"Get him!" The crowd yelled behind him. How had they found out?! Why
wouldn't they allow him to explain?! Barnabas Collins moved along the
overgrown paths of the woods as quickly as he could. If only he could make
it to the Old House. Julia would help him.
"He's going to the Old House!"... JULIA?! Why was Julia helping them find
him. Had she betrayed him at last? Barnabas' heart pounded as he trudged
along with the help of his cane. Why would she turn on him now? Now!
After all this time... after all they'd been through.
In the distance a cock crew. MORNING! Barnabas knew he must make it to
the Old House by morning... but what good would it do him? Once he was
helpless in his coffin the family could do with him as they wished. They
knew all about him now... and all the years of subterfuge had, in the end,
proven pointless. After all he'd done to protect Elizabeth and the others...
it would be they, and not his myriad supernatural enemies, who would be his
destruction. How? Who had told the family? Who?
Barnabas' old form finally reached the back door to the Old House. He
looked behind him to see how far his pursuers were. WILLIE! That's it!
He would have Willie speed away in the car, and perhaps the family would
believe he'd escaped. However... what if they didn't? What if they searched
the House and found him in his coffin? Barnabas' heart pounded with
nervous desperation as much as from exhaustion. If only they would allow
him to explain. If only Julia hadn't betrayed him. If only...
"Hello Barnabas"
Barnabas turned quickly – too quickly as the popping of his spine testified
– and looked into the gaze of the one individual in all of time that sent a
chill down that spine...
ANGELIQUE!
Barnabas awoke... safe and well in his room at the Great House of Collinwood,
sweat pouring from his brow. A glance to the side of the room brought an
initial start at the sight of the elderly man gazing back at him... from his
bedside mirror. A knock on his door sent another jolt of adrenaline
through his heart.
"Barnabas?" A gentle feminine voice came from the other side of the door,
"Are you alright?" Had he screamed in his sleep? Had he been so
terrified?
"Yes, Maggie," Barnabas returned to his old and dear friend, Maggie Evans,
"Quite alright. I apologize if I startled you."
"Oh, that's alright, as long as you're okay. Would you like anything?"
"No, Maggie," Barnabas began as he opened the door to greet his friend, "I
must have had a nightmare. I believe I'll just go downstairs for a brandy
to calm my nerves a bit."
Maggie smiled, nodded, and headed back to her room. Barnabas smiled after
her. A nightmare, indeed, Barnabas thought to himself, but signifying
what?
The following is a work of fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit will be gained by the author without the express written consent of Dan Curtis Productions. These characters are merely actors upon the stage of my imagination; and will return to their respective posts at the story's completion.
Shadows have once more returned to the Great House of Collinwood. Quentin Collins has disappeared under extremely curious circumstances. His son, Vial Stone, has set off with Magdalena Rakosi to investigate Quentin's recent past in the hopes of somehow uncovering clues as to his whereabouts. Meanwhile, back at the Great House, Barnabas Collins is about to make a startling discovery. One that could lead to the end of the Collins family... or, perhaps, its redemption...
Shadows of the Future
(Book II of the Dark Shadows: Legacy of Shadows Trilogy)
CHAPTER 1
The rain pounded the windows of the Great House of Collinwood. A flash of lightening lit up the entire grounds of the estate, and the resulting thunder shook the house to its ancient foundations. In the Drawing Room of the Great House, Barnabas Collins sat, dressed in his smoking jacket, sipping a brandy as he gazed at the portrait of his dearly departed wife and friend, Julia Hoffman-Collins. The smile on her elegant face adding even more radiance to eyes so green with life that Barnabas swore he could still feel her presence there with him. As much as he wished that were so, however, his true wish for her was that she was in a much, much better place.
She'd spent so much of her life here at Collinwood, facing supernatural threat after supernatural threat. Once those threats had been done away with for good – or so they had thought anyway – Barnabas and Julia had gone on to spend more than ten years of wedded bliss together... before she had succumbed to a strange manner of cancer, one that the doctors had never seen before and did not know how to treat. Though she had never said so, Barnabas knew that Julia – as good a physician as she had been – was at least a little suspicious that the experiments she had done in the late 1960's to rid Barnabas of his vampire curse could have exposed her to unstable elements that her body did its best, but ultimately failed, to ward off.
As Barnabas felt the tear come once more to his eye, one of countless thousands he had shed at the loss of not only a wife, but his most valued and trusted friend, he fought to change the subject in his mind... reaching for the letter that had come in that morning's e-mail, the wonderful twenty- first century communication device that would have seemed utterly alien in the eighteenth century world to which Barnabas had been born. The letter was from his cousin, Vial Stone – the long-unknown son of his dear friend and cousin, Quentin – who had written from Tel Aviv, Israel; where he and his lady friend, Magdalena, were investigating the recent disappearance of Quentin... a disappearance that had all within the Great House wondering if the dark shadows of the Collins family would ever truly be a thing of the past.
It had been more than a month now since the disappearance. Magdalena had answered the door early one morning to a man who insisted on seeing Quentin immediately. Not, perhaps, an overly unusual occurrence in and of itself, when Magdalena told them the name of the mysterious visitor, Barnabas had been unable to keep the shock and horror from his face (and even if he had, Willie's pale pallor would have given just as much away). Nicholas Blair, a warlock and old enemy of Barnabas's. He had once caused a great deal of worry and horror for the members of the Collins family. Barnabas wished he had been able to say that he had defeated Blair himself; but the truth was that Blair had defeated himself when he chose to ignore the orders of his demon master and pursue a relationship with Maggie Evans. Barnabas could not help but laugh a little at the memory. Maggie Evans. He looked up to the ceiling, where her room, even now, was directly above him. How many of Hell's fiends had lost their souls to loving her over the years. Her purity of heart and strength of conviction had been enough to drive many a monster mad with passion. He had, of course, told Stone and the rest of the family all he knew of Blair; a tale that Adam had been more than able to help with... although the thought of Blair's return frightened him as much as it had Barnabas and Willie. Adam, too, had suffered at Blair's machinations. Blair had promised Adam – the man-made man – a mate, a "Bride of Frankenstein" as it were. However, as with most of the devil's promises, this one was not at all what it appeared. The new creature – Eve she'd appropriately been called – abhorred Adam. Unlike Adam, Eve had been brought to life with a specific soul already planned for her... the soul of one of Nicholas' lovers from the past, a dark witch with a heart of pure evil and a penchant for buggery. Once it was certain that Blair had truly taken Quentin away, the entire family immediately moved to action. David stayed in the Bangor mansion with his newly reunited family to protect them. Carolyn and Adam, also, went to Bangor to shore up Collins Enterprises, making sure that the company was secure from any attack from that angle. After all, it had only been recently that the spirit of Count Andreas Petofi had attempted to take over Collins Enterprises as well as Collinwood. If Nicholas were "phase two" of a multi-pronged attack on the family, the new joint CEO's of the company were going to be prepared for battle. Stone had decided that he would retrace his father's steps of the last few years to see what clues he could dig up. An archeologist by trade, piecing together puzzles was nothing new to the dashing young addition to the Collins family. At Stone's side, of course, was his new ladylove, Magdalena. An immigrant to this time from the late-19th Century, Magdalena had fallen hopelessly in love with the apple that had not fallen far at all from Quentin's family tree. Aware of his werewolf curse, Magdalena was more than equipped to be of help to Stone as no other person in the world. Thinking of their impenetrable relationship reminded Barnabas once more of Julia. He glanced at the letter from Stone to once more cleanse his mind from dwelling on his loss.
Cousin Barnabas,
We have just left Megiddo, Israel, where Quentin was just a year ago. There, we met a lady that had been his companion for several years. It Appears that whatever happened to him to end his curse must have Happened about twenty years ago. We mentioned Blair, and it appeared That the lady knew exactly who we were talking about. She told us that the
Answers we sought might be found in Cairo. We're heading there by plane Tomorrow. Don't worry, sir, we will get to the bottom of this... no matter Where that may lead us. Magdalena sends her regards. We shall be in touch.
Your Cousin,
Vial R. Stone
Barnabas folded the letter – which he must have read a dozen times since this afternoon – and placed it gently on the table beside his large Victorian chair. He could not help but worry about Stone and Magdalena. They had no idea the evil they were dealing with. In fact, in all his centuries of existence, he'd known only one creature powerful enough to stand against Blair. "Oh, Angelique..." Barnabas mused, "How we could use your help right now." A loud bang brought Barnabas' attention immediately to the window, the wind had blown the giant bay window open, slamming it against the wall. Fortunately, the glass did not shatter. Barnabas raised himself slowly with his cane and made his way to the window, closing it and securing the latch he was certain had already been fastened shut. He smiled and looked around the room. "Are you here with me still, my old enemy and love?" He knew he would get no answer. Even if Angelique were still here with him in spirit – and many times since her saving him from Count Petofi he'd felt like she was – she would not answer him. For two hundred years he'd traveled the broad expanse of human emotions with his first wife, Angelique Collins. Passion in Martinique. Hatred at her bewitching machinations that killed many of his family and turned Barnabas, himself, into a vampire. Fear at her arrival in the present and threats against his new family. Appreciation for her assistance in battling the Leviathan menace. Then, at last, love at the moment that it was too late to tell her... "Barnabas?" A voice from the door brought Barnabas back to the here and now. "Yes, Willie?" Although an interruption from his thoughts, few voices were as welcome to Barnabas's ears as his oldest friend in this century, Willie Loomis. "I've found somethin' you really need to see." Barnabas removed his pocket watch, noticing the late hour. "Can it wait until morning, Willie?" "Trust me, Barnabas, if it could I wouldn't'a bothered ya." "Of course, what is it?" "It's in the kitchen... it's what you've been lookin' for." Barnabas froze with apprehension. After months of looking, they'd finally found the staircase.
Magdalena stared in awe at the bustling Cairo airport. She could remember – had it really only been five months ago – how fantastic the world of the twenty-first century had seemed to her at Collinwood. Dishwashers, automobiles, microwave ovens, music machines that were a far cry from what she'd been used to as a child, not to mention machines to both wash and dry one's clothes; but nothing had prepared her for the phenomenon that was flight.
Stone had been so gallant not to tease her. He'd just watched her like an amused parent would a child on the brink of some every-day discovery. Now, he held her hand, leading her to the station where they would claim their baggage. In a surprisingly short span of time – considering the crowds – they were out front where a long line of small, strange looking automobiles lined the busy street; their drivers eagerly motioning the incoming tourists.
"Sadeke!" Stone yelled in the general direction of the drivers. Though several responded, Stone led Magdalena to an elderly man near the front of the pack. The man had a kindly look on his face.
"Salaam, my friends," the old man made a friendly gesture of tipping a non-existent hat, "welcome to Cairo; and how may I be of service to you today?"
"How much for your services?" Stone got right to the point.
"For you, my friend, because you have such handsome facial hair and travel with such a beautiful woman... 500 pounds for the week."
"How much for just the weekend?" Stone knew he could easily afford the hundred-fifty-or-so dollars the man was asking; but he also knew how important haggling was in this city, and that doing so would lead the gentleman to be more forthcoming and accommodating to maintain his fare.
"Shall we say... 200 pounds?"
Stone smiled. "Let's say 100 pounds... plus extra if you can help us find some answers."
The old man smiled warmly, "For you my friend, because you have such a kind smile... it is a deal." He opened the door for the two travelers. He got behind the wheel, smiling into his rear-view mirror, "I am Mustafa Ahmed, where may I take you?"
"Cairo Hotel, please," Stone instructed the driver.
As they drove along, Magdalena was filled with questions. "Why are you going to pay him so much just to take us to the hotel?"
Stone laughed, "No, he's agreeing to be our driver for the entire weekend. He'll wait outside the hotel, and anytime we want to go anywhere, he'll be waiting for us. If we go to a restaurant, he'll wait outside as we eat. It's how they make a living."
Magdalena was fascinated. "And they do not run off with your money?" She had known many men who did such things in New York... well, New York of 1897 anyway.
"Oh, I suppose there are those who do, but few... these people have families to support, and that'd be hard to do by stiffing everyone. The other drivers would be quick to use it to steal business from him."
"And 'sadeke'? That is Egyptian for...?"
"'Friend'."
Magdalena sat back in Stone's arms, content for the moment. Her thoughts, however, soon returned to the reason for their travels.
"Do you believe we will find answers about your father and Nicholas Blair here?"
"I hope to," Stone looked out the window at the amazing structures of the city.
Magdalena knew the strain that the past month had been on her lover. Stone had come to Collinwood much the same time she had. However, whereas she had come looking for the vampyre that had been responsible for the death of her father, Stone had come looking for his father... and he'd found Quentin Collins. The two men were very similar – aside even from the striking physical resemblance – and had bonded almost immediately. Magdalena, herself, had been the one who had let Nicholas Blair into Collinwood that summer morning... having no idea that the man was there to take Quentin away... to wherever he now was.
"I'll call Collinwood as soon as we get checked into the hotel." Stone brought her out of her guilty reverie. She looked at him and he smiled back at her... reaching over to touch her face and kiss her gently. Not once since Quentin's disappearance had Stone said or intimated anything that would have indicated that he blamed her in any way. As she looked at him now she realized – for the thousandth time – how much she truly loved him; and although she was enjoying their travels, she was eager to return to Collinwood and have this nightmare far behind them. Then, she could once more begin the search in the house for the mysterious staircase that had brought her to this time from her own century... although she was no longer sure she would use it.
"I was puttin' up some gardenin' equipment that I'd brought in before the storm," Willie explained to his old friend and employer, "I turned around... and there it was..." He opened a door at the back of the kitchen to a rear hallway.
Barnabas walked in, looking first right then left... and there it was. "The stairway of time."
Built in the year 1840 by Quentin Collins – not the one who was even now missing, but, rather, an ancestor of the same name – it worked on principles of science mixed with just a tad of the supernatural. It had been by way of this staircase that Julia had escaped an army of zombies that were attacking Collinwood in 1970, finding her way back to 1840. Barnabas eventually met up with her there, and both used the same means to return to their present. Before leaving 1840, Barnabas and Julia had made Desmond Collins – cousin and close friend to that century's Quentin – swear that as soon as they'd traversed the stairs, he would destroy the staircase. Barnabas and Julia returned to 1970, and the dark shadows that had for so long cursed the Collins family were supposedly a thing of the past... as was the stairway through time.
Then, earlier this year, something strange had happened. Magdalena Rakosi had shown up at Collinwood from the year 1898. At first she had come as a hunter... looking for the vampire that she believed had caused the death of her father... the vampire Barnabas Collins. However, the Barnabas she found was no longer a monster. She'd grown fond of him and even taken a job as a housekeeper at Collinwood. She still held that position, officially. The means by which Magdalena had come from the past, according to her own confused account, was the stairway through time... a stairway that disappeared as soon as she'd arrived in the present.
That had given Barnabas a riddle that he'd been suffering with for months now. If Desmond had destroyed the staircase in 1840 – and Barnabas and Julia had taken great pains over the proceeding weeks of their return to ensure that he had – why did it suddenly show up again... only to disappear again? The only answer Barnabas had been able to hypothesize was that time remained constant and parallel in that January 1, 2002 ran congruously with January 1, 1840; or even January 1, 1898. That would mean that, for example, if the staircase had been created in September of 1839, but destroyed in January of 1840, then throughout time, the staircase would appear during those months of its existence, and gone for those months that it no longer – or had not yet – existed.
Barnabas' mind swirled with the idea to the point that it nearly gave him a headache every time he'd stopped to think on it. He'd discussed his ideas several times over the past months with both Quentin and Stone, both of whom appeared to concur with his theories. If Barnabas was correct, then the stairway should stay visible for the next several months; long enough for Magdalena to return and choose if she wanted to go back down... down?
"Willie?" Barnabas became suddenly aware of something he'd not taken into consideration before... something that now threatened to cast aside all he'd theorized and open new questions.
"Yeah, Barnabas?" Willie came into the hall, nervously.
"When Magdalena came from 1898, she said she'd come 'up' the stairs... as did Julia and myself when we returned from 1840."
"How can that be, Barnabas?" Willie looked up the dusty stairway, "That would mean that to go back in time, you'd have to go down the stairs... but these stairs..."
"Only go up."
"What does it mean, Barnabas?" Willie looked nervously behind him as if another half of the stairway might appear at any moment.
"I'm not sure," Barnabas thought carefully. "Willie, go to the foyer and fetch my suit jacket and coat," Barnabas began even then to remove his smoking jacket and place it on the stair rail.
"What're ya gonna do?" Willie waited before following his friend's instructions, "You ain't goin' up there!"
"Yes, Willie, that is precisely what I plan to do."
"Then... I'm goin' with ya."
"No!" Barnabas would allow for no insubordination in this matter. "When I begin to go up, you are to close off this hall and board up all the entrances."
"How will you get back? How will I know when ya get back?!" Willie was almost frantic.
Barnabas was piecing together his plan even as Willie protested. Even at nearly eighty years old, his mental prowess was as sharp as ever... perhaps a remnant leftover from his vampire days; a small blessing to do what it could to make up for the curse. "Willie, I will leave my cell phone here on the door ledge. When I come back I will call you and you may then come and release me; but I do not want to run the risk of anyone else chancing upon this staircase and becoming lost in time."
"You think this is where Blair took Quentin?"
"I doubt it, Willie," Barnabas looked up once more wishing that his friend's hypothesis were possible. "We've searched here for the stairway several times over the weeks of Quentin's disappearance... and this is the first time we've seen it."
Willie went quickly for Barnabas' jacket and coat. "What'd'ya need these for?"
"I have no idea what I'll find at the top, Willie. Collinwood may be nothing but a pile of rubble wherever this leads; and I'm a tad old to go traipsing outside without a jacket now, aren't I." Plus, Barnabas knew from experience, if he discovered some future incarnation of the Collins family, he may be forced once again to pass himself off as a distant relative... a thought that Barnabas found almost as amusing as he found it frightening.
With the assistance of both his cane and the railing, Barnabas Collins began to traverse the stairs.
"Good luck, Barnabas," Willie called up after him, "don't worry about nuthin'. I'll take care of things while yer gone... and I'll tell Stone what's goin' on when he gets in touch."
Barnabas did not respond. He kept his gaze on the top stair, moving as quickly as his elderly body could manage toward the apex. As he did, he became increasingly nervous. What would he find? Was he, indeed, moving toward the future? Was this a foolhardy mission? No, if he were correct about the staircase, it should remain stable for a time. Then again, if he'd been correct about the staircase... wouldn't it have gone down instead of up?
Finally, he reached the top stair. As he nervously grabbed the brass door handle at the top, he looked back down to see if he could still see Willie... but what he saw froze his blood...
The staircase was disappearing below him.
Willie was no longer visible; and, in fact, as Barnabas stared on in horror, he saw as, one by one, the stairs were disappearing... the void of the remaining blackness encroaching slowly but surely toward his direction. He turned the door handle and pushed.
Locked.
Had he sealed his own fate? Had the door that he'd just ordered locked and boarded now become his own doorway to oblivion? One by one the stairs below were vanishing.
Barnabas pushed and then pounded on the door.
"Hello!" He looked once more... only about a dozen or so stairs remaining. "HELLO!!!" He pounded on the door desperately. Could this be it? Would he be seeing his beloved Julia soon? Or would he simply be trapped in some sort of time limbo? Ten stairs remaining... eight... six... three...
The Phone! Barnabas urgently searched the doorwell for his cell phone. Would it be dead after all this time? How much time had passed? When he found it, it was barely visible under layers of dust. Barnabas glanced to the side... the third step was slowly becoming enveloped by the void. He pushed the power button to turn on his cell... and to his overjoyed surprise it beeped to life. Barnabas leaned on the doorknob as he punched in the number for Collinwood.
Suddenly, the door gave and Barnabas fell to the floor on the other side. As he gained his bearings, he looked back at the door... and the empty hallway on the other side.
Barnabas looked around to find his cane. Then, next to the door, he saw what appeared to be a metal rod of some kind... holding his cane.
"WELCOME TO COLLINWOOD, MR. COLLINS."
Barnabas took the cane from the metal arm and used it to slowly raise himself. Looking around for the source of the welcoming, and even warm, female voice.
"I'm afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, my dear," he looked around, figuring that the voice must have come from some unseen wall monitor or something. "May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of speaking?"
"Well, Barnabas, don't you recognize her?" An aged male voice came from directly behind Barnabas. He turned to see who it was, and saw what appeared to be...
"Roger?"
The old man laughed. "Not quite... guess again." Charles Collins made his way slowly, but surely, to greet his old cousin. Barnabas figured out quickly who it was, and was glad to find someone he knew.
"And the young lady?" Barnabas smiled as he pointed his cane at the wall speaker.
"I, MR. COLLINS... AM THE GREAT HOUSE OF COLLINWOOD."
The shock on Barnabas' face was met with laughter from his new contemporary. "Welcome home, Cousin Barnabas." With that, Barnabas joined in the laughter, and Charles led him to the Drawing Room where explanations could be more comfortably forthcoming.
From a distance the vampire watched the lights in the windows of the Great House of Collinwood. Knowing what it knew of the house, it dare not go any closer... which saddened the creature all the more. This had been its ancestral home... a part of the Collins family for centuries; and, yet, it was a place the vampire could no longer go. The night enveloped this creature, as much a part of its existence as the very flesh on its bones or the blood in its veins. The blood in my veins, it thought to itself... and laughed. This vampire abhorred the night as it abhorred itself; a despicable creature between life and death.
There were those in the Great House that were responsible for what had transpired... and it was well past time that they paid for their sins. The Collins family once stood as a symbol of what was right about this town. Now, the name 'Collins' was cursed by every man, woman, and child for a thousand miles. All because of him.
Well, the vampire thought to itself, you won't have much longer to wait for your eternal reward, Mr. Collins... not long at all.
Barnabas watched in awe at what had become of his ancestral home. From its construction in 1795 to Barnabas's own present, little had changed... but now...
"Yes," Charles Collins handed a cup of coffee to his awe-stricken cousin, "the house is completely computerized now. Watch," Charles lifted his head and spoke to nothing but air, "Collinwood, prepare a room for our guest."
"YES, MR. COLLINS," and only a moment later, "A ROOM IS PREPARED AT THE SOUTHERN CORNER OF THE WEST WING. WILL THERE BE ANYTHING ELSE?"
Charles laughed again at Barnabas' amazement, "No, Collinwood, that will be all for now, thank you."
"YOU ARE QUITE WELCOME, MASTER." Charles had given a stern look to... well, nothing in particular... at the word 'master'.
"No need of servants, I suppose." Barnabas sipped his coffee.
"Not really," Charles looked toward the foyer, and Barnabas could've sworn he perceived just the slightest bit of malevolence in Charles' features, "but I keep some around... just for the heck of it."
"I see..." Something was not right... and centuries of experience at Collinwood told Barnabas exactly that. "Who else lives here? Carolyn? Your father?"
Charles exacted a somber mood. "Alas, I am the last of the Collins family." Barnabas could swear that Charles was using his cup to hide a broadening smile.
"My Lord," Barnabas took this information as a deep, personal loss. "What year is this, Charles?"
"2032, Barnabas... and you've been dead for nearly thirty years."
Barnabas was completely floored by this. That had meant that he had died the same year he'd just left! Or, had he merely never returned from here... either way... "I'm sure you're wondering..."
"How you got here?" Charles smiled as he placed his cup down and sat in the large chair by the fireplace. "Not really. Once we computerized the house, it told us of all the 'problems' it had." Indeed, what was supposed to have been a simple programming of artificial intelligence had, instead, given birth to a new kind of lifeform. Collinwood – due in no small part to the myriad mystical energies that had surrounded it for centuries – had gained sentience with the installment of its computerized brain. "We know about the room in the East Wing as well as the 'stairway' you just arrived through. In fact, the house has been expecting you for some time now."
"Well," all of this was almost too much for Barnabas to take, "since you need no answers from me..."
"You'd like to know what's been going on since you left."
"If you don't mind."
"Perhaps tomorrow, old friend." Charles pushed a button on his chair, and it raised him to a standing position. "I'm a bit worn out tonight, if you don't mind."
"Of course," Barnabas sensed that the subject of the 'past' was not something Charles wanted to discuss at all; but he simply had to know what had happened to all those he loved. Had Quentin been found? What had happened to the rest of the family?
"Tomorrow, then," Charles motioned Barnabas to the doors, which opened as they approached. As Barnabas took the first step of the Grand Staircase in the foyer, he was suddenly jolted forward. He looked down, and saw that the stairs were now...
"An escalator?" Barnabas smiled at Charles like a child who'd just discovered a new toy.
"It does speed up the process a bit." Charles smiled as Barnabas ascended the staircase to the landing above. As soon as he'd disappeared through the second-floor doorway, though, that smile was immediately replaced with a scowl. "Do not call me 'master' while he is here!" Charles spoke to the thin air once more.
"YES, MR. COLLINS."
"Are all rooms secure? Magdalena? Loomis? The witch?"
"ALL ROOMS ARE SECURE AND NO ONE IS AS YET AWARE OF MR. BARNABAS'S ARRIVAL. WOULD YOU LIKE THEM APPRISED?"
With that, Charles found his laughter once more. "No, they'll all find out about eachother in time."
"IF I MAY SIR?"
"What?!"
"ISN'T IT DANGEROUS FOR MR. BARNABAS TO BE HERE? AREN'T YOU CONCERNED WHAT HE MIGHT DO ONCE HE LEARNS..."
"He's as feeble as I am," Charles harrumphed to the computer, "No, his being here now will just be icing for the cake." And with that, Charles Collins allowed his laughter to echo through the first-floor halls as he made his way to his own bedchamber.
And outside the Great House of Collinwood, a wolf howled.
Barnabas woke, unsure as to whether the amazing events of the previous night had all been a dream. One look at his surroundings answered the question for him. The room was elegantly furnished, with touches of both the classic beauty that had traditionally been Collinwood mixed with obviously "modern" additions: a personal computer, built into the wall; a television set on a small, retractable arm near the edge of the bed; and, of course, the remote to the bed itself. Barnabas touched the button with a picture of a stick figure being raised from a resting to standing position. In a matter of milliseconds, the mattress began to gently move, contouring to the shape of his body, moving him first toward the edge, and then gently to an upright position.
"Good Morning, Mr. Collins."
"Good Morning, er..."
"You may refer to me as Collinwood, Mr. Collins."
"Yes, of course," Barnabas was not sure he could get used to this. The fact that the house was now sentient... it was beyond imagination!
"Please do not be disturbed, Mr. Collins," it was obviously clairvoyant as well, "I have always been a sentient entity... I merely lacked the means with which to express myself."
This made Barnabas even more uncomfortable, "May I ask how you achieved sentience?"
"You may ask."
"Well...?"
"I apologize, Mr. Collins, but I am not programmed to answer that question. However, you are, of course, free to ask."
Curious. "Are you, indeed, 'not programmed' to answer; or are you programmed to not answer?"
A long silence followed. Obviously, Barnabas had offered a conundrum for which the computerized brain was not immediately prepared. This troubled Barnabas. Who would have "programmed" the computer to not respond to such a simple question... and why?
"Mr. Charles is waiting for you in the dining room... would you care to freshen up?" At that, a wall panel slid to one side, revealing a large, luxurious water closet.
"Thank you, yes." Barnabas reached for his cane.
"A new suit will be prepared for you when you are ready."
"A new suit?" Barnabas realized, now that he thought of it, that Charles had been dressed quite differently than he the previous night. "But, how...?"
"during the night, I took the liberty of acquiring a suit for you. I assure you that the size is correct."
"Of that I have no doubt." Barnabas was amazed. It took the liberty? Obviously, this computerized Collinwood was not merely the robotic slave of its master. It could independently think and conduct activities of its own accord. Yet, it was not "programmed" to answer a simple question. Could it be that 'young' Charles had changed a great deal over the decades? Had losing the family driven him mad? Well, Barnabas thought, I can only answer those questions once I've readied myself for the day. With that, Barnabas made his way to the water closet for a refreshing shower before going down to get some answers from his new host.
In the tower room, she wept. She'd heard the howls of the wolf the night before... just as she had every night for... what was it... thirty years? Who knew for sure? Time had no meaning up here. What was worse, if anyone saw her, they would never know that she'd been locked in this room for years. That infernal machine kept her bathed, her hair trimmed, even her nails trimmed, in her sleep. No matter if she refused to care for herself, to allow herself to die... the computer would not allow it. Even when she tried to starve herself to death, the computer had fed her intravenously in her sleep.
She'd given up years ago beating on the door. She was sure that the sound only gave him more pleasure. She walked to the window – barred from actually touching it by some unseen barrier – and looked out upon the estate. From her window, she could see the wolf... chained in his usual spot near the edge of the woods. It, too, was a prisoner here; but not just within a confinement like she was. The poor animal was confined within its own body... a man trapped in the body of a dog... forever. Her man. Her beloved... Stone.
The table in the Dining Room of Collinwood was very similar – if not identical – to the one of Barnabas's own time. A modest spread of delicacies awaited Barnabas, as did his host.
"Good morning, Cousin," Charles Collins greeted with a warmth that was almost... cold, "Hope you slept well."
"Like the dead," Barnabas decided that whatever game Charles was playing, it would behoove him most to play along... for the moment. Barnabas sat, placed his napkin in his lap, and took a sip first of the cup of coffee to the upper right of his plate. "Does the computer serve the meals as well?" He would not have thought it possible, but, then again, there was so much about Collinwood that he would have never imagined in his wildest dreams.
Charles failed to completely hide his smile with his own coffee cup, "No, Cousin, I have... other servants... to help with such things."
"Well," Barnabas quickly added, "my compliments to whomever concocted this magnificent cup of coffee."
"Thank you, I will pass the message along." Charles ate slowly, more picking at his food than eating it. Barnabas noticed this. As welcoming as he had been so far, it was clear that Charles was greatly unsettled by Barnabas' presence here in the future.
"I am anxious to continue our discussion from last night. I am most curious as to what has happened to the rest of the family."
Charles wiped his mouth with his napkin, sipped his coffee once more, and then overtly braced himself as if preparing to deliver bad news. "Well, as you may have surmised, Father and Mother have passed on since your disappearance." David and Catherine Collins, Charles' parents; one from this time, the other not. Each, however, desperately in love with the other. Barnabas was saddened to hear of their deaths, but not overly surprised. They would be in their seventies by now. Apparently modern medicine had failed to evolve with technology. Charles continued, "Stone and Magdalena went their separate ways decades ago..."
Barnabas noticed Charles looking away as he informed Barnabas of the two young lovers – well, young when Barnabas had last seen them anyway. Also, Charles had blinked rather heavily on the word 'went'. He's lying. Centuries of life had made Barnabas an expert on the human condition. Whatever the fates of Stone and Magdalena had been... Charles did not wish Barnabas to know. That was something that Barnabas definitely needed to keep in mind for the future. Perhaps, they were still somewhere close. Potential allies in an unknown and potentially dangerous new world.
"What of Quentin?" Barnabas had to know if his old friend and cousin had ever been retrieved from the evil Nicholas Blair.
"He was never found, Cousin." Charles sat upright in his chair. Unfortunately, it appeared that he was, at least, telling the truth about Quentin. That saddened Barnabas more than any other news could have. Had he been in some hellish other dimension for decades now? Was he dead? If only Barnabas still had access to...
"Angelique," Charles said, mentioning the very person of whom Barnabas was now thinking. "Angelique was summoned finally in a last ditch attempt to contact Quentin. Her failure to do so was met with... an unfortunate end."
"What?" Barnabas could not believe it. Angelique had returned to Collinwood? After his departure up the staircase?
Charles was visibly pleased by the anguish on his cousin's face. Barnabas caught notice of that pleasure just a split-second before it was erased from Charles' features. What manner of man are you, Charles Collins? And what threat do you pose to me here?
"Enough talk of the past, old friend," Charles rang the servants' bell to his right, "Some more coffee, perhaps?"
"Yes," Barnabas was still reeling from the news of Angelique's return... and her death... again. A clanking sound roused him from his reverie back to the here-and-now. At first, Barnabas assumed that the 'servant' whom Charles was summoning was some type of robot. The metallic footsteps sending vibrations all throughout the Dining Room said as much. He was not, however, prepared for what eventually entered from the Kitchen...
The metallic frame extended the entire expanse of the five-foot-seven- inch frame of the individual it held... if what it held could even be considered an individual. Metallic splints worked on either side of the poor creature's legs and arms. Colostomy bags hung from the frame's midsection, only partially filled with human waste. Some type of computer was connected – surgically it seemed – to the being's chest. It carried a tray of coffee in front of it as it walked the expanse of the table to Barnabas's side. As it reached him, Barnabas drummed up the courage to look into its face...
Like the rest of him, the 'servant's' neck was held in place by plastic/metallic splints. The entire lower jaw was metallic... the original human jaw apparently removed for whatever reason. The frail, century-old face was a horror in and of itself. Teeth bared by a lack of lips. Nose decayed to nothing more than two holes in his skull. And the eyes... dear God, the eyes... his lids had been removed! The eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul... if that were the case, then this creature had lost his soul ages ago. All that remained behind those eyes was a mindless automaton... or was it? As the creature looked closely at Barnabas, a tear began rolling down his wrinkled and almost-lifeless cheek. Barnabas watched as the creature tried to speak...
"Ba...Ba..." It was clear that the creature had little if any control over its prosthetic lower jaw. Its failure to speak only irritated it more, causing more tears. Barnabas looked closely into its eyes for some spark of familiarity... and found it. The creature possessed a terror in its eyes that Barnabas recognized only all too well. This creature had been a man once... a man that had experienced a different type of horror at the hands of Barnabas himself...
"My God," Barnabas's horror was even more overpowering than his anger, "WILLIE!"
The following is a work of fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit will be gained by the author without the express written consent of Dan Curtis Productions. These characters are merely actors upon the stage of my imagination; and will return to their respective posts at the story's completion.
Shadows have once more returned to the Great House of Collinwood. Quentin Collins has disappeared under extremely curious circumstances. His son, Vial Stone, has set off with Magdalena Rakosi to investigate Quentin's recent past in the hopes of somehow uncovering clues as to his whereabouts. Meanwhile, back at the Great House, Barnabas Collins is about to make a startling discovery. One that could lead to the end of the Collins family... or, perhaps, its redemption...
Shadows of the Future
(Book II of the Dark Shadows: Legacy of Shadows Trilogy)
CHAPTER 1
The rain pounded the windows of the Great House of Collinwood. A flash of lightening lit up the entire grounds of the estate, and the resulting thunder shook the house to its ancient foundations. In the Drawing Room of the Great House, Barnabas Collins sat, dressed in his smoking jacket, sipping a brandy as he gazed at the portrait of his dearly departed wife and friend, Julia Hoffman-Collins. The smile on her elegant face adding even more radiance to eyes so green with life that Barnabas swore he could still feel her presence there with him. As much as he wished that were so, however, his true wish for her was that she was in a much, much better place.
She'd spent so much of her life here at Collinwood, facing supernatural threat after supernatural threat. Once those threats had been done away with for good – or so they had thought anyway – Barnabas and Julia had gone on to spend more than ten years of wedded bliss together... before she had succumbed to a strange manner of cancer, one that the doctors had never seen before and did not know how to treat. Though she had never said so, Barnabas knew that Julia – as good a physician as she had been – was at least a little suspicious that the experiments she had done in the late 1960's to rid Barnabas of his vampire curse could have exposed her to unstable elements that her body did its best, but ultimately failed, to ward off.
As Barnabas felt the tear come once more to his eye, one of countless thousands he had shed at the loss of not only a wife, but his most valued and trusted friend, he fought to change the subject in his mind... reaching for the letter that had come in that morning's e-mail, the wonderful twenty- first century communication device that would have seemed utterly alien in the eighteenth century world to which Barnabas had been born. The letter was from his cousin, Vial Stone – the long-unknown son of his dear friend and cousin, Quentin – who had written from Tel Aviv, Israel; where he and his lady friend, Magdalena, were investigating the recent disappearance of Quentin... a disappearance that had all within the Great House wondering if the dark shadows of the Collins family would ever truly be a thing of the past.
It had been more than a month now since the disappearance. Magdalena had answered the door early one morning to a man who insisted on seeing Quentin immediately. Not, perhaps, an overly unusual occurrence in and of itself, when Magdalena told them the name of the mysterious visitor, Barnabas had been unable to keep the shock and horror from his face (and even if he had, Willie's pale pallor would have given just as much away). Nicholas Blair, a warlock and old enemy of Barnabas's. He had once caused a great deal of worry and horror for the members of the Collins family. Barnabas wished he had been able to say that he had defeated Blair himself; but the truth was that Blair had defeated himself when he chose to ignore the orders of his demon master and pursue a relationship with Maggie Evans. Barnabas could not help but laugh a little at the memory. Maggie Evans. He looked up to the ceiling, where her room, even now, was directly above him. How many of Hell's fiends had lost their souls to loving her over the years. Her purity of heart and strength of conviction had been enough to drive many a monster mad with passion. He had, of course, told Stone and the rest of the family all he knew of Blair; a tale that Adam had been more than able to help with... although the thought of Blair's return frightened him as much as it had Barnabas and Willie. Adam, too, had suffered at Blair's machinations. Blair had promised Adam – the man-made man – a mate, a "Bride of Frankenstein" as it were. However, as with most of the devil's promises, this one was not at all what it appeared. The new creature – Eve she'd appropriately been called – abhorred Adam. Unlike Adam, Eve had been brought to life with a specific soul already planned for her... the soul of one of Nicholas' lovers from the past, a dark witch with a heart of pure evil and a penchant for buggery. Once it was certain that Blair had truly taken Quentin away, the entire family immediately moved to action. David stayed in the Bangor mansion with his newly reunited family to protect them. Carolyn and Adam, also, went to Bangor to shore up Collins Enterprises, making sure that the company was secure from any attack from that angle. After all, it had only been recently that the spirit of Count Andreas Petofi had attempted to take over Collins Enterprises as well as Collinwood. If Nicholas were "phase two" of a multi-pronged attack on the family, the new joint CEO's of the company were going to be prepared for battle. Stone had decided that he would retrace his father's steps of the last few years to see what clues he could dig up. An archeologist by trade, piecing together puzzles was nothing new to the dashing young addition to the Collins family. At Stone's side, of course, was his new ladylove, Magdalena. An immigrant to this time from the late-19th Century, Magdalena had fallen hopelessly in love with the apple that had not fallen far at all from Quentin's family tree. Aware of his werewolf curse, Magdalena was more than equipped to be of help to Stone as no other person in the world. Thinking of their impenetrable relationship reminded Barnabas once more of Julia. He glanced at the letter from Stone to once more cleanse his mind from dwelling on his loss.
Cousin Barnabas,
We have just left Megiddo, Israel, where Quentin was just a year ago. There, we met a lady that had been his companion for several years. It Appears that whatever happened to him to end his curse must have Happened about twenty years ago. We mentioned Blair, and it appeared That the lady knew exactly who we were talking about. She told us that the
Answers we sought might be found in Cairo. We're heading there by plane Tomorrow. Don't worry, sir, we will get to the bottom of this... no matter Where that may lead us. Magdalena sends her regards. We shall be in touch.
Your Cousin,
Vial R. Stone
Barnabas folded the letter – which he must have read a dozen times since this afternoon – and placed it gently on the table beside his large Victorian chair. He could not help but worry about Stone and Magdalena. They had no idea the evil they were dealing with. In fact, in all his centuries of existence, he'd known only one creature powerful enough to stand against Blair. "Oh, Angelique..." Barnabas mused, "How we could use your help right now." A loud bang brought Barnabas' attention immediately to the window, the wind had blown the giant bay window open, slamming it against the wall. Fortunately, the glass did not shatter. Barnabas raised himself slowly with his cane and made his way to the window, closing it and securing the latch he was certain had already been fastened shut. He smiled and looked around the room. "Are you here with me still, my old enemy and love?" He knew he would get no answer. Even if Angelique were still here with him in spirit – and many times since her saving him from Count Petofi he'd felt like she was – she would not answer him. For two hundred years he'd traveled the broad expanse of human emotions with his first wife, Angelique Collins. Passion in Martinique. Hatred at her bewitching machinations that killed many of his family and turned Barnabas, himself, into a vampire. Fear at her arrival in the present and threats against his new family. Appreciation for her assistance in battling the Leviathan menace. Then, at last, love at the moment that it was too late to tell her... "Barnabas?" A voice from the door brought Barnabas back to the here and now. "Yes, Willie?" Although an interruption from his thoughts, few voices were as welcome to Barnabas's ears as his oldest friend in this century, Willie Loomis. "I've found somethin' you really need to see." Barnabas removed his pocket watch, noticing the late hour. "Can it wait until morning, Willie?" "Trust me, Barnabas, if it could I wouldn't'a bothered ya." "Of course, what is it?" "It's in the kitchen... it's what you've been lookin' for." Barnabas froze with apprehension. After months of looking, they'd finally found the staircase.
Magdalena stared in awe at the bustling Cairo airport. She could remember – had it really only been five months ago – how fantastic the world of the twenty-first century had seemed to her at Collinwood. Dishwashers, automobiles, microwave ovens, music machines that were a far cry from what she'd been used to as a child, not to mention machines to both wash and dry one's clothes; but nothing had prepared her for the phenomenon that was flight.
Stone had been so gallant not to tease her. He'd just watched her like an amused parent would a child on the brink of some every-day discovery. Now, he held her hand, leading her to the station where they would claim their baggage. In a surprisingly short span of time – considering the crowds – they were out front where a long line of small, strange looking automobiles lined the busy street; their drivers eagerly motioning the incoming tourists.
"Sadeke!" Stone yelled in the general direction of the drivers. Though several responded, Stone led Magdalena to an elderly man near the front of the pack. The man had a kindly look on his face.
"Salaam, my friends," the old man made a friendly gesture of tipping a non-existent hat, "welcome to Cairo; and how may I be of service to you today?"
"How much for your services?" Stone got right to the point.
"For you, my friend, because you have such handsome facial hair and travel with such a beautiful woman... 500 pounds for the week."
"How much for just the weekend?" Stone knew he could easily afford the hundred-fifty-or-so dollars the man was asking; but he also knew how important haggling was in this city, and that doing so would lead the gentleman to be more forthcoming and accommodating to maintain his fare.
"Shall we say... 200 pounds?"
Stone smiled. "Let's say 100 pounds... plus extra if you can help us find some answers."
The old man smiled warmly, "For you my friend, because you have such a kind smile... it is a deal." He opened the door for the two travelers. He got behind the wheel, smiling into his rear-view mirror, "I am Mustafa Ahmed, where may I take you?"
"Cairo Hotel, please," Stone instructed the driver.
As they drove along, Magdalena was filled with questions. "Why are you going to pay him so much just to take us to the hotel?"
Stone laughed, "No, he's agreeing to be our driver for the entire weekend. He'll wait outside the hotel, and anytime we want to go anywhere, he'll be waiting for us. If we go to a restaurant, he'll wait outside as we eat. It's how they make a living."
Magdalena was fascinated. "And they do not run off with your money?" She had known many men who did such things in New York... well, New York of 1897 anyway.
"Oh, I suppose there are those who do, but few... these people have families to support, and that'd be hard to do by stiffing everyone. The other drivers would be quick to use it to steal business from him."
"And 'sadeke'? That is Egyptian for...?"
"'Friend'."
Magdalena sat back in Stone's arms, content for the moment. Her thoughts, however, soon returned to the reason for their travels.
"Do you believe we will find answers about your father and Nicholas Blair here?"
"I hope to," Stone looked out the window at the amazing structures of the city.
Magdalena knew the strain that the past month had been on her lover. Stone had come to Collinwood much the same time she had. However, whereas she had come looking for the vampyre that had been responsible for the death of her father, Stone had come looking for his father... and he'd found Quentin Collins. The two men were very similar – aside even from the striking physical resemblance – and had bonded almost immediately. Magdalena, herself, had been the one who had let Nicholas Blair into Collinwood that summer morning... having no idea that the man was there to take Quentin away... to wherever he now was.
"I'll call Collinwood as soon as we get checked into the hotel." Stone brought her out of her guilty reverie. She looked at him and he smiled back at her... reaching over to touch her face and kiss her gently. Not once since Quentin's disappearance had Stone said or intimated anything that would have indicated that he blamed her in any way. As she looked at him now she realized – for the thousandth time – how much she truly loved him; and although she was enjoying their travels, she was eager to return to Collinwood and have this nightmare far behind them. Then, she could once more begin the search in the house for the mysterious staircase that had brought her to this time from her own century... although she was no longer sure she would use it.
"I was puttin' up some gardenin' equipment that I'd brought in before the storm," Willie explained to his old friend and employer, "I turned around... and there it was..." He opened a door at the back of the kitchen to a rear hallway.
Barnabas walked in, looking first right then left... and there it was. "The stairway of time."
Built in the year 1840 by Quentin Collins – not the one who was even now missing, but, rather, an ancestor of the same name – it worked on principles of science mixed with just a tad of the supernatural. It had been by way of this staircase that Julia had escaped an army of zombies that were attacking Collinwood in 1970, finding her way back to 1840. Barnabas eventually met up with her there, and both used the same means to return to their present. Before leaving 1840, Barnabas and Julia had made Desmond Collins – cousin and close friend to that century's Quentin – swear that as soon as they'd traversed the stairs, he would destroy the staircase. Barnabas and Julia returned to 1970, and the dark shadows that had for so long cursed the Collins family were supposedly a thing of the past... as was the stairway through time.
Then, earlier this year, something strange had happened. Magdalena Rakosi had shown up at Collinwood from the year 1898. At first she had come as a hunter... looking for the vampire that she believed had caused the death of her father... the vampire Barnabas Collins. However, the Barnabas she found was no longer a monster. She'd grown fond of him and even taken a job as a housekeeper at Collinwood. She still held that position, officially. The means by which Magdalena had come from the past, according to her own confused account, was the stairway through time... a stairway that disappeared as soon as she'd arrived in the present.
That had given Barnabas a riddle that he'd been suffering with for months now. If Desmond had destroyed the staircase in 1840 – and Barnabas and Julia had taken great pains over the proceeding weeks of their return to ensure that he had – why did it suddenly show up again... only to disappear again? The only answer Barnabas had been able to hypothesize was that time remained constant and parallel in that January 1, 2002 ran congruously with January 1, 1840; or even January 1, 1898. That would mean that, for example, if the staircase had been created in September of 1839, but destroyed in January of 1840, then throughout time, the staircase would appear during those months of its existence, and gone for those months that it no longer – or had not yet – existed.
Barnabas' mind swirled with the idea to the point that it nearly gave him a headache every time he'd stopped to think on it. He'd discussed his ideas several times over the past months with both Quentin and Stone, both of whom appeared to concur with his theories. If Barnabas was correct, then the stairway should stay visible for the next several months; long enough for Magdalena to return and choose if she wanted to go back down... down?
"Willie?" Barnabas became suddenly aware of something he'd not taken into consideration before... something that now threatened to cast aside all he'd theorized and open new questions.
"Yeah, Barnabas?" Willie came into the hall, nervously.
"When Magdalena came from 1898, she said she'd come 'up' the stairs... as did Julia and myself when we returned from 1840."
"How can that be, Barnabas?" Willie looked up the dusty stairway, "That would mean that to go back in time, you'd have to go down the stairs... but these stairs..."
"Only go up."
"What does it mean, Barnabas?" Willie looked nervously behind him as if another half of the stairway might appear at any moment.
"I'm not sure," Barnabas thought carefully. "Willie, go to the foyer and fetch my suit jacket and coat," Barnabas began even then to remove his smoking jacket and place it on the stair rail.
"What're ya gonna do?" Willie waited before following his friend's instructions, "You ain't goin' up there!"
"Yes, Willie, that is precisely what I plan to do."
"Then... I'm goin' with ya."
"No!" Barnabas would allow for no insubordination in this matter. "When I begin to go up, you are to close off this hall and board up all the entrances."
"How will you get back? How will I know when ya get back?!" Willie was almost frantic.
Barnabas was piecing together his plan even as Willie protested. Even at nearly eighty years old, his mental prowess was as sharp as ever... perhaps a remnant leftover from his vampire days; a small blessing to do what it could to make up for the curse. "Willie, I will leave my cell phone here on the door ledge. When I come back I will call you and you may then come and release me; but I do not want to run the risk of anyone else chancing upon this staircase and becoming lost in time."
"You think this is where Blair took Quentin?"
"I doubt it, Willie," Barnabas looked up once more wishing that his friend's hypothesis were possible. "We've searched here for the stairway several times over the weeks of Quentin's disappearance... and this is the first time we've seen it."
Willie went quickly for Barnabas' jacket and coat. "What'd'ya need these for?"
"I have no idea what I'll find at the top, Willie. Collinwood may be nothing but a pile of rubble wherever this leads; and I'm a tad old to go traipsing outside without a jacket now, aren't I." Plus, Barnabas knew from experience, if he discovered some future incarnation of the Collins family, he may be forced once again to pass himself off as a distant relative... a thought that Barnabas found almost as amusing as he found it frightening.
With the assistance of both his cane and the railing, Barnabas Collins began to traverse the stairs.
"Good luck, Barnabas," Willie called up after him, "don't worry about nuthin'. I'll take care of things while yer gone... and I'll tell Stone what's goin' on when he gets in touch."
Barnabas did not respond. He kept his gaze on the top stair, moving as quickly as his elderly body could manage toward the apex. As he did, he became increasingly nervous. What would he find? Was he, indeed, moving toward the future? Was this a foolhardy mission? No, if he were correct about the staircase, it should remain stable for a time. Then again, if he'd been correct about the staircase... wouldn't it have gone down instead of up?
Finally, he reached the top stair. As he nervously grabbed the brass door handle at the top, he looked back down to see if he could still see Willie... but what he saw froze his blood...
The staircase was disappearing below him.
Willie was no longer visible; and, in fact, as Barnabas stared on in horror, he saw as, one by one, the stairs were disappearing... the void of the remaining blackness encroaching slowly but surely toward his direction. He turned the door handle and pushed.
Locked.
Had he sealed his own fate? Had the door that he'd just ordered locked and boarded now become his own doorway to oblivion? One by one the stairs below were vanishing.
Barnabas pushed and then pounded on the door.
"Hello!" He looked once more... only about a dozen or so stairs remaining. "HELLO!!!" He pounded on the door desperately. Could this be it? Would he be seeing his beloved Julia soon? Or would he simply be trapped in some sort of time limbo? Ten stairs remaining... eight... six... three...
The Phone! Barnabas urgently searched the doorwell for his cell phone. Would it be dead after all this time? How much time had passed? When he found it, it was barely visible under layers of dust. Barnabas glanced to the side... the third step was slowly becoming enveloped by the void. He pushed the power button to turn on his cell... and to his overjoyed surprise it beeped to life. Barnabas leaned on the doorknob as he punched in the number for Collinwood.
Suddenly, the door gave and Barnabas fell to the floor on the other side. As he gained his bearings, he looked back at the door... and the empty hallway on the other side.
Barnabas looked around to find his cane. Then, next to the door, he saw what appeared to be a metal rod of some kind... holding his cane.
"WELCOME TO COLLINWOOD, MR. COLLINS."
Barnabas took the cane from the metal arm and used it to slowly raise himself. Looking around for the source of the welcoming, and even warm, female voice.
"I'm afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, my dear," he looked around, figuring that the voice must have come from some unseen wall monitor or something. "May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of speaking?"
"Well, Barnabas, don't you recognize her?" An aged male voice came from directly behind Barnabas. He turned to see who it was, and saw what appeared to be...
"Roger?"
The old man laughed. "Not quite... guess again." Charles Collins made his way slowly, but surely, to greet his old cousin. Barnabas figured out quickly who it was, and was glad to find someone he knew.
"And the young lady?" Barnabas smiled as he pointed his cane at the wall speaker.
"I, MR. COLLINS... AM THE GREAT HOUSE OF COLLINWOOD."
The shock on Barnabas' face was met with laughter from his new contemporary. "Welcome home, Cousin Barnabas." With that, Barnabas joined in the laughter, and Charles led him to the Drawing Room where explanations could be more comfortably forthcoming.
From a distance the vampire watched the lights in the windows of the Great House of Collinwood. Knowing what it knew of the house, it dare not go any closer... which saddened the creature all the more. This had been its ancestral home... a part of the Collins family for centuries; and, yet, it was a place the vampire could no longer go. The night enveloped this creature, as much a part of its existence as the very flesh on its bones or the blood in its veins. The blood in my veins, it thought to itself... and laughed. This vampire abhorred the night as it abhorred itself; a despicable creature between life and death.
There were those in the Great House that were responsible for what had transpired... and it was well past time that they paid for their sins. The Collins family once stood as a symbol of what was right about this town. Now, the name 'Collins' was cursed by every man, woman, and child for a thousand miles. All because of him.
Well, the vampire thought to itself, you won't have much longer to wait for your eternal reward, Mr. Collins... not long at all.
Barnabas watched in awe at what had become of his ancestral home. From its construction in 1795 to Barnabas's own present, little had changed... but now...
"Yes," Charles Collins handed a cup of coffee to his awe-stricken cousin, "the house is completely computerized now. Watch," Charles lifted his head and spoke to nothing but air, "Collinwood, prepare a room for our guest."
"YES, MR. COLLINS," and only a moment later, "A ROOM IS PREPARED AT THE SOUTHERN CORNER OF THE WEST WING. WILL THERE BE ANYTHING ELSE?"
Charles laughed again at Barnabas' amazement, "No, Collinwood, that will be all for now, thank you."
"YOU ARE QUITE WELCOME, MASTER." Charles had given a stern look to... well, nothing in particular... at the word 'master'.
"No need of servants, I suppose." Barnabas sipped his coffee.
"Not really," Charles looked toward the foyer, and Barnabas could've sworn he perceived just the slightest bit of malevolence in Charles' features, "but I keep some around... just for the heck of it."
"I see..." Something was not right... and centuries of experience at Collinwood told Barnabas exactly that. "Who else lives here? Carolyn? Your father?"
Charles exacted a somber mood. "Alas, I am the last of the Collins family." Barnabas could swear that Charles was using his cup to hide a broadening smile.
"My Lord," Barnabas took this information as a deep, personal loss. "What year is this, Charles?"
"2032, Barnabas... and you've been dead for nearly thirty years."
Barnabas was completely floored by this. That had meant that he had died the same year he'd just left! Or, had he merely never returned from here... either way... "I'm sure you're wondering..."
"How you got here?" Charles smiled as he placed his cup down and sat in the large chair by the fireplace. "Not really. Once we computerized the house, it told us of all the 'problems' it had." Indeed, what was supposed to have been a simple programming of artificial intelligence had, instead, given birth to a new kind of lifeform. Collinwood – due in no small part to the myriad mystical energies that had surrounded it for centuries – had gained sentience with the installment of its computerized brain. "We know about the room in the East Wing as well as the 'stairway' you just arrived through. In fact, the house has been expecting you for some time now."
"Well," all of this was almost too much for Barnabas to take, "since you need no answers from me..."
"You'd like to know what's been going on since you left."
"If you don't mind."
"Perhaps tomorrow, old friend." Charles pushed a button on his chair, and it raised him to a standing position. "I'm a bit worn out tonight, if you don't mind."
"Of course," Barnabas sensed that the subject of the 'past' was not something Charles wanted to discuss at all; but he simply had to know what had happened to all those he loved. Had Quentin been found? What had happened to the rest of the family?
"Tomorrow, then," Charles motioned Barnabas to the doors, which opened as they approached. As Barnabas took the first step of the Grand Staircase in the foyer, he was suddenly jolted forward. He looked down, and saw that the stairs were now...
"An escalator?" Barnabas smiled at Charles like a child who'd just discovered a new toy.
"It does speed up the process a bit." Charles smiled as Barnabas ascended the staircase to the landing above. As soon as he'd disappeared through the second-floor doorway, though, that smile was immediately replaced with a scowl. "Do not call me 'master' while he is here!" Charles spoke to the thin air once more.
"YES, MR. COLLINS."
"Are all rooms secure? Magdalena? Loomis? The witch?"
"ALL ROOMS ARE SECURE AND NO ONE IS AS YET AWARE OF MR. BARNABAS'S ARRIVAL. WOULD YOU LIKE THEM APPRISED?"
With that, Charles found his laughter once more. "No, they'll all find out about eachother in time."
"IF I MAY SIR?"
"What?!"
"ISN'T IT DANGEROUS FOR MR. BARNABAS TO BE HERE? AREN'T YOU CONCERNED WHAT HE MIGHT DO ONCE HE LEARNS..."
"He's as feeble as I am," Charles harrumphed to the computer, "No, his being here now will just be icing for the cake." And with that, Charles Collins allowed his laughter to echo through the first-floor halls as he made his way to his own bedchamber.
And outside the Great House of Collinwood, a wolf howled.
Barnabas woke, unsure as to whether the amazing events of the previous night had all been a dream. One look at his surroundings answered the question for him. The room was elegantly furnished, with touches of both the classic beauty that had traditionally been Collinwood mixed with obviously "modern" additions: a personal computer, built into the wall; a television set on a small, retractable arm near the edge of the bed; and, of course, the remote to the bed itself. Barnabas touched the button with a picture of a stick figure being raised from a resting to standing position. In a matter of milliseconds, the mattress began to gently move, contouring to the shape of his body, moving him first toward the edge, and then gently to an upright position.
"Good Morning, Mr. Collins."
"Good Morning, er..."
"You may refer to me as Collinwood, Mr. Collins."
"Yes, of course," Barnabas was not sure he could get used to this. The fact that the house was now sentient... it was beyond imagination!
"Please do not be disturbed, Mr. Collins," it was obviously clairvoyant as well, "I have always been a sentient entity... I merely lacked the means with which to express myself."
This made Barnabas even more uncomfortable, "May I ask how you achieved sentience?"
"You may ask."
"Well...?"
"I apologize, Mr. Collins, but I am not programmed to answer that question. However, you are, of course, free to ask."
Curious. "Are you, indeed, 'not programmed' to answer; or are you programmed to not answer?"
A long silence followed. Obviously, Barnabas had offered a conundrum for which the computerized brain was not immediately prepared. This troubled Barnabas. Who would have "programmed" the computer to not respond to such a simple question... and why?
"Mr. Charles is waiting for you in the dining room... would you care to freshen up?" At that, a wall panel slid to one side, revealing a large, luxurious water closet.
"Thank you, yes." Barnabas reached for his cane.
"A new suit will be prepared for you when you are ready."
"A new suit?" Barnabas realized, now that he thought of it, that Charles had been dressed quite differently than he the previous night. "But, how...?"
"during the night, I took the liberty of acquiring a suit for you. I assure you that the size is correct."
"Of that I have no doubt." Barnabas was amazed. It took the liberty? Obviously, this computerized Collinwood was not merely the robotic slave of its master. It could independently think and conduct activities of its own accord. Yet, it was not "programmed" to answer a simple question. Could it be that 'young' Charles had changed a great deal over the decades? Had losing the family driven him mad? Well, Barnabas thought, I can only answer those questions once I've readied myself for the day. With that, Barnabas made his way to the water closet for a refreshing shower before going down to get some answers from his new host.
In the tower room, she wept. She'd heard the howls of the wolf the night before... just as she had every night for... what was it... thirty years? Who knew for sure? Time had no meaning up here. What was worse, if anyone saw her, they would never know that she'd been locked in this room for years. That infernal machine kept her bathed, her hair trimmed, even her nails trimmed, in her sleep. No matter if she refused to care for herself, to allow herself to die... the computer would not allow it. Even when she tried to starve herself to death, the computer had fed her intravenously in her sleep.
She'd given up years ago beating on the door. She was sure that the sound only gave him more pleasure. She walked to the window – barred from actually touching it by some unseen barrier – and looked out upon the estate. From her window, she could see the wolf... chained in his usual spot near the edge of the woods. It, too, was a prisoner here; but not just within a confinement like she was. The poor animal was confined within its own body... a man trapped in the body of a dog... forever. Her man. Her beloved... Stone.
The table in the Dining Room of Collinwood was very similar – if not identical – to the one of Barnabas's own time. A modest spread of delicacies awaited Barnabas, as did his host.
"Good morning, Cousin," Charles Collins greeted with a warmth that was almost... cold, "Hope you slept well."
"Like the dead," Barnabas decided that whatever game Charles was playing, it would behoove him most to play along... for the moment. Barnabas sat, placed his napkin in his lap, and took a sip first of the cup of coffee to the upper right of his plate. "Does the computer serve the meals as well?" He would not have thought it possible, but, then again, there was so much about Collinwood that he would have never imagined in his wildest dreams.
Charles failed to completely hide his smile with his own coffee cup, "No, Cousin, I have... other servants... to help with such things."
"Well," Barnabas quickly added, "my compliments to whomever concocted this magnificent cup of coffee."
"Thank you, I will pass the message along." Charles ate slowly, more picking at his food than eating it. Barnabas noticed this. As welcoming as he had been so far, it was clear that Charles was greatly unsettled by Barnabas' presence here in the future.
"I am anxious to continue our discussion from last night. I am most curious as to what has happened to the rest of the family."
Charles wiped his mouth with his napkin, sipped his coffee once more, and then overtly braced himself as if preparing to deliver bad news. "Well, as you may have surmised, Father and Mother have passed on since your disappearance." David and Catherine Collins, Charles' parents; one from this time, the other not. Each, however, desperately in love with the other. Barnabas was saddened to hear of their deaths, but not overly surprised. They would be in their seventies by now. Apparently modern medicine had failed to evolve with technology. Charles continued, "Stone and Magdalena went their separate ways decades ago..."
Barnabas noticed Charles looking away as he informed Barnabas of the two young lovers – well, young when Barnabas had last seen them anyway. Also, Charles had blinked rather heavily on the word 'went'. He's lying. Centuries of life had made Barnabas an expert on the human condition. Whatever the fates of Stone and Magdalena had been... Charles did not wish Barnabas to know. That was something that Barnabas definitely needed to keep in mind for the future. Perhaps, they were still somewhere close. Potential allies in an unknown and potentially dangerous new world.
"What of Quentin?" Barnabas had to know if his old friend and cousin had ever been retrieved from the evil Nicholas Blair.
"He was never found, Cousin." Charles sat upright in his chair. Unfortunately, it appeared that he was, at least, telling the truth about Quentin. That saddened Barnabas more than any other news could have. Had he been in some hellish other dimension for decades now? Was he dead? If only Barnabas still had access to...
"Angelique," Charles said, mentioning the very person of whom Barnabas was now thinking. "Angelique was summoned finally in a last ditch attempt to contact Quentin. Her failure to do so was met with... an unfortunate end."
"What?" Barnabas could not believe it. Angelique had returned to Collinwood? After his departure up the staircase?
Charles was visibly pleased by the anguish on his cousin's face. Barnabas caught notice of that pleasure just a split-second before it was erased from Charles' features. What manner of man are you, Charles Collins? And what threat do you pose to me here?
"Enough talk of the past, old friend," Charles rang the servants' bell to his right, "Some more coffee, perhaps?"
"Yes," Barnabas was still reeling from the news of Angelique's return... and her death... again. A clanking sound roused him from his reverie back to the here-and-now. At first, Barnabas assumed that the 'servant' whom Charles was summoning was some type of robot. The metallic footsteps sending vibrations all throughout the Dining Room said as much. He was not, however, prepared for what eventually entered from the Kitchen...
The metallic frame extended the entire expanse of the five-foot-seven- inch frame of the individual it held... if what it held could even be considered an individual. Metallic splints worked on either side of the poor creature's legs and arms. Colostomy bags hung from the frame's midsection, only partially filled with human waste. Some type of computer was connected – surgically it seemed – to the being's chest. It carried a tray of coffee in front of it as it walked the expanse of the table to Barnabas's side. As it reached him, Barnabas drummed up the courage to look into its face...
Like the rest of him, the 'servant's' neck was held in place by plastic/metallic splints. The entire lower jaw was metallic... the original human jaw apparently removed for whatever reason. The frail, century-old face was a horror in and of itself. Teeth bared by a lack of lips. Nose decayed to nothing more than two holes in his skull. And the eyes... dear God, the eyes... his lids had been removed! The eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul... if that were the case, then this creature had lost his soul ages ago. All that remained behind those eyes was a mindless automaton... or was it? As the creature looked closely at Barnabas, a tear began rolling down his wrinkled and almost-lifeless cheek. Barnabas watched as the creature tried to speak...
"Ba...Ba..." It was clear that the creature had little if any control over its prosthetic lower jaw. Its failure to speak only irritated it more, causing more tears. Barnabas looked closely into its eyes for some spark of familiarity... and found it. The creature possessed a terror in its eyes that Barnabas recognized only all too well. This creature had been a man once... a man that had experienced a different type of horror at the hands of Barnabas himself...
"My God," Barnabas's horror was even more overpowering than his anger, "WILLIE!"