Episode Four
Willie hung up the phone and blinked to try to clear what he thought he had seen from his eyes. When he opened them again, the vision of a knife hovering before the doors to the drawing room was still there.
** ** **
The Drawing Room of the Old House...
Barnabas rubbed his arm at the spot where Julia had plunged the serum-bearing needle just a minute before. It had been several weeks since he had reverted to full vampiric status and in those weeks, he had managed to forget the searing pain that the injections brought.
Julia finished reloading her medical bag. She bit back a flash of jealousy as she watched Victoria walk over to Barnabas from her position next to the fireplace out of the corner of her eye. From her time as host body to Angelique's vengeful ghost, she knew that jealousy had been THE factor that led the witch to try to destroy Barnabas' entire family.
Julia was determined not to let that same emotion overcome her. It had, once, and that had led to his biting Carolyn. Which had led to the confrontation at the Old House where the spirits of both Angelique and Sarah had appeared. Which led to seance that sent Victoria back in time. Which led to the second seance that had resulted in Angelique possessing her body and killing Joe Haskell. She didn't even want to think what the consequences might be if she ever gave in to that emotion again.
She picked up her bag and turned back to them to say her goodbyes. She had just opened her mouth when they heard Willie plaintively call out Barnabas' name.
Barnabas stood up and turned to face the drawing room doors. What is it, Willie? he replied, exasperation obvious in his voice.
Willie screamed, the sound followed almost immediately by the sound of something being thrown violently against a wall. The doors burst completely open, smacking up against the walls to which they were attached. The vision that greeted their eyes shocked all three. Willie was inexplicably lying in a heap against the far wall. But it was the other sight that caused the blood to drain completely from Julia's face.
The knife glistened as it hovered in the doorway. Hovered just like all the books and beakers, and even her bed had been hovering these past few weeks. The knife floated into the room, briefly pausing in front of Barnabas before it continued on towards Julia. She stumbled back against the mantel, but the knife followed her, coming to a stop just a centimeter in front of her throat. It absorbed the blows Barnabas delivered in his attempts to knock it away from her and stayed there for a full minute before collapsing to the ground.
Vicky crossed over to Julia's left side and squatted before her, delivering the same advice about taking deep breaths that Julia herself had delivered to numerous patients.
Barnabas, Victoria. Will you help me up? I have to attend to Willie.
Of course, they replied in unison, each grabbing one of her arms and lifting her to her feet.
** ** **
The Following Evening, On A Train Outside of Collinsport...
A young woman sat with her head resting on the window. Her eyes were shut in sleep, her long, light-chocolate hair flowing over the hand and arm that supported her head. The aisle seat next to her had been vacant for the entire trip, just as she had planned. It was that seat the porter leaned over as he gently shook her awake.
Excuse me, ma'am, he said. You wanted to be told when we were a half-hour out from Collinsport.
she sighed, her deep, rich voice dripping with sweetness. She smiled at him, the glint in her dark eyes cutting through the pretended vacuousness of her smile. Thank you, my dear Mr. Clarke. And no, there will be nothing else that I require.
She turned to face the window as he walked away, her thoughts coming back to the reason she had come all this way to Collinsport...To Collinwood. Oh no, Barnabas,' she thought. I am not through with you yet.' The dim reflection in the glass of the window was that of Angelique.
** ** **
Dr. Hoffman's Room At Collinwood, Tuesday, 7:58 P.M....
Julia Hoffman paced with the speed of a cheetah as she waited for the priest to arrive. She had politely but insistently turned away all of Barnabas and Victoria's questions about why a ghost would want to terrorize her, using Willie's injury and need of treatment as an excuse. The simple truth was that she hadn't a clue as to the ghost's reasons. And she knew, as they would if they gave it any thought, that their suggestion was simply unsafe. After what had happened the last two times, she most definitely would NOT allow a seance to be held.
No, it would take a priest to take care of her problem. And that meant a priest willing to perform short-notice exorcisms. That priest was Father Trask, who had once jokingly referred to himself in a conversation with Barnabas as the fastest exorcism east of the Mississippi.
She checked her watch. Only thirty seconds had passed since the last time she had checked it. A minute and a half left until he was due to arrive. She tried to swallow and found that her throat was parched. A glass of water sat on the desk where she had placed it fifteen minutes earlier. Hesitantly she walked over to get it, half expecting the water to suddenly transform into blood. Whatever she felt for Barnabas, she had no intention of sharing his unusual diet. She lifted the glass to her mouth and took a sip. She smiled, then drank down the rest of the still-pure water.
The sound of her doorknob turning made her jump slightly. She turned to see Father Trask standing there. It was good of you to come so quickly, Father, she greeted him. I thought I could live with this, but things have gotten out of hand.
Yes. You mentioned as much when you called me. Well, I'm sure you'll be wanting to get this spirit out of your life quickly, so shall we begin?
Of course.
The sixtyish priest pulled the equipment needed for the rite of exorcism from his jacket's pockets and set it on Julia's desk. He then tossed the jacket aside and began the rite.
Halfway through the rite, a crackle of static, followed by a high-pitched whine and then a male voice came through her turned-off radio. Excuse me, Father, but this is really none of your business, the voice said, even as Father Trask ignored it and continued with the exorcism.
Behind the priest, the closet doors slid apart and one of Julia's suitcases flew out and struck him in the head, rendering him unconscious. Sorry about that, Father, the voice spoke softly. Suddenly, Julia felt tendrils of raw hatred reaching out for her from the radio's speakers. This is NOT over, the spirit growled. With that, a loud squeal burst forth from the speakers and the tendrils of emotion faded away. Julia scrambled over to her phone and called for an ambulance.
** ** **
The Collinsport Art Gallery. Wednesday, 8:30 P.M....
Maggie stood in front of a large painting of the Collins family as it had been over 8 months ago. She remembered the feeling of impending doom that had washed over her when Carolyn had shown her the picture that Roger had chosen to paint from. She'd just had no idea that it would strike so soon. Or that Daphne would be its first victim. But, she asked herself, hadn't there been earlier warning?
When she and Daphne had been children, before they had even become teenagers, they had been to see a Gypsy fortune-teller. The seer, whose first name Maggie could no longer remember, had told Maggie's future readily enough. After beginning Daphne's, however, he had stopped, turned pale and insisted that they leave at once. With that warning and the feeling' from the picture, she wondered why she hadn't seen Daphne's fate coming. Why she hadn't been able to stop it.
Wordlessly, her hand reached out to almost touch the spot on the painting where Daphne had stood at the seated Elizabeth's right hand. She heard a voice behind her. Startled out of her reverie, she spun around to face her mentor.
Father Tim! she cried, smiling. They hugged.
Maggie, my girl, how're you doing? Haven't seen you around church much lately, Father Trask said.
Well, with all the trouble at Collinwood recently, I just haven't had the time. What happened to your head?
Aah, a suitcase flew out of a closet and hit me while I was in the middle of an exorcism. I'll need some help if I'm to attempt the rite again. Not to mention a written guarantee the woman's put her luggage somewhere else. He chuckled lightly at the last statement. Too many of those who had borne the name Trask down through the centuries had no sense of humor whatsoever. And there were still members of other branches of the family who carried on that tradition as well as those of overzealousness and cruel self-righteousness.
Maggie replied, after getting possessed myself the last time I tried an exorcism, I'm a little uneasy about doing another one. But if you need help... Her voice trailed off as she saw that Father Trask was glaring across the room at someone, his eyebrows lowered and his mouth clamped shut. She turned her head to see who he was looking at and winced at the evil she felt emanating from the woman. It was Laura Collins.
It seems we'll soon have more to worry about than ghosts and flying luggage. Be careful around this woman, Maggie. If even I can feel the evil in her...
** ** **
The Streets of Collinsport, 11:30 P.M....
Barnabas walked down the road, enjoying the night air. He smiled, feeling relaxed. From the time he had awakened and received yet another of Julia's treatments straight through his pleasant conversation with Father Trask, the night had been truly peaceful. More than anything else, that had surprised him. If anyone had told him that he would ever feel kinship for a Trask, he would have testified in open court that that person needed to be committed to a psychiatric institution. And yet this Trask had none of the attributes of the one who'd had Victoria hung for witchcraft.
The car, tires squealing loudly, came around the corner at a high speed. It slammed into a tree on the other side of the street from him, knocking the tree over. With superior eyesight born of his vampirism, Barnabas could see that the only person in the car was the driver. Without thinking twice, he dashed across the street and pulled the driver from the wreckage. To his surprise, the driver was Maggie Evans.
** ** **
Quentin's Room at Collinwood. Thursday, Just After Sunset...
Quentin sat at his desk, writing in his journal. Outside, the full moon rose leisurely. On the mantelpiece, an old statuette slowly changed its appearance from his image to that of a snarling werewolf. Oblivious, he kept writing.
It's now been over a hundred years since I left this town and still the clouds cast their shadows over Collinwood. Knowing what I know of vampires, I am not convinced that the man alleged to have attacked Daphne was actually guilty of it. I can only hope that it was not the same man who held Jenny in his clutches all these years.
Of more immediate consequence, my mother lives again. The Phoenix has risen from the ashes of the cottage where she tried to burn me to death when I was ten. I saw her yesterday at the Gallery, talking with Roger, her husband. The color of her eyes and hair have changed in the past 120 years. But that is all that has changed. I would still recognize her anywhere. Elizabeth tells me that, in a bout of Mother tried to burn down the home she, Roger and David were living in while they were still in it. David, my half-brother, I must and WILL protect you.
There is something strange about Mrs. Johnson's niece, Ellen Loomis. I can sense an almost-dormant supernatural presence about her. Will none in this family EVER have normal lives?
** ** **
The Old Collinwood Stables. 5:00 P.M. The Following Day...
Willie walked past the long-abandoned stables on the shortcut path he took from Collinwood to the Old House. Something didn't smell right. He turned to see smoke and flames pouring out of the stable's windows. Stopping short, he remembered that David had taken to occasionally playing in there. He tried to run towards the door only to find himself being violently shoved out of the way as the stable exploded. He looked up to see an older man resembling himself, but with weird clothes, a strange hat and an eyepatch. He wasn't there, the man said as he dissolved into nothingness.
To (Eventually) Be Continued...
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