Chapter 7

"She hates me" Barnabas looked far away into the distance "have I hurt her so badly, then?"

"Simon Garth hurt her" George was getting impatient. "Violet and Delia hurt her. You are closer than they are, so she goes after you."

"We were so close, once."

George was irritated. He had given Barnabas what he wanted, a way to keep Iris from taking Peter away, and putting Iris where she could be helped. Why did he have to be so unhappy about it?

He could not stand it anymore He got up from the bed and started dressing again.

"George..."

"Barnabas " he tried to sound calm, though he felt far from it. "You evidently want to just talk, and feel miserable, and be comforted. We do to need to take our clothes for that. I can listen to your unhappiness very well dressed up."

"It is not that I do not want..."

"It is I who do not want a partner who will just like down, brood and talk about what bothers him, while I just tend to his body. If you want it, we'll do it. But you have to want it. And you do not want it."

Barnabas shook his head "Are you so jealous of her, then?"

"Jealous?"

"Yes. Jealous of Iris."

"What I am is irritated. So Iris and Tammy are too hurt and damaged to show you proper gratitude... Or what you had to do affected you more than you thought it did. Well, it happens. You want to brood, do so. You want to bemoan, who want me to sympathize, but all means. But not when we are in bed together."


She had it all planned. She cleaned the gun and loaded it. She might not use it, but if she needed it, it would be ready. She slipped it under her clothes and looked at herself in the mirror. No revealing bulge.

She gathered her paints and canvas. It should look like she had gone painting as she always did. She picked up the tubes that she would be using. Dark, sober colors. And the bright reds.: Vermillion, scarlet, crimson, ruby, oxblood. Blood. the color of blood, bright red, spurting from the body. And not the way Barnabas did it, but with pain, tearing at the flesh until death was a blessing.

"Please, let me die:"

She had heard her daughter scream that. With luck Nunez would hear the same words.

"Oh, my baby, my baby" she sobbed, her tears falling. "I will make \them pay. He won't get away with it. I promise...

If they were at their usual place at the beach... then it might happen.


Liz looked so thin... and her eyes... the way they looked at him...

"Homecoming is not what I expected" she said, tartly "Not what you expected, either, I take it."

"I saw Carolyn," Barnabas said, softly.

"And she's heartbroken because I wasn't her mommy, because I won't treat her like a little girl again."

"She was upset."

"Yes." Liz became thoughtful "I did not mean to do it that way. But she wanted so much to be a little girl again... And I can't do that. I don't have the time."

"You rejected her because she would not act like an adult?"

"It made me angry. I know. I spent so much time telling you and everybody that I want to be reconciled with my daughter, and when I get a chance to do so, I blow it. " she sighed "You must have a low opinion of me."

"I would never do that. I know you too well."

"You do know me?" There was a shrill note in Elizabeth's voice. How much do you know? I did try to kill my husband."

"But you did not. Your just believed you did and punished yourself terribly for it."

"And I stole my daughter's fiancé. And then Adam and me... Barnabas, he's not old. He does not seem to get old. And I... I am wasting away... Damn it!" she shouted. "I can't forgive you for it, for not growing old as I do."

Barnabas said nothing to this.

"I am dying, Barnabas. Inoperable cancer. I have a few months, no more. And I barely had time to enjoy myself. I wasted my youth on Paul Stoddard and the basement of Collinwood. I only had my old age, and now it's too late... Adam... it is not his fault. It is not Carolyn's fault. It is no one's fault. But why me?"

Barnabas took her hands and held them.

"Yes, you are very understanding. You can afford to be. You'll never get cancer. You don't have to listen to the doctors telling you that you get only a few months more. You don't know what it is like!" she began to sob. "Why me? Why now? Couldn't I have had a few more years? Why couldn't I? It is unfair, so unfair."

"Yes, it is" Barnabas agreed.

She sobbed uncontrollably a few more minutes, Barnabas stroking the back of her head.

Eventually she straightened up. "Will you give me my pills?" she asked in a broken voice.

Barnabas handed her the vial.

She swallowed a couple of them. "I need these." she said plaintively "To keep off most of the pain. You'd think that they'd give you enough painkillers, but no. They don't want you to get hooked as you die. So.."

Barnabas studied the vial. "Maybe I can get you something. From Julia or Kenneth."

"Do they have heroin? It's the best for this, I understand."

"For that I'd have to go to George. Maybe Kenneth has some. I have to find out."

"You'll do that?" she smiled, then looked at her pills. I was told that these have side effects. They make you moody and irrational. Maybe that's why I snapped at Carolyn and at you. Why I give Adam a hard time.":

"I understand." he hesitated, before asking the next question. "do you want me to tell Carolyn of this? She should know...

Liz looked at him. "Do what you think best."


Yolanda placed the candle over the small table. There were other candles around them, giving her face a reddish glow. her sleeve had pulled back, letting Quentin see her brand. Yet his curiosity would not be aroused by it. She was a witch and this was just one more of her mysteries.

He recalled the last time that he had performed a ceremony like this, with Evan Hanley... how far ago was that! It seemed to have happened to a different Quentin.

But he had never stopped being himself. He had just grown bored with those games, Or found the ineffective. He had gone with Barnabas, not because he liked him much, but because he believed him to be the greater power. He had given up his brother to him, which he had never done for Hanley.

He had never changed at all. The portrait changed for him. He just grew bored and found new interests, new adventures. And when he got bored with those, he dropped them unceremoniously.

Even his experience as a born again Christian had been that. He had wondered what it would be like to play Trasks's game. Only it had not come out as expected. he had ended up married to Carolyn, and the present day Trask was not like his ancestors had been.

Yolanda put the shawl over her head and came closer to the flame.

"Put your concerns in the fire." she told him.


It had been a long day. He worried about Norma Alvarez and what she could do. He doubted that words could sway her.

Maybe he could get Nunez to go to a different spot, to "avoid an international incident" or whatever excuse worked..

He was surprised to see Julia come in. She preferred not to enter his office.. /Too many bad memoirs...

"I have a problem.": she stated, bluntly. "It is about Peter."

"Peter?" I thought that it was settled. Iris is under psychiatric care, and he will be made a ward of the state, and that means that you get to keep custody of him."

"That's the problem. He has a legal guardian. Before she cracked up, Iris signed papers naming Zeb King as his guardian."

He should have seen it coming. he thought - he had waited too long to act...

"He wants to take Peter away from Wyncliffe. Says that Barnabas is a bad influence on him. He... he knows about you and Barnabas, and will use it, if he has to. he honestly believes that Barnabas... that he would use Peter that way.

Cold fury filled George. Of course, the old chestnut. Homosexual mans child molester, no ifs, ands or buts,

He controlled himself. There had to be away to help Julia.

"Well, we could make the case that Iris was already of unsound mind when she signed the papers."

"Yes. I thought of that. But do you want to fight him? With what he knows about you? Unhappily you don't have job security. You have to be reelected. Patterson thought that he had his job for life, then suddenly the voters turned against him, and he was out. Just like that.

She was right. He had not come out of the closet because of it. He had not sense of shame or guilt over it. But he loved his job, more than he loved telling the truth about himself. And now the chickens were coming home to roost.


Quentin stared at the flame at the top of the candles, and back to Yolanda's face. For a moment the thought of Laura... Laura's power was derived from flame. Suppose this was her way of getting back? Would she reward him then?

Maybe Laura could protect him from both Carl and Magda. It was a gamble that he was taking.

"This is not what you think" Yolanda spoke "the being whom you call Laura Murdock has no share in this."

How had he know what he was thinking? He had not spoken of it, had he?"

"Do not be startled." this time she was slightly mocking "Someone of your experience should not be surprised by the powers I show."

He nodded, too dumb to speak.

"You doubted that I might have the power. I am too young. I look too inexperienced. No, Quentin Collins. No one is too young and inexperienced if the call is in them. The Master does not look on his servant with the careless eyes of a man bound by lust."


In the cottage, Nicholas spied on them with his mini-stage. And he also saw Quentin's through Yolanda's eyes. The double image was a bit disconcerting, but not overly so. Carefully he chose the words for Yolanda's mouth.

He was doing that, he, Nicholas Blair, once believed to be washed out, an alcoholic failure, destroyed by the conditions of the shadow curse that Angelique had forced on him.

It had been a long, painful climb back he did not wish to remember Vicky and the Leviathan. And now his power depended on the young fool hidden under the floor.

But not for long. Quentin would help him locate the mask of Baal, believing he was looking for it for himself. And when he got the mask... When he got the mask..

What would he do with Urien then? Make him a living zombie and send him to slaughter his enemies?


Carolyn looked a him trembling, begging him to deny what he had just said.

"She is dying." he repeated.

No... not her mother. Not like this.

"It is my fault." she said, weakly.

"No. How could it be?"

"It I had not been born she would not have minded my father running away. It was to protect me that she hit him with that poker. Had it not been for me, she would not have locked herself in."

"She loves you, Carolyn,"

"No. How could she? No one loves me. Why should she?"

"Don't be melodramatic." he admonished her. "And don't be so self-centered either."

"I am a bitch, and everyone knows it. Who can love me? Even Edmund and Roger. They have each other and they don't need me."

Barnabas dried her tears "Carolyn, your mother needs your help, your support, your love, not your self-pity. Don't fail her now."