am sorry that the welcome is not all it could be."
"What are you, then?"
"Why, we are vampires, Mr. Lang. You know, like in your moving pictures?"
"But vampires don't exist! You can't exist! Madelaine, please! Tell me what's happening!"
"Well, what Yarven says is true," a familiar female voice nervously intervened. "I tried to tell you on the way over, but all you could do was shout at me."
Lang slumped to his knees. "So it was all a lie? All a set-up?"
There was a pause.
"I wanted to meet you, Victor. I'd still like to talk to you, if that's okay. There'll be time."
Lang took a deep breath, and made himself answer calmly: "Of course, Madelaine. You can always talk to me, whatever's happening. But please, will somebody tell me, what do you want with me? Why have you put me down here?"
Yarven squared his chin and walked to the edge of the pit, feeling reality ripple around him at the force of the man's faith. He glanced sternly at Madelaine, and she turned away.
"In answer to your first question, Mr. Lang, all will soon be revealed. As to the second, we've put you in a pit because you are, forgive the expression, stuffed with garlic. We're waiting for you to sweat it out. All right?" He gestured to Ruath. "Cover it up."
Ruath pulled the switch again and the cover of the pit swished closed, cutting off a pitiful shout from below.
"Now," Yarven smiled, "does anybody fancy a spot of dancing?"
Six
Romana was walking back to her new quarters, she bumped into a fellow Time Lady who was hurrying round a corner.
They exchanged apologies and Romana studied her new acquaintance with interest. She was tall and straight-backed, wearing a neat black trouser-suit and a silver belt. Fashions must have changed since Romana was last on Gallifrey. She had sharp inquisitive features, scraped-back hair and she wore a necklace of golden spheres.
"Ruathadvorophrenaltid," she said formally, adding as one did if one was prepared to be friendly, "Ruath."
"Romanadvoratrelundar," said Romana. "Romana."
"I was hurrying to see the Doctor," said Ruath. "I heard he'd had an encounter with some vampires, and vampirism is a particular study of mine."
"I'm afraid you've missed the Doctor," said Romana. "But perhaps I can help? I spent quite a lot of time on the vampire planet myself."
"Oh, really? You know, that would be a help. Could you spare some time to help me complete my research notes?"
"Of course. When would suit you?"
"I'm not busy at the moment."
Romana smiled. "Well, let's talk while my memories are still fresh, then. Would you care for a cup of synthetic artificial tea replacement? I'm afraid it's all I've got at the moment"
Ruath inclined her head. "That would be very nice."
"So what's your interest in vampirism?" Romana moved cautiously around the food preparation area in the new quarters she'd been assigned by President Flavia, trying hard not to wince at the colour scheme. She'd have to adjust the contrast knob on the place as soon as she had a moment.
Ruath had seated herself on a plastic lounger and had taken a tiny holo-recorder from her belt pouches. "I'm writing the definitive history. Everything you ever wanted to know about the species."
"But were too afraid to ask." Romana popped her head back into the hospitality area. "One lump or two?"
"Erm, lump of what?"
"Tea."
"One, thank you. What is tea, exactly?"
"Human beings drink it. It's a dangerous intoxicant to them, but quite harmless to us Time Ladies." She popped back, and reappeared with two cups of steaming liquid on a tray.
Ruath took one. "It's true that I did want to ask you about vampires, but I have to ask ... you are the Romana that helped battle Agonal in the Tomb of Rassilon, aren't you? The Capitol's full of the gossip."
"Oh, it was nothing," Romana grinned. "The Doctor did most of the work, I just stood back and thought of Rassilon."
"But how did you get to the Tomb in the first place? Surely there are all those complicated games to get past, if the children's tales are true?"
"There's a very simple way there, actually, straight from the President's Office."
"Really?" Ruath put down her cup and clicked another control on her belt. When her hand reappeared, it had a staser pistol in it. "Show me."
"Oh, not you as well ..." Romana sipped her tea, frowning at the pistol. "There's not much villainy left to be done over there, you know. Everybody's had a go."
"It's not the Tomb I'm interested in," Ruath told her. "It's something on the way."
There was never a Chancellery Guard about when you needed one, thought Romana as Ruath marched her towards the President's Office. Most of them would be out hunting the remnants of the Special Security service. She could jump Ruath, of course, but she wanted to find out what her plans were first. Romana had to admit that it was a clever thing to do, starting a diabolical scheme just as another one finished.
"I take it," she said, "that your interest in vampires goes beyond the intellectual? I don't believe I ever actually met a real one on my last visit to the vampire planet, you know."
"You did," Ruath told her. "But you didn't know it. My interest in things Undead does indeed go beyond the purely academic. That's how it began, of course. I was part of a research team studying a number of texts from Rassilon's time. I hadn't a lot else to do, really, considering that I had been left behind."
"Left behind - ?" Romana interrupted. "Pardon me. You were explaining your plot."
"In a certain volume of R. O. O. stories - "
"Do you mean Rassilon, Omega, Other or A. A. Milne?"
"Will you please stop interrupting? I know it's one of the Doctor's old tricks, but - "
"You know the Doctor, then?" Romana felt the staser jab into her back and decided to stop. "Sorry. I'll be quiet, shall I?"
"In a certain volume of those works of legend, there is a marginal illustration of an owl being overcome by a bat. Now, the owl is of course a bird associated with Rassilon, and I needn't explain the significance of the bat. The story itself dealt with Rassilon's battle with the vampires, how he defeated them using his bow-ships, and cast them into eternal darkness. Translating from old Gallifreyan, you can read between the lines, work out certain riddles that older translators have entered in the text. What it all comes down to is that before overthrowing the Great Vampire, Rassilon took something from him. Genetic material. In the most direct way possible, by being bitten by him!"
A Chancellery Guard passed by. Concentrating, Romana just nodded to him. "But that means - "
"Yes! Lord Rassilon was a vampire towards the end of his life! That's why Time Lords and vampires share ninety-eight per cent of the same genes, why so much regeneration technology is similar to natural vampire traits. Of course, I couldn't keep this discovery to myself."
"Of course."
"So I sought out other students of the Undead. Together we found that inside the Capitol, in the ducts and serviceways where none but the workers go, there are vampire shrines even now. Tiny bands of heretics have kept alive the cult of Rassilon the Vampire. It was in their company that I first heard the words Vampire Messiah. Minutes before we met, Romana, I was studying a new discovery I had made in the Panopticon Library, a text that I was quickly translating. Do you know that on board that TARDIS of the Doctor's is the being who will lead the Time Lords back to greatness?" "If you're talking about Bernice, I don't think she'd be keen on the job."
"His name is Yarven, he is the Vampire Messiah."
"Yarven? But he was so ... ineffectual."
"Mock while you can."
They'd come to the doorway of the Presidential Office. Two guards stood before it, one of them tall and blond. He grinned at Romana.
"Why, Lady Romana! What can I do for you?"
Romana glanced at
the woman behind her, hoping to somehow convey to the guard that she was being intimidated. "We'd like to see the Lady President, please. If it's not too much trouble."
"It's a matter of urgency," added Ruath. "Connected with the Agonal incident."
To Romana's annoyance, the guard bowed quickly and opened the door in front of them.
Secretary Pogarel a lean, precise Gallifreyan bureaucrat, stamped the Presidential Seal on the papers on his desk in front of him and leaned back, satisfied. The vaporization orders for Elar, Morin and Rath. Completed in record time. He'd also prepared a supply of blanks for Zorell's troops as they were caught. Served them right, as well.
Pogarel hadn't liked their attitude, swanning into his office at all hours, showing no respect for the intricacies of form and custom. Now that they were being dealt with, everything could get back to normal.
The door opened and Romana walked in. Beside her, once again, was a woman that Pogarel didn't recognize.
"Yes?" he blurted, sitting up in his chair quickly. He calmed himself Not every companion of this wild adventuress was going to stick a weapon in his ribs. "How can I, erm, help you?"
"We'd like to see the Lady President, Pogarel!" hissed Romana. It was as if she was trying to tell him some thing.
"I'm sorry, but even you, Lady Romana, must make an appointment. President Flavia is very busy at the moment."
"You misunderstand." Ruath stepped from behind Romana and pulled Pogarel across his desk by the collar of his robe. She stuck the staser in his ribs. "Take us to Flavia's office. Now!"
"Oh no ..." Pogarel sighed, "not again."
"What is the meaning of this constant to-ing and fro-ing, Secretary Pogarel?" Flavia rose as Pogarel shuffled through the door, Romana walking beside him. "Oh, I see you've brought us another visitor, Lady Romana. Tell me, what's so important this time?"
Pogarel glanced at Ruath behind him, and tried to muster his dignity. "Madame President, may I introduce Lady Ruath. She convinced me that the matter is, once again, of great importance."
