Nicholaus smiled when he saw that Bradley was sitting behind the table inside the room. He walked in and closed the door quietly behind him. ‘Hello, Bradley.’

Bradley looked up. His face still bore the wounds given to him by Nick, although they were healing. At first he looked shocked at the sight of the man before him, thinking it was Nick coming back for round two, before he sensed the presence within Nick’s body. Bradley smiled and clasped his hands together. ‘Nicholas! You have returned. What joy!’

Nicholaus approached the table. ‘No, you are mistaken. I am not the Nicholas you once knew.’ He laughed softly. ‘You know so little of what it is to be Kuang-Shi, to be a child of Ashgotoroth. But what should I expect from the offspring of a fourth generation Kuang-Shi?’

Bradley gave Nicholaus a blank look.

‘Once a Kuang-Shi is dead he cannot come back. The Kuang-Shi are born of the liquid time that is Ashgotoroth, the liquid time that runs through the veins of the Kuang-Shi can be spread to turn lesser beings into our kin. But each new Kuang-Shi that is born contains a new aspect of Ashgotoroth, as individual a personality as the humans of this world. And yet, unlike these humans, we are all connected to the same group mind.’ Nicholaus perched himself on the edge of the table. ‘I know of Nicholas, how he was killed by Alf in 1986. And I know that he and you were brothers in mind and deed. But I am not he.’

‘But you wear the same body.’

‘Yes, I do. An unusual occurrence for a Kuang-Shi to have the same body as another, to be sure, but we are dealing with unique circumstances. You and Nicholas came from another dimension, a parallel reality.’

Bradley nodded slowly, and Nicholaus knew that he understood at last. ‘Then what should I call you?’

‘Nicholaus is my name.’ He reached out and placed a hand on Bradley’s chest. ‘Can you feel that? That is liquid time that has come direct from Ashgotoroth himself. The only thing that could turn a Millennium People into a Kuang-Shi. I am Generation One, the strongest of our kind on this world. And I have been chosen to bring Ashgotoroth forth in a way that you could never do.’

Bradley slapped Nicholaus’ hand away. ‘No! That is my mission. Ashgotoroth promised me.’

‘Tut tut, Bradley. That was before He had a Generation One Kuang-Shi on hand. Fear not, though, I will let you help me.’ With a smile, Nicholaus turned and strode out through another door, heading deeper into the church.

Bradley stared daggers at Nicholaus’ departing form.

Her head snapped back once again under the impact of yet another strike. She bit her tongue, drawing blood.

‘Do not pretend you do not know me! I am Nicholas the Impaler!’

Alf opened her eyes, but she soon wished she had not. The rage in Nicholas’ eyes was beyond any anger that she had seen expressed by Nick.

The rain continued to pour, soaking through Alf’s wedding dress as she lay on the ground in the alleyway, shaking and crying. It was not the rain or the cold wind that was causing her to shiver, but the fear she felt as she relived her darkest fears.

Alf gagged on the coppery taste in her mouth. She spat, repulsed by the amount of blood that could come from one torn lip. The blood from her cheek wound had dried, leaving a stiff feeling around her upper jaw. The muscles in her legs and arms were all tight, her limbs having long passed the needles and pins stage. Nicholas stood before her, brandishing the metal pole in his hand. Blood dripped from his sharp teeth.

His face blurred, the teeth shrank, and the evil look mellowed into one of love.

‘And do you, Nick, take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, until death you do part?’

Nick didn’t falter. ‘I do,’ he announced firmly.

‘Nick,’ Alf sobbed.

Alf opened her eyes and looked around. People continued to walk passed, ignoring her. She looked around, but there was no one near enough to have whispered to her.

I’m coming for you.

The same voice. This time Alf recognised it as Nicholas’. She turned to her left and looked down Wood Lane. There was a single figure walking in her direction. Moving at quite a speed. Alf did not need to be a genius to work out who it was.

Still shivering, Alf’s hand reached up and touched the scar on her cheek. Her eyelids flickered open for a moment, then closed.

Ignoring the pain in her shoulder Alf swung the wood, knocking Nicholas back into the water. While he was stunned, Alf lifted the sharp piece of wood and slammed it down into Nicholas’ chest. It tore through the skin, ripping through the rib cage. Nicholas tried to cry out but all that came from his mouth was blood. ‘Hurts, doesn’t it? Vampire bodies are quite fragile things really, aren’t they?’

Nicholas coughed. ‘Not content with taking away my manhood, now you want my life too.’

‘It wasn’t me who did that!’ Alf yelled, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘Why can’t you understand that? It wasn’t me.’ She turned to her knapsack and pulled out a box of matches. Alf looked from the little box to Nicholas. She had seen enough vampire films when she was younger. With a sniff, Alf said, ‘It wasn’t me.’ One by one she lit the matches and dropped them onto Nicholas’ body.

Alf’s eyes snapped open. Slowly, but with great determination, she got to her feet and looked around the alley. There was no sign of Nicholaus. Which was a pity. Once before she had killed a sadistic copy of her husband, she could do it again.

Barely able to contain her anger, Alf stalked off, one direction in her mind.

The Doctor glanced up as more UNIT soldiers rushed through the canteen. Ruby was busy behind the hotplate serving food. The Doctor got up and made his way over to the person she was serving, swerving to miss the UNIT soldiers rushing around. He tapped Lethbridge-Stewart on the shoulder.

‘What’s going on?’

Lethbridge-Stewart turned to face the Doctor, a plate of sandwiches in one hand. ‘Geneva has given me full authority, Doctor. London is now under martial law, for the protection of the civilians.’ He set off. The Doctor followed.

‘What can I do?’

‘Nothing, Doctor. I think you have done enough, don’t you?’ Lethbridge-Stewart carried on out of the canteen, leaving the Doctor standing in the doorway.

The Time Lord clone remained where he was, not moving for the UNIT soldiers, who had to squeeze passed him. He continued to watch Lethbridge-Stewart’s retreating form, feeling the loss deeply. Nothing had seemed to go right for the Doctor since his last regeneration… since he had last left UNIT HQ. The Doctor knew that the universe had been altered around him, but he had made it a goal to make the best of a bad situation. Yet all he had managed to do was make things worse.

As Lethbridge-Stewart walked away the Doctor was left pondering past mistakes and lost friendships.

Night fell over London, and the storm increased. News reports on both the TV and the radio told Londoners to remain indoors, that the city was under martial law. A curfew was in place. UNIT and the regular army troops teamed up with police officers to scour the streets of London, ordering any civilian found outside to remain in their homes.

Elsewhere, in Highgate, the door of the old church was opened once again, and the Kuang-Shi spread out.