Chapter 10
"This is my friend Lydia" Delia said to Willie "she's the one I told you about."
Willie studied Lydia. She looked sweet. Sweet and spiritual, with a hint of phoniness.
"I think that I can help you, Mr. Loomis " she extended her hand to him, smiling.
A sickeningly sweet smile, thought Willie. And she was going to help Louella?
"Well, you want to do it, or not?" Delia insisted.
Willie gritted his teeth. What if Lydia was a fraud? What if they blew it? What if...?
"Yes. We will do it. I will talk to Amy so that we will have enough people for it.
Barnabas walked slowly, trying to shake off the memory of Harry's face as he said "I will ask no questions"/
He could see why Harry thought it a solution. In fact, he half-believed it himself. After all, it was in a good cause...
As it had been with Megan? And how did that end?
"For a good cause" covered up a lot of sins. If nothing else, History taught you that.
What about Louella? That was different. It was for her own good.
"For her own good." That too covered a lot of sins.
He looked up, searching for the ghostly figure that followed him. Maybe she had the answer...
Then he saw the light coming out of Maggie's house.
But he had turned off the lights last time. Or had he? His hand had caught the curtain, he had mistaken it for Josette's dress, and had fled...
The bill that Maggie must be running!
He appeared in Sam's studio. Right in front of Joe Haskell.
"You! What are you doing here?"
He saw that Joe was holding a brush and a palette, facing the easel.
"You were Sam's ghost" he shook his head. "Why? Why did you do it?"
"It isn't me. It is Sam."
"You are in trouble, Joe."
Something caught his eye. Against the wall was this old Indian. Upside down, with a dark line running from his foot to the edge...
"Amy's spread!" the thought "That's the Hanged Man."
"It is Sam, not me." Joe pleaded. "He makes me do this." He sounded as if he no longer hoped to be believed.
Barnabas turned to the picture on the easel. He cringed when he saw it. It was that Indian woman he had brutalized so long ago.
And she wore the attributes of the High Priestess.
"I don't know why Sam wants to...to do this."
Barnabas looked at him.
"You paint with your left hand." he said, quietly. "Sam was left-handed."
"You...you believe me?" Joe's voice cracked. "Sam is the one doing this to me?"
"It seems so."
"Is it true? You are not just saying it to make me feel better?"
"Is that why you thought you might be going crazy again?" Barnabas put his hand on Joe's shoulder "No. Sam did these. And they were meant for me to see. Now that I have seen them, you won't need to paint again."
"I...I am all right.. I.. am all right!"
"You are not going back to Wyncliffe."
A sob came out of Joe's lips. Then another. He began to shake and rock himself, whimpering. Then the tears began to flow.
"You are going to be all right, Joe" Barnabas let Joe's head rest on his shoulder. "You are going to be all right."
Joe dug his fingers into his arm, afraid to let him go.
Old Munsungan. He had to deal with Old Munsungan" Barnabas thought s he flew towards the Indian reservation. Even if it meant what Harry suggested.
That was what Sam wanted him to know. Sam who was still protecting his daughter.
He wished that Joe could have told him more, but he was too hysterical for that. At least Joe would not sleep alone tonight. Phillip would keep him company in the Old House.
And she was nowhere to be found. That was a good sign. That meant that his decision was a good one.
There was a solitary figure sitting on a rock. He came nearer it. That solitary profile turned upward, that air of command... It had to be Old Munsungan.
His face was the same that Sam had painted...
Barnabas changed shape under the cover of some bushes and approached the silent old man.
"Old Munsungan" he wished he knew what was the proper term of respect with which one addressed a shaman. "I am Mr. Collins. Barnabas Collins."
If the old man recognized the name, or even heard it, he gave no sign.
"I have to talk to you. There is something I must explain."
Not a flicker, not a twitch was there to indicate that the man's face was flesh, not stone.
...It was no use, Barnabas realized. What good were arguments with someone who refused to hear them? Harry's way was all that was left...
He stepped back, rubbing his tongue against his fangs.
It was a pity to disturb such peace, he thought, as he lunged for the man's throat...
...And a brutal pain slashed his chest...
She was there, hovering over him. Looking at him with her. unblinking eyes. Shielding the immobile Munsungan with her ghostly body...
Nicholas smiled. Things were getting better and better. Barnabas had tried to attack Munsungan and failed., and now he lay on the ground, whimpering, without even the strength to shield his fangs from Munsungan's eyes.
It hurt him to fly. He hadn't the strength for it, but he flapped away, trying to escape her. Trying futilely to keep distance between her eyes and himself.
And he gained on him. Soon she would touch him again, as she had just done, and tear him apart...
He flapped again, feeling his strength ebb. He couldn't keep this shape much longer. Had to rest...
He felt pain shooting through his wings. he changed shape before touching the ground and he rolled over a thorny bush..
She hung in the air for a few seconds. Then, Nicholas having had his fun, sent her again to Munsungan's side, letting Barnabas get up as best he could.
The next morning Old Munsungan walked to the beach. Alone. There were no more doubts as to what must be done. Not after last night.
The white man's magic had failed against the protection of the spirits.
Gulls flew overhead. He heard their cry and he recognized in it the words of the Spirit of Gulls. He answered it.
One by one, the gulls flew to his feet, forming a small circle around him.
And from the woods came the voice of the dogs. he saluted them too. And they answered.
"So it was Old Munsungan who you beat up?" Barnabas asked.
"Carolyn paid me to do it...And Nicholas needed not to be disturbed.
Nicholas had been the one who had set that ghost on him...And he couldn't have chosen a better one for the job.
He wished that he could think straight. He was still in pain, from her touch, and from all the places that the thorns had got t. He was bruised and tired...
And he didn't know what he was supposed to do.
That woman, she had a right to make him suffer. But the way Carolyn was exploiting it...
And what about Sam's message. How did it match Amy's spread?
He retrieved the diagram he had made of Amy's spread. Maggie was the Queen of Spades, and Carolyn the Queen of Diamonds. There was a male, in a subordinated position.. All males fought for one or the other. He and Davenport fought for Maggie. Nicholas and Joe for Carolyn. Old Munsungan was the Hanged Man. It was a Major Arcana, a card of power. Wasn't he a shaman? The two of swords indicated strife. The Ace of Swords and the Ace of Coins showed the kind of struggle. Political power against economic power. Maggie and Carolyn. the High Priestess, was behind Munsungan...that ghost?
But what about the Moon? The Empress?
"I am going shopping" Phillip said. "we are very low on some supplies. Is there anything that I can bring you?"
Barnabas shook himself.
"Are you taking the car?"
"Of course, it is not around the corner" Was Barnabas stupid or what?
"Can you drop me at Maggie's house? I want to look over it again...and I can't fly too well."
Barnabas got in the car and pretended not to notice how Phillip shrank from contact with him.
"Do you mind having Joe around? I couldn't leave him all alone after what he's been through."
"He's no trouble." Phillip grunted.
"How's David?" Barnabas tried desperately to make conversation.
"In the cage." Phillip saw that Barnabas was hurt and continued with relish. "he started acting weird and Dr. Hoffman told me to take him downstairs, so I did. Chained him up well and took him down. Made sure he could not move much as we walked,. Better be on the safe side."