The weather on the southern plain had turned cold quickly
after the long summer, just as everyone expected. The dawn most mornings
brought grey skies and with it, penetrating wind and rain blew across
the plains, bending the trees that surrounded Mount Lœng House and
protected it from the full force of the gale.
On days such as those Marion stayed home, glad that she had such comfort
and didn’t have to run for buses in the teeming rain and spend her
days in an office somewhere with the windows assaulted by the same weather,
reminding her that she had to go home again in the dark and cold.
Late in the month of Octima when it was possible to hope for another change
in the weather bringing a blanket of snow over the land until spring,
Marion showed her Gallifreyan friends something Kristoph had bought for
her on a trip to Earth, something to while away dark afternoons.
“It’s called ‘home cinema’,” she explained
to Talitha Dúccesci, Valena d’Arpexia, Calliope Haddandrox
and Mia Reidluum as she brought them into the large but cosy room with
long, thick curtains at the window and three big, squashy sofas to relax
on. Her friends looked at the huge screen mounted on the wall critically.
“Live debates from the Panopticon don’t need such a big screen,”
Valena pointed out. “I suppose an opera might look splendid in such
dimensions, but there’s no fun in watching those at home. Dressing
up and going out to meet everyone is the whole point of it.”
“Yes, it is,” Marion agreed. “But on my world we have
more than opera and political debate on television and by my time people
had been making films for nearly a hundred years. Spending a cold autumn
afternoon watching them with plenty of nibbles and drinks is considered
sociable.”
Her Gallifreyan friends were dubious about the idea, but it had to be
said that the weather outside was atrocious and any indoor pursuit were
welcome. Mia, especially, warmed to the idea. She rarely visited anywhere
outside the safety of the Capitol’s envirodome in winter. She had
accepted Marion’s invitation only because Kristoph had brought her
by TARDIS and promised to bring her home again. Seogham, the under-butler,
was charged with her care and helped her from her wheelchair to one of
the sofas. She gathered her long skirt around her paralyzed legs and made
herself comfortable. The others found their own comfort zones.
“This is as close as possible to the last day of October on Earth,”
Marion continued. “Halloween. So there is a particular genre of
films to watch.”
Her friends, of course, didn’t know what Halloween was, and the
history of a pagan harvest festival turned into a commercialised costume
party wasn’t something Marion felt up to explaining.
She nodded to show that they were ready and the head footman slotted a
Blu-ray disc into the player fixed beneath the screen. While the opening
titles of the Hammer Films 1958 version of Dracula came on in restored
and enhanced sound and vision, Caolin and two of the maids served the
drinks and nibbles. The crisps and popcorn were in silver tureens and
the dips in cut glass bowls with the de Lœngbærrow Crest etched into
them. The fizzy pop had been decanted into a punch bowl carved from a
huge piece of rock crystal until it was translucent and finished with
silver handles. Cups made of the same materials hung around the side for
dipping into the cola when required.
Those details aside, and the fact that the old ‘smoking room’
had been converted into the ‘home cinema’, Marion’s
afternoon was just like anyone else would experience it on the sofa in
their living room on a cold autumn afternoon.
At first her friends weren’t sure what to make of an afternoon of
mild horror and unhealthy snacks, but as Jonathon Harker arrived at the
Count’s ponderous door and heard ‘the children of the night’
make their sweet music, Mia leaned towards Talitha in mild excitement.
“I’ve read the book of this, haven’t I? You brought
it to me from the library along with a story called Wuthering Heights.”
“Yes,” Talitha answered. “But this seems a little bit
different. In the book Harker comes to the castle as a clerk to conduct
some conveyancing business. In this version he already knows that Dracula
is a vampire and has come intending to kill him.”
“Oh, there are lots of film versions of Dracula,” Marion explained
in a loud whisper so as not to disturb her other friends who were following
the plot more closely and uncritically. “Most of them have adapted
the story, either because it’s a bit too long or the epistolary
style of the prose doesn’t translate to film, or the budget didn’t
stretch to actual scenes from Transylvania. This one is considered a ‘classic’
even though there are a lot of differences from the original text.”
For most of her friends this was the first feature film of any sort they
had ever seen, so the concept of a ‘classic’ was bewildering,
but that problem aside they were happy to be drawn into this less literary
but more bloody version of the great classic of the English gothic novel
genre. All but Mia found themselves reaching for a handful of crisps or
a punch cup of cola without feeling self-conscious. Unable to reach for
herself Mia only had to think about what she wanted to eat or drink and
Seogham reached for her. Caolin had brought refills for the crisp tureens
and the punch bowl before he was required to slot in the next disc.
“Kristoph said there were solid state devices that would hold a
hundred films at a time,” Marion explained. “But I felt I
wanted to have the discs with a film on each one. It seems more ‘real’
that way, like a proper collection.”
“Like books on a shelf, rather than stored on a hand held device,”
Mia suggested. “The boxes are very…. colourful.”
Since they were all horror films made in the nineteen fifties and nineteen
sixties, the covers were lurid and featured blood very heavily. Colourful
was a kind word for them.
The follow up to the first film gripped them all as thoroughly as the
first. Interestingly, Marion’s Gallifreyan friends had no problem
accepting Dracula’s resurrection from the dead. Of course, no Time
Lord they knew of had ever regenerated after being reduced to dust, but
the principle was firmly understood, and when, at the end of the film,
the Prince of Darkness was frozen beneath the icy waters of the castle
moat they were in no doubt that he would be back.
“They ought to have made more certain than that,” Talitha
concluded. “It is quite clear that foolish people would seek to
revive the evil as long as there is a fragment of a body left.”
“That is why when a rogue Time Lord is executed the body is always
completely atomised and dispersed,” Valena said almost too casually.
“Those sort of cults always tend to grow up around the most notorious,
and there ARE ways, for those with deep knowledge.”
“There are?” Marion was not the only one who regarded that
statement as peculiarly dark. Of course, as an Inquisitor Valena was more
knowledgeable than the other women about these things, but it still surprised
them.
“Well, I don’t KNOW what the ways are,” she protested
as they all looked at her critically. “I know there are very precise
instructions for disposing of the body of an executed Time Lord because
it is in the Statutes I had to study to be an Inquisitor. I have never
presided over a capital case. I wouldn’t expect to with my relative
inexperience. I’d be superseded by somebody like Kristoph.”
She smiled disarmingly, reminding her friends that she was, after all,
a woman of Gallifrey as well as an official of the Inquisition.
“Valena is quite right,” Kristoph said. Everyone looked to
him as he came from the doorway and took a seat on the sofa beside Marion.
“It is EXACTLY why we have such statutes for disposal of criminals.
Even the ordinary funerary cremation of a non-offensive Time Lord follows
a specific procedure to prevent any sinister behaviour.”
“Are you telling me that the way Dracula was resurrected at the
start of this film IS possible with the ashes of a Time Lord?” Marion
demanded. “Good afternoon, darling, by the way. Nice to have you
joining us. Would you like some soggy crisps or slightly flat cola?”
“Good afternoon, sweetheart. I will pass on the crisps and Caolin
is bringing my single malt as we speak,” Kristoph answered. “As
for the Time Lord ashes – no, not quite the way the Hammer writers
envisaged. Not that I am party to the exact details any more than our
dear Valena is, but I know it is more complicated than simply pouring
innocent blood on the remains.”
“Still, the fact that there ARE rules about how to dispose of Time
Lord bodies for that reason….” Marion smiled grimly. “Whenever
I forget that I live under a yellow sky among people who are so very different
to me something like this reminds me. I’m only surprised not to
find out that vampires are part Time Lord.”
“No, but one of my ancestors piloted a bow ship in the war against
the Great Vampires,” Kristoph remarked casually. Marion looked at
him half-disbelieving. “Yes, there WERE creatures of the same name
and nature in this infinite universe, but long before our people decided
we should not interfere in the fates of others we were compelled to use
our powers to destroy a species that was so utterly inimical to the future
of all other life in the galaxy. The Great Vampires are gone.”
“Then why do we have legends on Earth about them?” Marion
asked. “Surely that all happened before humans even existed.”
“Race memory,” Kristoph answered. “A remarkably persistent
and widespread one. Even on planets with no knowledge of life beyond their
own skies a trace has remained. On some worlds it manifests itself in
strict rules about cremation of the dead such as we have on Gallifrey.
On others, like Earth, where imagination is unbounded, it fuels stories
to excite the bloo.”
Kristoph picked up one of the lurid Blu-ray boxes and smiled at the image
of Christopher Lee with his fangs covered in the Technicolor blood of
his victim. “One of the critics on the original cinema release asked
‘why need vampires be messier eaters than anyone else?’”
The women, Marion included, laughed at that remark, as Kristoph intended.
Bringing up the fact that Time Lords had once fought a nasty war against
vampires had been a mistake. Better that they remained the figment of
fertile imaginations put into creatively decorated boxes for entertainment.
Caolin brought his glass of single malt and replenished the other refreshments.
Kristoph settled beside Marion to share the home cinema experience with
her.
“Is it complete coincidence that you’ve joined us in time
for the one that features a school full of very well developed girls in
lacy nightdresses?” Marion teased him.
“Complete coincidence,” he assured her. “Besides, I
prefer the 1992 Coppola version of the story that tries to keep close
to Stoker’s epistolary style and keeps in the classic scenes on
the cliffs at Whitby.”
“Our first kiss took place on those same cliffs,” Marion remembered
fondly.
“Indeed, it did,” Kristoph agreed. Talitha and Mia who had
read the book and understood the reference were suitably impressed. “We
owe much to the race memory of the Great Vampires as expressed by an anaemic
Irishman.”
“Yes, we do.” Marion replenished her cup of slightly flat
cola and leaned close to her husband, listening to his double heartbeat
as the disciples of Dracula stopped the hearts of the innocent in gloriously
enhanced Technicolor.
|