SHADOW'S BLISS
by Trish Bennett
"Some there be that shadows kiss.
Such have but a shadow's bliss."
~William Shakespeare~
This can't be happening!
Even as she heard the ominous crack of the trap doors from beyond the high barred window, Victoria Winters could not bring herself to believe that this was real.
The sun had not yet risen over the village of Collinsport when the townspeople had begun to gather in the square. Victoria knew it. She had heard the murmur of voices in the darkness as she trembled in her cold stone cell, voices of those who had come to witness an act of sheer barbarism. A travesty of justice. The culmination of a witch hunt.
They had come to witness Victoria's execution.
She had clung to her hope, even through the darkest hours, that she would be spared this. Victoria had been assured and reassured by some of the most powerful men in the land that she would not have to face this day. But now she could see the horrible finality even in Peter Bradford's eyes as he gazed up at her from the floor at her feet. This one man, her most valiant defender, was on his knees beside her in his despair.
"Victoria..." he whispered in a choked, unsteady voice. "This cannot be the end. I shall find you again. I know it. Someday...somehow...I shall find you."
She gazed down into his face, wishing she could somehow feel the same passion and intensity for him that was reflected for her in his tear-filled eyes. But even after all that had happened, she could still not get past the feelings she held for another -- a man...a beast?...nearly two-hundred years away.
"Peter..."
The sudden creak of the large cell door startled them both. Neither seemed to have heard the approaching footsteps. Victoria looked up to see two men standing in the open doorway.
It was time.
Bailiff Evans shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and his voice broke with emotion as he spoke. "I'm afraid it's time to go, Miss Winters."
The second man moved into the cell to bind her hands together, but he performed the task with a gentle hand that betrayed his regret for the action. Victoria did not resist. She realized at that moment she had no resistance left. She was completely numb.
Peter pushed his way to her side, and the two moved back obligingly to allow him his place at her side, the right to walk her to her destiny. Victoria was grateful for his steadying force, for she knew she could not have made the journey without him. She sank into his arms, and he clung to her tightly as he led her into the dawn of a new day...and the sunset of her existence.
Victoria ignored the accusing stares of the townspeople as she slowly made her march toward the monstrous contraption that would end her life. They were but a haze to her now. All she could see clearly was the figure atop the platform, the robed and hooded figure in black who waited for her at the top of the stairs.
Peter Bradford choked back a sob as he suddenly turned to face her. He took her face in his hands to kiss her lovingly on the lips, but he was so overcome with emotion that he allowed his tears to flow freely as they parted. Victoria gazed up into his anguished face, wishing even now she could somehow console him. But try though she might, she could find nothing to say to this gentle, compassionate soul. Why couldn't she feel anything for him?
Mercifully, Bailiff Evans moved up to take Victoria's arm. She saw the men move forward to hold Peter back, but she was only vaguely aware of it as she and Evans approached the foot of the steps. Victoria's legs gave way beneath her, and she would have fallen if the Bailiff had not been at her side. But after a moment she was able to regain her composure and mount the gallows steps with dignity under her own control.
Victoria trembled at the sight of the noose but found she could not take her eyes off it. She remained transfixed by it, even as she heard the sombre voice beside her.
"Do you have a last request?"
She shook her head unsteadily, but not solely in response to the question. Victoria still could not believe this was happening. She did not ask to be sent here. She was brought here to accomplish something, and she had accomplished it. And now she was expected to pay for that victory with her life? It wasn't fair! What could possibly be gained by anyone by her death...
Suddenly a wave of absolute confidence washed over her. If Victoria had learned nothing else from this experience, it was that death was never an end...at least not here in Collinsport. If young Sarah Collins had the power to bring her to this place, she certainly had the power to take her from it.
Or perhaps...just perhaps...that power rested with Victoria alone. How did that go again? Click your heels together three times...there's no place like home...
The very thought of it calmed her so completely that she was ready to face whatever awaited her. Victoria searched out Peter's face from the crowd and offered him the most reassuring smile she could give, but she could not ignore the look of utter devastation he gave her in return as the noose was slipped over her head.
The priest at Victoria's side made the sign of the cross as he said, "May God have mercy upon your everlasting soul..."
Suddenly Peter broke free from the crowd and with that one fatal action seemed to release all the fury of hell. Victoria watched in horror as he pushed past the men lining the stairs of the gallows in his desperate attempt to reach her. He had nearly reached the top, but a single gunshot stopped him in his tracks. Victoria could only watch through helpless tears as he clutched at the wound and raised his stunned gaze slowly to meet hers. After what seemed like an eternity, he simply collapsed and tumbled down the wooden steps to the ground below.
"No!"
From that moment on, the world around her was nothing but a blur. The shocked and angry voices of the townspeople thundered in her ears as the executioners scrambled to their task. She barely heard Bailiff Evans' voice above the roar.
"Do it!" he barked. "Quickly!"
Victoria scanned the crowd, trying desperately to find her fallen defender. In the instant their eyes met, time itself seemed to stand still, and she could do nothing but watch him as his lips formed the word "Victoria..."
Suddenly her vision went completely black. The Bailiff had pulled a hood roughly over her head. Victoria felt the floor give way beneath her feet, felt herself falling...
But surprisingly there was no pain...no abrupt, jarring halt to her fall...there was nothing. Only blackness in a world that was spinning out of control. She tried to speak or to scream, but she could not make a sound. Finally the blackness began to suffocate her.
Victoria gasped for air, choking and coughing, and raised her hands instinctively for her throat. At last the darkness began to shift, forming blurred images of color and light all around her. She continued to gasp on the verge of hysteria.
"Where am I?" she cried. "Where am I?"
The images around her slowly solidified as she felt the arms that embraced her firmly. Elizabeth! It was Elizabeth!
"It's all right," said the soothing voice in her ear. "You're safe now. You're back with us. You're home. Back at Collinwood. You're home."
"Ohmigod!" she whispered, clinging to Elizabeth Stoddard with all her might. "Ohmigod!"
Finally able to open her eyes, Victoria gazed up through her tears at the group assembled around her bed. They were all here...all of them, including...
The sight of Barnabas' solemn, wary face made her gasp involuntarily. She shrank back slightly but found she could not look away from him. A flash of lightning lit the room only for a moment, but the flickering light cast an eerie shadow on his chiseled features.
And at that moment the total blackness returned as Victoria lost consciousness.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Victoria had spent the past several days in self-imposed solitude. She needed time to sort through her feelings, to come to terms with the events she had experienced.
The entire Collins family, with one notable exception, had visited her individually during that time, but they kept their visits brief and for the most part had respected her need for privacy. She was grateful to them all, for she knew their curiosity must be overwhelming. But she just hadn't been able to talk about her journey to the past. That is, until now.
Now she understood that this experience had not been hers alone. There was one other person, Victoria believed, who had endured the same terrifying events that she had. She had been over it time and again in her mind. And if she was right, this person was a vampire.
It was a chilling thought, and fear clutched her chest as she made her way through the forest and the brush toward the Old House. But she had to know for sure. And the only way to do that was to confront her fear and face the man who could well be the one last piece to this horrific puzzle.
She had to talk to Barnabas Collins.
Victoria's heart pounded as she mounted the steps of the old estate. She swallowed hard, trying to quell the intinct that begged her to turn and run away from this place. As she reached the large wooden doors, she noticed that the sun was hanging low in the western sky. It would be dark soon. But she couldn't allow herself to think about that right now. She had to do this. She had to know.
Victoria had barely released the brass knocker when the door slowly creaked on its hinges. It was almost impossible to breathe as the fear and anticipation rose in her throat. But the face that peered out at her from behind the large door seemed even more nervous than she felt.
"Miss Win'ers!" said Willie Loomis, clumsily pulling the wool cap from his head and clutching it in his hands. He quickly stepped out to stand before her, pulling the door nearly shut behind him. "What are you...uh...doin' here?" His eyes continued to dart around warily, never quite making contact with hers.
"I came to see Barnabas, Willie," she replied. "Is he here?"
"Barnabas?" Willie said, making a poor show of trying to ponder the question. "No...uh...actually, he's, uh..."
"Willie?" came the curious but resonant voice from inside the house. Loomis jumped visibly at the sound. He fidgeted for a moment until apparently realizing that it was doing him no good. His entire body seemed to cave inward in defeat.
"Yeah," he said finally. "He's here."
Willie flinched as the door opened behind him, and he straightened his spine at Barnabas' commanding tone.
"Willie, what are you..." Barnabas halted abruptly when he spotted Victoria, and every hint of color instantly drained from his face as he whispered, "Victoria..."
"Barnabas," she acknowledged shakily. The very sight of him now made her tremble. "May I speak with you?"
He seemed to hesitate briefly before recovering his composure. "Yes, of course. Please, come in." He stepped back with a graceful sweep of his hand to usher her through the doorway.
Victoria swallowed back the dryness in her throat as she moved past Loomis to join Barnabas inside the Old House. She sensed Willie on her heels as they headed for the parlor and was somehow soothed by his presence. But she knew what she had come here to do was between her and Barnabas alone, and she was relieved when Barnabas promptly dismissed his valet.
"You may go now, Willie," Barnabas said, but his eyes never left Victoria's face.
"That's okay, Barnabas," Willie replied quickly. "I'm not busy right now, if you..."
Barnabas turned to look him hard in the eye. "I said you may go."
"Okay...sure, Barnabas," Loomis stammered, uneasily backing toward the doorway. "But I'll be around, so if ya...need anything, just yell...er, somethin'..."
Barnabas Collins glared at him impatiently, and Willie finally seemed to take the hint.
"Yeah, okay..." Willie moved to pull the parlor doors closed behind him. "Welcome back, Miss Win'ers."
"Thank you, Willie."
Victoria watched as the doors closed behind him, trying to gather her courage before finally looking back to Barnabas. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but the eyes that looked back at her were not the eyes of a monster. They were the dark, gentle eyes of the man she had fallen in love with...eyes that were now clouded with a look of wary anticipation.
Was it possible that she had been wrong about him? All the facts seemed to lead to one undeniable conclusion...that Barnabas was the murderous beast who had plagued Collinsport for so long. But after all she had been through, could she be sure of the facts? Could she even be sure of herself anymore?
"May I offer you something?" Barnabas said finally, breaking the uneasy silence. "A chair, at least?"
"No, thank you. I'm fine."
Barnabas gazed at her steadily, then a look of determination crossed his face. He rested his hand on the back of an antique chair, as if intending to display the black onyx ring on his forefinger. Then he inhaled deeply, raising himself to his full height before he spoke again.
"I have been expecting you," he said softly.
Victoria had to force herself to look away from the ring and back into his eyes. It had all been so clear to her before, but now she felt lost in her confusion.
"Why?"
"Considering the many hours we have spent together, discussing the Collins family history..." He paused briefly, carefully selecting his words. "Well, I assumed that, after your experience, you would have a unique insight on the subject."
Victoria had the distinct impression that her host was unsettled by her visit. It was possible he was trying to throw her off the trail, to lead her to a much less sinister conclusion that, right now, she would be all too willing to accept. But it was also possible that she was simply projecting her own anxiety and confusion onto him...and she did not want to start making accusations which could be based on nothing more than her own paranoia. Victoria decided to play it his way for now.
"I got to know them, Barnabas," she said. "All of them. They were just like I expected them to be...just like you said they were."
Barnabas maintained his rigid pose, but his eyes were sympathetic, his voice a silken whisper. "Still, it must have been frightening for you."
"Yes," she admitted. "But I felt as if I knew them from the moment we met...and most of the famiily was so gracious and inviting that I think it made it easier to adjust, especially in the beginning."
Barnabas nodded. "You became the children's tutor."
Victoria stared at him in mounting alarm. "How did you know that?"
A sad smile crossed his lips as he finally moved to produce a small black diary from the table beside him.
"Sarah told me," he said simply.
Barnabas offered her the book, and Victoria reached out warily to accept it. Victoria had given him this diary herself after discovering it in the dusty, hidden treasures of the great manor. She leafed gently through the delicate pages, allowing tears of grief to flow freely down her cheeks.
"She was such a beautiful child," Victoria whispered. "I wasn't able to be with her when she died. Oh, Barnabas...there was so much death..." Her voice trailed off, and she began to sob openly from the memories which flooded back to her.
Barnabas stepped forward to comfort her, but Victoria instinctively recoiled from his touch. He froze for a moment, then stepped back. When Victoria finally looked back at him, his eyes were wet.
"You're frightened of me," he said. There was not a hint of inflection in his voice, but the look of utter devastation in his face spoke volumes.
"I don't want to be," she assured him through her tears. "You've never given me any reason to be, but..."
"But..." he prompted after a moment.
Victoria paused to calm her tears and collect her thoughts before she replied.
"I met Barnabas Collins in 1790," she said. "He was exactly like you, in every detail. But...he never sailed to England as the family history says. He died at Collinwood, attacked by...something. You could not possibly be his descendent."
Victoria waited breathlessly as Barnabas considered her words. Although she had never personally witnessed it, she knew he had a hidden temper which remained very near the surface. If he were to become enraged...
But he seemed to remain very calm, considering her thoughtfully in silence. The only visible effect of the accusation seemed to be the ever-present sadness in his dark eyes.
"What are you saying, Victoria?" he asked carefully.
"I'm sorry, Barnabas, but I have to know the truth. You are that Barnabas Collins, aren't you?"
He gazed at her for several agonizing seconds before finally exhaling a quivering sigh. Barnabas closed his eyes, then opened them to look back at her.
"I am what Angelique made me."
Although she had suspected it from the beginning, the sudden admission came as a shock to her. "Oh, my God!" she whispered, raising a hand to her lips and taking a faltering step away from him. "It's true! You're a..."
"Victoria, please..." Barnabas stepped forward, raising his hands in a display of submission. "Don't be frightened. I promise not to harm you. But you must listen to me..."
Victoria struggled valiantly with the fear that nearly overwhelmed her. Finally she was able to manage a shaky nod.
"Angelique sent the beast that attacked me," he continued, once certain he had her full attention. "I thought it was Josette. Once I realized what she had done...what my existence would be...I asked my father to destroy me." His voice was suddenly tinged with bitterness. "But apparently he found he could not go through with it. When I awoke, I realized that he had chained me inside my tomb for all eternity."
The thought of such a hellish existence chilled her to the very bone. "Oh, Barnabas..." she whispered.
"I would be there still if not for Willie's unfortunate treasure hunt in the hidden recesses of the mausoleum."
"But I've seen you in the daylight," Victoria protested, desperately wishing that what she was hearing was somehow untrue. "I thought..."
"Doctor Hoffman discovered my secret," Barnabas explained candidly. "I don't claim to understand it all, but she discovered an abnormal cell in my blood which she believed could be eliminated with the proper treatment."
"A cure?" She could hardly believe what she was hearing.
Barnabas nodded. "So far, she has only succeeded in a remission. But there is hope that, in time...yes, it could be a cure."
Victoria gazed at him in silence, her fear replaced with the genuine affection that had always existed between them. She finally understood...all the times he had backed away, the sudden restraints on the verge of intimacy...all those things had been his way of protecting her from himself. And she finally knew it was time to ask the question that had been gnawing at her from the start.
"Barnabas...do you believe that I am the reincarnation of Josette DuPres?"
He did not hesitate with his reply. "Yes, I do...with all my heart."
"She loved you, Barnabas," Victoria said. "Even after everything that happened, she truly loved you."
"I know," he said quietly, but his eyes never left her face. "But I believe the real question is, even after everything that's happened...how do you feel?"
Victoria exhaled shakily, mustering the courage to speak the truth that had been unspoken for so very long.
"I know what kind of man you were," she said. "I know the man you are. And as powerful as Angelique may be, she can never do anything to change that."
Tears of loving gratitude glistened in his eyes as she stepped forward to take his hands in hers.
"I love you, Barnabas."
"Oh, my love..." he whispered as he took her in his arms. "You have come back to me..."
A shrill, piercing laugh startled them both, and it echoed deafeningly through the parlor. Barnabas pulled Victoria tightly to him, cradling her protectively in his arms as an icy wind cut through to her very soul. She raised her eyes to look at him, then followed his hate-filled gaze to the apparition which hovered before them.
"Angelique..." she whispered.
"Do you not remember your curse, mon chere?" came the wickedly melodious voice of the apparition.
Barnabas was clearly furious. He glared at Angelique, his dark eyes blazing with contempt. "You will not harm her!"
"I do not have to, Barnabas," Angelique taunted gleefully. "It is you who will destroy her." She fixed her ghostly eyes upon Victoria. "Do not be fooled by him again, Josette. See him for what he truly is..."
Victoria inhaled sharply as the images flashed relentlessly in her mind. Visions of blood, of murder, of death...images of unspeakable horror that could not be shut out even when she clenched her eyes tightly shut against the assault.
She struggled wildly against Barnabas' firm embrace, but he refused to release his grip.
"Stop it, Angelique!" she heard him cry as she thrashed in his powerful grasp. "Oh, God, Victoria, no! Don't let her win! Sweet God in heaven, don't let her win!"
His desperate pleas finally penetrated the fury in her mind, and his words seemed to strike a raw nerve.
Angelique had won with little Sarah...she had won with Josette...but even if Victoria had to face the wrath of Satan himself, she would not let her do it again. She suddenly froze in Barnabas' arms, and it took every ounce of control in her possession to ignore the horrifying images and finally find her voice.
"No..." she growled hoarsely. "Not this time..."
Victoria felt his arms loosen slightly from around her, and she turned her head just enough to glare at the ghostly figure above them.
"It won't work, Angelique," she said in a strained whisper. "You have tried to destroy this over and over again...and it won't work! Go back to hell where you belong...but leave him alone! Leave us alone!"
Angelique suddenly shrieked in frustration, and the entire room exploded in her ghostly rage. A forceful wind rose up as if from the depths of hell, and the floor shuddered beneath them under the force of tremendous thunder claps. Streaks of blue and orange flame shot through the air, and Barnabas shielded Victoria from it with his own body.
"This is not over, Barnabas!" Angelique shrieked through the fury. "It will never be over!"
With that ominous warning, the apparition dissolved into a whirlwind of fire and light, then promptly disappeared. The wind and the thunder instantly vanished, leaving utter devastation in their wake. Barnabas and Victoria continued to cling tightly to each other for several moments before he finally released her.
Victoria looked up into his face and had to suppress a startled gasp. Barnabas' eyes were an unnatural red, and his sharp fangs glistened against his lip. He must have seen the reaction in her eyes, for he quickly turned his head away in shame.
"What she said is true," he said without looking at her. "She will never give up."
Victoria reached out to rest her hand on his cheek. At her gentle urging, he turned his head back to look at her.
"Neither will I, Barnabas," she said with a tender smile. "I promise."
THE END...?
by Trish Bennett
"Some there be that shadows kiss.
Such have but a shadow's bliss."
~William Shakespeare~
This can't be happening!
Even as she heard the ominous crack of the trap doors from beyond the high barred window, Victoria Winters could not bring herself to believe that this was real.
The sun had not yet risen over the village of Collinsport when the townspeople had begun to gather in the square. Victoria knew it. She had heard the murmur of voices in the darkness as she trembled in her cold stone cell, voices of those who had come to witness an act of sheer barbarism. A travesty of justice. The culmination of a witch hunt.
They had come to witness Victoria's execution.
She had clung to her hope, even through the darkest hours, that she would be spared this. Victoria had been assured and reassured by some of the most powerful men in the land that she would not have to face this day. But now she could see the horrible finality even in Peter Bradford's eyes as he gazed up at her from the floor at her feet. This one man, her most valiant defender, was on his knees beside her in his despair.
"Victoria..." he whispered in a choked, unsteady voice. "This cannot be the end. I shall find you again. I know it. Someday...somehow...I shall find you."
She gazed down into his face, wishing she could somehow feel the same passion and intensity for him that was reflected for her in his tear-filled eyes. But even after all that had happened, she could still not get past the feelings she held for another -- a man...a beast?...nearly two-hundred years away.
"Peter..."
The sudden creak of the large cell door startled them both. Neither seemed to have heard the approaching footsteps. Victoria looked up to see two men standing in the open doorway.
It was time.
Bailiff Evans shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and his voice broke with emotion as he spoke. "I'm afraid it's time to go, Miss Winters."
The second man moved into the cell to bind her hands together, but he performed the task with a gentle hand that betrayed his regret for the action. Victoria did not resist. She realized at that moment she had no resistance left. She was completely numb.
Peter pushed his way to her side, and the two moved back obligingly to allow him his place at her side, the right to walk her to her destiny. Victoria was grateful for his steadying force, for she knew she could not have made the journey without him. She sank into his arms, and he clung to her tightly as he led her into the dawn of a new day...and the sunset of her existence.
Victoria ignored the accusing stares of the townspeople as she slowly made her march toward the monstrous contraption that would end her life. They were but a haze to her now. All she could see clearly was the figure atop the platform, the robed and hooded figure in black who waited for her at the top of the stairs.
Peter Bradford choked back a sob as he suddenly turned to face her. He took her face in his hands to kiss her lovingly on the lips, but he was so overcome with emotion that he allowed his tears to flow freely as they parted. Victoria gazed up into his anguished face, wishing even now she could somehow console him. But try though she might, she could find nothing to say to this gentle, compassionate soul. Why couldn't she feel anything for him?
Mercifully, Bailiff Evans moved up to take Victoria's arm. She saw the men move forward to hold Peter back, but she was only vaguely aware of it as she and Evans approached the foot of the steps. Victoria's legs gave way beneath her, and she would have fallen if the Bailiff had not been at her side. But after a moment she was able to regain her composure and mount the gallows steps with dignity under her own control.
Victoria trembled at the sight of the noose but found she could not take her eyes off it. She remained transfixed by it, even as she heard the sombre voice beside her.
"Do you have a last request?"
She shook her head unsteadily, but not solely in response to the question. Victoria still could not believe this was happening. She did not ask to be sent here. She was brought here to accomplish something, and she had accomplished it. And now she was expected to pay for that victory with her life? It wasn't fair! What could possibly be gained by anyone by her death...
Suddenly a wave of absolute confidence washed over her. If Victoria had learned nothing else from this experience, it was that death was never an end...at least not here in Collinsport. If young Sarah Collins had the power to bring her to this place, she certainly had the power to take her from it.
Or perhaps...just perhaps...that power rested with Victoria alone. How did that go again? Click your heels together three times...there's no place like home...
The very thought of it calmed her so completely that she was ready to face whatever awaited her. Victoria searched out Peter's face from the crowd and offered him the most reassuring smile she could give, but she could not ignore the look of utter devastation he gave her in return as the noose was slipped over her head.
The priest at Victoria's side made the sign of the cross as he said, "May God have mercy upon your everlasting soul..."
Suddenly Peter broke free from the crowd and with that one fatal action seemed to release all the fury of hell. Victoria watched in horror as he pushed past the men lining the stairs of the gallows in his desperate attempt to reach her. He had nearly reached the top, but a single gunshot stopped him in his tracks. Victoria could only watch through helpless tears as he clutched at the wound and raised his stunned gaze slowly to meet hers. After what seemed like an eternity, he simply collapsed and tumbled down the wooden steps to the ground below.
"No!"
From that moment on, the world around her was nothing but a blur. The shocked and angry voices of the townspeople thundered in her ears as the executioners scrambled to their task. She barely heard Bailiff Evans' voice above the roar.
"Do it!" he barked. "Quickly!"
Victoria scanned the crowd, trying desperately to find her fallen defender. In the instant their eyes met, time itself seemed to stand still, and she could do nothing but watch him as his lips formed the word "Victoria..."
Suddenly her vision went completely black. The Bailiff had pulled a hood roughly over her head. Victoria felt the floor give way beneath her feet, felt herself falling...
But surprisingly there was no pain...no abrupt, jarring halt to her fall...there was nothing. Only blackness in a world that was spinning out of control. She tried to speak or to scream, but she could not make a sound. Finally the blackness began to suffocate her.
Victoria gasped for air, choking and coughing, and raised her hands instinctively for her throat. At last the darkness began to shift, forming blurred images of color and light all around her. She continued to gasp on the verge of hysteria.
"Where am I?" she cried. "Where am I?"
The images around her slowly solidified as she felt the arms that embraced her firmly. Elizabeth! It was Elizabeth!
"It's all right," said the soothing voice in her ear. "You're safe now. You're back with us. You're home. Back at Collinwood. You're home."
"Ohmigod!" she whispered, clinging to Elizabeth Stoddard with all her might. "Ohmigod!"
Finally able to open her eyes, Victoria gazed up through her tears at the group assembled around her bed. They were all here...all of them, including...
The sight of Barnabas' solemn, wary face made her gasp involuntarily. She shrank back slightly but found she could not look away from him. A flash of lightning lit the room only for a moment, but the flickering light cast an eerie shadow on his chiseled features.
And at that moment the total blackness returned as Victoria lost consciousness.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Victoria had spent the past several days in self-imposed solitude. She needed time to sort through her feelings, to come to terms with the events she had experienced.
The entire Collins family, with one notable exception, had visited her individually during that time, but they kept their visits brief and for the most part had respected her need for privacy. She was grateful to them all, for she knew their curiosity must be overwhelming. But she just hadn't been able to talk about her journey to the past. That is, until now.
Now she understood that this experience had not been hers alone. There was one other person, Victoria believed, who had endured the same terrifying events that she had. She had been over it time and again in her mind. And if she was right, this person was a vampire.
It was a chilling thought, and fear clutched her chest as she made her way through the forest and the brush toward the Old House. But she had to know for sure. And the only way to do that was to confront her fear and face the man who could well be the one last piece to this horrific puzzle.
She had to talk to Barnabas Collins.
Victoria's heart pounded as she mounted the steps of the old estate. She swallowed hard, trying to quell the intinct that begged her to turn and run away from this place. As she reached the large wooden doors, she noticed that the sun was hanging low in the western sky. It would be dark soon. But she couldn't allow herself to think about that right now. She had to do this. She had to know.
Victoria had barely released the brass knocker when the door slowly creaked on its hinges. It was almost impossible to breathe as the fear and anticipation rose in her throat. But the face that peered out at her from behind the large door seemed even more nervous than she felt.
"Miss Win'ers!" said Willie Loomis, clumsily pulling the wool cap from his head and clutching it in his hands. He quickly stepped out to stand before her, pulling the door nearly shut behind him. "What are you...uh...doin' here?" His eyes continued to dart around warily, never quite making contact with hers.
"I came to see Barnabas, Willie," she replied. "Is he here?"
"Barnabas?" Willie said, making a poor show of trying to ponder the question. "No...uh...actually, he's, uh..."
"Willie?" came the curious but resonant voice from inside the house. Loomis jumped visibly at the sound. He fidgeted for a moment until apparently realizing that it was doing him no good. His entire body seemed to cave inward in defeat.
"Yeah," he said finally. "He's here."
Willie flinched as the door opened behind him, and he straightened his spine at Barnabas' commanding tone.
"Willie, what are you..." Barnabas halted abruptly when he spotted Victoria, and every hint of color instantly drained from his face as he whispered, "Victoria..."
"Barnabas," she acknowledged shakily. The very sight of him now made her tremble. "May I speak with you?"
He seemed to hesitate briefly before recovering his composure. "Yes, of course. Please, come in." He stepped back with a graceful sweep of his hand to usher her through the doorway.
Victoria swallowed back the dryness in her throat as she moved past Loomis to join Barnabas inside the Old House. She sensed Willie on her heels as they headed for the parlor and was somehow soothed by his presence. But she knew what she had come here to do was between her and Barnabas alone, and she was relieved when Barnabas promptly dismissed his valet.
"You may go now, Willie," Barnabas said, but his eyes never left Victoria's face.
"That's okay, Barnabas," Willie replied quickly. "I'm not busy right now, if you..."
Barnabas turned to look him hard in the eye. "I said you may go."
"Okay...sure, Barnabas," Loomis stammered, uneasily backing toward the doorway. "But I'll be around, so if ya...need anything, just yell...er, somethin'..."
Barnabas Collins glared at him impatiently, and Willie finally seemed to take the hint.
"Yeah, okay..." Willie moved to pull the parlor doors closed behind him. "Welcome back, Miss Win'ers."
"Thank you, Willie."
Victoria watched as the doors closed behind him, trying to gather her courage before finally looking back to Barnabas. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but the eyes that looked back at her were not the eyes of a monster. They were the dark, gentle eyes of the man she had fallen in love with...eyes that were now clouded with a look of wary anticipation.
Was it possible that she had been wrong about him? All the facts seemed to lead to one undeniable conclusion...that Barnabas was the murderous beast who had plagued Collinsport for so long. But after all she had been through, could she be sure of the facts? Could she even be sure of herself anymore?
"May I offer you something?" Barnabas said finally, breaking the uneasy silence. "A chair, at least?"
"No, thank you. I'm fine."
Barnabas gazed at her steadily, then a look of determination crossed his face. He rested his hand on the back of an antique chair, as if intending to display the black onyx ring on his forefinger. Then he inhaled deeply, raising himself to his full height before he spoke again.
"I have been expecting you," he said softly.
Victoria had to force herself to look away from the ring and back into his eyes. It had all been so clear to her before, but now she felt lost in her confusion.
"Why?"
"Considering the many hours we have spent together, discussing the Collins family history..." He paused briefly, carefully selecting his words. "Well, I assumed that, after your experience, you would have a unique insight on the subject."
Victoria had the distinct impression that her host was unsettled by her visit. It was possible he was trying to throw her off the trail, to lead her to a much less sinister conclusion that, right now, she would be all too willing to accept. But it was also possible that she was simply projecting her own anxiety and confusion onto him...and she did not want to start making accusations which could be based on nothing more than her own paranoia. Victoria decided to play it his way for now.
"I got to know them, Barnabas," she said. "All of them. They were just like I expected them to be...just like you said they were."
Barnabas maintained his rigid pose, but his eyes were sympathetic, his voice a silken whisper. "Still, it must have been frightening for you."
"Yes," she admitted. "But I felt as if I knew them from the moment we met...and most of the famiily was so gracious and inviting that I think it made it easier to adjust, especially in the beginning."
Barnabas nodded. "You became the children's tutor."
Victoria stared at him in mounting alarm. "How did you know that?"
A sad smile crossed his lips as he finally moved to produce a small black diary from the table beside him.
"Sarah told me," he said simply.
Barnabas offered her the book, and Victoria reached out warily to accept it. Victoria had given him this diary herself after discovering it in the dusty, hidden treasures of the great manor. She leafed gently through the delicate pages, allowing tears of grief to flow freely down her cheeks.
"She was such a beautiful child," Victoria whispered. "I wasn't able to be with her when she died. Oh, Barnabas...there was so much death..." Her voice trailed off, and she began to sob openly from the memories which flooded back to her.
Barnabas stepped forward to comfort her, but Victoria instinctively recoiled from his touch. He froze for a moment, then stepped back. When Victoria finally looked back at him, his eyes were wet.
"You're frightened of me," he said. There was not a hint of inflection in his voice, but the look of utter devastation in his face spoke volumes.
"I don't want to be," she assured him through her tears. "You've never given me any reason to be, but..."
"But..." he prompted after a moment.
Victoria paused to calm her tears and collect her thoughts before she replied.
"I met Barnabas Collins in 1790," she said. "He was exactly like you, in every detail. But...he never sailed to England as the family history says. He died at Collinwood, attacked by...something. You could not possibly be his descendent."
Victoria waited breathlessly as Barnabas considered her words. Although she had never personally witnessed it, she knew he had a hidden temper which remained very near the surface. If he were to become enraged...
But he seemed to remain very calm, considering her thoughtfully in silence. The only visible effect of the accusation seemed to be the ever-present sadness in his dark eyes.
"What are you saying, Victoria?" he asked carefully.
"I'm sorry, Barnabas, but I have to know the truth. You are that Barnabas Collins, aren't you?"
He gazed at her for several agonizing seconds before finally exhaling a quivering sigh. Barnabas closed his eyes, then opened them to look back at her.
"I am what Angelique made me."
Although she had suspected it from the beginning, the sudden admission came as a shock to her. "Oh, my God!" she whispered, raising a hand to her lips and taking a faltering step away from him. "It's true! You're a..."
"Victoria, please..." Barnabas stepped forward, raising his hands in a display of submission. "Don't be frightened. I promise not to harm you. But you must listen to me..."
Victoria struggled valiantly with the fear that nearly overwhelmed her. Finally she was able to manage a shaky nod.
"Angelique sent the beast that attacked me," he continued, once certain he had her full attention. "I thought it was Josette. Once I realized what she had done...what my existence would be...I asked my father to destroy me." His voice was suddenly tinged with bitterness. "But apparently he found he could not go through with it. When I awoke, I realized that he had chained me inside my tomb for all eternity."
The thought of such a hellish existence chilled her to the very bone. "Oh, Barnabas..." she whispered.
"I would be there still if not for Willie's unfortunate treasure hunt in the hidden recesses of the mausoleum."
"But I've seen you in the daylight," Victoria protested, desperately wishing that what she was hearing was somehow untrue. "I thought..."
"Doctor Hoffman discovered my secret," Barnabas explained candidly. "I don't claim to understand it all, but she discovered an abnormal cell in my blood which she believed could be eliminated with the proper treatment."
"A cure?" She could hardly believe what she was hearing.
Barnabas nodded. "So far, she has only succeeded in a remission. But there is hope that, in time...yes, it could be a cure."
Victoria gazed at him in silence, her fear replaced with the genuine affection that had always existed between them. She finally understood...all the times he had backed away, the sudden restraints on the verge of intimacy...all those things had been his way of protecting her from himself. And she finally knew it was time to ask the question that had been gnawing at her from the start.
"Barnabas...do you believe that I am the reincarnation of Josette DuPres?"
He did not hesitate with his reply. "Yes, I do...with all my heart."
"She loved you, Barnabas," Victoria said. "Even after everything that happened, she truly loved you."
"I know," he said quietly, but his eyes never left her face. "But I believe the real question is, even after everything that's happened...how do you feel?"
Victoria exhaled shakily, mustering the courage to speak the truth that had been unspoken for so very long.
"I know what kind of man you were," she said. "I know the man you are. And as powerful as Angelique may be, she can never do anything to change that."
Tears of loving gratitude glistened in his eyes as she stepped forward to take his hands in hers.
"I love you, Barnabas."
"Oh, my love..." he whispered as he took her in his arms. "You have come back to me..."
A shrill, piercing laugh startled them both, and it echoed deafeningly through the parlor. Barnabas pulled Victoria tightly to him, cradling her protectively in his arms as an icy wind cut through to her very soul. She raised her eyes to look at him, then followed his hate-filled gaze to the apparition which hovered before them.
"Angelique..." she whispered.
"Do you not remember your curse, mon chere?" came the wickedly melodious voice of the apparition.
Barnabas was clearly furious. He glared at Angelique, his dark eyes blazing with contempt. "You will not harm her!"
"I do not have to, Barnabas," Angelique taunted gleefully. "It is you who will destroy her." She fixed her ghostly eyes upon Victoria. "Do not be fooled by him again, Josette. See him for what he truly is..."
Victoria inhaled sharply as the images flashed relentlessly in her mind. Visions of blood, of murder, of death...images of unspeakable horror that could not be shut out even when she clenched her eyes tightly shut against the assault.
She struggled wildly against Barnabas' firm embrace, but he refused to release his grip.
"Stop it, Angelique!" she heard him cry as she thrashed in his powerful grasp. "Oh, God, Victoria, no! Don't let her win! Sweet God in heaven, don't let her win!"
His desperate pleas finally penetrated the fury in her mind, and his words seemed to strike a raw nerve.
Angelique had won with little Sarah...she had won with Josette...but even if Victoria had to face the wrath of Satan himself, she would not let her do it again. She suddenly froze in Barnabas' arms, and it took every ounce of control in her possession to ignore the horrifying images and finally find her voice.
"No..." she growled hoarsely. "Not this time..."
Victoria felt his arms loosen slightly from around her, and she turned her head just enough to glare at the ghostly figure above them.
"It won't work, Angelique," she said in a strained whisper. "You have tried to destroy this over and over again...and it won't work! Go back to hell where you belong...but leave him alone! Leave us alone!"
Angelique suddenly shrieked in frustration, and the entire room exploded in her ghostly rage. A forceful wind rose up as if from the depths of hell, and the floor shuddered beneath them under the force of tremendous thunder claps. Streaks of blue and orange flame shot through the air, and Barnabas shielded Victoria from it with his own body.
"This is not over, Barnabas!" Angelique shrieked through the fury. "It will never be over!"
With that ominous warning, the apparition dissolved into a whirlwind of fire and light, then promptly disappeared. The wind and the thunder instantly vanished, leaving utter devastation in their wake. Barnabas and Victoria continued to cling tightly to each other for several moments before he finally released her.
Victoria looked up into his face and had to suppress a startled gasp. Barnabas' eyes were an unnatural red, and his sharp fangs glistened against his lip. He must have seen the reaction in her eyes, for he quickly turned his head away in shame.
"What she said is true," he said without looking at her. "She will never give up."
Victoria reached out to rest her hand on his cheek. At her gentle urging, he turned his head back to look at her.
"Neither will I, Barnabas," she said with a tender smile. "I promise."
THE END...?