Who wast or yet the Lights were set,
A whisper in the Void,
Who shalt be sung through planets young
When this is clean destroyed.
- Rudyard Kipling, "To The True Romance"
The silence in the room was deafening as James smiled menacingly at Archer, Mr Smith and the ladies. Archer wanted to throw himself in front of Miss Rani and Miss Smith, but his legs refused to budge. And even if they had, Mr Smith still had a death grip on his waist and seemed completely uninterested in letting go. For a moment they all stood frozen, then James made an impatient sound and gestured with the lantern.
"Move it. The lot of you. The captain wants to see you." They had no real choice but to obey him, so they all went into the corridor and further into the school building, obeying James' commands without question or discussion. Archer found walking slightly difficult since Mr Smith had not yet let go of him, but it seemed as if that was as much for Archer's comfort as his own, so he did not protest. Instead he squeezed Mr Smith's hand a little harder, offering silent comfort in return. James led them with brisk commands out into the chilly night, and it did not take Archer long to realise where they were heading. The old lighthouse.
They arrived on the shore, still deathly quiet. Archer wondered how they were meant to get across; Miss Rani might be able to swim out there, but he doubted Miss Smith was. He himself was a decent swimmer, but in waters as cold as these? He would struggle, perhaps not manage all the way. Then he saw the small, rickety rowboat, already leaking water. James ordered them into it, even though it sank deeper into the water for every person who stepped into it. The boat was old and worn, the boards not quite holding together, but when Archer turned to point out that it could very well sink, he saw the lantern's dull red glow and a sliver of terror ran through him. Silent, he sat down next to Miss Rani and watched as Mr Smith took the oars, James standing at the helm like Charon ferrying the doomed over the river Styx, the nightmarish device in his hand held high. In the distance, the light from the lighthouse glowed in the dark, a cold white light that seemed at some level as menacing as the lantern's red.
"It will be all right" he whispered to Miss Rani, and patted her hand comfortingly.
"Silent!" James barked, shining the lantern in Archer's face. "The next word out of your mouth will be the last thing you say!" Archer shrank back from the light, wanting nothing but to hide. Miss Rani's hand squeezing his was a small, but sorely welcome, comfort.
The lighthouse was quiet as the grave, as they climbed the rickety staircase up to the light itself. Mr Smith seemed to be full of restless energy in that his arms moved incessantly, his lips making words but no sound. He could not be described as agitated, nor was he excited. It seemed like some terrible combination of both. It almost frightened Archer, but at this point he was too smitten with the man to be alarmed by anything he might do or say. Everything was lovely, every word only enrapturing, and every gesture mesmerizing. If Archer had not been worried about what was to happen to them he would most likely have swooned when Mr Smith's eyes ran over him. No, not Mr Smith: the Doctor. He had to get used to calling him Doctor, even in his heart, even if it felt wrong. The man who had imprinted himself so deeply in Archer's soul was connected to the name John Smith, to think of him as something else felt… odd. But at the same time, as if a piece of the puzzle that did not quite fit suddenly slid into place and he could see more of the picture. It was still mostly hazy, but becoming clearer. He only hoped he would live long enough to see the rest of it.
The chamber hosting the lighthouse light was not what Archer had expected at all; indeed, he had never seen such machinery in his life. There were glittering lights that did not seem to come from candles, metal of an unfamiliar kind, and more buttons than he had seen on even the finest of coats. In the middle of these things, stood a man that was both familiar and a complete stranger. The tall, bony figure of the school's headmaster turned slowly to face them, smiling in a way that was not human at all - like a snake closing in on a group of baby rabbits.
"Good evening" he said in a deep and pleasant baritone that did absolutely nothing to calm the prisoners. It does not matter how you paint and decorate it, a guillotine is still a guillotine. And the man that stood in front of them had a voice like a guillotine: terrible and beautiful and ready to fall at any second, the moment your neck touched the wood below. "How kind, James, to bring more subjects."
"Anything to please you, master." James said, sounding almost adoring.
"Yes, quite." the headmaster replied dismissively. Then he took a closer look at the ladies and the Doctor. "Who are these people anyway? And where's the commander? I told you to bring me Archer Grey." James opened his mouth to reply, but the Doctor got there first.
"I am the Doctor. I think you have heard of me." the headmaster frowned.
"Doctor. Just our luck that you would show up." he grumbled like a petulant child. "No matter, once I've fed on the boy I'll deal with you lot." Archer cried out in fear as James suddenly took an iron grip on his arm, pushing him forward and into the headmaster's reach. The man was smiling, and once again Archer thought of guillotines.
"No." the Doctor's voice was hard and unbending like a mountain. "Touch a hair on Archer Grey's head and I will not be merciful."
"My dear Doctor" the headmaster said, laughing, "What makes you think I need to touch him?" then he raised a device that had been lying next to him on the contraption of metal and buttons. Archer stared in mute horror as he looked straight into a dull red light. Then he heard a whirring noise.
Archer saw a ray of dull red light and expected that to be the end of it. He despaired at never having told the Doctor how he felt, but it did not matter any longer. Then someone yanked hard at his arm, pulling him out of the way. The ray instead struck James, who simply vanished as if he had never been there. It happened without a noise from the poor man, which somehow was more terrifying than if he had screamed.
"Stars" the headmaster muttered frustrated, "it takes hours to recharge."
"So you haven't finished repairing it yet" the Doctor said, sounding almost triumphant. "That's what you're doing, isn't it? Repairing your food maker!"
"We call it a vaporizer." the headmaster sniffed haughtily. The Doctor laughed.
"It doesn't matter what you call it" he said, "What matters is what you use it for. So go ahead, pauresati, gobble him all up!"1 And, to the horror of the ladies and Archer, a thin appendage, almost like a snakes tongue, slipped out of the headmaster's tongue: it seemed to be some sort of funnel, because they could feel a draft of air as it breathed in deeply, sucking the fragments of what had once been a bit slow, but gentle, Scottish boy named James. The appendage rolled itself back up and disappeared into the headmaster's mouth accompanied by a satisfied sigh and a smacking of lips as one would expect after a gourmet meal.
"Doctor" Miss Smith said, her voice only wavering a little. "What is a pauresati?"
"A vampire of the worst sort." the Doctor said with a scowl, "they wanders through the universe and feed on everyone they can. Always ravenous, always hunting. This is just a pit stop, isn't it? You travel in pairs - the cook was your mate, wasn't she?" the headmaster looked furious - but Archer thought he also looked just a bit sad. "They stay a few months, feed, grow strong, and move on. Oh but you're clever, aren't you" he turned to the headmaster, addressing him directly instead of the room in general, "You vaporize your victims and feed on the remains - their atoms and energies. You devour them so completely there is not even a memory left. That way no one can accuse of murder. So why" he spun around suddenly and pointed an accusing finger at Archer, "do you remember Mr Green?"
"Yes" said the headmaster - no, the pauresati-, "I would like to know that, too."
Suddenly all eyes were trained on an equally bewildered Archer.
"I- I don't know" he stuttered, looking helpless. He stared at the Doctor pleadingly. Help me, he begged mentally. I don't know what's going on, why I'm special, I just want to be with you. They were at an impasse: the headmaster and the Doctor staring at him like they were two entomologists who had just discovered a new type of bug. Then Miss Smith broke the silence with a single word.
"Silver" she said, simply, also looking at Archer. The Doctor jumped like he'd been stung by a bee.
"Of course! Silver! The only ward against a pauresati! It renders the vaporizer useless!" He swivelled around and looked at the pauresati again. "Or maybe it does more than that. Maybe it lets you remember!" He spun back again, with a speed that made Archer dizzy, to gesture wildly in his direction.
"Do you carry silver on you?" He demanded, excited. "A necklace, a ring, a watch, anything?" Archer shook his head, helplessly. Then he remembered something.
"When… when I was a child my uncle was a silversmith. I used to play in his workshop until one day I accidentally knocked over a cauldron. It… it got on my shoulder and arm. I remember my skin melting, that I screamed for my mummy. They couldn't… couldn't get all of it off, said they'd have to take the arm but dad wouldn't let them. Said I was no use with just one arm." The Doctor's face was a mixture of horror, compassion and fascination.
"You carry silver on your skin" he whispered, sounding nearly awed. "That's why you remember." Archer blushed at the tone, and shyly looked at the Doctor from under his lashes. The urge to simply throw himself at the man returned, but he held it back. This was no time for such things. There was a … what was it called again … a pauresati wanting to kill them all, for pity's sake! He could moon over the Doctor later.
"Doctor!" Miss Rani yelled in warning, darting forward to do… what, Archer didn't know because at the same time the headmaster threw himself forward with a furious roar, in his hand a knife that Archer had no idea where it came from. Not that it mattered, for the pauresati was much quicker than Miss Rani and the knife was now pressed to Archer's throat.
"I might not be able to eat you, pretty boy" he crooned in Archer's ear. This close, his voice sounded wet and sort of sticky, like blood drying on skin, "but I can slit your throat and drink your blood just the same while your fancy man watches." Archer looked at the Doctor pleadingly, but the man stood frozen, just staring at the tableau in front of him.
"I will give you one chance" the Doctor said, with a voice that spoke about how much he was struggling to keep calm, "to do the right thing and let Archer go. Then you can just… take your ship and go. I'll help you. You can leave and move on, and I'll forget I ever met you. But if you hurt him-" the headmaster just laughed.
"Oh, good Doctor, what happened to your policy to live and let live? Ready to throw it away over a hot piece of arse?" The knife pressed against Archer's Adams apple and he could feel a trickle of blood slide down his throat. The look in the Doctor's eyes changed.
"Are you prepared to find out?" He asked in a tone that Archer had never heard before and never wanted to hear again. His voice was as cold as the most frigid of winters, sharp as ice as it shatters. For a moment, the pauresati seemed to actually be alarmed. Then he smirked.
"Yes" he said, as he did one sharp movement over Archer's neck, blood spurting out in a cascade in cadence with the beat of his heart. Archer sank to the ground, hearing the Doctor howl in denial as he rushed forward, blind and deaf to anything but the young man on the floor.
The Doctor threw himself down on the floor next to Archer, hands shaking, eyes filling with tears. It wasn't fair, no no no not his Archer, sweet Archer Grey, who had made his heart feel light again after Rose. He could not, must not be dying! He turned the boy over and nearly cried with relief when he saw that the wound was superficial: if he could just stop the bleeding he would live. Scarred, perhaps, but he would live. He pressed on the wound, desperately trying to hem the blood flow, unaware of what was going on around him. He did not see the pauresati advancing on Rani, did not notice Sarah Jane who had been steadily moving through the room all this time reach the lantern and pick it up. He was deaf and blind to her raising it high in triumph, pointing it at the headmaster - and firing. All he saw was the blood. All he heard was Archer's ragged breathing. He did notice, however, when Rani scrambled forward to help him staunch the blood flow, Sarah Jane hot on her heels.
"He'll be alright, Doctor" Sarah Jane said, "Look, the blood flow is slowing down already. Just keep him lying down until it stops." He nodded distractedly. Then he remembered something.
"The pauresati-"
"Gone." There was a finality in Sarah Jane's voice that he most definitely did not like, but did not care enough to argue with. All he cared about at this time was Archer Grey.
1 Why is the alien called "pauresati"? I created the word pauresati from the Maori, Basque and Croatian words for "devour": pau (Maori) + iresten (Basque) + proždirati (Croatian) = pau-res-ati (devour) = pauresati (devourer).