( 8 )
Several hours later, Sam lay in Vicki's bed, trying to relax, but sleep continued to elude him. His muscles hoarded the tensions of the day and refused to relinquish them despite the gentle coaxing of his mind.
Of course, his mind wasn't exactly cooperating, either. He kept running the problem of Vicki's memories through his head, hoping for a workable solution. So far, none had presented itself.
So he was wide awake when he heard the sound.
It was faint, just at the edge of hearing, and was followed by the soft scrape of leather on wood, as if a shoe sole had scuffed the floorboards. Across the room, the curtains stirred in the breeze. But how could that be, when he
clearly recalled closing that window before coming to bed?
Tucked under the covers up to his chin, Sam lay still and cautiously peered into the gloom of a room lit only by moonlight. Was it his imagination, or was there a dark figure silhouetted against the window?
He felt his muscles tense again, this time preparing to fling him out of the bed as adrenaline flooded his bloodstream. According to Al, and to some vaguely recalled past experiences, Sam was a master of several martial arts. Unfortunately, he was in no position to make use of any of them at the moment. He forced himself to breathe normally, feigning sleep as the figure stalked silently toward the bed. A stray moonbeam briefly illuminated the figure's face, and Sam's breath caught in his throat.
It was Barnabas Collins.
Dressed in black, Barnabas melted into the shadows as he moved out of the light. His movements were graceful, almost feline, and soundless.
What was he doing sneaking into Vicki's room in the middle of the night? If he was anticipating a tryst, he was in for a major disappointment. There was only so much Sam was willing to contemplate in the service of a Leap! He gathered himself, ready to roll from the bed and take defensive action if need be--then froze as a second figure appeared beside the bed. Sam recognized her instantly --and so did Barnabas.
"Sarah!" There was surprise in the deep voice, and...hope? "You've come back--"
Sadly, the ghost shook her head. "You must not do this, Barnabas."
He bowed his head. "I only wanted to...to see her, Sarah. To look on her without fear of what I might see in her eyes."
Sarah seemed to understand, but she said firmly, "You must go, now."
With a nod, Barnabas turned on his heel, and stalked back to the open window -- where he vanished, as easily as if he were a ghost himself.
Sam blinked in astonishment. What he'd just seen was impossible. But he had seen it. Hadn't he? He looked around frantically, but Sarah had disappeared, as well. He bolted upright, his heart doing a credible imitation of a jackhammer, and ran to the window.
Just as he remembered, it was closed, the latch securely fastened. Feeling slightly foolish, he double-checked the mechanism, then reached out and tapped gently on the glass. It was reassuringly solid beneath his fingers. He didn't understand what had happened, but he'd seen magicians pull off more astonishing illusions and there was nothing supernatural about them.
So why couldn't he stop trembling?
Telling himself it was just lack of sleep, Sam crawled back under the covers, determined to get some much needed rest before he started seeing pink elephants and dancing crocodiles. He pulled the blankets up around his ears, closed his eyes...But the storm was getting closer.
And it was a long time before sleep finally claimed him.
** ** ** ** **
Several hours later, Sam lay in Vicki's bed, trying to relax, but sleep continued to elude him. His muscles hoarded the tensions of the day and refused to relinquish them despite the gentle coaxing of his mind.
Of course, his mind wasn't exactly cooperating, either. He kept running the problem of Vicki's memories through his head, hoping for a workable solution. So far, none had presented itself.
So he was wide awake when he heard the sound.
It was faint, just at the edge of hearing, and was followed by the soft scrape of leather on wood, as if a shoe sole had scuffed the floorboards. Across the room, the curtains stirred in the breeze. But how could that be, when he
clearly recalled closing that window before coming to bed?
Tucked under the covers up to his chin, Sam lay still and cautiously peered into the gloom of a room lit only by moonlight. Was it his imagination, or was there a dark figure silhouetted against the window?
He felt his muscles tense again, this time preparing to fling him out of the bed as adrenaline flooded his bloodstream. According to Al, and to some vaguely recalled past experiences, Sam was a master of several martial arts. Unfortunately, he was in no position to make use of any of them at the moment. He forced himself to breathe normally, feigning sleep as the figure stalked silently toward the bed. A stray moonbeam briefly illuminated the figure's face, and Sam's breath caught in his throat.
It was Barnabas Collins.
Dressed in black, Barnabas melted into the shadows as he moved out of the light. His movements were graceful, almost feline, and soundless.
What was he doing sneaking into Vicki's room in the middle of the night? If he was anticipating a tryst, he was in for a major disappointment. There was only so much Sam was willing to contemplate in the service of a Leap! He gathered himself, ready to roll from the bed and take defensive action if need be--then froze as a second figure appeared beside the bed. Sam recognized her instantly --and so did Barnabas.
"Sarah!" There was surprise in the deep voice, and...hope? "You've come back--"
Sadly, the ghost shook her head. "You must not do this, Barnabas."
He bowed his head. "I only wanted to...to see her, Sarah. To look on her without fear of what I might see in her eyes."
Sarah seemed to understand, but she said firmly, "You must go, now."
With a nod, Barnabas turned on his heel, and stalked back to the open window -- where he vanished, as easily as if he were a ghost himself.
Sam blinked in astonishment. What he'd just seen was impossible. But he had seen it. Hadn't he? He looked around frantically, but Sarah had disappeared, as well. He bolted upright, his heart doing a credible imitation of a jackhammer, and ran to the window.
Just as he remembered, it was closed, the latch securely fastened. Feeling slightly foolish, he double-checked the mechanism, then reached out and tapped gently on the glass. It was reassuringly solid beneath his fingers. He didn't understand what had happened, but he'd seen magicians pull off more astonishing illusions and there was nothing supernatural about them.
So why couldn't he stop trembling?
Telling himself it was just lack of sleep, Sam crawled back under the covers, determined to get some much needed rest before he started seeing pink elephants and dancing crocodiles. He pulled the blankets up around his ears, closed his eyes...But the storm was getting closer.
And it was a long time before sleep finally claimed him.
** ** ** ** **