Dark Shadows: Back to the Past

Chapter 1

1

It was two o'clock in the morning and Robert Ironside laid in bed wide awake. It had been several months since he was forced to call his vampire friend, Barnabas Collins to come to San Francisco. When the chief discovered women were being murdered and drained of all their blood, he knew from experience it was the work of a vampire.

Knowing he was not equipped to deal with one of the undead, he had contacted another member of the undead to deal with the creature of the night stalking the streets of San Francisco. At the time he was the only one that knew what was going on. Even though his staff had traveled with him to Collinsport, Maine to investigate the attack on several women and the disappearance of Maggie Evans, they had not remembered anything that had happened. After discovering Barnabas Collins was the one responsible, he also discover the man was an over two-hundred year-old vampire! Eve Whitfield had been murdered, and in order to bring her back to lif and help save the Collins family from a very evil supernatural race, Ironside joined forces to go back to 1795 and stop the Leviathans from taking over Barnabas Collins.

The duo was successful and returned to a Leviathan-free world and a very much alive Eve Whitfield. Robert helped Barnabas explain the disappearance of Maggie Evans and the attacks on the women to Sheriff Patterson. The detective decided for the first time in his career to look the other way in the crimes Barnabas Collins had committed. After all, how could the courts stand in judgment of a man who was forced to live as a vampire?

As a result of everything they had been through together, Barnabas and Ironside cemented a friendship. So when the San Francisco detective discovered a vampire killing in his city, he did not hesitate; he contacted Barnabas who came to San Francisco to help eradicate the blood-sucking demon from his beloved city. With the help of Count Dracula and a handful of friendly vampires, the task was completed. Although, the memories of what had happened in Collinsport had been brought back to his staff, they once again had all memory of vampires, witches, warlocks and ghosts erased before Barnabas and his friends left San Francisco. Ironside alone knew the real details of both events. They had turned his logical mind upside down. He had always been a man who dealt in facts. As it turned out, the facts proved vampires, warlocks, werewolves and ghosts all existed in the real world.

Knowing that the citizens of San Francisco remained oblivious to all of these creatures, Ironside stood alone in his knowledge of them. Not a day had gone by when he did not think of the world in an entirely different light, especially since he had kept in close contact with his vampire friend, Barnabas Collins. Collins was a good man who had been curse to roam the earth for an eternity as one of the living dead; a man who should have died a natural death over two-hundred years ago.

Ironside had not talked to Barnabas since he had gone back home after Andre Adell and his army of vampires had been destroyed. He had to admit despite the fact that his friend was a vampire; he was quite fond of him. Looking at his watch, Ironside knew Barnabas would be awake. Unlike him and all normal mortals, Barnabas was forced to sleep in a coffin in the daytime and roam by night.

The detective reached over and turned on the light. As he turned the alarm clock around, he could see it was just after two in the morning. That would be just after five on the east coast where the vampire resided. Ironside pulled the phone towards him and dialed the now memorized phone number. He waited as the line on the other end began to ring. Finally, he heard a familiar voice.

"Hello," said the proper English speaking gentleman from Revolutionary War times.

"Barnabas, this is Robert Ironside."

A smile appeared on the vampire's face. He turned to Julia Hoffman and informed her, "It's Robert, calling from California."

Julia immediately joined Barnabas at his desk where the phone was installed. "Robert, it is so good to hear from you. I have been meaning to call you, but every time I think of it, I realize it is too late to disturb you. Julia and I were just discussing tonight that it has been a while since we spoke with you."

"I couldn't sleep and I had no doubt you would be up," Ironside explained.

"I am glad you did. How are things in San Francisco?" Barnabas asked.

"Rather dull I am afraid, compared to fighting an army of vampires," Ironside responded.

Barnabas chuckled. "Sorry, you have to live with that knowledge, but you do not succumb to hypnotism."

"I would not care for having my memory erased anyway."

"I suppose not."

"How is Doctor Hoffman coming with the cure for……your condition?" He realized how ridiculous it was to watch his words regarding Barnabas's vampiric condition when he had just mentioned an army of vampires.

"Slow, Robert, but she is most definitely making progress. I am able to walk in the daylight a bit longer. The problem is it is not yet permanent."

"Well, tell her to keep at it, Barnabas. We know she will eventually find that cure."

"Yes, it is the one bright light in my otherwise dull existence," he said.

Ironside grunted. "Barnabas, since I met you, I have found absolutely nothing about you dull."

That brought out another chuckled from the vampire. "It seems we have only gotten together during a crisis."

"We will have to change that. Maybe a vacation? Do you like to fish?"

Barnabas almost laughed at the suggestion. "Robert, just exactly what would I do with any fish I might catch?"

"I'll cook them and eat them for you," Ironside replied.

"I can think of nothing I would rather do," Barnabas said dryly.

"Keep in touch, vampire," Ironside said.

"I'll do that, mortal," Barnabas said with a smile and hung up the phone.

2

Quentin Collins looked out the window of his room in the West Wing of Collinwood. He was angry, very angry. His cousin, Barnabas Collins and the constable, Chief Ironside had not kept their word. With each passing day, he felt more like both of them had taken him for a sucker. They had promised him they would go back to his time and help him reverse Jenny's death. They had not done so.

Instead, they had only gone back to 1795 and stopped the Leviathans. He had no objection to that as the Leviathans were a vile, loathsome race which he could not tolerate anyway. Still, nothing had changed for him. He was still a ghost, and a very unhappy one.

If they had done what they had promised, his memories would have changed. He would not have become a werewolf. If they had stopped Jenny from attacking him that fateful night, things would have been much different, not only for him, but possibly for Jenny and Beth as well.

From what he had learned, and it had not been easy since no one in the Collins family seem to remember anything and did not seem to know of his existence as a ghost, Ironside and Barnabas had not even attempted to go back to his time to change anything at all.

He had helped them. Quentin told them where the staircase was and even pointed out to them when it appeared. He kept his word based on them keeping their's, and they did not.

The ghost was determined to force them to keep their word. There was much he could do to force their hand. Quentin had thought about it constantly since Barnabas and Ironside had returned. If they could go back and return, then why couldn't he? He had to force them to return to the past, only this time…..his past. If events were changed, he would not become a werewolf. He would not accidentally kill Jenny. What would all that mean? He had not stopped thinking about it since his cousin and his friend had destroyed the Leviathans. Could it be possible for him to then return with them to this present time as a human being again?

Quentin so wanted to be human again. He wanted to live out his life the way he should have…..as a normal man, not as a werewolf. If Barnabas Collins thought it was so terrible to be a vampire, he should try being a werewolf. At least with his affliction, he could live normally around mortals, even if only at night. Quentin could not go near mortals as a werewolf. They would be in danger of him killing them. Even as a ghost, he had to live with the guilt of the people who had died at his hand, despite the fact he did not remember killing them.

So, if he could force Robert Ironside and Barnabas to go back to his time, and help him change the events that led to him becoming a werewolf, he was going to do it. First of all, he would give Barnabas the opportunity to be honorable and return to the past of his own free will. If it did not work, he would devise a plan to force him to do it. After all, Barnabas owed it to him. He had promised to help him and he should keep his promise.

Quentin knew he had not exactly been a pillar of honesty. He had been a womanizer, a liar and at times just a plain cad. None of that mattered now. He could change all that if he was allowed to live again, and live again he would.

Just how was he going to accomplish it? He was certain of one thing; Barnabas was very protective of the Collins family. That was where his weakness was. Quentin would take advantage of that weakness. He had to attack the Collins family. However, he could not actually hurt them. He could not possibly take his place among them later if he hurt or killed any of them. Somehow, he had to convince Barnabas that he would without actually doing it. That would be the key to getting Barnabas to do what he wanted him to do, which was nothing more than keeping his promise. He owed Quentin that.

So, how would he do it? The one thing he had noticed when the Collins family first summon him was David Collins. Well, he was Jamison Collins to Quentin. He looked like Jamison, talked like Jamison, so he was Jamison. He would be the vehicle which Quentin would use to force Barnabas's hand to go back into the past.

First he would give Barnabas the chance to be honorable. The problem of how to contact Barnabas was a dilemma. Quentin could not leave the Great House for more than a few hours, and he was sure Barnabas was not going to come to visit him. He needed to find a way to get a message to him. Again, the only way he could think of was through Jamison. How was he going to get Jamison to take a message to Barnabas?

Quentin sat down in the chair in front of the fireplace. Sitting on the table only a few feet away was a telephone, an old fashion telephone. Not the little boxes people held in their hands today, with a screen and the ability to see the caller. This one was one unit a person held in one's hand to speak in it. The base contained the rotary dial. The other part was shaped similar to a cone that was held to the ear to hear the caller. This phone would come in very handy. He would place it in Jamison's room. It would be the means in which he would communicate with Jamison.

3

David Collins slept peacefully in his room at Collinwood. He was unaware of the part he had played in defeating the Leviathans. When Barnabas and Ironside had returned from the past, everything had changed in the future, erasing the events which he had taken part. He had no way of knowing the ghost, Quentin Collins knew who he was and what plans he had for him.

It was five-thirty in the morning and the lad was dreaming; dreaming about his friend, Sarah, who had become nearly a nightly adventure for him. At least the nightmares of the past were gone. He had been a very troubled boy when he was first brought to Collinwood by his father. David was unaware that his mother was a phoenix. He barely knew her. His life had been very lonely until he met Sarah. It was a while before he realized she was a ghost. Of course no one believed the young man that his little friend was a ghost.

David was dreaming he and Sarah were saving the family from some race called the Leviathans. He did not know what they were and had no idea they were coming from his subconscious mind due to events he had actually experienced. When he wakened, he would not realize the dream was actually set in reality.

David was drawn out of his dream by a ringing telephone. It was a telephone with an old-fashion tone. He opened his eyes but it was still dark in his room. The phone continued to ring.

"That's strange," David said to himself. "There is no phone in this room." He reached over and turned on the light beside his bed which was sitting on the night stand. The youngster looked over at the desk where he did much of his homework Victoria Winters assigned him. A funny looking phone was sitting on the desk, one he had never seen before. Where did it come from and how could it be ringing?

David Collins threw back the covers and got out of bed. Walking over to the desk, he studied the phone. He picked it up. It was not hooked to anything. There was no cord plugged into an outlet. Confused, he examined it closer, trying to figure out how it could possibly be ringing. It had to be a toy. Maybe Vicki put it in his room as a gift or maybe a gag. Yet, it did not look like a toy. It was, in fact, quite heavy. It just didn't make any sense. David checked it for a button that turned off the ring, possibly run by a battery. He found no button.

Just exactly how was he supposed to go back to sleep with the infernal ringing of the phone? There had to be a way to turn it off. If there was, he could not find it. It dawn on him no one else in the house seemed to be bothered by the sound of the ringing. He could not understand it, how could anyone possibly sleep as loud as it was. David had no idea he was the only one in the Great House that could hear it.

Maybe if he picked up the cone-like receiver, it would stop ringing. He set the phone back down on the desk and picked it up. It worked. It stopped ringing. He placed the receiver back in the cradle on the side of the old phone. As he turned to go back to bed, the phone rang again. Frustrated and eager to go back to sleep, David went back to the desk. He picked up the receiver again, and the phone stopped ringing. Just as he was about to place it back in the cradle, he heard a voice.

"Hello Jamison. I have been looking forward to speaking with you again."

The boy's eyes widen at the sound of the voice. How could anyone call him on a phone that had no hook-up? It just wasn't possible. However, he had seen stranger things at Collinwood since he came to live there.

Then he heard the voice again as he held the receiver in his hand. "Jamison, aren't you going to talk to me?"

Curiosity got the better of the youngster. He put the receiver to his ear and said, "Who is this and how are you calling me on a phone that has no hook-up?"

"You know me, we have met before," the voice said.

"I don't recognize your voice," David told him.

"You should, you convinced me to help your Cousin Barnabas and Chief Ironside use my staircase into the past," the voice said.

"I did no such thing," David said. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Quentin Collins realized Jamison probably didn't remember anything because Barnabas and Ironside had changed the past, thereby wiping the memory of all those in Collinsport. "I am Quentin Collins. You must obey me, Jamison."

"Why do you keep calling me Jamison. My name is David," the lad told him.

"You are Jamison to me."

"No I am not. I am going back to bed." David hung up the phone and climbed back into his bed. In no time, the phone rang. Disgusted, David Collins threw back the blankets and once again got out of bed. He walked over to the old-time phone and picked up the receiver. "I told you I have to go to sleep. Now leave me alone."

"I will not," Quentin said. "You must obey me."

"Just go away," David said and slammed the receiver into the cradle. The tall phone tipped and he had to catch it to prevent it from falling over. David went back to bed and pulled the covers over his head.

The phone rang again. David threw the covers back and stomped back to the phone. "Leave me alone!" He slammed the receiver down. The phone rang yet again.

David had not even had a chance to get back into bed. "That does it!" David headed for his door and entered the hall. He walk down it until he reached Victoria Winters's room. "Vicki, wake up!"

Inside Victoria's room, she stirred. When David called for her again, she got out of bed and put on her robe. She moved silently over to the door and opened it. "David, what are you doing up? Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, but I can't sleep because the phone on my desk keeps ringing. Someone keeps calling me."

"David, there is no phone on your desk. You must have been dreaming. No one can call you on the phone."

The youngster took her by the hand. "Come with me, I will prove it to you."

Victoria allowed the boy to lead her down the hall and to his bedroom. David opened the door and pulled her by the hand to his desk. His eyes widen as he looked towards it.

"Okay, where is this phone?" Victoria demanded.

"It was right here on this desk," he told her. "Vicki, you have to believe me, it was right here on this desk and it kept ringing."

Victoria smiled and ruffled his hair. "You were just dreaming. Now, come and get back in bed."

David Collins stared at the spot the old-time phone had been only minutes before. Where could it have gone and how did it get on his desk in the first place? Had he only dreamed the man who called himself Quentin Collins had called him on the non-existent phone?

He got back into bed and Victoria Collins tucked him in. She brushed the hair out of his eyes. "You go back to sleep and I will see you in the morning." Victoria turned out the light, left his bedroom and closed the door.

Closing his eyes, David attempted to allow sleep to take him once more. He had almost arrived in a deep slumber when the ringing of a phone brought him out of it. Upset he was unable to sleep, David got up and turned on the light. He glanced over at the desk. Sitting in the same position it was in before Victoria had entered his bedroom, the old-time phone continued ringing.

The young man got out of bed and went to the phone. Picking up the receiver, he growled into the phone, "What do you want? Why do you keep bothering me?"

"You must obey me, Jamison," Quentin insisted.

"What do you want?"

"You will call Chief Ironside in San Francisco and tell him he must come to Collinsport."

"First of all, my name is David, and secondly, I cannot call Chief Ironside in the middle of the night."

"You will call him in the morning, is that clear, Jamison?"

David huffed. He was tired of this man calling him Jamison. Who was he anyway? "Who are you?"

"I told you I am Quentin Collins. I died over a hundred years ago."

The boy was silent for a moment. The name of Quentin Collins began to register. He could see Quentin's room and a staircase. He could see it in his mind. Yet, he did not remember ever being there. How could he know what the room looked like and why would there be a staircase in the room? It must be that he had seen pictures of one of his ancestors named Quentin Collins.

"Have I met you before?" he asked the ghost.

"You have, but you don't remember," Quentin told him.

"Why don't I remember you?" David asked.

"Because the past was changed, Jamison."

David did not understand any of this. He did not know who this ghost was, nor did he know what connection Chief Ironside had to him. Yet, something in the back of his mind told him he should know. All he was certain of was he was not going to call Robert Ironside in the middle of the night. He would get in all sorts of trouble with Vicki, Aunt Elizabeth and his father.

"I am going back to bed. You will have to wait until morning, Quentin."

"Alright, Jamison. I will let you sleep if you promise to call Chief Ironside in the morning."

At this point, David would promise the ghost anything. He needed sleep and this infernal spirit was keeping him from doing so. "Okay, I promise."

"Sleep well, Jamison. I will talk to you in the morning."

David Collins shook his head. Hopefully, now he could go back to sleep without the ringing of the phone.

4

Robert Ironside had finally fallen asleep, but his slumber was anything but peaceful. It was not uncommon for the chief to have nightmares about the shooting that put him in the wheelchair. It was a reoccurring dream that always left him covered in sweat, as it was as if he was reliving the shooting over and over again. This time Robert Ironside was not dreaming about that shooting.

The detective was with Barnabas Collins in the past. It was not the past they had traveled to to stop the Leviathans. This time it appeared they had not traveled that far into the past. The style of dress was far from the modern dress of the day, but not as ancient as the fashions of 1795. Ironside was in the woods. He was walking down a path when he heard snarling. At first he thought it was the wolves that his vampire friend could control.Ironside looked around for Barnabas. He was no where in sight. "Where is that infernal bloodsucker?" Ironside grumbled. He looked in every direction. He did not see the vampire.The snarling was becoming louder and louder. Ironside reached into his suit coat pocket for his revolver. It was not there. Of course it wasn't. His revolver would not yet exist in this century.Quickening his pace, he headed down the path to find Barnabas. Suddenly, something jumped out of the woods and into his path. He stared at the animal...or was it a man? It stood upright like a man, but it wasn't human. It looked like a wolf. Saliva dripped from its mouth as it snarled at him. It had paws with razor-sharp claws.A werewolf! That was what was standing in the path before him! Ironside looked around for something to protect himself. As he reached for a large stick, the animal attacked. Knocking him to the ground, he snarled and grabbed him by the neck with its teeth. The detective could feel his throat ripped open as he screamed.

Ironside woke up. Sweat poured down his face, his heart pounded. He could not catch his breath. Reaching over, he turned on the light. He attempted to slow his breathing as he wiped the perspiration from his face. As his system began to return to normal, he told himself it was only a dream.

The phone beside him rang. The chief looked at the clock on the stand next to the bed. It was five o'clock. Who would be calling him at this hour? He decided to answer it himself. No sense in Mark's sleep being disturbed too. He picked up the receiver and barked into the phone, "Ironside."

"You didn't keep your promise, Chief Ironside. Now the Collins family will pay.