Chapter 3

"You talked to Barnabas on the phone, didn't you?" Hallie asked, her voice shaking.

"Come on, baby. He can't bite me over the phone."

"I still don't like it."

"It was an accident. You need not worry about it happening again."

Willie and Louella looked at each other. The argument sounded quite familiar. How long was it that they had arguments like that themselves? It seemed a lifetime ago, but in fact it was bout four years. So much had happened to them since.

"I know how you feel" Louella said. "I used to be real scared of Barnabas myself."

"And now you are not?" Hallie's face was a study in incredulity.

"No. Not now. But we had terrible rows, Willie and I, because of him. When I think of all the pain we went through and all because I was so damned stubborn... I could have saved myself a lot of grief if I had believed Willie."

Hallie saw that it was better to agree, even reluctantly. No need to antagonize the Loomises.

"It was a shock to hear that you had married." Willie said. "That little David had married. I keep thinking of you as a kid."

"Well, I kept acting like a kid, even when I was too old for it. A spoiled brat, that's what I was."

"Don't blame yourself. With the kind of pressure you were under. I mean, what with your mother... I am sorry."

Louella coughed discreetly and Willie took the hint. Hallie would certainly not like to be reminded of her part in the affair.


Yolanda had not pushed a stone into her. Megan kept concentrating upon it. Why? Kindness? Hardly. Afraid that she might use the power for herself?

She could use the power of the stones. If only she could get hold of one of them.. If she could get only one, she might break the spell that held prisoner.

If she could get a stone...

How could she do it?


George took out the empty bottles. As he expected, there were more than before. Barnabas' hunger was increasing. He'd have to put in a bigger order. And ask Derek for extra supplies.

Barnabas looked away, embarrassed.

"Don't feel bad. We will beat this."

Barnabas shook his head.

Soon Verhoff would come, and they would know. Would that knowledge be a good thing?

He put his arm around Barnabas and kissed him. Barnabas hugged him smiling with his eyes.

"We will make it." George insisted.

Barnabas pulled him closer. It was not words that Barnabas needed now.


Angelique would be away for a while. That would give her plenty of time to plan how to deal with her, and to set up the trap.

Now, she had to handle Verhoff, and make sure that he told Barnabas what she wanted Barnabas to hear. For that she needed the information that Urien could give her.

She had to feed the stone again. Not Urien, thought, nor Joe Haskell. Too much draining and people would notice. No, she would do as Megan did and find someone who wanted a good time, and give it to him...

It was so convenient, impersonating a vampire when it came to feeding the stones.


Adam stared at his portrait. What had he done to it? What had he erased in it, or added, that made him feel so angry? He felt. himself in the verge of always losing his temper. it was a wonder that he had not assaulted anyone yet.

He knew, or thought he knew what caused it. He had erased many of the traits that Charles had given him in order that he be able to succeed in the world, but which made him tough and cynical.

He had wanted to revive his earlier self and he had succeeded too well. He had found at the end of the road the lack of self-control that had dodged him in his early days.

But now it made no sense. To be this angry, so ready to lash out at everyone was all right when he was a misshapen creature, the object of fear and scorn. But now he was a respected painter, connected to the big family in town Now no one threw stones at him. Rather they fawned at him.

He should not have resurrected his earlier self. He should have remembered how dangerous it could be.

He had to fix it again. Remove his anger.

And add what? And what else take away? He had achieved what he had hoped at first, and now could not live with the consequences. He did not think that a second tampering would leave him any happier.

And even if he tried, he could not. He had made his portrait separate from him, same as Quentin. To reverse it would be inviting disaster.

There was no quick fix to the job of acquiring self-control. He had to do it the same way everybody else did. Bit by bit, by an effort of will. And maybe ask for help...

Help. That meant Julia Hoffman.

Why did it bother him to ask for help He had demanded it of Angelique as his right. Why not do the same to Dr. Hoffman? Was it because he was afraid of what she'd say about what he had done with Quentin?

Why should that be so? Quentin was grateful for it. And who was Dr. Hoffman to judge anyone? Her own ethical lapses were worse than anything he had done.

Still, he did not like the idea of baring her soul to her. She could find how best to hurt him that way, and she would do it, he knew. The woman could not be trusted.

Maybe Angelique could help him. She would eventually come back, and she would help him. Give him something to dampen his rages until he learned to contain them.

In the meantime, he had to control himself. No matter how much Roger goaded him. No matter how irritating Edmund got. No matter how the maids infuriating him.

Maybe if he could get a good night's sleep that might help... And if he spent more time painting outside, that might help too. Get some peace and quiet looking at the sea... That could be calming.

And hope for the best.


...Someone, anyone, come to me...help me...

"Peter!" Iris called her nephew "Come in, it is late."

Peter shook his head, trying to determine where the voice was coming from.

"Peter, come in!"

She had to be firm with him. She did not like him to go out after dark. Too many things could happen. Cars, runaway dogs, some of the summer people were not to be trusted. If the sheriff's office put out those warnings, there was a reason for it.

Still, she did not like being firm with him with him that way. Yolanda's leaving had hurt him, as she had left so suddenly.

She had refused Julia's offer of professional help, because of her wounded pride about Barnabas. Then, she half-believed Zeb King, who was carrying out his own vendetta against Barnabas. Of all the dumb reasons to do anything, helping someone else to get revenge, was the dumbest.

Still, the Kings had recommended Yolanda, as had Peter's previous therapist. And for a while she has seemed to be what Peter needed.

She should have gone to Julia Hoffman. Now Yolanda was gone, and what she had achieved with Peter was being lost.

"Peter?" she asked again. Peter? Where are you?"

No answer. She opened the door to look for him. The street was empty.

"Peter! Peter!"