Chapter Text
Let’s not mince words. Truthfully, humans have very little nutritional value. Now, that might please some of the humans reading this because they’ll think, in their tiny, hubristic minds, that not being very nutritious would mean we won’t feed on them.
However, it actually means we have to eat more of you in order to be fully satiated.
It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m starving.
Now, I’m not short for options, there’s plenty to choose from. The square is full of holiday shoppers milling about between the gaudy plastic decorations. Their skin, I can smell it, is sweet and warm beneath their heavy clothes. But you know when you open your fully stocked fridge and find nothing you truly want to eat? That’s what I’m experiencing right now.
I hug the cold stone of the wall behind me. I can’t really feel its temperature as my body naturally runs cooler anyways. My hair is a mop of black shadow framing my milk white skin. I brush some of it off my brow as the wind disturbs it. Through the dark shades obscuring my eyes, I catch throwaway glances from passersby. They’re nothing substantial, just the occasional odd, passing look, probably wondering why I’m wearing sunglasses on a cloudy winter evening. None of the humans are aware they have just locked eyes of one of their greatest natural predators.
Of course, the prey remains appealing. The air is ripe with giddiness and anticipation and already a bit of alcohol. I heave myself off the wall, and my insides churn with a familiar, gnawing hunger. I can feel the knocking in the back of my skull like an overly enthusiastic scout selling cookies door to door.
Feed. Feed. Feed.
I bare my teeth, fangs glistening in the Christmas lights.
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my long, dark coat, I shuffle into the growing throng of passersby as there’s a swell of last minute shoppers, and just like that, I’m on the hunt.
My eyes scan the crowd as I move against its tide. In an instant, I’ve assessed every face, every inch of flesh, every drop of blood pumping away underneath.
What do I feel like tonight? Welsh? Indian? Chinese?
None of it’s sounding good. What I want, what I really long for, is something stronger, something- .
I stop dead. A woman going the opposite way crashes into me.
“Oi! Watch it, you freak,” she snarls, shoving past me. I don’t even notice; my head is snapping in the direction of the smell that is flooding my nostrils, burning them like rubbing alcohol.
A young blonde woman in a gray jacket is walking the opposite way down the sidewalk. There’s a slightly older black man trudging along beside her. He looks reluctant. Yes, that’s the word.
The girl looks so decidedly ordinary, just another vapid human with a head full of presents and Christmas pudding.
But I know I’m not mistaken. Artron energy. It’s lingering on the woman’s hair alongside lemon scented conditioner.
How is that possible? She’s human; she reeks of it. So why? Why does she smell like she’s been traveling in the Time Vortex?
I’m following them without thinking, my feet practically moving on their own, gliding across the ground in that shifting, silent way I can sometimes move. They would never be able to detect me. Especially with all the thoughts humans have rattling around in their dense skulls. They never notice anything.
So, it startles me considerably when the blonde girl whirls around and looks right at me. I freeze on the spot, shock striking me like a lightning bolt. Her gaze only lingers on me for the space of a heartbeat, if I had those, before moving on to other, more brightly colored parts of the crowded square.
As her eyes pass over me, I feel seen in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Did she notice me? Did she recognize what I was?
No, she can’t have.
I decide I have to be quick. Quicker than quick. I pitch myself into a faster pace, and suddenly, I’m nothing but a dark blur warping through the bumbling humans.
The girl barely has a chance to yelp in alarm as I run my clawed nail across the nape of her neck. I skirt the corner and vanish into one of those dark places at the edge of your vision. Leaning up against the wall, I glance down at my prize: a single drop of her blood resting on the end of my nail, glinting like a ruby jewel.
I suck my finger, feeling the salty sweetness rush over my tongue. She eats a lot of sodium. Swallowing, I close my eyes and absorb her mind into my own.
Her thoughts are full of starlight, watercolors and danger. There’s a man…a man and a box. A box that can fly through eternity and has marked the turn of the universe.
My eyes snap open. A Time Lord!
If I didn’t have the wall supporting me, I might have buckled under the weight of this discovery. How is this possible? The Time Lords are gone. They had been swallowed into the darkness, the death and the destruction of their own war. The Time War had taken them all as it had taken the monsters they’d fought and so many others.
And yet here one was, innocuously wrapped up in the flat of a random human girl from the 21st century. What are the odds?
Wrapped indeed. Almost like a Christmas present. Closing my eyes again, I can see him clearly: lying helpless in a bed.
Was he ill? Would that affect the flavor? It would be just my luck to suck the blood of a Time Lord that had spoiled.
I scan the thoughts of the human girl. Rose is her name apparently, not that it matters. I’m losing my grip on her memories as my body is rapidly digesting and absorbing her blood. Her thoughts are slipping through my mental fingers like grains of sand.
Powell….Powell Estate.
A smile slowly spreads across my black lips. I remove my sunglasses and shift my gaze over to a massive display advertising plastic decorative trees. My plan in place, I set off with a new purpose.
It’s time for Christmas dinner.
I shift awkwardly from one foot to the other, trying to find a balance for the large box in my hands. Of course it weighs nearly nothing to me, but it’s uncomfortable trying to walk with it blocking my face. I have given myself a bit of height in this form, but not much.
I finally make it to the top of the stairs and shuffle down the narrow hall of the cramped counsel apartments. Peering through the mess of fake pine branches obscuring my vision, I spot the brass number on the door I’m looking for. It’s the one I saw inside the mind of the girl called Rose.
I push the box into one hand and knock on the door. I try to apply only the bare minimum amount of force to generate the illusion that I’m a weak human girl. However, there’s no response from the other side. With my sharpened ears, I can hear the sound of someone pacing around in the apartment’s kitchen, talking loudly on the phone.
I rap my knuckles smartly against the wood much louder this time. The person on the other side of the door finally hears me and it opens.
“Hey now-Oh my gosh! Rose, is that you?”
“Yeah, Mum. Can you give us a hand with this?” Imitating Rose’s voice takes a bit of effort on my part. I’ve only heard her make one sound, but it’s enough.
The woman in the doorway, middle aged and with equally blonde hair, steps aside to allow me to pass. I keep my face buried in the mess of fake tree parts.
“You didn’t have to buy this,” the woman, Rose’s mom, is saying as she flits around me like a nervous bird. “We already have a tree.”
“I figured it was a good Christmas present,” I reply simply as she takes the box from me and hurries to the other side of the crowded apartment. There aren’t any other people, but things are strewn all over the floor and spilling from every surface. There’s the usual Christmas regalia but also a sizable amount of general other stuff.
Rose’s mom has to step over many of the items scattered across the floor to set the tree box down. “Where’s Mickey? Didn’t he come back with you?” She didn’t even blink as she’d seen her daughter’s face, but hadn’t noticed that her eyes were the wrong color. Human eyes never come in red, after all, and it’s the one thing I can’t change.
Mickey. That must be the name of the boy with Rose.
“He’s still shopping,” I reply simply. “Had some other things to buy.”
“Well, did you make sure he knows he’s invited to Christmas dinner?”
“Of course, Mum.”
The woman finally turns to face me, holding two pieces of the disassembled tree in each hand. It’s the first time she looks at me properly, and I return her gaze with a placid expression. For a half second, I think she notices something’s off, but that would be ridiculous. A woman like her would never notice the little things.
“Before you ask, he’s still asleep.”
“Hmm?”
“The Doctor, I mean.” Rose’s mom lowers her voice as though she’s afraid someone important might overhear, pointing with the fake tree branch into the narrow hallway off the living room.
“Oh. Is he?” I can smell it. I could from the moment I’d stepped into the apartment. The entire place is soaked in the rich scent of Artron energy. I slowly make my way across the living room and into the narrow corridor. Across the way, I can see a door to a bedroom is partially ajar. Warm, inviting light is pouring through the gap, and it’s almost like a beckoning gesture. The smell is nearly overwhelming, and I can feel myself starting to salivate. A Time Lord. I hadn’t eaten one of those in centuries.
Pushing the door aside, I step into a tiny bedroom that is overflowing with general odds and ends like the rest of the dwelling seemed to be. However, none of these frivolous adornments capture any of my attention as it’s immediately drawn to the man lying on the bed in the middle of the room.
He appears young, thin and handsome: a vain Time Lord, but that’s how they all are. He has a crop of dark brown hair, and soft, gentle features. He’s lying completely still, as unmoving as a corpse, under gaudy golden sheets.
I close the door and cross the room silently, like a sleepwalker. Something in the back of my mind urges me for caution in case this is some kind of trick. It’s too easy, really: a Time Lord lying helpless in the middle of a counsel apartment in the 21st century.
As I reach the bed, I lean closer. His scent assaults me fully: it’s rich and earthy, full of range and density. The scent of multitudes, of nearly a dozen lives living and burning. It’s like a bonfire filled with sugar and cascading energy. I pause to wipe at a bit of saliva that had dribbled down my chin.
My hand reaches down to gently touch the side of his neck. He doesn’t react at all; he remains still as stone. I’d think he was dead if it wasn’t for the warmth radiating out from him and starting to transfer into my perpetually cold fingers. I tilt his head slightly away, exposing his soft neck. I can practically see the blood beneath it, rich and pulsing with life.
My stomach grumbles. I lean even closer, my lips pulling back to reveal my elongated fangs. I linger, mere inches from his neck.
Vaguely, I hear the sound of the front door opening and closing.
“Mum! We’re back!”
I freeze as I hear the startled shriek from her mother. “Rose?! But you-You just came…”
A half second later, the door behind me bangs open. I whirl around to see the doorway is filled with Rose and her companion Mickey.
The former goes rigid as she drinks in the sight of her own face and form staring back at her. I’ve distorted it ever so slightly: my red eyes are flashing and my lips are still pulled back to reveal my teeth in full. A snarl bubbles up in my throat.
“What the hell is that?!” Mickey cries.
I’m slightly surprised. Normally, humans turn tail and run, their heads full to bursting with information of the unknown that they immediately start to reject. But not Rose, she stands perfectly still, surprised but not nearly as much as she should be. There’s an air of familiarity about her, like she’s seen something like me nearly everyday.
“Get away from the Doctor!” she shouts.
I lunge.
“Look out!” Mickey grabs Rose, and pushes her to the floor as I launch over their heads. I brace myself against the opposite wall, my claws dig into the plaster.
I growl, my head whipping to the side just as Rose’s mom appears in the hall. Her eyes are brimming with the true terror I was expecting.
“What is that?!” she shrieks.
“Doctor!” Behind me, Rose tears away from Mickey and stumbles to the bedside of the unconscious Time Lord. “Doctor, please wake up.”
I turn and crawl up the wall, skirting over the ceiling and glaring down at the petrified humans. Rose's mom collapses to the floor, screaming her head off. Mickey, meanwhile, lunges for a fluffy purple loveseat and brandishes it like a shield, planting himself between me and Rose and the Time Lord.
“Stay back!” His voice makes him sound braver than he looks. I can see the hints of fear peaking through the cracks.
I drop off the ceiling and crouch in front of him. “Mickey. You weren’t in her mind.” I jerk my head in Rose's direction. “She doesn’t think of you.”
The young man falters, the chair vibrating in his trembling grasp. I take this moment of hesitation to launch myself at him.
Mickey flies backwards and smashes into the bedroom wall, knocking framed pictures to the floor where they shatter.
“Mickey!” Rose scrambles to the corner of the room where a bulky leather jacket is hanging from the closet door. She snatches something from one of its pockets as I reenter the room.
She stumbles back over to the Time Lord’s bed as I slowly make my way closer.
I smile. “Let him go, human. He can’t protect you.”
“Stop wearing my face!” She screams at me before her head whips to the Time Lord. “Doctor, help me!”
Suddenly, his eyes snap open, and he sits up stiffly, almost like a mannequin. I’m too shocked to react right away, which gives the Time Lord the space to point the object Rose had placed in his hand at me.
It’s a metallic device, a tool of some sort with a small blue light at its tip. He clicks it, and suddenly the room erupts with a piercing sound.
A similar shrill scream escapes my mouth as my hands fly to cover my ears. It’s useless as the noise continues to assault me, ripping, tearing its way into my skull. It feels like my entire mind is on fire.
I can feel Rose’s shape melting off of me, replaced with my default form. It’s small, stout with creamy white skin and a bird's nest of teased black hair that frames large pointed ears. My eyes are still the color of freshly spilled blood but now framed with sharp, natural markings that resemble a hawk. They match my black lips and long, claw-like nails.
I can’t think, I can’t see as the sound threatens to burn through all of my senses, snuffing them out like an extinguished match. I stumble backwards, slamming into the wall and knocking more of the ridiculous tchotchkes to the floor.
My first instinct is to pounce at my attacker, to rip his throat out to stop this pain. However, I can’t get closer without the noise becoming unbearable. Finally, given no choice, I turn and warp my way out of the room, down the hall and out the door.
It slams in my wake and none of the humans give chase, not that they could. I skirt down the stairs, my feet barely touching the ground.
My flight is a dizzied blur as I wind through the maze of dingy concrete. My ears are still ringing with that awful sound, but the further I get from the Powell Estate, the more the clamoring of my senses starts to quiet.
Finally, I find myself returning to the place I usually retreat to. In the darkness of the night, the shadows of the warehouse are deep and welcoming.
The place has been abandoned for nearly eight years, which is about as long as I’ve been taking refuge. Slinking through the large, heavy door, barely still hanging off its hinges, I prowl to the far corner which is lit only by moonlight from a hole in the crumbling ceiling and the staticy feed of a stolen TV mounted on a wooden crate.
I collapse into a dilapidated sofa, swollen with putrid stains that singe the ends of my nostrils, but their familiarity is almost welcome compared to the experience my ears had been subjected to mere moments ago.
He’s a Time Lord, after all. I was foolish to think it would be that easy.
My large chest heaves as I sigh. My last thought as my eyes grow heavy and slowly drift closed was that I’m still hungry.
I’m awoken by another Earth shattering noise. I leap off the couch as flecks of glass rain all around me. What remains of the windows in the warehouse have splintered to fragments under the weight of the sound.
I whip my head from side to side wildly. In the distance, I can hear the sounds of screams. The air smells different. Something has entered the atmosphere.
I race outside the warehouse. The morning is bright and clear, and the sun stings my skin. However, there is the small favor in that the light is obscured by one of the largest space crafts I’ve ever seen in my long, long life.
It looks like a mountain had been scooped cleanly out of the wild parts of Earth and is now hovering over Central London, casting a long, dark shadow.
Dozens of humans are huddled outside the nearby apartments and homes, gaping and exclaiming at the great black cloud that has descended upon their Christmas morning. However, there aren’t as many wrapped up in the spaceship as I might have anticipated. After all, humans love a spectacle, but I soon see what is drawing their attention. Still more humans are gathered on the roofs of various buildings screaming and imploring what looks to be members of their family units who are poised at the precipice of each structure, still and vacant and ready to jump.
What have I missed? This is why I don’t like sleeping at night. If only that Time Lord hadn’t crippled me.
Quickly, I turn and race back inside the warehouse, scrambling over to my rickety TV. I switch it on and get only static in response. I slam my fist into the top of it, and the device sputters back to life eventually showing me a grainy newsfeed.
Crouching in front of the screen, I can see the reporter is talking about a bizarre phenomenon that has apparently swept across the entire world. The footage starts cycling through videos and images of thousands of people from all over the world standing on top of various high structures, still and waiting and like they are ready to jump. They only need to hear the word. According to the reporter, it's affecting one third of Earth’s population.
“Someone is about to waste a lot of food,” I murmur through gritted teeth, glancing through the destroyed windows at the lurking shape of the spacecraft. Looking back at the TV, I can see the news has switched over to a video feed that was apparently coming directly from the ship. It shows a glimpse of a snarling face wearing a lizard-like mask.
A growl of my own escapes my throat. This is getting ridiculous. Who do these creatures think they are?
I stalk back outside the warehouse to drink in the image of the spaceship once again. Like the humans all over the world standing on the edge of their roofs, it seems to be waiting for something.
Well, there’s no time like the present to find out exactly who these creatures think they are. The shadows swirling behind me slowly start to bend and morph until they’re clinging to me like a second skin. This skin unfolds outwards into sharp, towering shapes that spread wider until they can lift me off the ground.
I exhale, and soon I’m hurtling through the atmosphere directly towards the hovering spacecraft. As it fills my vision, my keen eyes spy an entrance towards the bottom of the hull, like a place had been carved out for a tractor beam. I sweep through it without a moment’s hesitation, and soon find myself alighting onto the craft’s floor of artificial stone.
A cacophony of startled and angry cries erupts all around me as I take in the sight before me. The mountain-like center of the ship had been hollowed out to create a dome shape. Rows and rows of platforms wound around into the spiraling ceiling like a beehive and dozens upon dozens of figures are lined up across the space.
They are wreathed in scarlet robes with helmets that seem to be made of bone and have hollow, empty eyes. I sniff, inhaling their scent. They reek of death and decay.
In the center of the room, I catch a glimpse of a small collection of humans. There is the woman the humans had just elected as England’s Prime Minister. She’s putting on a brave face, but I can still smell her fear. However, standing beside her, to my shock, is the blonde girl called Rose and the boy Mickey. What are the odds of that? What are they doing here?!
Furthermore, even more strange, behind them is a giant blue phone booth. It’s a 1950s police box. I haven’t seen one of those about the town since the 70s. What’s it doing on this ship?
As I look at it, Rose meets my gaze. “You!” she cries.
The creatures filling the ship to the brim are still shouting. One of the more impressive looking ones on the ground level lurches towards me. He’s flanked by guards holding sharp spears and glittering whips. Clearly, he’s important.
“Who are you?” he snarls.
I’m surprised I understand him. He’s speaking his mother tongue, but it's being translated inside my head. Odd.
The creature has removed its mask, and I can see that there is a layer of bone covering his face like a second skin or rather a second skull growing over ruddy flesh. The scent of his blood is rank.
I wrinkle my nose. “I should be asking you that question. You come to my planet and think you can make demands?”
Laughter makes its way around the gathered throng. It echoes throughout the cavernous ship until it sounds like the belching of some great beast. The leader chuckles, equally amused. “Your planet?”
“Yes, my planet,” I reassert. “These are my stomping grounds, and you’re trespassing. So let me ask you again: who are you and why are you here?”
The leader spreads his arms wide. “We are the Sycorax, and we are claiming this planet as our own.”
“Really?” I put my hands in the pockets of my heavy coat. “Well, given what I just said, you can assume I’m going to have a problem with that.”
The Sycorax Leader laughs again, a forked tongue snaking out of his lipless mouth.
Behind him, the Prime Minister steps forward. “Excuse me?”
I glance at her.
“Harriet Jones, Prime Minister.”
“Yes, I know who you are.”
“Who are you then? Are you a friend of the Doctor’s?”
The Doctor. My eyes flick to the girl called Rose. That was the name she had used for the Time Lord. Was he still sleeping in that bed? Why was there a telephone booth on the ship?
“I am a castaway,” I reply, “Trapped on this planet up to my eyeballs in filth and preservatives. Would you stop putting those in your food? They leave a terrible aftertaste.”
“Silence!” The Sycorax Leader’s voice comes out in a serpentine hiss. There’s more murmuring from the crowd.
I heave a sigh as I turn my attention back to him. “Yes, I suppose there is the matter of this…infestation.” This earns roars of outrage from the crowd.
“Are you prepared to fight for this planet?” their leader demands of me.
“I am. Yes. I will defend what is mine.”
“Very well.” The Leader snaps to one of his attendants. The other Sycorax walks over brandishing two spears. “Then the fate of this world shall be decided…by combat!” He speaks the last word louder, and it ricochets throughout the sprawling ship bringing cries of delight this time.
I can sense their desire for spilled blood, but it’s for a different, more pointless reason than myself.
“Very well.” I accept the spear and step forward into the center of the ship.
Out of the corner of my ear, I can hear the humans whispering amongst themselves.
“Are we really going to trust all of humanity to this…woman?” the Prime Minister asks.
“The Doctor’s not here. We have no choice,” Rose replies.
“This!” The Sycorax Leader points the end of his spear at me. “This is Earth’s champion. This tiny bird.”
“I’m not a bird,” I reply simply. “I am a Mal’akh. I have ravaged and conquered galaxies beyond your wildest imagination for nine hundred lifetimes. You.” I turn my spear and assume a fighting stance, “are tiny.”
The Leader bellows as he lunges at me. I dodge easily enough and turn to swing my spear at him. He pivots and parries and we knock our weapons together, moving in sync across the open space. I can feel the artificial light and air of the ship on my skin, the eyes of the Sycrorax masses upon me, somehow dwarfed by the tiny, inconsequential gazes of the humans huddled together in front of the phone booth.
What is it with that phone booth?
The clang of my spear colliding with the Sycorax Leader’s draws me back to what’s right in front of me. We’re very close now, I can feel the reek of his breath on my skin and see the saliva collecting in the ridges of his outer skull.
I grimace. The smell is putrid; it’s making my head spin. Wait…No, that’s something else. I sway slightly, staggering a little to the left and narrowly missing the spear being brought down to strike the false ground beneath us.
I roll out of the way, trying to gain some distance. My vision swims, my foe moving in and out of focus as I shake my head, trying to clear it. Oh right. I’m still hungry.
“D-Damn it…” I grip my spear tighter, trying to center myself. Hungry…So hungry.
The Sycorax Leader laughs as he stalks closer to me. “This is Earth’s champion? This is a Mal’ach?! What of your conquest of the cosmos and nine hundred lifetimes now, little girl?” His laugh is sickening.
I struggle to meet his gaze, the ship feels like it's moving beneath me, and vaguely I smell something akin to boiled tea leaves. Am I having a stroke? Is that what my kind smells instead of burnt toast?
Wait, no. I shake my head, blinking rapidly. The Yssagarothic Strain would keep my blood from clotting. So, I’m actually smelling tea. Why am I smelling tea?
“Now you die!” The Sycorax Leader is about to bring his spear down on my head, but I hardly notice. I turn in the direction of the smell; it’s emanating from that phone booth. So, I soon find, is a waft of steam.
The Leader freezes in place, the blade of his weapon mere inches from my face. His attention is also now drawn to that blue box, as is everyone else gathered in the ship.
Suddenly, absurdly, the doors to the booth swing open, and the Time Lord from the bedroom is standing in the doorway in a bathrobe and a pair of striped pajamas.
He smirks. “Did you miss me?”
There’s another ruckus from the crowd, angry that the fight and possible bloodshed of the enemy has been interrupted.
“Looks like quite a party,” the Time Lord remarks, stepping out of the box with his hands in his pockets, gazing around as though he was a patron of a museum exhibit rather than up to his neck in alien hostiles. As he approaches, one of the Sycorax Leader attendants cracks his whip at him. “Easy!” The Time Lord catches it deftly, wrapping it around his wrist and yanking it from its wielder’s grasp. “You could have someone’s eye out with that.”
“How dare you?!” The Sycorax Leader withdraws his spear from me and steps over to this newcomer. The Time Lord points at him and he inexplicably freezes on the spot as though struck by something.
“Now you, just wait. I’m busy.” He turns to the gathered humans. “Mickey! Hello.” He shakes his hand. “And Harriet Jones, MP for Flydale North.” He grins at the Prime Minister, who can only smile slightly as a confused response.
“Blimey, it's like This Is Your Life. Tea! That's all I needed, a good cup of tea! Superheated infusion of free radicals and tannin. Just the thing for healing the synapses.” The Time Lord continues to ramble until he stops in front of Rose. “Now, first thing's first. Be honest, how do I look?’
She blinks at him. “Different.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“Just different.”
“Am I…ginger?”
Rose seems startled at the intensity in which he asks that question. “No, you're just sort of brown.”
“I wanted to be ginger!” The Time Lord groans, “I've never been ginger. And you, Rose Tyler.” He points an accusing finger at her, “Fat lot of good you were. You gave up on me. Oh, that's rude! That's the sort of man I am now? Rude? Rude and not ginger?”
The Prime Minister taps Rose on the shoulder. “I'm sorry. Who is this?”
“He's the Doctor.”
“I'm the Doctor.”
“But what happened to the other Doctor?” The PM asked, “Or is it a title that's just passed on?”
“I'm him. I'm literally him,” the Time Lord, the Doctor, replies with a simple shrug. “Same man, new face. Well, new everything.”
“But you can't be.”
The Doctor leans closer. “Harriet Jones, we were trapped in Downing Street and the one thing that scared you wasn't the aliens, it wasn't the war, it was the thought of your mother being on her own.”
The PM covers her open mouth with her hand. “Oh my God.”
“Did you win the election?”
“Landslide majority.”
“If I might interrupt!” The Sycorax Leader’s voice booms across the strangely silent room.
The Doctor holds up a finger. “One second, big fella.” He skirts around him, looking absurdly frail and tiny beside the hulking beast with the cape and spear. “You. Yes, you. Come here.”
I barely even register he’s talking to me before he’s grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the dead center of the bridge.
“Let go of me.” I easily wrench myself free of his grasp, pausing to stare at the device he’s brought me to. It’s a kind of mechanical flower that has bloomed in the epicenter of the ship with cold, harsh wires running off into its darker corners.
“You tried to eat me earlier, very rude, but it’s alright. I seem to be a forgiving sort of man. Now, tell me, what do you think of this?” He points at the machine in front of us.
“It’s a mind control device,” I say flatly.
“Precisely, but what’s the impetus for the mind control?” The Doctor crouches closer to the machine, squinting at it. “Ah! Here it is.” He dabs his finger into a small dish funneling at the bottom of the machine. It’s filled with a dark liquid that smells familiar and delicious.
The Doctor puts a dab of it onto his tongue. “Blood? Yeah, definitely blood. Human blood. Ah, but that means blood control! Oh, I haven't seen blood control for years.” Before anyone else can react, he’s snatched the dish from the bottom of the machine. “Here you are. Down the hatch!”
He spins my way and tips the contents of the dish into my mouth when I’d opened it to ask a question. The distinct flavor of human blood floods my mouth. I almost choke but quickly force my throat to swallow. It soothes the gnawing deep in the pit of my stomach. I feel slightly better.
When I refocus, the Doctor is grinning at me. He seems almost giddy. “You’re a Vampire, you are! And you know, I knew you were from the moment I saw you? Even before you tried to suck my blood. You’re fans of big spectacles, you lot, and everything about you is big.” He gestures to me, “Big hair, big eyes big-Well…” He clears his throat.
I arch an elegant eyebrow.
“You know, there’s one other big thing you often have, but I’m forgetting it at the moment. It’s on the tip of my...Oh no, that’s just blood.” He makes an ‘ick’ face, rubbing at his tongue.
“So that device was controlling everyone with A-Positive blood on the planet?” I surmise. “The Sycorax were planning on making them jump to their deaths if Earth wasn’t handed over to them.”
“Precisely! And you could tell the blood type just by tasting it?” The Doctor seems impressed.
“I’ve eaten a lot of humans.”
He looks less impressed. There’s suddenly a great swell of angry shouting from the Sycorax. “They don’t seem too happy you ate their machine.”
“Enough of this!” The Leader’s voice calls over the din. He points his spear threateningly at the Doctor. “I demand to know who you are!”
“I don't know!” He shouts back, causing the creature to falter once more. Everything this man seems to do is unexpected. “See, there's the thing,” the Doctor continues simply. “I'm the Doctor, but beyond that, I just don't know. I literally do not know who I am. It's all untested.” He spreads his arms wide as he paces the center of the bridge. “Am I funny? Am I sarcastic? Sexy?” He winks at Rose. She blushes. “Right old misery? Life and soul? Right handed? Left handed? A gambler? A fighter? A coward? A traitor? A liar? A nervous wreck? I mean, judging by the evidence, I've certainly got a gob.”
“You have interrupted the combat trial,” the Leader proclaims. “As punishment, you must die.”
“Hold on a minute-!” I step forward to protest.
“Oh a spear fight? I’m better with a sword myself,” the Doctor seems excited. “But I don’t want to fight, if I can help it. I mean, we’ve destroyed your blood control device. Now you've got nothing to bargain with. No one would blame you if you just left with your tail between your legs. No hard feelings!”
“Blood control is just one form of conquest. I can summon the armada and take this world by force.”
“Well, yeah, you could, yeah, you could do that, of course you could,” the Doctor agrees. “But why? Look at these people.” He gestures to the scanner screen mounted above the blood control device. It shows the multitudes of people all over the planet, embracing their A-positive relatives that had been broken free of their hypnosis.
“These human beings. Consider their potential. From the day they arrive on the planet and, blinking, step into the sun, there is more to see than can ever be seen…More to do than-No, hold on. What am I saying? What is that?”
“That’s The Lion King,” I supply.
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, but the point still stands. Leave them alone!”
The Leader sneers. “Or what?”
The Doctor runs over to one of the attendants and snatches his massive sword. It looks absurd in his skinny arms, but he holds it out to the leader all the same. “Or I challenge you!”
Amused laughter spreads throughout the crowd. The Leader guffaws the loudest. He changes out his spear for a sword.
The Doctor is unperturbed. He takes off his bathrobe and tosses it to Rose, who catches it, looking very concerned. He then looks at me, smirking. “What about it, Toothy? Up for a little two on one?”
“Just try to keep up, Time Lord.”
“You will need both of you to defend this pitiful world,” the Leader proclaims arrogantly.
I lower my spear and charge at him. The Leader knocks my blade aside, just as the Doctor lunges at him.
He parries and redirects the sword, knocking him off balance. The Doctor staggers backward and falls in the dirt.
“Look out!” Rose cries as he scrambles out of the way.
“Oh yeah, that helps, I wouldn't have thought of that otherwise. Thanks!” He snaps sarcastically.
I swipe at the Leader from behind. He roars as he whirls around. I jump back a few steps as he comes at me. The Doctor slashes at him from the other side. The Leader knocks him in the stomach with the hilt of his sword without turning around.
He’s sent stumbling back again and falls against the wall of the ship. “Bit of fresh air?” He punches a door opening mechanism and runs out onto the outer platform at the bottom of the ship.
The Leader growls in annoyance and follows. I’m forced to do so as well.
“Why in the sun?” I grumble. The air is cold and blinding outside, but the Leader doesn’t seem to notice as he slashes his sword at the Doctor, who can only barely dodge.
“A little help!” He calls, actually sounding slightly panicked.
I lunge at the Sycorax. He doesn’t turn to me fast enough, and I manage to embed my spear in his side. He roars in rage and pain, slashing blindly.
The Doctor is knocked off his feet, teetering on the edge of the platform. Below are the little gray building blocks of the city beneath wisps of cloud. It’s a long way down.
“Doctor!” Rose starts forward, but Mickey grabs her arm to stop her.
The Leader sneers despite his injuries as he turns to the Doctor, helpless on the ground. He’s dropped his sword, he reaches for it, and suddenly there’s nothing to grab with.
The Doctor howls as his severed hand drops down to ground far below, vanishing instantly.
He rolls onto his back, screaming in pain as his wrist weeps blood all over the front of his pajamas.
The Leader stands over his writhing form and throws his head back, laughing maniacally.
“Stop taking your eyes off me,” I whisper before I run my spear straight through the Sycorax’s body. It’s rough forcing it through three layers of flesh and bone, but it eventually sprouts out of his chest with a spray of ichor.
The Leader staggers on the spot, a hollow gasp ripping from his throat. The Doctor is still curled at his feet, gripping his gushing stump. I’m shocked when the Leader has enough in him to turn and slash his sword at me one last time. The metal flashes in front of my vision. I can’t dodge, I’m still too weak. Below us, the Doctor kicks his leg out, knocking the sword off balance and the Leader tips over the precipice, a shriek escaping him.
“Get out of the way!” I shout.
He doesn’t. So when the Leader falls, the Doctor goes with him.
“Doctor!” Rose’s scream hurts my ears.
“Oh by the Spiral,” I snarl. Before I know it, I’m jumping over the side of the Sycorax ship and plummeting through the cold Christmas air. The Doctor is a kicking rag doll tumbling through the atmosphere.
I can feel the dark shadows unfurling around me, slowing my descent. I eventually gain more and more control of the surrounding air as I shift closer to the Doctor, and suddenly I’m in front of him, and he’s reaching for me with his remaining hand. I scoop him up, holding him against me as I swiftly and elegantly change our trajectory. Arching back towards the stratosphere, I pull the Doctor with me as the dark mass of the Sycorax ship rushes to meet us.
The three humans have run to the edge of the platform. They stagger back with exclamations of shock as I soar past them, carrying the Doctor. I then alight on the false ground of the platform, dropping him at my feet.
Rose is at his side in an instant as the Doctor sits up, still cradling his mutilated arm.
“That’s what I was forgetting.” He looks up at me, now towering over them all as I’d shifted my form slightly. “That other big thing Vampires have.”
“Wings.” Rose whispered.
“Ow…” The Doctor groans, glancing down at his bloody arm.
“Doctor…Oh my God.” Rose is near tears.
He couldn’t help but give her a pained smile. “So, I’m the Doctor now?”
She wipes her eyes. “No complaints from me.”
“Well, I do know the kind of man I am.” His smile widens. “I’m a lucky one since I’m still in the first fifteen hours of my Regeneration.” He holds up his arm and before all of our eyes, a new hand forms in a flash of golden light.
“Incredible.” The PM was at a loss for words.
“Easy there.” The Doctor’s attention has turned to me. Can he see the drool dripping out of my mouth at the sight of the blood staining his pajamas? Time Lord blood. There isn’t anything else like it in the universe.
After all, that was the only reason I jumped off the side of the ship. It’s no good to me dead and cold. Blood is best served warm and fresh from the flesh.
“You stay away from him.” Rose has wrapped her arms around the Doctor protectively. There’s fear in her brown eyes, but I also see determination and a glimmer of something deeper and more powerful than I would have expected a simple human like her to be capable of.
I feel something wet on my upper lip. Reaching up, I see black blood is dripping from my nose. I feel anger bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. That mewling ingrate actually drew blood from me during the duel! And now the withered stare of a human teenager is making me hesitate. I’m really off my game today.
I look back at Rose. “Well, see ya, Blondie.”
I depart in a wave of shadow.
I don’t want to, but I’m standing outside the Powell Estate in the eerie snow that began falling at nightfall. Technically, it’s the ash from the Sycorax ship breaking up in the atmosphere. I saw on TV the Prime Minister had the thing vaporized.
Good for her.
The other humans don’t seem to think so, if the news is any indication. They really are such simple creatures. They can’t comprehend a threat even if it's right under their noses, and they lash out at each other rather than their real enemy. I know that all too well.
The window to the relevant flat finally opens, and the Doctor pokes his head out. It’s about time; I thought, for an absurd moment, I was going to have to throw a rock at the glass pane like a lovesick high school student.
He’s wearing one of those floppy paper crowns you get inside those cracker things.
Rose sticks her head out as well, wearing a pink version.
The Doctor seems in surprisingly good spirits. “Hello there! You know it’s rude to eavesdrop? Especially on a holiday. Why don’t you come on up? Share a drink? It is Christmas, after all.”
I don’t answer, just continue standing as silently as the snowfall. My hands are closed fists inside the pockets of my coat, trembling with barely suppressed rage.
“What’s wrong? I thought your people needed to be invited in?” The Doctor calls down to me.
“We need to talk, Time Lord,” I finally say.
He sighs. “Yes, I suppose we do. Very well, I’ll come to you.” He and Rose then disappear back inside the flat. A few moments later, they reappear outside and descend the steps to the ground level. Mickey has joined them.
I can see the Doctor has changed out of his blood soaked pajamas into a brown pinstripe suit and a tan trench coat. He cuts a distinct image as he saunters over to me.
Rose puts her hand on his arm. “Be careful, Doctor.”
“Please, I know what I’m doing,” he assures her as he moves closer to me. “Mostly…”
Mickey holds Rose back in the shadow of the apartment building, and soon the Doctor and I are standing face to face with the pale ash falling all around us. I can feel it gathering in my raven hair.
The Doctor is looking at me, and there’s something in his expression that’s making me uneasy. It’s not anger or disgust or even fear. It’s almost…wonder, delight or even adoration.
“Wow,” he breathes out after a pause. “You know? You really are beautiful. The most perfect coagulation of the Yssagarothic Strain I’ve ever seen.” He grins, “That’s a fun word: coagulation.”
Behind him, Mickey whispers to Rose: “Seems the Doctor likes the girls with black lipstick.”
“Oh it’s not makeup, Mickey,” the Doctor calls back to him. “That’s what she actually looks like. Each vampire has distinct facial markings. Although, those on your neck are a little…” He says to me, gesturing to his own for emphasis.
I close the space between us in a flash. My hand grasps the Doctor’s chin, tilting his head back in my iron grip as I bare my teeth in a snarl. “Don’t play coy with me.”
“Doctor!” Rose calls out, panicked.
The Time Lord holds my gaze, unwavering. “Easy now, you remember what happened to the Sycorax commander.”
“And you would have died too if it hadn’t been for me,” I spit back.
“Right!” The Doctor’s humor has returned as he steps out of my grasp. I hate how easy it is for him. “So there’s no need to get testy. We’re Sycorax-slaying chums, you and I-Wait, I don’t even know what to call you.”
I square my shoulders. “I am known as Gwalchmei Gwyar, Third Mal’ach of Coven Morgante under Great One Abhartach; Division Commander of the Fifth Chrono-Defense Horde.”
The Doctor clicks his tongue. “I see. Bit of a mouthful. Mind if I call you Gwyar?”
“Remove it.”
“I could also call you ‘Gwalch’ but that’s kind of-”
“Now!” I cut him off with a deep growl accenting my words. I’m furious, trembling all over from rage.
Rose has moved closer. “Doctor, what is she talking about?”
“I grow tired of these games. I mean this!” I pull back my coat collar to show them my neck. Against my white throat, angry bluish marks have spread out from a rectangular plate of metal about the size of a computer microchip that is stuck to my skin.
“What is that?” Rose asks.
“It’s a Scratch,” the Doctor explains. “A patch for the skin, and this one is made of pure silver.”
“You know it’s a natural weakness for my people.” My voice is full of venom.
“Of course. After all, your kind and mine go waaaaay back.”
“Take it off. Now.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”
“You have no right to-”
“You’re a danger to this planet. I can’t simply let you do as you please,” the Doctor’s expression is stony. In that moment, I can see the authority from his age through the snow. Like me, he appears young, but there are centuries behind those soft, brown eyes. “This planet is protected. By me. From threats like the Sycorax and from threats like you.”
“Some grand arbiter of justice,” I spat. “Just like a Time Lord to pass judgment. I need to eat to live, and it just so happens that I need to eat humans. Would you also punish a hawk for eating a mouse or a spider for eating a fly?”
“Humans aren’t flies!” Rose protested.
I looked at her. “You are to me…and to him.” I gesture to the Doctor.
He doesn’t meet Rose’s inquisitive gaze. “If you would let me help-”
“This Scratch is your help?” I cut him off.
“It’s only temporary. Let me take you somewhere where you don’t need to feed on humans to survive. How does that sound?”
I open my mouth, a biting remark poised on the tip of it, but it dies in my throat as his words sink in. I realize what he’s offering me: a chance to leave this planet. After over 1,000 years, such a chance would probably not come again for a long, long time. Perhaps never.
“How?” I finally ask.
“In that.” The Doctor points behind him. At the end of the sidewalk sits that same blue phone booth I’d seen on the Sycorax ship.
“That thing?” The disbelief must be plain on my face because the Doctor smiles knowingly.
“That’s my TARDIS.”
“That piece of junk is a TARDIS?”
“Oi! Beggars can’t be choosers!”
I fix the Doctor with a hard look. “You’re offering me a chance to get off world? How do I know I can trust you? You’re a Time Lord. I’m a Vampire. Our people have warred across the stars for eons. I have no assurance you won’t just throw me into a blackhole the second we leave the atmosphere.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” The Doctor moves closer to me. I resist the strange instinct to step back. “You can trust me, and as a show of good faith.” He reaches up and taps the Scratch on my neck. It falls away and clatters into the ash at our feet, and instantly, I can breathe properly again. My senses return to their full capacity like turning the volume up on a surround sound radio. I exhale with relief, and my breath is too cold to be visible in the air. The Doctor grins. “Better?”
I close my eyes, hardly believing what I’m going to say next: “Very well, Time Lord. I will go with you in your TARDIS.”
His smile widens. “Fantastic! You won’t be disappointed, I assure you.”
“Doctor!” Rose looks upset. “You’re not seriously considering bringing her with us.”
“What’s the harm?”
“She tried to eat you!”
“Oh, that’s in the past. She was hungry. I understand, and it’ll only be one short trip. Drop her off some place she can drink blood to her heart’s content and then be on our way.”
Rose seems only slightly pacified. Why does she even think she has a say? What exactly is the nature of her relationship with this Time Lord?
“Well, let’s get this over with,” I declare. “Get me off this rock.”
“Aww, I guarantee you’re going to miss it, Gwyar!” The Doctor proclaims as he bounds down the walkway towards the police box.
“Not on your lives, Time Lord.”
“You can call me Doctor.”
“How about Matchstick Man?”
“Cheeky!” He seems unperturbed as he unlocks the door to the phone booth and steps inside.
I follow after him, stopping dead on the threshold in spite of myself. I knew Time Lord ships were bigger on the inside, but this was ridiculous.
The scale of the interior was nearly breathtaking. The bridge was a massive, high-ceilinged room with a console in the center that rose like a certain dawn out of the metallic floor. It was a cacophony of metal and wire with random odds and ends sprouting up from the control panel that sported a dizzying number of buttons and knobs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the Doctor grinning at me. “Cool, huh?”
I shrug noncommittally. “I suppose.”
I take silent satisfaction in catching the ends of the Doctor’s mouth turn down slightly at this remark. He reaches into the pocket of his new coat and pulls out that same device that made my ears bleed earlier. I recoil slightly out of instinct, but the noise it makes now isn’t nearly as alarming as he points it at the console. It twitters like a bird instead of shrieking like a dying animal.
“Well?” I say as I watch him.
“Just one sec.” He turns and points the device at the doors.
“What are you doing?” I demand. The Doctor brushes past me.
“Back in two minutes.”
“Where are you going?” I whirl around in time to see the TARDIS doors are starting to shut. “Hey!” I rush forward, but they slam in my face. I smash my palms into them, but they don’t move. Behind me, something ancient rattles in the interior of the console.
“Sorry!” I hear the Doctor call from the other side of the doors. “But I figured I’d let Rose enjoy her holiday. Just sit tight.”
Anger erupts inside me as I slam my fists against the unwavering doors.
“Doctor!”