Chapter 2

Thank God that Julia had given him all that paperwork. Between that, his campaign for Bread for the World, and the Amnesty International letters, they kept him quite busy and unable to brood too much on his situation. At least it saved him from the temptation to call people on the phone at 3 AM, He suspected that if he ever did that, he would not be able to stay in Collinsport once this trouble was over.

It would be over, he had to believe that. Life would get back to normal. He would be able to embrace George without wearing that ugly leather thing. He would be able to go out, he would be able to feed properly and to see all those friends of his, and poke his nose into their business, and giVe them advice on what they should do.

But not now. Now he had to wait, keep himself busy, and go to the refrigerator when the urge was in him...

He refused to count the bottles that he emptied. To know it would depress him, and it would depress George to see him dejected. George who knew how many bottles were emptied and pretended to be cheerful for his sake.

He should get his affairs in order...Make proper gifts of what he could, and let the rest of the estate be used to pay off whatever debts he had.

That was something else he preferre3d not to think about...

He did not leave much, except for sentimental mementoes. There were the books, which were his. The paintings came with the house, the furniture, well, it was in theory his, since he had got them wrecked and had Willie fix them. But he doubted that the work that Willie had done was that good. They would not fetch a good price, he was afraid.

But he could let Willie keep the best piece...

There were some books that Vicky might enjoy, given her interest in history...

He was not dead yet. Vefhoff had not said that there was no hope. So why should he get gloomy in advance?

Because it might happen.

He might become a danger to Pearl, to little Phillip, to Julia's unborn child. And if that happened, there was only a way out.

But not yet...

Poor George, it was a hard thing he would be asked to do.

He went to look at the night. Clear night, with the stars shining sharply against the black sky. When he was a child, he thought that the stars were icicles, and that's what made summer nights so cool.

And made winter nights so miserable, of course.

The starry night was beautiful. Sometimes he wondered if that beauty was a consolation prize for missing the sunlight...

His eyesight had changed with his curse, and he could see in the dark. And he did not feel the cold so much, so it did not matter if he had to go out in really miserable weather. Not so much, anyway.

But he was cut off from so many other things... He could not hold Iris nor Oriana. Not his fault, and not theirs. As Megan said it, if you were not willing to turn somebody else into a vampire, you should be content with short term relationships.

Thank God for George, who took him as he was and did not ask for what he could not give.

And what was to be George's reward? Become his executioners?

No, he must not think that.

He should be grateful for what he had, and enjoy it while he could...

That's when he saw it, up in the sky. High, elongated, and seemingly surrounded by flames.

"Well. I'll be..." he said "It is an U.F.O. Xavier was right."

Peter wandered off, as if pulled by some invisible cord. he did not know when he had begun hearing the voice in his mind. Only that it felt it had been with Yolanda...

Yolanda was gone, but this was like her... not her, but like her.

'Peter! Don't go out.!" Iris caught him. "It is dark outside. You have to go to bed."

He tried to protest. Somebody wanted him, he tried to say. Somebody needed him. But Iris dragged him back into bed.

Yolanda better get back soon, Iris thought.

Verhoff grumbled. Come here at once, that was what Dr. Hoffman had said. At once, as if he was a servant. As if she thought that traveling was easy for him.

And she was begging him for help. After the way she had all but kicked him out the last time. Well, hurry up he would... at his pace.

"They said that Barnabas had a problem." Cecily said.

"One problem? The man is a sampler of problems. What is it this time?"

He wondered which one of his suits to pick for his trip to Collinsport. He wanted to impress them.

He smiled slightly. He had always been fashion conscious ever since Vienna and his student days. What a shame that he could not use a mirror. God, the Devil, or whoever ordered these things had a sick sense of humor...

"They said that Barnabas' hunger is out of control"

"Yes, I have known cases like that. Some can clear on their own with a bit of time and patience. Some need some therapy to keep them from transferring their unresolved conflicts to their feeding. And some, only death can cure them. Which one is Barnabas problem? I am willing to bet on the second one. The man is a sampler of unresolved conflicts."

"Well, he's a fag, on top of everything else./"

"Yes." he was amused "Would not give you a tumble would he?"

"No." Cicely shrugged. She could not feel anger at Barnabas rejection. He had also given her hope with Julia's notes. And from what she heard, the ones doing the research had had success in aging a three yearn old onto a six year old body. Three years... For her three years might mean a woman's body with real breasts...

Verhoff took out a carnation and put it into his buttonhole. 'How do I look?" he asked.

"Dapper as always."

"I am scared." Julia confessed to Barnabas "I have to take these tests and..."

"Amniocentesis, is that it?"

"Yes. I want to know if I am carrying a normal baby or..."

"I could ask Angelique to help there."

"It is not the test that I fear. It is the results. What if the child is deformed? It is my only child. Very likely the only child I'll ever have And... and if they find out that there is something wrong..."

"That he is deformed? Or retarded?"

Julia nodded, forgetting that Barnabas could not see her.

"You want me to say that it will be all right? I can't, Julia. I can't even say that I will be all right. But I certainly hope so."

"You are right. You have enough troubles of your own, and I can't dump mine on your lap."

"Julia" Barnabas chided her. "When you do that, you make me forget about my own troubles, and that is good."

"How are you doing?"

"Getting impatient. I don't show it around George, poor thing. He acts cheerful with me and I act cheerful with me. But neither of us forget how it might end. He told me once that if it was ever needed, he'd make it quick and painless. And if that happens, what kind of memories will I be leaving him with?"

Julia sighed. :"Now I am the one who wishes she could say that everything will be all right."

:"But you can't. This is not the time for empty reassurances, but to help each other face facts."

"I will have my child, no matter what. I can care for it. I have the money and the resources. I love him or her already, no matter what. It is my child. MINE." she said ferociously "When I was young I accepted that I would never marry nor have children. No man in his right mind then wanted a bright brainy woman who could take care of herself. That was the way of the world and I accepted it. Well, I am done with that. I will have this child."

"I applaud you for it. One thing, Julia."

"What is that?"

"If it comes to the point that George has to do... what he said he'd do, and the child is a boy, don't call him Barnabas."

"Why not?"

"So you don't get any idea that he really is me, and put that burden on him. And for the same reason, don't call him David. Let him begin his own chapter, without having to deal with the old ones."

"I know that you are right, but..."

"And there might be no need. After all, Verhoff isn't here yet."