Chapter 11

Matthew and Sebastian didn't see Barnabas for five days. Nor did Sebastian, suggest that Matthew make the effort to see or talk to him.

News of Julian's attack and subsequent death became old news, and the town's people moved on, if only slightly.

Matthew also didn't see Ben or Megan; instead he searched nightly to try and hunt down the vampire responsible, for Julian's attack, but it remained elusive. He remained convinced of Barnabas' guilt.

There hadn't been any more attacks in the village, except for those that had been directed towards livestock. Sebastian understood that it had been Barnabas' way, to heal his hand, rather than run the risk of taking human blood. The reason he'd refused Sebastian's help on tending his injured hand, now obvious.

On the sixth night, Barnabas rose at dusk as usual. His hand, although almost healed, still bore some signs of the burns. It would take a few more nights before it would be completely healed, because of the animal blood he had taken. He flexed it cautiously. It still gave him pain, but at least now it was bearable.

He frowned, as a familiar scent became apparent. He climbed out of his coffin, quickly, and sniffed experimentally at the air.

Surely it couldn't be what he thought it was? He sensed a presence, as the scent grew stronger, and then his eyes widened, as something warm, and gentle, touched his cheek. He eyes opened wider…he knew that touch!

"Julia!" he breathed.

The scent seemed to fade and Barnabas looked desperately around his hiding place. "Julia?" he called, "Julia, if that's really you, show yourself, if you can."

He'd moved around the room, as he watched for some sign from her, and the scent returned and then faded again. It seemed to be leading him in a particular direction, and he began to follow.

The scent led up to the attic, which had escaped relatively unscathed from the fire that had swept through the house. His sharp eyesight picked out a number of trunks that had been placed up here, too long ago, for anyone to remember who they had originally belonged to.

He recognised some of the trunks over to his right, as belonging to Julia, and it was over these that the scent lingered the most strongly. He went over to the first one, and bending down, opened it, intending to rummage through it, when he felt her presence, touch his cheek once more. Then, on invisible hands, a tin box opened, and a thin booklet rose into the air. He reached out, drawing it closer to him, and his eyes widened in surprise.

/

"Sebastian, if there's another vampire here, I can't find it," said Matthew wearily, as he sank into a chair. "If Barnabas is innocent, and I still don't think he is, I can't prove it." He sighed, tiredly. "I've looked everywhere. If it is Dane, then he's pretty well hidden, or else someone is protecting him."

"That is quite possible. Alright Matt," said Sebastian with a bleak smile. "I know you've tried your best. I know it seems pointless, but keep searching anyway. He may not even be in Collinsport. Perhaps that's why you can't find him?"

"Ok...I try the surrounding area," said Matt rising to his feet. "I'll go now."

"No, why don't you take the night off?" suggested Sebastian. "Why not see Ben and Megan? You haven't seen them for a while."

"They might have plans," Matt edged. The truth was, he wasn't sure what they had planned, except maybe more fighting. That's all they seemed to be doing lately. "I'll search for another hour, and then I'll call it a night," he explained as he headed towards the door. He paused, as the familiar pain, filled his head. It was unexpected, and he almost fell to his knees.

Sebastian went to the door, knowing that Matthew had just heralded the arrival of Barnabas.

Without acknowledging Sebastian, Barnabas burst into the cottage. A look of relief crossed his face at the sight of Matthew.

Matthew wasn't so pleased to see him. He looked from him to Sebastian, noting the surprised look on the Watcher's face. It was obvious that Barnabas was an unexpected guest; he'd first thought this unexpected meeting had been pre-arranged between them.

"I'm going out, Sebastian," said Matthew, as usual completely ignoring his father. "There's a bad smell in here, suddenly."

"Matthew, wait," said Barnabas, as he's son, continued on his way to the door. "Please, Matthew. I came to see you."

Matthew stood with his back rigid, to his father. "I don't want to see you. I thought I'd made that pretty obvious by now, Barnabas. There is nothing you or Sebastian can say that would even convince me to..."

Barnabas moved towards his son, but stopped just a few paces away from him.

"Stay, please, Matthew. There's something I want you to have."

With a sigh Matt turned around slowly to face the vampire that was his father. "What makes you think that I would possibly accept anything from you!"

"Just take a look, that's all I ask," said Barnabas, holding out the booklet that Julia's presence had picked out. "Please. Take it," encouraged Barnabas.

Curiosity made him take it. He read the header, and handed back to Barnabas. "You can't buy me off Barnabas," he said. "What makes you think I'd ever accept money from you?"

"Open it," he said, not answering the question. "Go on, open it."

"I'm not interested, in your blood money, Barnabas," he said, his eyes narrowing. He offered the booklet out to him again. Barnabas still refused to take it. With a shrug Matthew, made as if to tear it in two.

"It's not from me," Barnabas said quickly, making his son pause.

He looked questioningly at him. "If it's not from you, who is it from?"

"Look inside."

Matthew looked doubtful, but for once did as he was asked without argument.

He glanced at the signature, and then looked up abruptly.

Barnabas swallowed under his son's gaze. Matthew looked down again at the sum, written inside and then at the signature.

Sebastian looked from father to son and back again. "Who is it from, Matt?" he asked.

"My mother," said Matt, with a sense of shock. He looked at his father again.

"Where did you get this, and why?"

"I was looking through some old trunks in the attic," Barnabas explained, leaving out Julia's help for now. "And I came across one that belonged to your mother. Inside a small tin box, I found that. Apparently, unknown to everyone but her, she'd set up a trust fund for you. It was intended she give you the sum of $25,000, when you reached eighteen. A little late, but…I know that you're trying to restore the Fleet. When I found this, I thought that perhaps it might help."

Matthew stared at the booklet once more, still numbed. He didn't know what to say. He looked at his father, indecision on his face.

"She wanted you to have it, Matthew," replied Barnabas quietly. "I'm only doing what... she would have done," he said looking down.

With a sense of shock, Matthew couldn't think of a suitable barb; instead he nodded his head, and stuffed the booklet into the back pocket of his jeans. He paused by the door, and turned back to his father, his throat worked, but no sound came out.

Barnabas seemed to understand, for he bowed his head slightly, and Matthew left without saying a word.

/

The next day, he was knelt by the boat, brush in hand, still preoccupied by the news of the trust fund. After, he had left the cottage, he had gone straight to her grave, and had stayed there until dawn.

Then, before coming to the Cannery, he had returned with some fresh flowers. It was the only way he could think of, to thank her, and let her know that he missed her, and was thinking of her.

With a sigh, he brought himself out of his daydream, and began painting in the name of the boat, when he heard an unfamiliar step behind him.

He tensed, and slowly turned to face his unwanted guest.

"Hi, Matthew! Sebastian said, I'd find you here."

Matthew rose quickly to his feet, a huge grin on his face. "Quentin!"