Chapter 2

"Do you have any idea who these masters Roxanne spoke about were?" Julia asked Megan.

"Some, not specifically. But I know the type. They are like the Leviathan, but with a different objective. Up to now they are kindly disposed towards mankind. For how long..." Megan shrugged significantly.

"And Roxanne did their dirty work."

"Yes. And it got to be too much for her. As I said, I know their type. You can find them in human intelligence services, not only in inhuman time-hopping races."

"Human intelligence services?"

"The CIA, KGB..."

"You mean the CIA...?"

"If they found out about Barnabas they would put the screws on him to make him work for them. On the other hand, they might have found out in 67 and decided he was too erratic for their taste. That's the only true defense against them. Creative incompetence, or pretending to be so stupid as not to be able to cross the street without help... Roxanne turned to drugs, and that was good enough for a while. But they did not let her go fully. They waited until she got cleaned up, and then came back for her." she sighed. "Roxanne was what I or Barnabas could be if the CIA or the KGB got their hooks on us." her voice dropped. "I had to kill her to save Phillip and the others. But I did not enjoy doing it... Still, what she did to them. Not infecting them, but sending them over to be recruited before they knew what was happening to them. As Tammy said, it was slave trading."

"Still it bothers you to have become judge, jury, and executioner."

"Yes. It does. I know that it had to be done. I know that I could not shirk it. But that doesn't make it any easier."

The girl looked frail as she stood by the road, trying to thumb a ride... she looked so alone, so vulnerable.

She shouldn't be doing that, Barnabas thought as he flew overhead.

He came down, changing shape by the time he reached the ground.

"Oh, it is you." she said, with a giggle "for a moment you scared me."

"Miss Fister" he said.

"Call me Barbara. Or Barb." she said, smiling.

"You shouldn't be thumbing rides" Barnabas said. "it is dangerous."

"Nothing happened to me" she said, defiantly.

"Not yet. I wouldn't push my luck if I was you."

"And how else am I going to get back to town from work?"

"The bus."

"There are no more buses at this hour."

"What you mean there aren't?"

"At nine thirty comes the last bus to pick up the shoppers. The help, well, they come back the best way they can."

"You mean that the shopping center allows its employees to get back to town this way?"

"Yes."

"They actually encourage people to get rides?"

"How we get there and back is no business of theirs."

Barnabas shook his head. "George Brant spends hours getting the news about the dangers of hitchhiking, but this... Look Barb, today I'll escort you home. I am sorry I can't offer you a ride. And you are quitting your job."

"I need the money."

Indeed, she did. And he knew it well.

"All right. I have a car. I don't uses it much. You can use it for the summer and offer rides to other girls. As for myself, I'll see what I can do about that bus service."

Quentin brought a bottle with him. This wing was deserted. A good place to get filthy drunk without Carolyn seeing him. He understood now why Nicholas could not control his drinking. That was the only way that he could live with Carolyn.

He passed the portrait gallery on his way up. He heard laughter as he passed Carl's portrait. He turned without surprise. Carl was there, laughing at him. And also Jenny and Magda..

"Leave me alone!" he shouted at them "haven't you had enough?"

They tittered and were gone. Quentin could not even feel relief. They would come back.

He had changed, hadn't he? Why did they keep at it?'

Had he changed really? Had he forgotten Louella?"

"That wasn't his fault. If Carolyn had not forced him into marriage it would have been different...

So he had embezzled... He had meant to put it back. And he had...

Yes, he had tried to kill Carolyn, but she asked for it...

"The same way I asked for it?" Jenny appeared again, laughing, then disappeared before he could answer.

"Same as I asked for it?" Carl asked, but he did not disappear. He stayed, facing him with cold, mocking eyes.

"Leave me be. If you want revenge, go after Barnabas. He's the one who did it."

"With your help. Anyway, I have plans for him. A very funny joke, one of my best."

Carl vanished into his portrait. For a second the portrait's eyes shone maliciously, then that was gone.

Quentin was left alone with the bottle.

He took a gulp from it as he went further into the empty rooms, trying to forget those accusing, mocking faces. The booze would allow him to forget them. It would allow him to forget Carolyn...

He sat down on the floor, took another drink. In the old times he would have used a glass. Now it was just straight from the bottle...

Then the room next to him changed.

Suddenly, it was furnished, even if the furniture was old... and there were people inside.

The Parallel Time room, of course.

He stared into it.

And he saw the man with his face. And Roxanne Drew who had been buried a few days ago...

"Why do you keep coming here?" there was irritation on the other Quentin's voice.

"I keep thinking... he vanished here. I wonder if he made it back to where he came from. He and Julia. I wonder if they made it back safely."

"You just can't help thinking about him. Even after all these years. Even after what we two have together."

"He was kind of special " Roxanne touched her face, to the scars on her cheeks "well, he is gone. And even if he wasn't, he would not want me with these scars..." she shrugged." at least you and Edmund don't care."

They went out of the door to wherever they had come from and Quentin was left looking at the room with hungry eyes.

In Parallel Time Quentin was the Master of Collinwood. He had all the women he could want. Not only his wife, Maggie, but Barnabas' old love, Roxanne.

And in Parallel Time Carolyn was dead...

Why couldn't he be in Parallel Time instead of there?"

But he could go there, if he used the room...

And once there, he would kill that Quentin and take his place. He would be the Master of Collinwood at last.

There was a whole world out there, waiting for him.

Oriana closed her typewriter. The article was finished. She hoped they liked it. As for herself, she was done with it.

Now she could get a good night's sleep and empty her mind of it. Tomorrow she could start thinking what she would tackle next.

Maybe she could go back to Collinsport. Do a follow up on the previous story. Or was it too early for that? Or the Indian tribe... Barnabas still owed her that interview with the local shaman...

"Face it lady" she said to herself. "It is Barnabas that you want to see again. He was the reason why you drove Amy home that time. And that's why you only stayed one night after you found out that he was not into town."

Well, so it was. Was there a law that said she could not try?